Psst. Dacry. Come play.
breasts
He tapes her up that way to ensure she’s available.
But he leaves her that way to ensure she’s patient.
After I’m played with, I go right to a mirror. I like to hunt for bruises, for burst capillaries, for scratches. I think certain kinds bruises look gorgeous, the way the color manifests itself on the skin. I’ve always thought hickeys looked like fireworks. I like the feeling of being marked and being in some way possessed through this.
I carry myself differently when I’m bruised. I usually make a concerted effort to cover them, but I still recognize they’re there. They make me hyperaware of my body. They make me feel gorgeous and unique.
Wow.
StandardI’m not sure what it was, but after those 10 facts about me, you’ve all become a ton more participatory.
Maybe it’s the idea that somewhere, floating around tumblr, there’s a picture of my breasts. That’s been the nature of a lot of my asks. And, like I said, happy hunting.
But, a lot of you are just curious. You’re asking questions, you’re looking for advice. It’s really sweet and really wonderful. I wish I could say I’m an expert on all of this, but I’m really not.
One of you even sent me a nude. For the sake of her privacy, I’m keeping it to myself. But, as I told you, you’re absolutely gorgeous. Really, just stunning.
I sincerely appreciate all the love you all give me, but I have never seen my tumblr so busy. It’s shocking and I am immensely flattered.
<3, Ivy
For the many of you who have asked,
The picture of my boobs I mentioned in a previous post is not on my tumblr, but on someone else’s.
Happy Hunting, you perverts.
<3, Ivy
New Year’s Eve: Part 3
“Ivy, you look like a girl who can throw!” exclaimed a friend of the hostess who had I met a few times before. “Come be my partner for beer pong.”
I snorted, “you’ve got the wrong girl.” But, I was in the team spirit, so I decided to go join him. “I’ve got warn you, though,” I said as he arranged the cups, “I’ve never played beer pong before.”
Let me tell you, tumblr. I haven’t found my calling, but I did employ some old skills. Across the table, on the other team, was a hottie with a bunch of tattoos and some pink in her hair. So, we’re going to call her Pink. I think her male partner was cute, too. Whatever. Didn’t pay him too much attention.
But, I did pull the top of my dress down a little to try to distract him, but she seemed damn into it as well. So, I hammed it up, wiggled my butt, acted cute. I even saved the game through a combination of diving across a rug for the ball (hence my skinned knee) and sinking the last ball.
Not to mention Pink followed me back over to Drew and Walter, who were chatting up some freckled cutie.
Scoreeeeee.
Oh, hi, new best friend.
Perfection.
Sometimes, I get completely absorbed in it. I set ridiculous standards for myself academically, personally, physically. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.
To some degree, it’s really helped me along with my life thus far. It’s put me ahead, it’s kept me up to a certain standard in a variety of aspects of my life. But, sometimes, I just get way too fixated with it.
Lately, I’ve been trying to be more lenient with myself. We’ll see.
Bright red stockings. If only there was a use for you besides wearing nothing else and eyefucking someone from a couch.
Seriously, I love the color. But what would I wear it with?
“Beauty without expression is boring,“ – Ralph Waldo Emerson.