All Saints’ Day, preceded by All Hallows’ Eve, or Halloween, marks the time when our calendars have grown thoroughly Orange, in harmony with the magnificent hues that autumn decides, year after year, to paint on our trees. To the end of November, Americans celebrate Thanksgiving to say goodbye to the Orange and — after a harsh Black Friday of all out shopping — to give us the Red and the White and the Green of the Christmas Season. Yes, we are those consumerist victims of the marketing departments, aren’t we? They industriously hijacked our entire Calendar in their quest for pretexts to make us buy more and more, converting entire populations into shopacholic nations. Welcome to the world as we know it!
Old Europe celebrates Martinmas, according to some traditions, in the 11th minute of the 11th hour (pm) of the 11th day of the 11th month of the year. It conducts a similar message as Thanksgiving about the conclusion of harvesting and preparation for the Advent. Custom and traditions vary across spaces and over times, yet the reductionist idea remains: indicating the arrival of the coldest season of the year with yet another feast! We use to put a goose or a duck in the oven for Martinmas. I was agile enough to grab the last plastic bag, laying solo on the bottom of a glass refrigerator in the supermarket. The mechanically packed duck was brought home, to my kitchen, where it suffered a pleasant process of cooking before the family had the chance to congratulate me, the chef, for the delightful roasted duck on cabbage, stuffed with an apple down her empty behind.
The cuisine experiment has been recorded on video and in pictures and is about to get public on Southern Charms just before November ends.
They say that after Martinmas, in the old, “women traditionally moved their work indoors for the winter, while men would proceed to work in the forests.” Well, well, part of my amateur housewife work is posing nude for the camera. Following this tradition, I’d have to keep my pussy inside for the cold season. Yes, don’t freak out, I know as well as you do that a pair of warm boots and a cushy piece of fur will give me enough courage to pose naked (almost) in snow. But why anticipate? For this Martinmas little culinary show of mine, I’ve picked up a red braid, a white apron and a delicate white cape. Oh, forgot to mention the black knitted stockings. Wanted to look beyond vintage, perhaps hitting at the pre-industrial clothing? Naturally, I focused on the concealed fashion of that era. This because I love to expose my intimate moments.
Along with the erotic cuisine, feast or no feast, I wish to share a secret with you — and thus, at the end of this paragraph, it won’t be a secret anymore. Hah! Gotcha! This morning, while preparing the veggies for the soup, I had touched (how else to cut them?) leaves of parsley and celery that I bought yesterday from the farmers’ market. Then I’ve washed my hands with the usual liquid soap. Minutes later I blushed, my face turned red, out of the blue, as I felt a fever invading me. Most likely an allergic reaction to something in those leaves, or the soap?, the combination?, or to something else? When I stared at me in the mirror, do you know what have I seen? It was PANIC! Staring back with a grinning vengeance. Showing this to hubby, he told me to calm down, it’s just an allergic reaction (didn’t I say that before?) like the one I had years ago when touching my forehead with an essential oil, just a drop of it, for relaxation. Oh, I completely forgot about that event. Still I felt surrounded by that dreaded and sleazy snake of panic. Don noticed my concern and answered with his fix-em-all universal solution, “Darling, you need an orgasm!”
When you feel hopelessly encircled, and see how the time is slipping through your fingers, then you really know that you need an orgasm. At no delay! Hubby knew better than me and proposed a foreplay: cuddling naked in bed, we watched the “The 40-Year-Old Virgin.” It was quarter to nine in the morning! The movie helped, his hand rubbing my pussy helped, mine holding his dick helped, his arm around my neck helped and… my mind returned to tell me that “Hey! It’s almost ten and you still have to orgasm, then to perform in a photo shooting, then to make lunch before noon hours will bring your twins home. Wake up, woman!” And I did: asked Don to put the film on hold, which he did, until tonight; to play his tongue on my clitoris, which he did, until I came in sounding reverberations, spilling my juices on the sheets. Did not ask him to fuck me, because I could not handle any tickling touch, but he had no ear for my unsaid refrain and he pounded my pussy nonetheless, until I asked him to cease, which he did. I then wished for the photo sitting: upstairs in the hall, close to the stairwell, wearing my new red small boot stilettoes that he bought me this very Sunday from the city, and the old red stockings, and the fanciful red bra, and a Santa red hat, and… isn’t that enough? He shyly asked if I’ll let him cum before or after the photo shooting. I said after, while I’ll be cooking lunch, he can jack off while talking his fantasies to me, I’ll be there for him.
An hour and 111 pictures later, he masturbates to a climax in less than ten minutes (an absolute record from his delayed ejaculation perspective — ah, this is another video, in three parts, about to appear on Southern Charms before November ends, under the title “Uplifting Doktor Doris” – watch 49 instances, along with another 49 October snaps, in the photo albums hereby attached). The rash?, it has been long washed away, early on, by the funny moments of the film.
Uplifting Doktor Doris, Photo Album
Golden October, Photo Album
Wish you’ll enjoy the moments of Orange for the current month under a gloomy sky and then revel to the Red and White of the approaching December, Santa gear and all that consumerist distractions, and older traditions…
Recipe of Delicious Roasted Duck stuffed on cabbage: for the bottom half of the Roman pot, slice one cabbage, season with pepper, thyme, bay, tomato paste and pour a jug of boiled water upon, wash the duck, rub it with sea salt, paint it with olive oil, extra virgin, and stuff it with an apple, or according to your lust, lay the duck over the bed of seasoned cabbage in the pot, cover it with the top half and put to oven at a mild 150 Celsius degrees for two to three hours, according to your wishes. Bon Appétit!