Well, I am going to do the unpopular thing here and say no to topless Tuesday. Upon reflection, I’m proud of how many followers I’ve gotten without posting a picture. Not to say no one should be posting pictures, it’s more a reflection of the happiness I feel that my words seem to reach you guys. So I will vainly continue to indulge the feeling that you are all hanging on my every word.
Also, it’s now Wednesday. Saved by the bell.
So, I hit a follower milestone.
And it’s a Tuesday.
Decisions…
She touches to remember. Where she had been grabbed, where fingers caressed, where knuckles turned white around hair. She explores herself like a cartographer, mapping out experiences it her mind to recall the topography of evenings past. Most of the time, it’s roughly to scale. Others, she just can’t seem to replicate exactly what had been done. But no map is ever completely accurate, it’s only an interpretation of the lay of the land.
Sometimes, this is where we go. When words have lost their sway, when language is nothing but a convention, when everything is ambiguous and conceptual. Phrases loaded, two outs, no clear way home.
Sometimes, we crawl to each other. Vulnerable, human, needy. Sexuality can be sadness. Intimacy can be painful. Carnality is just that, carnal by virtue.
Because words can sometimes be just that simple, even when they’re wrapped in entendre.
She has a set of rules to follow regarding how to sit in chairs. Perhaps they’re a little particular, but most are in the interest of posture, others aesthetic.
When she’s caught, she’ll insist that she’s sitting up straight. She will tell you how this shows her off better, how it makes prominent the lacing of her corset or the thin fabric over her rear.
And it will all make perfect sense, but so will the added punishment of the top of the back of the chair digging into her stomach as she’s pulled up, bent over it and dealt with properly.
…after the choking scene in this week’s episode of Mad Men.
Seriously, I gasped like five times.
This episode took years off of my life.
Happy Easter to all the followers and bunnies who come around here.
Okay. So. Let me get this straight.
I’m supposed to function like a normal human being.
But there are pictures like this to keep me distracted.
Life is so unfair. Just look at how he’s holding her. His hand overwhelms her face.
Woah. Hello, twin.
- candle wax
- chastity belts
- collars
- RuPaul’s Drag Race
That last one is unrelated.
“I’ll be anything you want,” she said, “so long as I’m useful.”
She hated when people like them got over the top. She hated the pushcarts and the pony play and the ornate arrangements of flesh made to be something of use. She wanted to be used simply, to be reduced to function and not form.
And so he turned off the fuse box and blamed the storm. And she went to get a book of matches.