If only the pre-games at my university were like this. Seriously.
blindfold
I want to be unrecognizable. I love how a relationship (I’ll just leave that right there for all of you to define how you like) can just completely drop like a bomb and leave everything scattered. I love that feeling of when we’ve gone our separate ways and realizing that suddenly I’m not the same person you were stepping into it. Anyone I’ve been intimate with in any way has left an imprint on me. I’ve been branded metaphorically with so many marks of who’s been here.
And I can reflect back and see exactly who’s done what. He made me like this. She made me get over this. They taught me this and that. Every time I open myself up, it seems those I’ve opened myself to take the opportunity to, if I may steal DYC’s perfect metaphor, rearrange the furniture to an arrangement that suits me better than that before.
I just love that strange feeling of wandering around right after a storm. You can smell the rain and the air’s still electric. And everything just feels a little different. There’s this kind of freshness in the fallen branches and the leaves stuck to the windows of cars. It’s how I feel right now, entering this new phase of my life. He literally changed around so many things within me for the better. He was absolutely the thing I needed. And he’s put his mark on me just like everyone else, his certainly being one of the most prominent.
I once read somewhere that if forest fires didn’t happen, the entire forest would just die from all the underbrush clinging to it. I don’t want to say that I was being stifled or anything. But, I do want to say that if I don’t let go, I’m bound to just wind up hurting myself.
I’m trying to look at this whole thing from the positive spin of the fact that he and I really helped each other and changed each others’ lives. And, while sometimes it hurts to say that, for now, the buck stops here, it puts a little spring in my step to know that I am beginning an incredibly new phase of my life whilst changed so profoundly by him.
Sorry for being so cheesy. I promise, the regularly scheduled smut will resume momentarily.
I’m going to smudge the lines of your self-portrait. I want to make the colors melt and bleed. I’ll climb in your head and rearrange the furniture. No one will recognize you when we’re done.
vrbw:
“The only way to find true happiness is to risk being completely cut open.” – Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters.
Reminds me of a series of books I used to read as a kid. Not the picture itself, but the feeling. There was this line: The world is quiet here.
For some reason, I want him to place his foot on her back and push her down to the water, even though I have no idea what she’s doing.
Almost comparable to those sprawling, extended-canvas paintings at El Museo del Prado.
I’ve totally entertained this fantasy in my head before. They’re a very happy, very healthy couple who are very much in love with each other. I’m the little slut they have not because they need to fix their marriage, but because they find it to be fun to take turns spanking me and letting me pleasure them, they find it to be convenient to have me around to cook and clean, and mostly they just find it damn sexy to have some cute little college girl around to play with.
I plan on getting my wife one of these for her birthday.
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.
I definitely deserve some of this right about now.
But I don’t think there’s a time when I don’t deserve it.
perfection.