And sometimes it’s more fun to be spanked when you’re good.
Sometimes it is more fun to spank the good ones.
Month: March 2011
When I was about 9 or 10, my mother had me watch One Touch of Venus with her. I think I may have been even more taken with Ava Gardner than her leading man was.
Ava Gardner, my favorite
I’m trying to grow my hair out really long. I also have a top like this. I see myself recreating this picture real soonsies.
Reblog if it’s okay to invade your ask box.
StandardI prefer the term “plunder”.
No. Stop it. No. I can’t play right now. I have to write a paper. Stop being so damn cute. Don’t give me that look. … Okay, fine, you win.
Moral of the story: Girlpets can be terribly demanding.
god she is fucking cute….
I had a girlfriend with hair just like this. Same length, same style, same color, everything. I almost expect the photograph to rear its head so I wind up looking eye to eye with her.
So, here’s the deal with this infamous ex-boyfriend who I still talk to and who I mention directly and indirectly (he picks up on these, too) a lot so far in my tumblr’s small life:
He does not go to school with me. He does not live terribly close to where I go to school, though he does live fairly near where I live “at home”. He and I are not in the same place in our lives at the moment and it feels like, while the connection between us is so obvious, the rest of the world doesn’t fall together around us quite as neatly.
Simply put: We were absolutely the right people at absolutely the wrong time.
And that’s what seriously, seriously kills me. Because it’s hard to call a “relationship” quits when we’re both very, very deeply in love with each other, when we have something incredibly special, when we understand each other on a level that neither has experienced before, and when we cannot imagine our lives without the other present in some form.
So, we still mess around. We still talk. We still play. We still confide in each other. We still joke. We are still the same, basically, but without the pressures of a “normal” sort of “relationship”. This both comforts me and upsets me. This whole thing is relatively new, with us “breaking up” fairly recently, and we’re both sort of getting a feel for this different level of our “relationship”.
We miss each other, we love each other, and we absolutely want the best for each other. And, right now, the pressures of maintaining a serious relationship are just making us stressed out.
The quote chosen by the amazing sheslostcontrol-again to caption this photo is so, so real to me right now. I love Bukowski.
“The shortest distance between two points is often unbearable.”
— Charles Bukowskiwanderer-of-dark-dreams: astralis: pinkprincess17:masochisticbeauty:
My gosh my gosh my gosh. Can we please just recognize all this real love we’re denying the same way we recognize all this fake love that we’re letting exchange vows?
Once, he tied me down to my bed in a terribly vulnerable position and blindfolded me with one of my scarves. To top it off, he put a pair of headphones on me, which were playing a rather loud recording of a washing machine. And that was about it. I was trembling with anticipation. I was dripping, squirming, waiting to be played with, and yet I felt nothing. No hands sliding up my sides, no lips trailing over my neck and chest, nothing. Nothing for a while. I went to ask what was going on, and I got smacked. So I kept quiet from that point on. And then, more silence. And nothing.
It got to the point where I was fairly sure I was now alone in the room. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. I was terribly disoriented. I could feel my sheets dampening beneath my exposed pussy. I could smell myself. But that was about anything sensory, besides the maddening sound of the washing machine and the chill of the air over my damp pussy.
And then I felt his hand slide underneath my chin and lift my head, the other occupied with guiding his cock into my mouth. He didn’t remove the blindfold or the handphones. But, it didn’t matter. I had all the comfort I needed.
