Решение-14_4_2012-

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Организация остановочных карманов для исключения необходимости объезда общественного транспорта. Расширение московской по направлению к ЮЗ и организация поворота направо на ул. Ердякова по светофору с доп. секцией. (возможна установка стрелки без расширения: горит при зеленом свете по Ердякова)
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Гость |

Canadian non-binary dominatrix

Towering above the city from my penthouse, the heavy cloak of a snowy Canadian evening resting on my shoulders, I muse about my expansive career and the beautiful mosaic that my life as a dominatrix has become—a testament to my age, a hearty 52 years of wisdom and kink. Allowing my memory to sway in its cosmic dance, I draw myself into a world of thoughts, from my first intimate rendezvous to the elaborate scenes constructed for my current sphere of individuals; those seeking meaning, liberation, and gratification – all above the age of consent, an unwavering tenet.

What started as a burgeoning interest in the late eighties rapidly catapulted into being a powerful domme in the renowned scenes of Toronto. As an eager young artist, I was only 18+ years old then, exploring the contrasting realms of tenderness and dominance, seeking art in human connection. The scent of latex and leather, the gasps of tantalization, the hush of reverence, all are the colour palettes to my craft—of love, pleasure, and awakening.

Yet, it’s the journey of my own self-discovery that fascinates me the most. The evolution from a dominatrix who held the reins of control, to a spiritual guide who invokes the illuminating principles of tantra. Tantra, the path to unravelling one's deepest truths and embracing love in its complete essence, has vividly reshaped my interpretation of my profession. It is a discipline that allows for freedom, the freedom to feel, to desire, to break the shackles of societal norms, and to transcend the boundary between the physical and spiritual worlds. It turns the confines of encumbrance into a wide open playground, an invitation to explore the depths of one’s soul and desires with utmost honesty.

I weave the elements of tantra into our sessions, focusing not solely on the physical but encouraging a journey into the mindscape—a surrender to the experience, connecting to the universal energy that binds us all. The exchange of power is a dance of trust—the ones who submit are the brave hearts willing to lose themselves, and in doing so, discover their true selves. And as I guide them through this process, I too feel a sense of liberation, a sense of growth. Every gasp, moan, whisper is a testament to courage, trust, and freedom.

As the night grows darker, the snow outside starts to settle, mirroring my calming thoughts. I relish in the quietude, the solitude. It's in these moments that I truly understand how far I've come, from a young, curious artist exploring BDSM to a revered tantra-inspired mistress. The sense of contentment that washes over me is almost overwhelming, an affirmation of my path – a path carved through years of experience, exploration, and evolution. It's an enriched narrative of a Canadian dominatrix - a non-binary individual who took the conventional notions of pleasure, power and intimacy, and painted them with new colours of tantra, freedom, and self-discovery.

Гость |

Japanese male nightclub dancer

As the hazy lights drip down from the club's ceiling, it is easy for me, a 28-year-old prodigy of Tokyo's nightly spectacle, to lose myself within the shifting rhythms. For you see, being a nightclub dancer is not less than a mystical journey – a staccato of exultation interlaced with the quiet whispers of introspection. Amid the symphony of pulsating beats and intoxicating shadows, I have learned to find an inexplicable sense of tranquility, a certain strangeness that mirrors tantra.

With tantra, it is almost like the slow build of a scene unfolding, gradually claiming the space between the reality and the dream. In a dance, it emerges from the first contact of my bare foot with the cold, groaning floor. Their echoes, a distant sound, a tactile memory. I see it first, my whole act of dancing, a scene in which I'm the puppeteer and a marionette both, guided by the strings of music and intuition. This visualization shapes my performance as if manifesting an intimate moment into a tangible, flowing artwork.

Every beat infuses an ephemeral moment of blinding ecstasy, a cascade of energy pricked by the pinpricks of adrenaline. By the time the climax climbs, the anticipation building within my body feels as if it is ready to leap into the abyss of pleasure, a leap echoing the irreversible surrender of tantra. It is not a momentary surrender, instead, a conscious, deliberate submission to the universe's riddles, finding solace not in answers but in eternal questions.

The post-dance void, the humdrum after the music fades, the silence stretches like a yawning chasm- it is a strangely comforting nothingness, an echo of the intimidatingly vast cosmos. Just as tantra is a tightrope walk between spiritual abundance and sensory deprivation, this silent void represents an unusual tranquility after the storm of rhythms. The tantra, the dance, it all converges into a singular moment of perfect silence, a pause, before life churns on its unstoppable wheel.

Does the dance imitate tantra, or does tantra echo in every sway of the dance? I don't know. Maybe it is the blurry line in perception that attunes the harmony between the two. As a nightclub dancer, I've been a mute spectator to countless stories, saw countless desires bloom and perish in the blink of an eyelash. But the one story that keeps me coming back under these pulsating lights, submerged in a deafening hum, is a tale of the elusive dance of tantra. A dance, slow and sensual, yearning and giving, defeating and liberating, a dance that dances me.

Гость |

Публикация с интересными аспектами темы

Эта разъяснительная статья содержит простые и доступные разъяснения по актуальным вопросам. Мы стремимся сделать информацию понятной для широкой аудитории, чтобы каждый смог разобраться в предмете и извлечь из него максимум пользы.
Разобраться лучше - https://sunnyatlantic.com/event/lobster-night

Гость |

Spanish male fetish fashion de

The cool, midnight air, elusive silence, and the serenity of tranquility frame my mood as I sit in my intricately designed studio. I'm Enrique, a forbidden progeny from the heart of AndalucГ­a, Spain. The ticking of my heart doctorates with the rhythm of a restless fetish fashion designer, carving the pathway of self-expression, one stitch at a time. My 51 years have been a symphony of peculiarities; a saga of curiosity, which has unfolded into my creative liberation.

I remember my youth, the allure of the unknown whispering to me from under the pleats of life. The town where I grew up was a picturesque canvas of antiquated norms. It was a place where conformity was embroidered in the fabric of every soul, where the idea of fetish fashion was an alien concept. At the age of 18, I discovered my penchant for the eccentric, the different. The spark of curiosity ignited my passion for fashion — not the plain, common kind, rather an exotic medley of intricate patterns, unconventional materials, and bold designs. The journey from curiosity to conviction was a laborious path - a cobblestoned alley of self-doubt and social resistance. Yet, with every step I took, the shackles of traditionalist thought loosened. My first ever design was an audacious ensemble featuring leather and metal, merged into a harmony of audacity and elegance. It was worlds away from the smocks and tweeds of my village, a testament to my yearning for the different — and it was the origin of my craft's click-worthy content.

As decades rolled by, I found myself in the bustling cityscape of Madrid, a vibrant hub of eclectic souls. The pulsating energy of the city matched the rhythm of my heart — unapologetic, unabashed, full of life. This city of creative chaos embraced me and my oddness. I met a myriad of characters that not only understood but celebrated my fetish fashion. The community here inspired me and fueled my desire to push the boundaries of fashion even further, leading me to the creation of my unique fetish-infused creations.

Bound by unconventional beauty, my designs represent the essence of freedom — a liberation from the cliché, the monotonous, the accepted. I have spun every inch of fabric with threads of aspiration, emblazoned each piece of leather with trails of defiance, and poured a part of myself and my journey of self-expression into every creation. The subtle elegance of leather, the raw audacity of latex, and the alluring sheen of vinyl have become the ingredients of my artistic compositions, both attracting curiosity and being the ultimate statement of liberation. My work, my craft, became the bridge connecting the perceived oddity to the reality of exquisite design, and the forbidden thrills of fetish fashion became the click-worthy content of freedom.

Today, as I sit in my studio, surrounded by my story told through an array of corsets, gowns, and bodysuits, I don't see fetish fashion. I see personal freedom. Freedom to embrace the oddities, the peculiarities, and the eccentricities. Freedom to dream in color, and to make those dreams manifest, piece by piece. I am Enrique, a 51-year-old fetish fashion designer. A living embodiment of the tale of curiosity turning into freedom. An unapologetic artist etching his own unique narrative onto the world's fashion canvas.

Гость |

Turkish female polyamory blogg

Beneath the ever-shifting vastness of the stars, among the quiet whispers of the night, I find my universe expanding. As an unapologetically engaged polyamory blogger from Turkey, I've woven my way through many fascinating tales of love and interaction. Yet, it is the interplay between moments of dominance and the intriguing allure of voyeurism that never ceases to captivate my senses.

Delving into dominance, it's a phenomenon that conjures tales of control and rulership. Yet to me, it's a dance — a rhythm that sways between partners, harmonizing in the symphony of their shared story. It's a power that isn't sequestered by one, but flows and ripples between personas, illuminating the dynamics that bind their tapestry. But to feel its true power, one should not merely participate, but observe.

There are those sultry yet tranquil evenings, as my partners entwine in the throes of passion. Curled up in my favourite corner, I begin to observe, the dominant streak in me surrendering to the voyeur within. I start scrolling through their emotions, each subtle flinch and impassioned whisper etched permanently into my memory. Their symphony begins to play, and I become the rapt audience, sublimely captured by the unfolding drama.

Yet, this voyeurism isn't uttered in hushed whispers, there's honesty in my observation. I'm not a thief, stealthily stealing glimpses of their moments, rather an admitted voyeur, and they are consenting performers, and we are engaged in a subtle exchange of power. Thus, my dominance is realized in my surrender to the satisfaction of watching them unfold.

So, as I plunge into this midnight symphony, I find my passion for polyamory renewed. The intertwined dance of dominance and voyeurism paints a vivid mural that's both enticing and liberating. And each night, the stars bear witness to our endless cosmic dance, illuminating the serenity of our shared silence.

Гость |

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