With a special thought for Sole's Captain Zaphod
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italian_training_ship_Amerigo_Vespucci
Amerigo Vespucci is celebrating Her 85th anniversary and will be resting in Venice for the coming 4 days.
Showing posts with label zaphod. Show all posts
Showing posts with label zaphod. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
AMERIGO VESPUCCI TRAINING BOAT
A Beauty!
With a special thought for Sole's Captain Zaphod
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italian_training_ship_Amerigo_Vespucci
Amerigo Vespucci is celebrating Her 85th anniversary and will be resting in Venice for the coming 4 days.
With a special thought for Sole's Captain Zaphod
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italian_training_ship_Amerigo_Vespucci
Amerigo Vespucci is celebrating Her 85th anniversary and will be resting in Venice for the coming 4 days.
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
ST. PATRICK'S DAY...
...was never forgotten by Sole. And I guess it'a also a special day for Her Captain Zaphod
Another little thing that brings her back in memory
Another little thing that brings her back in memory
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
THE PROUD REDHEAD - ONE YEAR
One year already without her.
Without her smile, sometimes sweet, sometimes mischievous.
Without her innate elegance, in casual as well as in formal wear.
Without her enthusiasm for whatever project she chose to develop and complete.
Without her friendship.
The following is a short clip for the beautiful person she was.
A special thought goes to her Captain
Friday, June 7, 2013
CASUAL FRIDAY
Nautical style (waves at Sole's Captain).
I just wonder if this is a long T-shirt or a very short minidress.
Such a subtly sensual picture
I just wonder if this is a long T-shirt or a very short minidress.
Such a subtly sensual picture
Friday, April 19, 2013
SOME SECRET CORNERS
It's the title of this clip (credit goes to Enrico Rava and his Quintet)
But it's much more than that.
It's the memory of my last journey to Rome with Sole, more or less a year ago.
As it happens, I was there, in Rome, the day before yesterday and also yesterday, remembering her.
With her skill for public relations
With her astounding memory for everyone: remembering spouses, children, birthdays, events, health issues, anniversaries, etc... for each person she met.
Some people seemed to be in awe of her; some others just beamed at her.
Sometimes she looked at me (we were on a joint business trip) with a smile and told me: "The secret for bearing this awful burden, all this fashion circus, false smiles and hypocrisy, is to have some secret corners. Secret corners where you keep the persons and events that are really meaningful to you".
I hope I was in one of those corners.
I'm certain Sole's Mother, Granny, Roberta, and some friends in Real Life and Second Life were.
Some furry friends too!
I'm sure her Zaphod was there, in a most secret and yet prominent Special Corner
But it's much more than that.
It's the memory of my last journey to Rome with Sole, more or less a year ago.
As it happens, I was there, in Rome, the day before yesterday and also yesterday, remembering her.
With her skill for public relations
With her astounding memory for everyone: remembering spouses, children, birthdays, events, health issues, anniversaries, etc... for each person she met.
Some people seemed to be in awe of her; some others just beamed at her.
Sometimes she looked at me (we were on a joint business trip) with a smile and told me: "The secret for bearing this awful burden, all this fashion circus, false smiles and hypocrisy, is to have some secret corners. Secret corners where you keep the persons and events that are really meaningful to you".
I hope I was in one of those corners.
I'm certain Sole's Mother, Granny, Roberta, and some friends in Real Life and Second Life were.
Some furry friends too!
I'm sure her Zaphod was there, in a most secret and yet prominent Special Corner
Sunday, April 14, 2013
ALMOST EVENING
and the mood is nostalgic.
Thoughts go to a classy (yet gorgeous) Redhead who loved life so passionately.
Thoughts go to a special Captain and Toy who held so much place in Sole's life.
Thoughts go to friends (human and animal alike) who were such a great part of her existence.
Thoughts go to music that was such an essential part of her soul
And to celebrate Her, again Chet Baker: Tenderly
Thoughts go to a classy (yet gorgeous) Redhead who loved life so passionately.
Thoughts go to a special Captain and Toy who held so much place in Sole's life.
Thoughts go to friends (human and animal alike) who were such a great part of her existence.
Thoughts go to music that was such an essential part of her soul
And to celebrate Her, again Chet Baker: Tenderly
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
A WALK ON THE BEACH
I'm sure this novel has already been published. But in my eagerness to retrieve all of Sole's posts before they could be deleted, I didn't "label" them.
I'm glad to re-publish what's a lovely, tantalizing and loving tale written by Sole's Toy, Captain, Chéri and probably much more. The ownership of this tale's Copyright is Zaphod Button's only.
A Walk on the Beach
Silence, save for the rhythmic swish of waves lapping gently on the shore yielding a sound which is both
timeless and eternal. The sea beyond forms a jewelled carpet bisected by a path of silver. At that path’s far
distant end, the moon beckons to us. Minutes before, dusk had settled with the hushed softness of a purple
velvet cloak.
A few hours earlier, we had taken advantage of some time for ourselves. Always a difficulty with two busy
schedules, but savoured all the more for each special moment. This time, we had decided on a walk along the
shore. At this season, we see few others and have the beach almost to ourselves. Even the warplanes from the
nearby base have stopped their raucous cavorting. We walk and savour the simple pleasure of each other’s
companionship. With each step, we feel the cares of the preceding days slipping away.
At times, our fingers touch and intertwine; the touch is comfortable and reassuring. And yet, no reassurance is
needed. With the passage of time and sometimes tumultuous events, we have learned of one another and
come to trust. We have become inseparable even in those times when we must be far apart. No matter our
distant travels or intemperate dalliances, we know on return the other will be there; a safe haven in an
uncertain world.
Sitting now, on a piece of drift wood, we snuggle close for warmth, for comfort, for love as the evening air
grows damp. The sun had set behind us with its magnificent crimson glow spread across the heavens and,
shortly after, pale inconstant moon had risen to bathe us in silvery light and illuminate a path across the water
towards us.
A wee nip from the flask I habitually carry brings out our inner warmth and a glow to our cheeks. Lost in our
love, we giggle happily for no reason other than we are together.
My arm slips around Your waist and draws us just a little closer. You snuggle to me and I feel Your head come
to rest comfortably on my chest just below my shoulder. Tilting my head down, my nose is tickled by the
reddish cascade of Your hair; inhaling, I breathe in hedonistic pleasure. For a moment, we leave aside our
roles of Mistress and Toy. I am Yours; You are mine.
Slipping a finger ‘neath Your chin, I lift gently and kiss Your forehead, the tip of Your nose, and then Your
lips. Not raw harsh kisses of urgent lust. Instead, kisses as light as the touch of a butterfly’s wing. Light and
delicate kisses of the purest contentment to adorn You. We both smile and settle together to snuggle just a
little closer.
Presently, as the chill night air defeats even the contents of the flask, we rise and retrace our steps. As we walk
back holding hands, I raise my free hand to my neck and run my finger tip along the soft edge of my leather
collar. I smile.
I'm glad to re-publish what's a lovely, tantalizing and loving tale written by Sole's Toy, Captain, Chéri and probably much more. The ownership of this tale's Copyright is Zaphod Button's only.
A Walk on the Beach
Silence, save for the rhythmic swish of waves lapping gently on the shore yielding a sound which is both
timeless and eternal. The sea beyond forms a jewelled carpet bisected by a path of silver. At that path’s far
distant end, the moon beckons to us. Minutes before, dusk had settled with the hushed softness of a purple
velvet cloak.
A few hours earlier, we had taken advantage of some time for ourselves. Always a difficulty with two busy
schedules, but savoured all the more for each special moment. This time, we had decided on a walk along the
shore. At this season, we see few others and have the beach almost to ourselves. Even the warplanes from the
nearby base have stopped their raucous cavorting. We walk and savour the simple pleasure of each other’s
companionship. With each step, we feel the cares of the preceding days slipping away.
At times, our fingers touch and intertwine; the touch is comfortable and reassuring. And yet, no reassurance is
needed. With the passage of time and sometimes tumultuous events, we have learned of one another and
come to trust. We have become inseparable even in those times when we must be far apart. No matter our
distant travels or intemperate dalliances, we know on return the other will be there; a safe haven in an
uncertain world.
Sitting now, on a piece of drift wood, we snuggle close for warmth, for comfort, for love as the evening air
grows damp. The sun had set behind us with its magnificent crimson glow spread across the heavens and,
shortly after, pale inconstant moon had risen to bathe us in silvery light and illuminate a path across the water
towards us.
A wee nip from the flask I habitually carry brings out our inner warmth and a glow to our cheeks. Lost in our
love, we giggle happily for no reason other than we are together.
My arm slips around Your waist and draws us just a little closer. You snuggle to me and I feel Your head come
to rest comfortably on my chest just below my shoulder. Tilting my head down, my nose is tickled by the
reddish cascade of Your hair; inhaling, I breathe in hedonistic pleasure. For a moment, we leave aside our
roles of Mistress and Toy. I am Yours; You are mine.
Slipping a finger ‘neath Your chin, I lift gently and kiss Your forehead, the tip of Your nose, and then Your
lips. Not raw harsh kisses of urgent lust. Instead, kisses as light as the touch of a butterfly’s wing. Light and
delicate kisses of the purest contentment to adorn You. We both smile and settle together to snuggle just a
little closer.
Presently, as the chill night air defeats even the contents of the flask, we rise and retrace our steps. As we walk
back holding hands, I raise my free hand to my neck and run my finger tip along the soft edge of my leather
collar. I smile.
Friday, February 15, 2013
A POSSESSIVE MISTRESS - FINAL CHAPTER
“Peut-être”.
With that hint of encouragement, Your guest transfers her gaze and looks intently to me as a smile forms on
her face. Responding in kind, I offer a smile in her direction with a hint of mischievous glint in my eyes. Her
voluptuous breasts rise with an intake of breath and her hand reaches forward with extended fingers. In a
blink, You intervene, take her hand firmly in Yours, and offer a polite “Au revoir”.
A stern look in my direction as You close the door reminds me of my manners. “Peut-être, mon jouet, mais
peut-être pas.”
Somewhat downcast in the moment, the image of this woman lingers. After some days the memory dissipates
but the excitement remains. I retain vivid images of that afternoon watching the two of you together.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
And now, weeks later, we stroll hand-in-hand along a street unfamiliar to me but which You have walked
before. As we approach a secluded piazza, I notice a charming café to one side with a solitary figure seated in front.
As I realize who she is, I’m barely able to restrain my smile.
Polite greetings are exchanged; You order coffee and pain-au-chocolat for both of us.
Puzzled, I silently observe the proceedings. Light conversation is confined to innocuous topics. But, I sense
there is something more to this meeting.
Our refreshment arrives and the conversation continues unabated. The coffee is fine, but tastes bitter in my
dry throat. The pain-au-chocolat has no attraction for me. My intuition frightens me.
As You finish the coffee, she leans over and reaches into a satchel beside her chair. Fumbling briefly within,
her hand emerges holding a collar.
Transfixed, I don’t notice You reach behind me until I feel Your fingers begin to unfasten the buckle on my
collar. Turning abruptly, I look into Your eyes, shake my head, and plead, “Non”.
You take the collar and walk swiftly away as she rises, smiles, and moves to place her collar on my neck.
Terrified, I rise abruptly, knocking the chairs aside and run after You. But, You have vanished.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
With a start, I bolt upright and look about the dim room. My pulse is racing and I cannot control my
breathing. My pillow and the sheets are clammy with my sweat.
Rising, I compose myself as best I can and walk silently along the familiar hallway to Your room.
Unannounced, I move the door aside and enter. You are asleep.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I lay on the floor at the foot of Your bed.
In my Pagan fashion, I offer to the woodland spirits a silent prayer of thanks that You are possessive.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
With many thanks to Zaphod Button who owns the copyright of this story.
Previous Chapters:
http://monseulcaprice.blogspot.it/2013/01/tuesday-february-14-2012-possessive.html
http://monseulcaprice.blogspot.it/2013/01/tuesday-january-24-2012-possessive.html
http://monseulcaprice.blogspot.it/2013/01/friday-december-23-2011-possessive.html
With that hint of encouragement, Your guest transfers her gaze and looks intently to me as a smile forms on
her face. Responding in kind, I offer a smile in her direction with a hint of mischievous glint in my eyes. Her
voluptuous breasts rise with an intake of breath and her hand reaches forward with extended fingers. In a
blink, You intervene, take her hand firmly in Yours, and offer a polite “Au revoir”.
A stern look in my direction as You close the door reminds me of my manners. “Peut-être, mon jouet, mais
peut-être pas.”
Somewhat downcast in the moment, the image of this woman lingers. After some days the memory dissipates
but the excitement remains. I retain vivid images of that afternoon watching the two of you together.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
And now, weeks later, we stroll hand-in-hand along a street unfamiliar to me but which You have walked
before. As we approach a secluded piazza, I notice a charming café to one side with a solitary figure seated in front.
As I realize who she is, I’m barely able to restrain my smile.
Polite greetings are exchanged; You order coffee and pain-au-chocolat for both of us.
Puzzled, I silently observe the proceedings. Light conversation is confined to innocuous topics. But, I sense
there is something more to this meeting.
Our refreshment arrives and the conversation continues unabated. The coffee is fine, but tastes bitter in my
dry throat. The pain-au-chocolat has no attraction for me. My intuition frightens me.
As You finish the coffee, she leans over and reaches into a satchel beside her chair. Fumbling briefly within,
her hand emerges holding a collar.
Transfixed, I don’t notice You reach behind me until I feel Your fingers begin to unfasten the buckle on my
collar. Turning abruptly, I look into Your eyes, shake my head, and plead, “Non”.
You take the collar and walk swiftly away as she rises, smiles, and moves to place her collar on my neck.
Terrified, I rise abruptly, knocking the chairs aside and run after You. But, You have vanished.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
With a start, I bolt upright and look about the dim room. My pulse is racing and I cannot control my
breathing. My pillow and the sheets are clammy with my sweat.
Rising, I compose myself as best I can and walk silently along the familiar hallway to Your room.
Unannounced, I move the door aside and enter. You are asleep.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I lay on the floor at the foot of Your bed.
In my Pagan fashion, I offer to the woodland spirits a silent prayer of thanks that You are possessive.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
With many thanks to Zaphod Button who owns the copyright of this story.
Previous Chapters:
http://monseulcaprice.blogspot.it/2013/01/tuesday-february-14-2012-possessive.html
http://monseulcaprice.blogspot.it/2013/01/tuesday-january-24-2012-possessive.html
http://monseulcaprice.blogspot.it/2013/01/friday-december-23-2011-possessive.html
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