A year ago I had a problem with my back. Actually, I have had the problem for quite a long time. It just got really bad a year ago. A physiotherapist diagnosed it as a problem with my core strength. Ironic really considering that at the time of the diagnosis I was becoming quite familiar with my core and I felt it was stronger than it had ever been. But it seems I still didn’t habitually use it in every day life. The pain was a result of back and hip muscles compensating for lazy core muscles.
So a few appointments involving some torture of the very tense muscles in the affected area and some exercises. Combine that with a better understanding of my body and all was well in the world of my back. I knew what the warning signs were and how to correct impending pain. But of course I got slack and over confident with my abilities. A year later and I am having ‘episodes’ of the same pain. If I have sex in the ‘on top’ position for too long. Especially if I am the one doing the movement. Hard core twerking in its most primal form is hard work and when you are in the throes of passion you forget to engage your core. Similarly the position of my sewing machine makes me twist in a certain way and I forget to ‘engage my core’
When I am poling I don’t forget to engage. I am getting much better at that at least. However I came home last night in extreme pain and stiffness. A long session of sewing, some on top sex and life in general and I could feel the pull of the muscles. It was far from fun or functional. I had the conversations about finding a Remedial Massage Therapist and looking after myself along with beating myself up for not being 25 anymore. I know what I need to do but I just STRUGGLE to self-care.
The Unicorn has recently purchased a foam roller. Which I have used from time to time when finding a massage therapist that doesn’t have a month long waiting list seems impossible. Last night it was an instrument of extreme torture for me. Some Physic Cream, a hot shower, not in that order and off to bed. I woke up this morning feeling like a new woman. I can feel the residual tension so I know this is a temporary fix. I still need to find a massage therapist and habitually use those muscles but at least I am not in pain while I am doing it. I also need to engage the roller again in the next couple of days. Oh and build some stretching into my day. Wish me luck. Encouragement is welcome.
Many years ago when I started polefit the industry was different. The way people like me were instructed was a little bit frightening if I am honest. I remember back then having issues with my mood. (Depression / anxiety / having bad day I really didn’t know the difference.) One of the things that stuck with me was that I could walk into a lesson feeling low and drive home feeling like I was the most powerful woman on the planet. When I moved studios the feeling of being powerful declined. I wasn’t progressing because of poor instruction but I kept going because I loved the body positive atmosphere of the place.
Fast forward to now. I am at a studio that is close to my house. Their training methods are amazing and I wish every day that I had them five or more years ago. But for the longest time I have been fighting the demon that tells me I am not good enough and that I will never do this. I considered quitting but the thing that I kept asking myself is “What would I do instead?”. I don’t really like the gym. Organised sport is not part of my life really. And so I kept plodding along improving ever so slowly.
Yesterday I reminded myself about those days that I went in feeling low and worthless and went out feeling strong. I reminded myself that this used to be my happy place and that I was capable of making it that way again. My day yesterday was draining and triggering. I came home and prepared myself to go out again. But I resisted the temptation to walk down the negative road. I told myself that I could do this. That this was somewhere I did belong.
A student recently asked me if I worked out. His reasoning was that I looked pretty built. I was taken aback because I don’t think of myself as having a particularly gym looking physique. When I look at myself in photos. I see overweight and “fat”.
Tonight during a class I faced the mirror. Something I almost never do. It wasn’t really deliberate but as I began a routine of squats to “Sally” I noticed he was right. I really do have quite muscular shoulders.
In my blog meanderings and reflections on what I am doing with this page I came across Blogging from A to Z April Challenge. I had been reflecting that I need to get a routine when it comes to my blog and maybe a challenge that requires a daily post (however short) may do the trick. A to Z seemed like a good option but I decided it wasn’t for me. Then my friend Pisshead inspired me with a text related to a home haircut and a misplaced clipper head. Don’t stress he is in one piece but his hair is much shorter than originally intended and he has something to tease his wife about for a little while!
So the plan is to post something every day, maybe it will be sexy, maybe it won’t, inspired by a word of the day. Let’s see how it goes. The word for today is – Superman. The name of a pole move that I am currently working on. It is meant to look something like this
I did manage something resembling that but didn’t hold it for very long because in getting into position I did this
Yes it hurt. Not as much as the bruise suggests but enough that I didn’t want to do it again.
Lily checked the address for the third time. Yes, she was in the right place. It all seemed so surreal. The address Jenna had given her was in an industrial estate. The only thing that confirmed she was in the right place was a small sign in the window of one of the buildings. A classic silhouette of a woman striking a pose on a pole and the name “Scoundrels Dance Studio” A line of cars were parked in the surrounding area filling the carparking spaces of Motor Mechanics, Air-conditioning sales and other assorted businesses who, like most places, were closed on Saturday night.
The sliding door to the building opened and some women came out with robes over what Lily had to assume were their performance costumes. They seemed unconcerned about their unusual dress and stood around the entrance vaping. Other people arrived and made their way through the sliding door. Some of them seemed hesitant and unsure, the way Lily felt. It gave her comfort to know she was not the only one feeling awkward. Taking a deep breath she sent a quick text to Jenna before making her way across the street.
Jenna greeted her at the door, dressed in tiny shorts and a large t-shirt. Her make up was unlike anything Lily had ever seen. She seemed so exotic it was almost impossible to recognise her.
“Come in!” Jenna hugged Lily. Her eyes were glittering with excitement. Lily’s fears were slowly being replaced by awe at the environment she found herself in. It was like a strange mix of strip club combined with dance school recital. Student performers, like Jenna, made up and dressed in robes or oversized shirts like Jenna escorted their supporters to seats. Lily was surprised at the variety of supporters, boyfriends, mothers, sisters, friends young and old, it was an eclectic mix.
The show itself passed by in a blur of sparkly costumes female strength and athleticism. Lily was astounded by the way Jenna seemed to effortlessly hoist herself around and still look sexy at the same time. In between performances on the poles other women displayed their burlesque skills. Lily thought that burlesque was something that belonged in the speakeasies of the wild west or in some exotic bar in Europe. She never expected to encounter it in an industrial building in the inner suburbs of Brisbane.
Another thing she didn’t expect was her fascination with the women performing. They were all regular women. Some were young, some, astoundingly, were well into their 50’s but most were like Lily, somewhere in the middle of their life journey. Their bodies told the stories of their lives, stretch marks from pregnancies, scars from surgeries, curves from enjoying dinner with friends, tattoos, pericings and smiles. Smiles of women who had found their tribe, women who were learning to love themselves exactly how and what they were.
But the thing that filled Lily’s senses was the boobs. So many different sizes and shapes, covered with elaborate bras, crop tops and sometimes pasties. They all jiggled and bounced and enticed. Never in her life had Lily seen so many breasts in the flesh. She suddenly realised that she loved them and a need to explore them took over. She thought back to the lesbian porn she had enjoyed. Was she becoming a lesbian?
Later she found herself in a bar with Jenna drinking shots. Jenna sat opposite her dressed in a tiny black dress. Lily found herself gazing at her friend’s breasts that seemed to be in danger of spilling out. Jenna didn’t seem to care. Lily had the very strong impression that, on one level, Jenna wanted to expose herself. She seemed to enjoy the attention she was attracting.
The same song that Jenna had performed her dance to earlier came on. Jenna grabbed Lily’s hand and led her on to the dance floor.
“I love this song so much,”
The alcohol she had consumed burned in Lily’s veins. Normally she would have shied away from this place, those drinks and dancing with a woman like Jenna, but tonight she couldn’t stop looking at her. Jenna pulled her close and wrapped her arms around Lily.
“Let’s give those boys something to look at,” she spoke into Lily’s ear above the music.
The feeling of Jenna’s body against hers and the scent of her jolted Lily straight in the groin. Hesitantly she wrapped her arms around Jenna pressing herself against the other woman. Jenna was already taller than Lily, but her shoes lifted her another six inches. Lily found herself staring almost straight at the breasts that had fascinated her since the first day they had met. In the dim light of the club she wasn’t sure but it seemed as if she could see Jenna’s nipples through the fabric of her dress. With a jolt she realised that Jenna wasn’t wearing a bra. The only thing between Jenna’s breast and Lily’s face was a thin piece of fabric.
Lily’s cunt throbbed. The music drove her to move rhythmically in time with Jenna. Before she realised Jenna’s hands were on her butt.
“You are so fucking hot,” Jenna’s voice penetrated her thoughts, “I really want to kiss that beautiful mouth,”
Lily didn’t give herself time to think, she simply tilted her head upwards to look into Jenna’s eyes. At that moment there was nothing else in her mind except the desire she could see burning in the other woman’s eyes.
The kiss was everything Lily’ had fantasised about and at the same time nothing like she expected. The softness and the gentle way they met struck a chord deep inside her. Lily tilted her hips harder against Jenna’s leg and she lifted her hands to twist her fingers into Jenna’s hair. She pressed her lips harder against the other woman opening her mouth to let Jenna’s tongue tentatively explore her mouth.
It seemed as if her cunt was on fire. Instead of satisfying her, kissing Jenna had only awakened a deep need for more. Lily desperately wanted to tear the dress away and touch Jenna’s body. She wanted to taste all of her and feel all of her nakedness. With a shock she realised that she wanted more than to explore breasts. She wanted to look at Jenna’s pussy and taste the sweet salt of her. She became aware of Jenna’s hand on her butt gripping her, pushing her against her leg. Like a child riding a pony, Lily ground down enjoying the stimulation. Jenna’s hand slid over Lily’s hips and pulled her dress up. Her fingers slid inside the leg of her panties.
Like a wanton slut Lily moved her leg to allow Jenna’s fingers to slide inside and stroke her pussy. Looking up she saw a strange glint in her friend’s eye.
“Someone is a little excited,” Jenna smiled. Her finger continued to stroke. Lily felt as if her legs were about to give way.
“I think we need to take this somewhere else,”
This post is part of Wicked Wednesday prompt #425. Click on the link below to see who else is being wicked this week.
One of the songs that I would have loved to do some choreography to in a pole dance class is Flaunt it by TV Rock. Sadly, due to circumstances out of my control, I probably never will. In case you don’t know the song I am speaking of here is a refresher.
This is the backdrop to my Wicked Wednesday for this week. As always, read, enjoy, leave a comment if you are inspired but more importantly click the image at the end of the story to read more contributions.
The opening lines of the song throbbed through the club;
“Go on and flaunt it…”
Veronica jumped out of her seat and made her way to the dance floor. As she walked she subconsciously moved her hips in time to the music. The tiny pleated skirt swished enticingly above her perfect round ass.
“I see your walking through the club. Making moves getting love,”
The metal of the pole was cool beneath her hand as she undulated her body against it. Keeping the rhythm of the music Veronica strutted and twisted around the pole flaunting her shiny black platforms lifting as she stepped. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a woman sitting in the corner. The woman was dressed in a short black dress with black vinyl knee high boots. The front of her dress plunged down showing her full cleavage encased by black lace.
“Walking through the disco noise. Kissing girls kissing, boys.”
For a moment Veronica rested her shoulder blades against the pole as she locked eyes with the mystery woman. She slid her hands down her body, emphasizing the swell of her breasts and her tiny waist before she turned neatly and bent down to stroke her leg neatly pointing her full round ass upwards and in the direction of her watcher.
“Your making love to the music, I’m your DJ make you lose it.”
Veronica undulated her body against the pole rippling in time to the music. She flipped her hair over her shoulder to take a peek at her admirer. The woman sat on the couch with her legs parted slightly. Veronica wondered if she was wearing underwear. As she twisted around the pole flaunting her ass and displaying her body to anyone who wanted to watch she fantasised about sliding her hand up those milky white thighs. Her pussy began to throb with arousal. She felt like a cat on heat.
“Go on and flaunt it ha, What your Mumma gave you, ha”
The last lines of the song played and the DJ started to mix in the next track. The mystery woman stood and made her way to a dark corner at the back. For a fleeting second she glanced over her shoulder and Veronica took this as an invitation to follow. In a haze of lust mixed with the euphoria of dancing in such a slutty way she followed. She found the woman sitting on a couch at the back of the club. Beside her a young man sat straddled by an attractive woman whose short black dress was hiked up to reveal her ass the man’s hands gripped the round globes of her butt pushing her down onto his lap. Veronica couldn’t be sure but she thought they were fucking. The couple were lost in their own little world, completely oblivious to the people around them. Like Veronica they were caught up in the lust and heat of the night.
The mystery woman beckoned to Veronica enticing her to come closer. Veronica walked over to stand between the woman’s legs completely mesmerised by the shape of the woman’s breasts encased loosely by the fabric of her dress. Her nipples strained against the fabric, advertising her arousal. Veronica ached to slide her hands into the dress and rub their firmness against her palms. As she stepped forward the woman put her hands on Veronica’s hips drawing her closer. The woman pressed her face against Veronica’s crotch.
A jolt shot through Veronica as the heat from the woman’s breath seeped through her panties. A slick wetness started to form as the woman looked up into Veronica’s eyes. Their eyes remained locked as the woman slid a finger under the lace and satin. The finger worked it’s way deeper and stroked Veronica’s swelling, aching labia before sliding through the slick wetness to graze her swollen clit. A gasp of breath escaped Veronica’s lips
The music of the club and the press of people around them faded into the background as the woman deftly slid Veronica’s panties down around her knees and pressed her face against the smooth skin of Veronica’s pussy. For a fleeting moment Veronica sent a prayer of thanks to whatever deity inspired her to shave before heading out that evening. The prayer flew out of Veronica’s mind as a tongue slid into her slit.
Heatradiated through Veronica’s body. A groan escaped from her lips but the sound was lost in the music of the club. The woman’s face pressed harder against Veronica’s smooth freshly shaven mound. Her tongue reached deeper, inserting itself into Veronica’s hot wet opening. She felt her knees buckle underneath her but the grip of the mystery woman’s hands on her hips held her upright.
Time seemed to stop, everything seemed to stop. The only thing Veronica was aware of was the tongue stroking her pussy, inserting itself inside her. Pleasure coursed through her, each wave building on top of the other. Veronica slumped forward over the woman, supporting herself with her hands propped on the back of the couch. Her breath came in short, hard bursts. The woman slid a finger inside her as her tongue continued to lap her swollen, aching clit. A familiar pressure started building inside her. But this time it had a different more intense edge. For a while Veronica tried to hold it back, not wanting this moment to end.
Her resistance was futile. The woman’s finger hooked against the sensitive skin at the entrance to Veronica’s pussy. The orgasm was overwhelming. Wetness rushed out of Veronica’s pussy and a long scream escaped from her lips. Gently the woman guided her down to sit on the couch beside her. Veronica lay back as the woman gently eased her panties downwards and slipped them over her feet. Pushing Veronica’s knees apart the woman kneeled between Veronica’s feet.
The woman looked into Veronica’s eyes.
“You taste as good as you look.” With a sly smile she cupped her hand over Veronica’s dripping pussy.
“I hope you enjoyed the first course,” the woman’s voice was hot in Veronica’s ear. “Because I am famished and I could eat all night.”
This post is part of Wicked Wednesday prompt #398; Flaunt. Please visit the site and read some other exquisite erotica,
I have blogged about my pole dance hobby here and here. Pole dance has been part of my life for about nine years. I started out with my friend learning on a pole installed in s woman’s apartment. My friend dropped out after about eight weeks. I kept going for some reason. Eventually my instructor established a studio and I started classes there.
As I have explained before pole studios can be a little bit intimidating. Often they are filled with younger, thinner, more flexible women in tiny shorts. Sometimes the way classes are structured means that if you can’t nail a particular move you have to say good bye to classmates and new friendships as they graduate to new classes while you are stuck at the same level battling with your nemesis move.
My first instructor’s studio worked that way. Because I struggled to invert I was labelled a beginner and I watched younger women sail past me into intermediate classes to learn new and exciting things while I was stuck struggling to invert. Then I found my new studio. I was welcomed and nurtured and encouraged to do something I struggled with in a way that I had never been in my life ever. I was chided for speaking negatively to myself and I was convinced, for the first time, that my arse was a beautiful thing.
For about six years I have been existing in this bubble. I have fallen and terrified my teacher, I have had triumphs and almost successes. I have learned about dance and made some amazing friends. I have some amazing photos. Some that I can, and have shared here. Just for good measure here are some;
But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. My teacher recently announced that she is taking a break from teaching and is closing her studio. This year has been hard for her and she is taking some well earned time to get her heart and her life in order. I am happy for her that she is taking time to recharge her battery because she needs a super strong one to keep shining out positivity and love every day the way she does.
For myself and many of her students we are all feeling a little orphaned and lost right now. I think I have shed more tears about this turn of events than almost anything else in my life. These days I seem to have a leak in my tear ducts. Which is not at all like me. But I digress.
Will I keep pole dancing? I don’t know. I am looking around for other classes and other studios. One of my teachers will perhaps be re-inventing herself and I look forward to that. One thing is for certain, all of those classes in that little studio will forever hold a place in my heart.
The typical idea that people have when I tell them I do pole dancing is strip club sexy perfection. Something like this;
The reality is something quite different. Classes are hard, sweaty and full of statements like, “fuck that hurt” and “yep
H you got it……. oh not quite”. Naturally, or maybe not. Most of the people in my classes are fairly open minded. I guess that is going to happen in a class called ‘Sexy and Static’. So the learning how to be sexy on a static pole is not really sexy, it is hard ad sweaty and involves putting you body in positions that are unfamiliar and often awkward. Of course there is a lot of bare skin contact with hard metal. The outcome is often bruising. Tonight’s bruise was the result of a double activity which is fun, and of course looks cool. However like everything there is a lot of practise between trying for the first time and the cool. In the meantime I need to go through pain and bruises like this one;
Corrupting Mrs Jones 