Rolledtrousers has made another audio.
Some of you have learned by now how I feel about this man’s audio posts.
And if you haven’t caught his first, go listen to this one. It’s super sexy.
The full audio here, hosted on SoundCloud.
An erotic short story written and read by My Trousers Rolled
Tumblr’s audio limit stops me uploading the full recording, as it’s over 10mb, and I can’t host both today, as I’m only allowed one a day. So here it all is, with the rest to follow tomorrow.
“Talent. I don’t have talent. I have willingness. What talent?” As a kid, she had always told the raunchiest jokes. As an adult, she could rip open a bone and speak out of it. Simple, clear. There was never anything to stop her. Why was there never anything to stop her? “I can stretch out the neck of a sweater to point at a freckle on my shoulder. Anyone who didn’t get enough attention in nursery school can do that. Talent is something else.”
– Lorrie Moore, in her short story “Willing” from her collection Birds of America.
Ugh, nail on the head.
I love being choked in a sexual way. But then when I really think about what’s going on I’m stuck thinking to myself, “I probably shouldn’t be doing this.” Because facts stand that someone could really screw up. And I always go back to the actual violence of the gesture and what it is normally used for, like when I mull over some other fetishes like (consensual, in my case) non-consent. There’s a moment where you stop and think that for a lot of people, this isn’t sexy. In another context, this would be horribly wrong.
But I still can’t deny how it makes me feel.
i know there’s huge ethical/legal/moral controversy about choking as a sexual practice. i understand the risks. sometimes i even freak out about them in a panicky, ‘i’m not gonna do that anymore’ kinda way. but when we’re fucking, there is no more controversy. there’s only our bodies. our trust. our hands. our throats. and in that context, the risk is worth the reward.
What do you want to “talk about the text”? In terms of what?
We could talk in terms of the fact that impersonation is a violation of tumblr’s terms of service. A follower contacted me and explained that if I report you to tumblr they would take your post down for this reason. I’m not going to do that. It’s petty.
So that’s “who the fuck make the rules here”. And I understand then your lack of shame and your lack of respect, for both me and the rules of tumblr, but the “no knowing”, as you put it, I don’t understand. You knew it was from my tumblr. When you joined tumblr, you had to agree to those rules, so I don’t understand the ignorance there. And unless you were suddenly possessed by a ghost that crawled in through your nostril and made you steal my writing, then you were very well-aware of what you were doing.
I’ve had people not like the pictures I’ve used for writing and had them just reblog my writing. The difference is that they gave me credit. They put quotes around the thing, sometimes very long stories I’ve written, and then said that it was written by Think Ivy Kink or Ivy and linked back to my tumblr. Which was so, I don’t know, decent of them.
So shameless really isn’t your color at all. Sorry. A lot of us wear it much better around here.
Well now. I am not the sort of person who gets jollies out of belittling people on the Internet, so I’ll tread lightly here.
I decide to check tumblr while I’m on my weekend away (I’m having a lovely time!) and my good “ladyfriend” (I love that phrase) myanonymouslair has sent me a message saying apparently one of my posts has been just sort of nabbed. To which I was like, “what’s all this about?” So, I look at her tumblr.
She’s made this post and then I notice a message from the culprit telling my lady myanonymouslair that she has no respect. And so my upset really more concerns the fact that you’ve called my friend disrespectful, laiks-velkas.
Really ironically, I might add. Since, um, you know, you sort of disrespected me here by taking my words/life experience and pretending it was your own. Okay, okay, so the Internet is everyone’s playground. This is fair. But, come on, let’s get real here. You just randomly took an excerpt from my sex life and either pretended it was a product of your own creativity or that it was, I don’t know, your sex life.
Brass tacks: You couldn’t handle it if you had it. But I’m flattered that you pretended that you did.
<3, Ivy
PS: Good thing SG’s not on tumblr, or his ego would be through the roof over someone pretending they’re messing around with him.
The Southern Gentleman decided to help me pick out my outfit for the night.
“It’s great,” he said as he leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “But what’s under the shirt?”
I shrugged, “a bra.”
He smiled, “and what’s under the bra?”
“My…” I rolled my eyes, “ugh, you’re such a child.” I pulled my shirt and bra up, showing him my breasts.
“Good girl,” he grinned.
Well, I’m going away for the weekend.
Catch you all on Monday.
Try and behave while I’m gone.
I’m not nearly as fragile as I’m allowed to be. I’m given permission to collapse, to surrender, to let the cracks deepen until the secrets and fears and insecurities come oozing out. But, I’m nowhere close to being that breakable.
I’m sensitive, but I’m not inconsolable. I’m submissive, but I’m not codependent. I’m pliant, but I’m not weak.
To no one in particular, but perhaps to a good crowd: real domination is not grabbing someone by their insecurity, it’s grabbing them by their strength. It’s not about using or patching up vulnerability, it’s about allowing something unyielding and independent the opportunity to surrender. And there is the prize: controlling something that can very well control itself.
L’Accès ..*
No way, that’s terrible, I don’t know how you handle that, you should give me a blowjob.
She whined a lot about how gags made her drool.
He decided to indulge his inner engineer and come up with a solution.
Of course, now she’s just going to whine about the terrible taste of damp fabric in her mouth later.
“Find me now. Before someone else does.” – Haruki Murakami, IQ84.