Tantrika Samois' Blog

Could you dress ...slutty... this time?

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Him: Can I make a special request?

Me: Sure. (Well, this could be interesting. I can't wait to hear this.)

Him: Could you dress ...slutty... this time?

Me: I don't understand(WTF does that mean? Fishnet and spandex? Cheap make up? "Slutty?" What the hell does slutty mean?)

Him: Well, you know. Sluttier.... slutty. (No wonder men never stop and ask for directions. They are absolute crap at giving descriptions of anything except their ejaculate and sports plays)

Me: Sure. Let me see what I can find. (Oh christ. What the hell does "slutty" look like?)

So you might be reading this and laughing with disbelief that

(1) this dialogue in my head even occurred or

(2) you might be wondering if I typically walk around in church clothes or strict orthodox religious garb and that is the basis of my ignorance (although in truth, we both know that if I were THAT repressed or prudish, I would probably know INSTANTLY what slutty looked like because - obviously and predictably, it would look like anything sexier than my covered up, laced up and sexless "modest" appearance).

So, I earnestly scratched my head about this for almost an entire day as I thought about what I had in my wardrobe, what I typically wear during the day, what I wear to go dancing, what I wear on special occasions..... and I could find all manner of sexy wardrobe but I was absolutely flummoxed about what would be "slutty" enough to be called slutty. I was seriously wondering if this guy wanted me wearing some Hollywood version of street walker hooker fashion. I finally decided on a short swing skirt with thigh high stockings and heels and a tank top with no bra. This was as close to slutty as

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Safe space.

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Sometimes, once it is all over and he has taken the armor off, the exhaustion is so evident, I can see the weariness hanging on his shoulders like a heavy cape that wants to drive him to his knees.

Other times, the emptiness inside where a woman has not joyously filled him with the restorative magic of her love in months or years brings him to me feeling like a drum skin wrapped tightly over a cavernous hollow, hungry space of stoic manhood.

Still other times, he arrives like a book of blank pages that have collected dust or have yet to be considered for writing and his playful desire to be explored, expanded and expounded upon is intoxicating to me to the point of distraction. 

Most moments, he arrives with relief to discover that I am far from a beast, an emotional icicle or an instant validation of possible questionable choices. I am proud to say that I am almost always a pleasant surprise. (Occasionally, a disappointment if he was seeking a porn star answering the door.) In the intimate, embracing and feminine energy that is the circle around us,  he sinks into warmth, acceptance and no judgment with my clear delight in his passion. 

This is a safe space.

There is no room for shame or judgment. I don't understand everything but I understand being human in ways that other folks do not quite understand. I know how the protecting of that small, constantly maligned part of yourself can be the same as starving it into pained silence.... and how grinding that can be to your very ability to exist. If you have been accepted here, you have been accepted with the understanding that you are imperfect, vulnerable and need this time to recover yourself and, it is

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The hypnotic power of some women.

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It was morning and I was sitting in my car at an extended red light watching her walk down the sidewalk with her companion.

At first, it was the silhouette that caught my attention. A thick hourglass shape that invited you to sink into her and rest in the lovely comfort that her flesh promised. There is that quality about women who are thick and firm with curves like a figure 8, that quality that promises a lush, sensual escape into the beautiful landscape that is all woman.

(The female form reminds us of the things that make life easier to bear. Art, beauty, softness, comfort and tenderness.)

Her back was exposed in the way that halter tops bare skin, and she presented a smooth, luscious canvas of unblemished flesh that made your mouth water. Just thick enough to give the appearance of being a ripe fruit and smooth enough to make you think of delicious warm butter melting, she inspired thoughts of devouring her with your hands and mouth as well as your eyes. Who knew that moist, supple and full, taut skin on an adult woman could have such power over you. I am sure that we are not attracted to youth but are actually attracted to their skin. The only thing missing in them is the presentation of ripeness and when that is found with youthful skin and flesh on an adult woman... there is no comparison.

(Hence the reason that cosmetics and skin care products, not face-lifts and female gym memberships, are a multi-billion dollar industry)

I watched her walk away and became mesmerized with the natural sway and movement of her derriere and hips. She had a well rounded swell of an ass that sat high and seemed to move independently of the rest of…

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His First Time.

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