breast

Meet Switch, Part One

Tumblr, meet Switch.

We’ve been friends for about a year now. In January, it seemed like something was going to develop between him and I. But, he’s teammates with that guy from my frat and he sort of backed off once he and I got involved. Man code or whatever. But, that guy from my frat and I are quite done for reasons I’ll detail when I have time. So, the playing field was wide open for Switch and I was receptive.

Just around twelve hours ago, I was at Switch’s place. Prior, we’d been out with friends to see a band and sort of broke off and hung around together. We danced. We started kissing. We made it through the whole night being relatively civilized adults. But, after a swing by my place for a toothbrush and some other essentials, I wound up at his.

And at around this time in the evening, he had removed his belt and tied my wrists to the headboard. Normally, he admitted, he liked to be submissive. But something about the way the night was panning out had driven him to ask if he could take charge instead. My top, jacket, bra, and shoes were scattered across his floor. My panties were still on, my skirt was bunched up around my waist. He was still fully dressed when he tied a scarf over my eyes.

“You know why I think I wanted to tie you up?” He asked as he ran a hand down my thigh. He was standing beside the bed. He gripped my thigh and pulled my legs open wide. “I think I liked the idea of having this body all to myself, to do whatever I wanted with.”

He ran his hand over my stomach and stopped at one of my breasts, tweaking the nipple. In normal interactions, he’s fairly reserved. Suddenly, now, the tone of his voice had changed and he spoke with a blunt confidence that seemed to suit him better. “And now that I have it, I think we’re going to have a little fun.”

Your presence is foreign, as strange to me as a thing.
I think, I explore great tracts of my life before you.

You’re a fabulous idea.

It’s funny how you can grow before me, grow on me. I have not suffered entirely getting to know you, I think. Maybe I’ve blushed a few times. Maybe I’ve felt a bit disoriented by some of those long, deliberate silences. Maybe I’ve stumbled over a few words when I’m not nearly as careful as I could be.

But you’re harmless as just an idea. You’re nice to think about. You grow in a different way when I simply think about you. Not nearly as dynamically, but in a way that I can tend. Until there’s you and there’s the idea of you. And you’re a wonderful idea. But you’re much better when you’re not.

Because perhaps the only thing stronger than an idea is when that idea takes shape, however sufferable. As the pieces fall together, I like you better than the idea of you. It becomes harder to remember you as you were before you existed, because I seem to enjoy more the fact that you exist.

There’s a lot I write on here that has to do with people discovering each other in different ways. And, discovery is a huge part of relationships and sexuality. It’s definitely a valid thing.

But self-discovery is really equally important. And while a lot of people reading a sex blog are usually a little busy discovering themselves already (winknudge), there’s real validity to the fact that getting to know yourself is a really important part of sexuality.

You need to know what you like. You need to know where your limits are. And a really safe way to figure that out is on yourself. Because then it’s between you and your hands. And that’s an incredibly safe space.

This is the story of the thief and the girl he took home to his partner-in-crime.

Who they were very good to, albeit a little strict.

And who he kept for a time and then returned, because being a villain is rarely as black and white as the pictures.

But who he kept a little piece of. Which is just fine, since she took a little piece of him, too.

Because when you really boil things down, we all are, in our own ways, thieves. Some of us are just better dressed for the part.

Being undressed by someone else can be an incredibly sobering experience. Especially when they go excruciatingly slow, in which case you’re forced to adjust to their pace and accept the fact that you cannot simply raise your hands and throw your shirt off. The ball’s in their court, so to speak, the game’s in their hands.

“You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.” – Mary Oliver, Wild Geese.

michaelrecycles:

vaginabubbles:/inside of out by soheir

Yes, please. Kinkycasey knows what’s good.

kinkycasey:

“Daddy, can we have a night time ritual..?”

“You mean like you cuffed and sleeping in a ball at my feet?”

(via fbnudes)

I approve.

montecervesa:

I’m on a roll.

I love when I see clothing on tumblr that resembles clothing I own. And I love when seeing things like this give me wicked ideas about those articles of clothing.

It’s always a little sad when I realize the sundresses won’t be coming back out again for a while.

Ivy

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