November 2012 – Page 2

Cats Don’t Do the Dishes, Part One

Craftsmate had been asking about my plug a lot in the past week or so when I got the text about what to do when I came to his room. I had arranged to hang out with him and mess around a bit that lazy Sunday afternoon, but I had never received instructions like this from him before.

He had said that I should come over to his place, strip down immediately once I had gotten through the door and let myself into his bedroom. I considered that I was fine with the idea of doing this, even if it was madly blush-inducing. I even got a little ballsy and put my plug in.

As I was getting ready to go, I stole a glance into the mirror and saw the blush burn in my cheeks. Walking over to Craftsmate’s place, I got so anxious I had to put my headphones in and play music to distract myself. I was sure people could see right through my blush, though I knew it was a completely ludicrous assumption to make that blushing girl equals plugged ass.

When I reached his place, I set my backpack down and took a look around. His roommates weren’t home and the shades of the living area were drawn. I stripped down to everything but my panties, walked into the kitchen and had a glass of water. Steeling myself, I walked over to the door to his bedroom and pulled it open.

Playdates at Heart’s are equal parts fun and scary.

But that’s what you get for putting off work to have a playdate.

It’s going to take a lot more to get me to hold still for much longer, Daddy.

Followers.

There’s been another sudden spike in your numbers.

I’ve provided you with some pretty sweet porn, so now let’s return the favor of keeping each other distracted.

Whether you just found me or you’ve been around for a while, hit up the ol’ ask box.

Because it’s always fun when I ask you guys to.

Since you come up with the best questions/comments/concerns.

And I just don’t want to force myself to look at the work I have to do.

That look in her eyes says she’s sorry.

But you can never really be too sure.

“Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?” – Clarice Lispector, The Hour of the Star.

This woman, though.

This woman.

I have this terrible tendency to bargain and make offers I can’t possibly give when I just really, really want to orgasm.

One of the first times Craftsmate messed around with edging me, he worked me up to such a point that I literally started spewing offers. I’d be so good, I said. I’d suck his cock, I’d be so, so sweet to him.

He started laughing when I actually offered him money. I’d never really give him money to cum, but I get so wrapped up in it sometimes that this stuff just sort of comes out. I have such a one-track mind when I need to cum that it’s ridiculous.

Sometimes, he provokes it. He asks what I’d be willing to do for it, what I would be willing to put myself through. And, often he’ll shake his head or click his tongue and tell me that he knows it’s a promise I can’t keep.

And so he stops, gathers up my wetness on his fingers, and makes me lick it off, all the while smiling down at me.

Remember what you said, Craftsmate?

schoneseele:

oh yeah, do it

(by Keith P. Rein)

– schöne seele

390nm:

For some reason I doubt this shirt would be as effective on me.

Team Dinosaur’s new uniforms make quite the statement.

Ivy

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Month: November 2012