, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Blog:

Escape from your world a moment

Escape… Escape into your own mind, find the thoughts, the words, the images that bring you calm, that help you function in a world slowly getting more intense and crazy all around you. Pick up a book and escape, watch a film and escape, take a holiday and escape, have coffee with your friends and escape, sit by a lake and escape…. Whatever it takes, escapism is the key to a balance that makes living reality possible.

That is what you are to me dear friends of the bloggysphere, you are my escape, where I let my head empty all the crazy, crushing, engulfing thoughts and whims that assault me on a daily basis. But there is more… I function beautifully, I am organised, I write lists, I solve problems, deal with noise and disruption and refocus, reapply myself to getting the day done just like every one of you reading this. Yet, all the time part of my head is compartmentalised, like a storage facility of little boxes waiting for their contents to be require. Most of the time a colourful imagination movie is playing, some may call it day dreaming, I call it a coping mechanism…

It works like this… I’m driving the car, on a mechanical level I’m changing gears, assessing the road, watching for danger whilst in my mind I’m sucking the cock of a gorgeous tall, dark, handsome man on a pristine beach with the sea lapping around my knees, his fingers are wrapped in my hair and he is urging me on with the most beautiful filthy words…
Or, I’m doing the dishes at the kitchen sink, scrubbing pots and staring through the window into the garden whilst tied to a tree in a dense forest naked, with a trio of strapping woodsmen running their hands over my skin, kissing, tweaking my nipples, coarsely sinking their fingers into my pussy, sucking my juices off of my thighs…
And so it goes on. My little fantasies, my escapes from reality, they are the highlights that make some of my days so much easier to live through.

Is it not the same for you?


Roy loved travelling by train, he loved the humanness of the experience, he loved that he could spend several hours observing humanity, smelling humanity without actually having to partake in humanity. He loved brushing up against his fellow passengers, a touch of a hand here, a shoulder brush there… but shoes, shoes were his thing really. Currently, on the 18:30 from Waterloo he was in seventh heaven, nestled on a crowded train like a sardine pinned amongst a group of jostling commuters heading west.

Directly in his line of sight, tapping the air with a pulsing impatience was a Viktor & Rolf black patent leather ankle boot, he sighed, it was so beautiful. He watched the boot tap for a few minutes mesmerised and growing hard against the zip of his jeans, he shifted his lap top bag across his front to hide his arousal, his eyes never leaving the boot. He blinked twice. Suddenly the tapping movement changed to slow circles from the ankle, breathlessly he watched the boot move slowly around a few times and then it lifted and pointed its toe straight in his direction, his eyes travelled for the first time up the slim leg wearing it, clad in rainbow coloured paisley leggings, his eyes traced further up observing a black faux fur box jacket and a mass of natural red curls falling over the shoulders. His eyes finally met an interested deep green stare and a mouth that twitched into a smile, at him. The train shuddered to a stop at a station and the crowd surged to move towards the doors. Green-eyes remained sitting and Roy stayed standing as any vacant seats were filled. The train moved on.

Fixated, Roy watched as Green-eyes uncrossed her long legs, the rainbow paisley had some kind of sparkle on its design that caught the carriage lights as she moved, the other leg lifted and Roy smiled as the second foot started swaying in the same movement as before. Tap, tap, tap, point, wiggle… he looked up into the Green-eyes again and she tipped her head to one side and blew him a kiss. He grinned at her, she grinned back. Tap, tap, tap, point, wiggle. Her fingers started drumming a tattoo on her thigh, with long teal nails that Roy knew would do serious damage to his back, he readjusted the laptop bag so he could get his hand in his trouser pocket unseen and stroke his cock. Tap, tap, tap, point, wiggle, foot down, heels snapping together on the floor. Green-eyes stood up as the train shuddered to a halt again but she didn’t move towards the exit. She moved towards him. Stopping directly in front of him so her pelvis pushed against his lap top bag as the train started moving, he felt the pressure against his cock but didn’t dare tear his sight from her amused gaze.
“Would you kiss me?…” she asked quietly, her words in a soft Irish accent. “Or would you kiss my boots?”
“Or?” Roy asked “I don’t much like ‘or’ might I have both? Why miss such a glorious opportunity to worship both of you as you deserve.”
Her soft laugh echoed in his ears as she leaned closer.
“Kiss me?” her brazen eyes implored him to comply, Roy leaned towards her until he could feel her breath on his lips and with the tip of his tongue, he lightly licked across her lips.
“That’s how I’d worship your boots too.” He whispered. She laughed, a light mischievous musical sound and grabbed his head in both her hands and kissed him hard, her tongue flicking in his mouth, sucking on his lips, fingers digging in his hair. She grabbed his jacket and pulled him out of the carriage, through the door and into the tiny, plastic lined cubical of a toilet and locked the door.
“Eat me!” She demanded. He pulled down the sparkly leggings to her knees and lifted her bodily to sit on the corner sink, the plastic unit groaned under her weight, sinking to his knees, taking a shiny boot in each hand, he licked his lips eyes feasting on the sweet cluster of red curls. He blinked twice.

“Excuse me mate!” A slightly drunk, staggering guy in a badly cut suit pushed into his shoulder and Roy’s imagination shutdown abruptly, the coldness of reality deflating the joy of his daydream. Roy looked towards the seat, previously occupied by the Viktor & Rolf black patent leather ankle boots and to his dismay it was empty, shuffling forward he lowered himself into the seat with a sigh…

To be continued…

© Juliette Turrell