Mirrors + full length windows = blushy selfie success.
butt
Askew.
“I remembered the fox. One runs the risk of crying a bit if one allows oneself to be tamed.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince.
One thing I’m learning from having to go through photos of myself every day is that my little, calloused feet are rather expressive.
He woke up a little bit before me and took this photo. Every time I look at it, my heart swells a little. I’m a sucker for intimacy.
(FYI: I have given him prior consent to photograph me while I’m asleep. Don’t photograph people without their knowledge or consent!!)
The waiting is always the worst of it.
Morning bed hair.
Literally every time Sir and I do impact play I’m like oh God you’ve done it you’ve bruised me beyond repair it hurts so much.
And then he shows me my butt and it’s just a smattering of little dots.
Which are then gone maybe fifteen minutes later.
Funny, how voyeurism and exhibitionism aren’t really mutually exclusive at all.
Exposure.