More Fuel Than Food

 “If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.”

– W. Shakespeare

♦ Can music cure the heart of love? As much as Orsino might have wished it, I doubt it. I don’t think of love as something to be cured unless it’s been a very bad day, but even so, I don’t think music is to love as food is to the appetite. Rather I think of the right music as fuel to a burning fire, as an aphrodisiac for emotion. Having trouble keeping your pecker up? A good tune is your Viagra. Music, if anything, can only make the love sickness worse.

As you likely know, this week Sinful Sunday is running a competition based on a particular theme. The inspiration? “If music be the food of love, play on”. I didn’t have a lot of time to enter this week, but damned if I’m going to miss a Sinful Sunday competition. I haven’t missed an entry yet. I had to downgrade from my original idea, but I did a version of it anyway. I just couldn’t get the idea of using the beautiful, awe-inspiring human body as sheet music for an art form that can play god with the heartstrings. So here’s a beautiful glass dildo, my music notes necklace and, in permanent ink on my bare arm, the opening strains of Tchaikovsky’s love theme from Romeo and Juliet, the most famous part of which is probably this part, which some of you may recognise from snogging on The Sims.

As you can see, Crush took part in this one too, which I always enjoy. It’s nice to get him naked on the Internet see him get involved. Even if he was actually a terrible pain and wouldn’t stop being silly. :)

I originally wanted to write out a page of sheet music on his chest or back, which I think would not only look gorgeous but also be pretty erotic too, but sadly that’d have taken too long and I didn’t want to force him to spend ages scrubbing it off afterwards. Shame. Luckily, I quite like my new ‘ink’, so I don’t mind if it takes a while to come off.

Sorry you don’t get any more obviously erotic body parts, I just couldn’t find an easy way to write on my breasts or anything like that because it’d involve mirrors and failures and all sorts of mess. I just have to hope you find my skin (and Crush’s) erotic enough without tits ‘n’ ass.

Anyway, there you have my Sinful Sunday entry for this fantastic Shakespearian prompt. If music be the food of love, or fuel for that matter, play on: because I want to gorge myself on it. ♦

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