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

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…

With each passing year
The need grows stronger
The desire drives deeper
The woman soars higher

On the fourth day of the eleventh month of the ninth year,
the fiery and wanton temptress
in her rises.

~o~

Confession: I’m not a great believer in astrology.

Like many a friend, I occasionally read my horoscope for a lark, often equal parts amused and bemused by advice so narrow and comprehensive, or so broad and universal, that it must relate to quite literally a random (or chosen) few… million.

But when I stumbled across a book of birthdays a while back, I was curiously interested in the premise and more taken with the reading for November 4 – the creation date of this virtual home and haven – than my own.

The Day of the Provocateur.

The designation had me smiling immediately; the kind of smile that begins as a mere hint, curving one corner of a full, rouged mouth then the other, clear eyes following suit soon after, crinkling with delight and recognition as they recall desires shared and secrets well-guarded.

While I stand by my scepticism, this day’s tag serves an important purpose: it is a comfort, a reminder, particularly on the days I’m feeling the furthest from that wanton temptress. It helps me focus and see – and see again anew – the woman of passion and sensuality, the woman of creative vision, the woman tenacious and resilient, the woman in word and image and shadow and light, the woman of complexity who loves and lusts and hates.

In my last two anniversary posts, I mused on my diminished time, inspiration and sporadic posting. This year has been marked by a similar pattern, including a great many private erotic highs and some emotional lows. While my heart is still in the midst of its healing, I can feel my lightness, my suppleness, my coquettishness, my sensuality and carnality re-emerging, my body, mind and soul rejuvenating in the Spring sun and its already blistering heat.

Rather than promise you – or myself – a return to previous form, I have decided to let this place be whatever it needs to be. (Although, I do promise to respond to comments in a timely manner and catch up on everyone’s fabulous work and imagery regularly…)

Even though my presence here might be intermittent for a while, the one constant is my heartfelt gratitude for your unerring support, encouragement and communion with my work. Words could never do justice to the joy, richness and inspiration you bring.

~Minx x

Down
but not out,
still hanging on.

~o~

Yesterday was something of an oddity for me.

For the first time since the inception of Love Hate Sex Cake seven years ago, I genuinely didn’t feel its anniversary worth marking or celebrating. Lately, I’ve been musing about its quality, its purpose, my creative and sexual drive, and whether this site will be anything more than the repository of the yearning I feel each and every day. Much like the woman before you. A body that houses a craving for more – for intimacy, connection, love and passion, for the erotic fusion of mind, body and soul.

And yet here I am observing its beginnings once again, but mostly to extend my heartfelt thanks and gratitude for your unerring support and your communion with the words and imagery during a year of sporadic posting and diminished time and inspiration. Language will never quite express how much it means to me. The ability to touch, to inspire, to soothe, to excite, through whispers and cries, through pixels and light, through shadow and colour and monochrome tones is one I will never take for granted.

~Minx x

Double the fire.
Double the need.
Double the trouble.

You cannot know the way
I want, the way I need
until you touch me.

Hers is a serenity tainted with chaos, with darkness, with passion’s unrelenting rush.