A Visit From A Royal...

A royal what?
No-no an actual Royal. 

A member of the Royal family. 

Brother of the more well-known Prince Charles (aka The Prince Of Wales), we were visited by Prince Edward, Earl Of Wessex. He was officially opening the new St.Alphege building at The University Of Winchester. A building I'd been having classes in for the past 3 months.
Being almost fifty he looked good for his age, but he still wasn’t the twenty eight year old Prince Harry I would have much preferred a visit from. Still, Harry is probably off gallivanting in Vegas, doing God knows what with God knows who.

Anyway, it was the morning of Tuesday, 29 January  when Prince Edward graced our class with his presence. Half way through a class actually; Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood.
Cameras and reporters from The Hampshire Chronicle and The Echo milled around the room, as I sat there: hair sticking up all funny from the rain, yesterdays clothes and barely one cup of coffee inside me, incredibly photogenic.

The brief conversation Prince Edward had with our group now deserts me – it can’t have been that scintillating. I do however; remember noting how...unroyal he looked. No sparkly crown, no jewels, no luxurious red cape trimmed with white feathers...
I was disappointed. The Mayor had more bling than the Prince. He was rocking his ostentatious gold chain. Standard.

Gone as quickly as he arrived, it seemed the mental list of inappropriate things to say, forced manners and nerves were soon redundant. I must admit, when we received our ‘one minute warning’ of our guests approach, it did feel vaguely reminiscent of a film when the President of the USA is in the building.

If Prince Edward really wants to see our University in action, with students in their natural habitats, maybe he should amend his visiting times and check out the local watering hole. Make it midnight, on a Wednesday at the SU.
If Harry is anything to go by, the royals know how to party. 

Best Friends

 When your best friend is sick, you wish you were sick too. Just so you can share their pain, simply because you know you can't take it away. When something happens to you, be it funny or sad, earth shattering or minute, you want to tell them. That's the person you should call your best friend. The one that you can call in the middle of the night, and ask to come and get you from somewhere. The one who'll stay awake for you, even when they're shattered from working a sixteen hour day, just to make sure you get home safely.
The person who cares for your safety almost, if not more than your own mother, that's the one you need to keep safe too.
They'll never be annoying, they can only be hilarious. Their jokes, no matter how horrific, or how many times you've heard them before will always be stupidly funny - even if you're really just laughing at them. That's okay, because that person is your best friend.
You'll put a movie on and talk through it.
You'll get on the phone and sit in silence.
You'll buy a bag of sweets, and they'll like the ones you don't. Or they'll like the ones you do, then you'll have to fight over them. The difference between a friend and a best friend is that a friend will let you have the red ones, the best friend will make you fight for them.

When you find that person, never ever let them go. And never forget to tell them how much they mean to you. Because, be honest, you wouldn't know who you were without them.
I know I wouldn't know how to be if I didn't have my best friend.
You don't need anyone else; your best friend is everyone. And you should know, that if not physically stood in front of you, then they're with you in spirit and heart, because there's nowhere else you'd rather be than with your best friend.

Bondage.

Even reading the word alone makes you shift awkwardly in your seat and clear your throat. It's okay if you're still a little nervous about it.
BDSM is becoming more and more popular since the launch of EL James' "Fifty Shades..." novels, but for some reason some people it's still a taboo subject.
If you feel that way, maybe we wouldn't get on. Maybe you shouldn't even be reading this. Honestly it's okay, go back to your cup of tea, climb back into your vanilla sheets and lay your sweet head down. Leave the exploration to me.

We started off fairly basic, a little light restraining, a spanking session here and there. Then slowly we introduced pink PVC bondage tape, an idea borrowed from a sexually-deviant housemate, and then there was a time we used a tie that my partner had paid £140.00 for from Paul Smith. We by-passed poorly made handcuffs, and progressed swiftly onto our newest venture; cable ties. Yep, plastic, DIY cable ties.
(NB; be careful when using cable ties. You have to leave enough space to get the scissors in between the cable and whichever body part you deem appropriate, otherwise this could be more dangerous than you had in mind when it comes to cutting them off.)

So, yes I will admit to being willing to explore, with someone I love and trust, however - we have rules. Obviously we have rules. He doesn't put it where I don't want it, and I don't mark him. We've all got our own limits and having a relationship like I do, let's me delve into exactly where mine, and his, are.
Trust and the ability to have open conversations about sex are vital to having any kind of sexual relationship; especially when you're pushing limits and playing with fire.

Of course, I don't mean literally playing with fire. Or do I?