CARNALIS

same appetites

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Wed, 02 Apr 2014 22:14:00 +0000

Still baking, still fucking, but undecided about blogging. For now, the pictures and stories remain but life is so very different from when i started out, seven (seven? really?) years ago that I truly feel an out-of-body experience when looking at these pages. Not that the love of food has changed so much, I still make all those favourite recipes. And the love of a man .. no, that hasn't changed either. So perhaps the appetite remains the same, but the view from the table alters.

A tray of chocolate macaroons, still warm. I eat one with a spoonful of lemon curd, dense chocolate on my tongue with cool, sour lemon alongside.

autumnal bounty

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Tue, 01 Oct 2013 22:52:00 +0000

Almost seven years of his cock and still he surprises me, leaves me gasping, slippery with every fluid and my skin flushed top to bottom in the boldest sunset shades.

Finally finally my latest cut has healed. I didn't realise, until the scab finally smoothed over, that the strain of repair has been dragging me down so far. But I seem to pop back again, bobbing like a cork.

German Apple Cake, my way.

There are so many recipes out there, you need never repeat them. I have, however, happily repeated this one.

250g butter

180g caster sugar

300g self-raising gf flour

1 teaspoon xanthum gum

2 eggs

6 cooking apples, peeled and thinly sliced

4 tablespoons sultanas

2 tablespoons demerara sugar

1 teaspoon cinnamon

half teaspoon nutmeg

juice of 2 lemons

Melt the butter in a large saucepan, add the sugar and stir until he sugar starts to dissolve. Add the flour, xanthum gum and stir well, beat in the 2 eggs.
Spread half the batter over the base of a greased tin (22-24cm).
Layer half of the apple slices over the batter.
Mix together the sultanas, sugar and spices and sprinkle over the apple.
Cover with the rest of the apples, sprinkle with the lemon juice.
Spread the remaining batter on top, in spoonfuls.
Bake at 180C for 45 minutes, or until cake is cleanly baked.

I serve this with whipped cream. Whip it, baby.

Three ways

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Tue, 25 Jun 2013 22:25:00 +0000

His fingers are so unerringly direct, without falter and with no quarter given. I am fixated.

St. Clements Yoghurt Cake

Adapted from a Mary Berry recipe to make it suitable for me .. gluten and diary free .. and because I like that pumped-up threesome flavour I made it orange, lime and lemon too.

Ingredients

300g caster sugar

50g unsalted butter, softened

3 large eggs, separated

225g thick sheeps' yoghurt

Zest of 1 lemon (and a lime)

175g self-raising flour

1 teaspoon xanthan gum

250g fondant sugar

4tbsp orange juice (or use hot water with a splash of orange extract)

Grease and line with parchment paper a round, deep 8 inch cake tin. Preheat oven to 180 degrees C.

Cream together the softened butter, sugar and egg yolks until the texture is pale and fluffy - an electric beater will do this in minutes.

Pour in the yoghurt and add the lemon (and lime, if using) zest. Beat until the mixture is well incorporated and smooth.

Sieve the flour into the mixture and, using a large metal spoon, gently fold it in until there are no traces of flour to be seen.

Next, in a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until soft peaks form. Fold a large spoonful of the whites gently into the cake batter to loosen the mix, then add the remainder and keep folding gently until there are no traces of whites in it.

Pour the mixture into the prepared cake tin and bake for an hour. At the end of the hour, test the cake by inserting a skewer into the centre of the cake and check that it comes out clean .. give the cake a few more minutes if necessary.

Leave it to cool for a few minutes before removing from the tin. When completely cold, make up the fondant icing (simple instructions on the packet) or use icing sugar and water for a thin glaze. I like to make an orange icing for the sweet St Clements twist, but a lemon icing will be just as delicious.

Even better the next day, but don't take my word for it .. try it yourself.

puddles

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Wed, 22 May 2013 22:24:00 +0000

A circle of good and bitter chocolate, adorned with (as I remember it) toasted almond slices, chopped pistachio, freeze dried raspberry and mango, a little sea salt for sparkle.

Leave to cool and set on parchment paper before carefully peeling away a perfect mouthful of sweet and salt, crunch and mouth.

It only takes minutes.

*

A whorl of his body hair keeps my attention, darker against the intimate white of his thigh, tightly curled beneath an stray spit of cum. I lay my cheek in his lap to surround myself in our mingled sex smell, an aroma so familiar yet every time a thrill at the recognition of myself soaked into his skin.

tricky procedure

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Wed, 01 May 2013 23:09:00 +0000

It is so very hard to navigate around a bone shaking orgasm when i am studded all over with sutures that shouldn't be shaken. But I shall achieve it. Maybe not tonight. Maybe tonight is another of those very quiet ones, when i let only my knees quiver.

No heavy weight lifting, I am told. What do I do about the weight of my own breasts hanging off my cut-about shoulders? Lie down. So I do.

Nip and pinch

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Thu, 04 Apr 2013 15:52:00 +0000

My garden of blossoming roses, viewed daily in the mirror, creep across my belly and speckle my breasts with their faded yellow splendour. I am surprised by yet another faintly flowering low down on my hip, only visible when I twist in the brighter light by the window. Later they will develop shadows of earthy green, intensified by the marbling of his teeth in the places he lovingly lingered.

Glory be

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Wed, 27 Mar 2013 20:29:00 +0000

I am too tired to fuck so he jokes that he will take my arse while I sleep. With that fat cock in me there is little chance that my eyes would be shut for long. I remember those mornings when he woke at bird's song and he would cradle my back and push slowly between my relaxed thighs, nudging me to a dreamy awareness through the sleepy heat of a well spent night, a gentle friction of our limbs beneath the comfort of the duvet, rocking hips and the pressure of his uplifted knee. I shift a leg straight to feel him deeper and he is further awake and rising, escalating and determined.

Nights in

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Fri, 01 Mar 2013 16:20:00 +0000

We play that game, you probably all know it; "guess who dun'it" within 5 minutes of the opening credits. Any cheesy crime drama will do. Cards on the table, with plot justification.

Our stakes: spontaneous blow jobs. Or; who gets to come first, except that he likes me to come first, because he tends to fall asleep immediately afterwards, and I like to come first because it increases the likelihood of slipping a second orgasm in. Or out.

We don't often go out for an evening, just because it is so much fun to be in on our sofa, under a blanket or two.

And again.

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Wed, 27 Feb 2013 13:34:00 +0000

Today a lovely doctor told me I had cancer. She said it very fast, the words popping out before she had even sat down beside me, rushing on to how fortunate it was that the decision to cut had happened, and how close we had been to not going ahead with another slice, and another scar. I scar badly.

I now have a key worker, just like the children at preschool. She gave me lots of paper to read.

My deadly freckles.

satisfaction

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Mon, 18 Feb 2013 16:32:00 +0000

Apparently (I read somewhere) the endorphins created by having my ankles stroked are similar to those released by fucking. That's as maybe, as I never forego the opportunity to place my bare feet in his wide lap to receive his fingerly administrations along the thin skin, my toes nestled close to the warmth of his balls in comfortable appreciation. However, I can't compare any pleasure I receive to that of the satisfaction of waking of a morning with sticky orifices and pinched flesh.

Savoury, you say? Try this easiest Roast Onion Soup, with or without artery-clogging cheddar islands.

4 medium onions
A glug of olive oil (or butter, if you insist)
A glass of white wine1.5 lt vegetable stock
A small loaf .. sunflower and spelt seed is a favourite
Grated Gruyere, Emmental or other good melting cheese - a few generous handfuls

Set the oven to medium-hot. Peel the onions and cut them in half from tip to root, then lay them in a roasting tin and add the oil, salt and some pepper. Roast until they are tender and soft, and toasted dark brown here and there. You might have to turn them now and again.

Put the onions in a jug, and blend briefly. I wanted some mulched and some left in pieces. You could just chop instead, if you prefer.

Put the onions in a saucepan with the wine and bring to the boil. Let the wine bubble until it almost disappears (you just want the flavour, not the alcohol), then pour in the stock. Bring to the boil and simmer for about twenty minutes.

Just before you want to serve the soup, make the cheese croutes. Cut the loaf into thin slices and toast lightly on one side under a hot grill. Turn them over and sprinkle with the grated cheese. Get the soup hot, ladle it into bowls and float the cheese croutes on top.
Enough for 4.

nuts about you

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Tue, 29 Jan 2013 20:59:00 +0000

For me, the year officially starts tomorrow. Never let it be said that I am not a patient woman (I'm not really).

I have googled this recipe to see how others have fared .. it is generally raved over (I agree) but everyone's looks a little different. Life's sweet varieties.

Banana, Coconut & Cherry Loaf. Dare i try this with chocolate? next time ..

Ingredients
125g soft unsalted butter (i use dairy-free spread)
3 large bananas
150g vanilla caster sugar
2 eggs
175g plain flour (i use dove's gluten-free)
2 tsp baking powder
½ tsp bicarbonate of soda
100g dried cherries
100g desiccated coconut

1 x 900g (2lb) loaf tin

Preheat the oven to 170oC/fan oven 150oC/gas mark 3. Put a loaf liner into your tin, or line the bottom of the tin with baking parchment and grease the sides.

Melt the butter in a saucepan, and take it off the heat. Peel and mash the bananas in another bowl.

Beat the sugar into the cooled, melted butter, then beat in the mashed bananas and the eggs. Fold in the flour, baking powder and bicarbonate of soda. Finally, add the dried cherries and coconut.

Fold well so that everything is incorporated, then pour and scrape into the lined loaf tin and smooth the top.

Bake for about 50 minutes, but start checking after 45. When ready, the bread will be coming away from the sides of the tin and feel quite heartily bouncy on top.

Once of the oven, leave it in the tin for 10 minutes. Then carefully slip the cake out of the tin (still in the liner) onto a wire rack to cool.

Purple haze

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Tue, 08 Jan 2013 23:56:00 +0000

I may have an absentee boyfriend, but he likes to know that I'm not missing out.

A stuttering start

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Mon, 07 Jan 2013 19:33:00 +0000

I have to keep him at arm's length at the moment as my lungs are full of crap and i can't take a breath when he rises above my bowed back and presses apart my legs. Overcome with lust is a bonus, racked with wheezing coughing is not so sexy. It will pass.

I am absurdly lazy about posting recipes, but driven by need to preserve this particular gem.

350 gram dried pear(s) [i use tropical dried fruit as a alternative]
250 gram dried apricots
250 gram golden sultanas
175 gram butter (soft) [i use dairy free]
200 gram caster sugar
125 ml white rum [i use whisky when using tropical fruit]
200 gram ginger jam (or preserve or marmalade)
225 gram ground almonds
35 gram sesame seeds (or mixture sunflower & pumpkin)
3 cardamom pods (seeds)
¼ teaspoon ground coriander
3 medium eggs
For the topping
75 gram blanched almonds (whole)

Method

Roughly scissor the dried fruit and apricots into small pieces and put them into a saucepan with the sultanas, butter, sugar, rum and ginger jam.

Simmer for 10 minutes and then leave to stand for about 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 150°C/gas mark 2. Line the bottom and sides of a 20cm high-sided tin with a double layer of Bake-O-Glide or regular baking parchment; the lining should extend about 10cm above.

Stir the ground almonds, sesame seeds (or a mixture), cardamom seeds and coriander into the cooled saucepan. Beat in the eggs and spoon into the prepared cake tin, smoothing the top.
Starting in the middle, work in concentric circles as you place the blanched almonds on top of the cake batter in decorative rings (rather like a Dundee cake).

Bake for 1 hour 40 minutes, then leave to cool completely in the tin. Once cool, take out of the tin, wrap with baking parchment then foil, before stashing it away in its cake tin or other airtight container. Though, unlike a traditional fruit cake, it doesn’t need to stand before being divinely edible. It will keep for a week, thought it never lasts that long here.

Merry Christmas one & all

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Tue, 25 Dec 2012 09:42:00 +0000

Lemon meringue pie makes a decent substitute for snow fall. May your wishes come true in this season of cheer ... Particularly if they are wishes of sensual pleasure. The world would be a better place if we all had the orgasms we deserved.

With love, X X X

Sweet talk

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Tue, 11 Dec 2012 20:39:00 +0000

When he calls me his bunny cum slut whore I know he is feeling his most sentimental.

roles

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Fri, 16 Nov 2012 14:54:00 +0000

It starts off gently enough, in my favourite position of face down on the bed, and he is in me and above me and I sigh dreamily and arch my back in satisfaction. But once he presses his thumb to the cleft of my cheeks (and knowing the bottle of lube is out of his reach) I begin to wriggle and protest, and he shifts his restraining weight higher up my hips with the opposite hand on the back of my neck and he laughs.

So we follow that well ridden path of my resistance against his persistence yet all the while he gets harder and I get more vocal, and in the end we both get what we want.

balls

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Tue, 23 Oct 2012 21:50:00 +0000

I have been thwarted by a change of plan; a vigorously dirty proposal postponed, the very thought of which has had me grinding against the heel of my palm.

A frustration, yes, but I am consoled that a great deal more plans come to a frisky fruition that have collapsed despite enterprise. Heavy snow falls, sick children, flaming cars, diarrhea & vomiting; there is nothing like a fervent lust to bring on complications, mechanical and mercurial.

travel light

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Wed, 17 Oct 2012 22:12:00 +0000

I enjoy spending time with a man who doesn't make me feel guilty about enjoying a rapid, filthy fuck; the thrill we both feel is evident in our breathless laughter and absurd smirks.

And afterwards we talk of cake.

momentarily undone

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Wed, 10 Oct 2012 14:56:00 +0000

found: 579 photos on an old phone (that I have been using for incoming work calls for a couple of years) oblivious to the forgotten nudity that I have been carrying around with me daily, and the obscene texts too. Sharp memories of how he felt about me, and the effect he once had (the effect we had on each other).

damn him.

alarmed

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 14:38:00 +0000

woken from a deep sleep in the early morning by the particular clang that I recognise groggily as a glass dong in a silk bag hitting the wooden floor; such are the perils of sleeping with one's sex toys under the pillow.

*

Jamie Oliver calls this his 'rainbow salad' .. raw beet, carrot, red & white cabbage and pear, shredded and soused with a loose mustard, mayo, olive oil and worcestersauce dressing. Best served with a bloody slice of roast beef, but frankly anything goes.

I've missed this place

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Wed, 26 Sep 2012 20:42:00 +0000

An urgent search for suitable leg wear for a funeral this morning unearthed:

1. one black (synthetic leather) gimp mask

2. a stainless steel spreader bar

3. a box for a Lelo vibrator (no vibrator)

4. lube

5. more lube

6. a pornographic book that I haven't finished reading (Nicholson Baker's House of Holes, if you were wondering)

7. a length of red and white stripy rope, used.

8. a (smaller length of) chocolate brown silk rope tie, unused.

9. out of date condoms, various.

10. more lube.

11. a black bustier that I would need help clinching (it always was a little tight, but that is the point, no?)

No wonder I don't have enough room in the box to store all my stockings.

I cook. You all know I cook .. but perhaps I am not cooking new food so much at the moment, and so I don't post about it so much. And then i look through my photo library and see that maybe i still do, but perhaps I just forget to write about it.

Today i cooked steak for me and the children, just how i like it. Charred quickly on both sides, immediately and roughly sliced and left for a couple of minutes in a shallow pool of good olive oil, zest and juice of a lemon, fresh and dry oregano with lots of pepper and salt. Served with hot, fried leftover potato bits.

the truth

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Thu, 30 Aug 2012 22:09:00 +0000

"I will fuck you into the bed baby and out the other side" he says and I give a weary, happy sigh for I know he is always true to his word.

i still wear his name around my wrist

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Thu, 02 Aug 2012 13:57:00 +0000

While I wait, with the door on the latch and the bed well made, I listen to quiet music and wonder what havoc he will work upon my skin this time.

*

"Don't let anyone ever call you an old geezer" i splutter, reaching for a handful of tissue to catch the rope of spume around my neck "tell them it is pronounced 'geyser' instead"

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Fri, 20 Jul 2012 16:34:00 +0000

Old fashioned chicken pie with a butter-biscuit scone topping

He hides the bruises in the coloured flesh of my areola, concentrating on the puffed texture of darker meat that takes more easily the grind of his teeth and the vacuum of his cheek.

get a grip

noreply@blogger.com (Carnalis) — Wed, 11 Jul 2012 21:54:00 +0000

He likes to stroke my skin with body lotion, generously spread and slowly rubbed in, which is all very well and good until he is attempting to take a firm grip on my slippery hips as he penetrates a tight (the tightest, sweetest) turn; the consequences were equally frustrating and hilarious, and required jamming my arse against the wall to help sustain his balance against my bucking motion.

*
A casually adorned fruit cake, dark and sticky on the outside, moist and marzipan-soft within.