Monday, 12 December 2011

The joy of... bottom marks

Guilty pleasures, I love them. Years ago there was an ad campaign (for cream? or cakes?) that featured the line: "naughty, but nice". I think I mistook it for a life's mission statement, but doesn't it miss the point a wee bit? Isn't the 'nice' bit dependant on the 'naughty' bit? Without one you don't get the other.
What's the connection between cream cakes and the faint lines on my backside this morning? Both are naughty, but for me defintely nice. I love spanking marks and can't stop looking at them, touching them and thinking of them when I have them.
In the past when I had an office job it was a thrill to sneak into the loo at work, pull down my knicks and take a lingering look at my marks. Seeing a bit of bruising or the odd line was a real thrill - a dark secret I could hug to myself through the day.
The set I have at the moment are almost gone, but they have been with me for almost a week. They're like an echo of an incredible intense sensual experience and I'll sorry when they've gone.
And I also love the fact that they're evidence of my kinkiness. If anyone saw them they'd know me for what I am. They are, most certainly, a guilty pleasure.

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