Sinful Sunday Weekly Round-up 398
Don’t forget this Sunday is prompt weekend. If you are having trouble with the prompt and need any help or advice then please do feel free to get in touch.
Hyacinth’s Top 5 Pics of the Week
I haven’t participated in a Sinful Sunday in some time – too long – because I have so little time to play as Hy these days, but I so love the project and am thrilled that it’s my turn to do the Roundup. I even scheduled it in on a work break and blocked off a whole hour for “SS” just so I wouldn’t forget.
I was immediately drawn to seven images in this week’s class of photos and though I asked Molly to let me include all seven I was told I had to follow the rules and keep it to five, “You bad girl, Hy.” So, fine. Five.
And let me just say how exciting it was that I chose images initially from the thumbnail only. It felt like picking a treat out of a box of chocolates and clicking on it was taking a bite and seeing what was inside.
I watch a lot of cooking shows and competitions and something that every judge looks for in a good cake or trifle are the layers of colors and textures. It’s not just to appeal to the palate, but to the eye, and what Molly’s done here is layer colors and textures within her image, with here as the little bit of chocolate caramel in the center. Sheer, icy blues, frosted greens, crunchy oranges, with a warm and creamy center with a bit of bite. Her muscles extend down her hip as her arm reaches out like the branch above her.
Surrender and dominance, love and power, opposites drawn to one another. The way she towers over her love and covers him with her dark skin and his hair dusted arms envelope her, hands splayed tenderly on her bottom and back make me yearn for a connection and absolute acceptance like this. Her collar might be right about his eye level, her breasts are certainly pressed against his chest. Her legs pinned at the ankle might have caused her to be off balance and he is her anchor. As he should be.
The reflection isn’t something I should be seeing. It’s an accident. I was just walking by. But my eye is drawn to this pale figure praying or resting? No, waiting, perhaps. Dark walls envelope her and her lover wherever they may be lurking in the room. Perhaps she really is alone and sad? Or perhaps she’s just doing as she was told. It’s impossible to tell, so I keep looking.
The Library of Nell
Admittedly I have a thing for breasts. Mine, others’, it doesn’t matter. They’re a marvel of flesh no matter what size or shape or youthful spring they may possess. Believe it or not, it’s less this curvy mass that draws my eye than it is the shiny button right where I believe her nipple to be. Is it onyx? Mother-of-Pearl? It’s probably just lucky lighting, but it fascinates me, calls to me to twirl it between my fingertips and pull the cotton aside to reveal the rest of the blue marbled breast beneath.
And if I’m a sucker for breasts, I’m an absolute lunatic for a good cock shot -I can’t even call it a “dick pic,” because that’s derogatory. EA has nailed every bit that an anonymous, amorous image of a man should possess: few distractions, humanity, and rawness. There’s no clutter to detract from the thing jutting from his body. His underpants, pinched at the side by what I imagine to be his free hand, proves he is a real man who puts his clothes on one foot at a time. And finally veins bulge along a shaft sprouted from auburn curls which then crests in a glorious and glowering glans. Delectable.