“Admit that I’m your favorite,” I told the Southern Gentleman last night, teasingly.

He smirked, “shut up and give me your cunt."

I sat back and moved my panties aside, starting to rub my clit. "Nah, I think I’m just going to take care of myself.”

“You,” he said, “and your tight little cunt and your hot little mouth are my favorite.”

“Oh, now you’re just saying that,” I pouted.

“Ivy.”

“I don’t know, the last time I wanted you I didn’t get what I wanted,” I slid a finger in slowly and dipped my head back, “so I think I may just spend some alone time with your favorite little cunt. You can watch.”

“Darling, if I fucked you every time one of us was aroused, we’d never get anything done,” he replied, “and that’s why you’re my favorite.”

Hey guys,

So, I had my queue kind of take over for the past few days, but it has run out. I am in the middle of finals, so please bear with me for the next few days. I’ve got plenty to tell you, but very little time.

<3, Ivy

You know, what spring does and all.

That is what you want to do, isn’t it?

“Sometimes I have the feeling that we’re in one room with two opposite doors and each of us holds the handle of one door, one of us flicks an eyelash and the other is already behind his door, and now the first one has but to utter a word and immediately the second one has closed his door behind him and can no longer be seen. He’s sure to open the door again, for it’s a room which perhaps one cannot leave. If only the first one were not precisely like the second, if he were calm, if he would only pretend not to look at the other, if he would slowly set the room in order as though it was a room like any other; but instead he does exactly the same as the other at his door, sometimes even both are behind the doors and the beautiful room is empty.” – Franz Kafka, in a letter to Milena Jesenska.

Mine too, Kenneth, mine too.

In my book, this man is just outstanding. From what people tell me, being a clinic escort is one of the most rewarding things you can do, but it’s definitely super trying and exhausting.

I have so much respect for him and everyone like him. I have so much love for his devotion to the cause. God, this just makes my heart swell.

unknowablewoman:

Dennis the clinic escort showing off his one and only tattoo—“Choice.”

Tell me he is not the most badass grandpa you’ve ever seen.

“I love Ivy. She’s a pistol."

I spent more than five minutes with my good friend’s current manfriend last night for the first time. And sometime during the night, he turned to my friend and said this.

I’m flattered, but ugh…I’m always the pistol. Or the character.

Ever since I was a little girl I intimidated the shit out of most men. Because I was smart and I was quick and I could head them off at the pass like no other. And I’m blunt and a little boisterous sometimes and I’ve been (really flatteringly) compared to Woody Allen.

Which is super if you’re a man, it seems. But it sends your average guy running for the hills. Women are mostly good with it, but God it’s hard finding available lesbians/bi girls on this campus (they’re either too close a friend or just unbearable or in a relationship).

And so I know the payoff is I’ll hopefully find someone who can handle all the (second time using it on this blog today) chutzpah, but it’s so frustrating to make a quip and have some guy take it totally seriously or have it go over their heads or to have them just write me off as a character or, eugh, a pistol.

beautflstranger:

kitten

photo: ellen von unwerth

vanity fair 2011

Last night was so wonderful and such a nice way to relax before finals. We drank, we laughed, we had a ball. I do not yet have the chutzpah to post a picture of myself in my dress to my sex blog so I can possibly be identified, but I was told I looked lovely.

Especially by this friend of mine. The one who wants to paint me. In an encounter that could’ve turned into something naughty had her date not walked in. (Pshhh boys stink).

There’s another event tonight. That guy from my frat will probably be going and despite the fact that a friend said the real reason he dipped out was finances, I loudly and drunkenly announced at the table that I wouldn’t touch him unless he promised me three hours of cunnilingus. So I guess I have to make good on that now…whoops.

“Ah! Do you have to be sensual to be human?”

“Certainly, Madame. Pity is in the guts, just as tenderness is on the skin.”

– Anatole France, The Red Lily.

More Sex, Less Class

SG: You should get your little ass over here. I want to see you bend over.
Me: I wish. I have class in like 10.
SG: Where are you?
Me: The library.
SG: I think you should touch yourself. Because your cunt needs to be fucked and I can’t do it from here.
Me: Oh yeah?
SG: Get over here. I want to destroy you.
Me: I have class.
SG: If it were up to me, you’d just be tied to my bed all day, legs spread. And a couple of times a day I’d come over and use you.
Me: I like that.
SG: I bet you do, slut.
Me: Except for the part where my muscles atrophy from lack of movement but fuck science this is dirty talk.
SG: This is why you need more sex and less class.

Ivy

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Month: May 2012

More Sex, Less Class