One day I hope that I will find the energy and drive to write regularly again. I have a few ideas on how to achieve that, but I don’t want to say too much lest it not pan out – so in the meantime, I will merely apologize once again for the months-long absence. And because this blog is now Sex and Silks, I can’t even reward your patience by guaranteeing a triumphant return that is super steamy. Ah well.
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Cirque du Danger: How I Fell In Love With Aerial Silks
I collapse onto my back, sweating and panting heavily. I’m flushed, both from the heat of the room and the flood of endorphins, and I can’t stop grinning. My muscles are deliciously sore from use, and I can already feel bruises beginning to form on my hips and thighs.
But I’m not in my bedroom, at a play party, or in a dungeon, and I haven’t just had sex or bottomed in a scene. I’m in a fitness studio, surrounded by little else but about eight other women, a bunch of mats, and fabric dangling from the ceiling.
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The Aerial Feminist 