Lately, I’ve been thinking quite a lot about home – what it means, where it is, what it feels like to be at home in my skin, in my heart, in my bones.

Is home a place, a virtual space, a clan, a person, a love?

With each passing year and anniversary, I reflect on this virtual home, the home of my creativity, my desire, my sexual soul. The opportunity this space has opened up, the freedom to express and document my passions and longings, the connections and friendships born from the pen and the lens, they have been gifts from the gods.

As I positioned myself against the familiar cool stucco to capture these images, the afternoon a mere glowing hint behind me, I mused on another gift, the bricks and mortar I call my home. The offerings it has provided me over time have been overwhelming – light so stark and strong my skin magically transformed into alabaster, shadows so rich and luxurious and deep I could submerge myself in midnight’s eroticism and mystery, expanses, alcoves and recesses solid yet mutable, the changing sets of my stage.

In many ways, Love Hate Sex Cake is also an ode to this place. While I have been grateful for the spaces I have encountered and captured during my travels, it is my own home that has posed the hardest questions and creative challenges. Along with capturing the feeling, the desire, the moment, I have fixed in my memory – and hopefully yours – this haven, this playhouse.

I know I’m not alone in this reflection. So many of us have spent a good part of the last two years working and living and creating and playing at home as a result of this heartbreaking pandemic – if we were lucky. Our bedrooms, living rooms, studies and kitchens have virtually welcomed in friends and colleagues and strangers and lovers; they have told the tale of our joys and anxieties and book collections. And for me, with you, they have told the ongoing story of my body, clothed and bare and punctuated with silks and laces, of my passion, naked and raw and ever-present, of my creativity, vision and resilience.

I can’t begin to express how your eye and ear and communion with my home, in every sense, have enriched and fuelled my drive and need to share. I can’t begin to express the gratitude I feel for your generosity, engagement and friendship. Even though my presence is infrequent (or frequently infrequent…), I am still here. If you want a little more of me, you can find me on Twitter where I continue to post my erotic imagery and thoughts, where I marvel at the voices, words, photography and imagery of others, creativities and expressions that invigorate, inspire and incite the fire in my own burning belly and molten sex.

I hope you can join me there, just as I hope you can continue to join me here.

Thank you for helping me make this a truly cherished and beloved home.

~ Minx x

Each passing year finds me surprised – often happily – that my online persona and this virtual space continue to live and breathe and provide me with a haven to lust and write, to photograph and create.

While my presence here on Love Hate Sex Cake has been all the more limited since this heartbreaking pandemic has radically changed our lives and my promises for a regular return haven’t materialised, I cherish this space quite unlike any other. It is my home. The home of my creativity, my desire, my sexual soul. It is, and forever will be, the embodiment of the freedom and opportunity to express my longings and passions, to document my femininity, sexuality and experiences, to share the light and the shadow that have begged to be captured.

In the same vein as the last few years, I have been uncertain about marking the passing of time here. Even though I initially questioned my motivations, I heeded the call to celebrate my 11th year because this number has always been a lucky one for me and this post is my small way of sending my heartfelt thanks and gratitude to you all for your unerring and often overwhelmingly vocal encouragement and support.

This afternoon as I sat to gather my thoughts for this post, I recalled my nervousness as I published the first post on the original incarnation of this blog back in 2009. I wondered if my voice would be found in what already felt like a crowded space of dizzyingly talented erotica writers. I wondered if my vignettes would pique the interest of those I admired. I wondered if I would connect with new and like minds.

Little did I know then that my lens, rather than my pen, would be my strongest and most expressive tool. Little did I know then that this site would become the catalyst and means for some of the most meaningful relationships of my life. Little did I know then that I’d be given the gift of charting my passion, my longing, my vision, my resilience, my body, over time.

My desire and drive to create are as strong now as they were on that first day. Even though life and professional commitments invariably get in the way, I am here; I am out there. Of late, I have been posting my erotic imagery and thoughts on Twitter. Now more than ever, I need the interaction, connection and communion found there. These voices, their words, the photography and imagery, fuel the fire in my already burning belly (and molten sex). They inspire, they soothe, they incite. They make me feel alive.

I hope in my own small and unique way, I have done the same for you. I hope you have found a little inspiration or solace here. I hope you have found words and imagery that speak to your own hunger and yearning. I hope you have found a space you can also call your home.

Be well and stay safe.

~ Minx x

To say we are all living in strange times – and unprecedentedly strange times – is an understatement.

I know I’m not alone thinking and expressing that sentiment while living and breathing its reality. Day after day, the toll of this COVID-19 pandemic grows ever greater, the reality heartbreaking and life altering in ways that defy the imagination. Unlike others, at this very moment I am very lucky – my family, friends, colleagues and I are all healthy and safe, abiding by our national and local restrictions with the gravity they deserve, self isolating and trying our hardest to flatten that curve.

While the work and pace of my professional life have increased exponentially in the last few weeks, like so many I have more time on my hands now my life is focused almost exclusively between these walls. With some of that time, I’ve been revisiting the thousands of frames I’ve photographed over a decade, regarding them (and my body) with new eyes and an often-surprising kindness, fondly recalling those moments, places and desires. A number have been posted on Twitter, others await the possibility of a new form. The remainder I’m hoping to post here once the words I lately struggle to write finally grace the page. (The two shots that accompany this post were captured in a once grand hotel in Manchester during the northern summer of 2015. After days of dreary grey skies and rain, the sun finally broke. On the morning of my departure, the light allowed me to capture some of my best work.)

My wish is a return to my past form and regular posting might bring a little comfort during this stressful and anxious point in our lives – to my loyal friends and readers as well as myself.

On that note, please drop by and indulge yourself at any time if this space gives you joy, inspires your eroticism, exhibitionism or desire, and brings you that comfort. Even though I can’t make as material a difference as I’d like during this time, I want to offer this Love Hate Sex Cake as succour, relief and possibly some light during this despairing darkness.

Be well and stay safe. 

~ Minx x

Year 49
No greater moment to reach out
To taste and imbibe
The sensual and wanton divine

Десет. Dix. Dieci.

Ten.

I can barely believe a decade has passed by; a decade that has seen me bare so much of my body, desire and sexual soul.

In keeping with the last few years, I’ve been struggling to find good reason to mark and celebrate this virtual home’s beginnings since it has become such a neglected place of late. My time, energy and creativity have been channelled into my professional life, into work that nourishes and compels me to reach for new heights.  

While that sphere has overwhelmed my drive in some respects, in others it has intensified my urge to write and photograph, to document my desire and sexuality, to keep alive the woman of passion and sensuality, the woman of creative vision, the woman tenacious and resilient, the woman in word and image, the woman of dark and light.

In the shadows, I continue to create. Not with the regularity that embodied (quite literally) the early years of this site, but with occasional and considered bursts that allow me to focus on capturing the essence of time, of space, of desire, of the woman in her (increasingly fiery and ravenous) middle age.

So, here I am, taking a moment to observe the birth – as well as my continual rebirth – through this lovingly and lustfully created Love Hate Sex Cake. In that commemoration, there is also and always my debt and heartfelt gratitude to you – my friends and readers – for your unerring support, encouragement and communion with my work. More than simply reading and gazing, you have encouraged me to push my boundaries, to hone my craft, to sigh and spill my lust, to bare not just so much, but more… All.  

~ Minx x

PS If you’re ever in the mood for more regular erotic offerings, you can find me on Twitter…

Once the night blankets the city, my thoughts turn to you.

My body turns to you.

Its coordinates set to yearn for your touch. Its curves reaching through these foreign streets and spaces for your north, your heat, your need.

Once your hands find me, flaunt me
Once your flesh fills me, owns me
The world becomes golden

I wonder if you’ll ever know the depth, the breadth, the force of my yearning for your touch at first light.

If you spied me from your vantage, if you found me framed high in this picture window,
would you let your gaze linger, would you wonder lust for the taste, the ache,
the bend, the break, the sensation of my naked body pressed in tight?

Imagine.

Imagine taking a chance – risking it all – on a woman like me.

A woman whose desire for you burns through the years, reduces thousands of miles to inches with the sultry utterance of your name.

A woman whose delicate frame arcs as your breath meets her skin, whose intimate flesh gleams with sensual hunger and carnal yearning as you bring her to life each day with your dawn kiss.

A woman who aches for the man in his entirety, who longs for his curiosity, the mystery, the knowing, the complexity, the mess, their fusion and untamed, erotic depths.

I wonder if your imaginings would dare conjure such a creature, if they would scream for fantasy to give birth to a new reality, if they would allow time and space and fate and fortune to bend, break, meet.

If they could inspire your hands to reach out, to gift her with the touch you can no longer bear to keep to yourself.