Hey Tumblr.
Pup and I are road tripping our way to warmer weather for the holidays. And possibly – POSSIBLY – seeing a certain old friend.
I’ve got a little bit of a queue up for the next little bit. So happy holidays to you and yours.
car
Insolence, Part One
A week after the party, Pup and I were in the car headed towards Rex’s place. He lived rather close to Azure, and so it was fairly convenient for Pup to arrange an evening with her while I went to see Rex.
I know this sounds absurd, but I was nervous that this was going to be awful. We had crazy heat-of-the-moment sex at a party, and while that involves a certain kind of chemistry, it doesn’t really guarantee that we’d have any sort of chemistry sitting down and just talking. Or, you know, having sex that wasn’t crazy porno impulse sex.
Also, I wasn’t that sure he was kinky. Which I wish I could say isn’t a total dealbreaker for me, but I’m busy. And I hate to say that I don’t want to give away time unless I’m totally into it, but, well, yeah. I have a job that’s pretty demanding and, as it stands, my free time is rather limited. So, okay, I’ve been kind of triaging people and interests. For as selfish as it feels, one of my good friends insists that this is a form of self-care.
So my worst-case scenario was I get there, we have nothing to talk about, we either have some tepid sex or just stare at each other in total discomfort. I expressed this in the car to Pup, and he replied, “you have to stop insisting that everything is going to be terrible.”
There was certainly evidence that it wouldn’t be. Rex and I had been texting a little during the week, and the tone had been pretty playful. He was clever, but kind of full of it. Not to mention I legitimately could not get even remotely one iota of a plan out of him as to what to do, so I didn’t know what to wear. (Yeah, I know, shut up.)
I’d decided on the outfit I’d literally worn the day before to work, mostly because an intern turned to me in the elevator and said, “I’m sorry if this is weird but you look incredible.” So, I took her word for it and just washed the blue dress that managed to skim my curves without looking tight or inappropriate and lint-rolled the blazer. Also, I wanted to look like I’d come right from work (it was a Friday) and hadn’t given much of a fuck. (In reality, I’d had time to go home, eat a quick dinner, walk the dog and change clothes.) But then Rex threw this curveball to wear comfortable shoes and I was thrown for a little bit of a loop. My comfortable shoes are my workout shoes. So I wore boots and figured we weren’t hiking. Or hoped we weren’t.
“Just enjoy yourself,” Pup added. “Don’t think too much about it.”
Pup and I are taking a road trip up north to see a certain bunny and have a weekend away.
I still haven’t given up on the idea of that road trip, baby.
Car Shenanigans for a Couple of Twenty-Somethings
StandardI’m sorry for ducking off the radar on-and-off these past few weeks. My life has been rather hectic. But allow me to make up for lost time by telling the events of this evening.
So, I went out on my third date with the guy I’ve been seeing. We met up for ice cream and the place’s freezers had broken, so we were allowed to choose from a few options that were still in tact and accessible before being ushered out.
We were walking around with our ice cream when we ran into two of my friends. Let me start by saying that I have always worried about this happening, and I felt my heart fall into the pit of my stomach when I heard my name being called. Thankfully, we weren’t holding hands or making out, so I said he was just a friend from college, we all talked for a little, and the situation panned out just fine.
Afterwards, we got into his car and resolved to mess around. Except, he’s got company and I’m visiting with family. So, we wind up pulling into the lot behind a school.
“This is so high school,” we joked. “This is absurd. We’re in our twenties and having to sneak around like this.”
I had to pee and dashed around behind the school to do it, making him keep watch. When I got back, we ended up in the back with the seats down and our clothing off. “I want you to lie down,” he said, putting some gentle pressure on my shoulder. “I want to eat your pussy.”
He bit the insides of my thighs. His stubble scratched against my pussy lips. I came holding one of his hands.
While I was sucking him off, he asked to fuck me. “I really want to,” I answered, “but I have to talk to my boyfriend about that sort of stuff first and I feel strange calling him out of the blue to ask that."
"Well, you can’t call him now?” He joked.
I curled up into him, laughing. “No, I can’t just give him a call about it.”
Instead, he ended up on top of me, teasing me with his cock. I was dripping wet, he was so hard he was practically throbbing. I liked the feeling of his weight on my body, the power of his large hands on my little wrists. I begged him to let me make him cum with my mouth, partially because I was worried I would just get carried away and let him fuck me. He smirked, making me beg to please him with my mouth while he rubbed his shaft over my pussy.
When he finally let me suck him off, I decided to be a little brat about the whole thing. I’d work him until he was moaning and then stop to pull back and grin at him. “You’re a bad girl, you know,” he murmured as he pushed my head down onto his cock, “you make me want to make you mine.”
At one point, he made me turn around so he could squeeze and slap my ass while he stroked his cock. It made me feel so objectified in an exciting way, and I blushed when he told me to tell him about one of the dirtiest, bravest things I’d ever done. I wound up picking the New Year’s Party, and he asked me the kinds of questions about it that made me blush and squirm.
Right after he finished in my mouth, a police car sped by and we clamored into the front seat. He drove naked while I tugged my dress on, stopping only when we had decided we hadn’t been caught to put the rest of our clothing back on.
One of my shoes had gone awol, so we had to pull over to search the car. As I scoured the back of the car, he pulled my dress up to the small of my back. “Just checking to make sure it’s still there,” he chuckled.
When I got home, I let Sir know how the evening went. “And I sucked his cock,” I explained, “are you okay with that?”
“Yeah, I’m okay with it,” Sir replied, “you better have given him good head.”
Somehow, even after a night with somebody else, he still manages to make me feel like I’m totally his.
See you all in a few days.
Hehe.
Breadcrumbs
The first of them was waiting just inside the door, laid innocently enough on the top of the modest pile of mail that had accrued during the day. She wouldn’t even have noticed had it not been for the neon pink, standing out bright against the off-white of junk mail and bills.
She didn’t pick it up at first. Her heels were digging into her ankles, and she wanted to get clear of her jacket, be able to relax a little now that she was home. But she tried to read it from standing, somehow will her eyes to focus on lettering that was far too far away for her to read. It was two lines, maybe five words, and that was all. Block capitals, single spaced, written with a marker, from the looks of it.
Her bag hit the ground, jacket slung on the peg, and she picked it up. The words made her arch an eyebrow, blush just a tiny bit, but she dismissed it as some innocuous game of his, a way to tantalise and tease, get her excited before he got home in half an hour. The sentence was simple, an expression of a desire.
I want to kidnap you.
The post-it fluttered a little, and she closed the door behind her, went into the kitchen to put the kettle on and consider exactly what it was that he was up to.
There was another on the fridge, and this one she really did almost miss, as it was lost among a feathering of other notes, all neon, some pink, others yellow, a few green. If it wasn’t for the relative sparseness of the writing, she might have lost it in the sea of colours, but as it was it stood out.
I want to do it today.
At which point, she had to ask herself how he knew what route she’d take through the flat, how he knew where she was going, and that she’d figure this out as she went. She turned around, and there was another one on the kettle, dangling from the handle.
There was more written here. Enough that she knew that this wasn’t innocuous, that he really did intend to follow through with it. That she was standing there in the kitchen, and he was somewhere close by, waiting to see how she’d react. Her mind blanked, got stuck five seconds ago and hadn’t quite caught up with where she was now, didn’t, until the pounding of her heart in her ears suddenly became noticeable.
If you’re ok with that, get undressed.
That’s what it had said, what it still did say, trembling in her fingertips as it was. Except it wasn’t the paper that was shaking, it was her, and she quickly looked around herself as if expecting him to jump out from behind the doorway, put a bag over her head and be done with it.
And then… nothing. Just a minute of silence, for her to think and consider. She didn’t know what he was planning to do, but she knew him well enough not to worry about it, not properly. That didn’t stop the anxiety, the fear, the concern and trepidation to shudder through her body with all the force of a chilblain. And it certainly didn’t stop her from thinking about all the ways it could go wrong, if it hadn’t been his handwriting gracing these little scraps of paper.
Taking off her work clothes felt like a surrender. There was something of the prisoner about her as she did that, as though she’d been caught and was being summarily incarcerated. She did it slowly, methodically, and with great hesitation, folding each item and placing it on the counter in a neat little pile. She stopped at underwear, and then turned around.
He wasn’t there. She wasn’t sure why she necessarily expected him to be. Maybe she was counting on that same prescience that he’d displayed with the notes to tell him when she was ready, but it had apparently not managed to carry him this far. So she walked out of the kitchen, wandered down the hall.
She stumbled into the next note on the back door, sitting pretty on the frosted glass. It was teeming with words, each of them vying for space until there was almost more black than pink. She leaned forward, squinted, read.
On the other side of this door I’m going to abduct you. I’ll put a blindfold over your eyes. Tie your hands. Put you in the boot of the car. And then take you somewhere. If it gets too much, you know what to say. Don’t hesitate. Love you.
Somehow that reassurance made it worse. It had the effect of smelling salts, grabbing her by the scruff of the neck and hurling her towards the surface, so that she couldn’t sink happily into the mystery and lust of it all. She needed to be present, at least for that moment, so that she knew what she was getting into. She knew this. She knew, too, that what he was doing was good, and right, but she couldn’t help but resent the sudden formality of it all, if only for a second.
So she waited. For the moment to come back, to slink around her and pull her under. It was like being hypnotised, just waiting for your mind to become occupied with the pageantry of it all, and then suddenly she was there, trembling again, riding that exhilarating line between aroused and terrified.
She turned the handle and opened the door. Stepped out, and waited to feel his hands.
Ughhhhh please and thank you.
We talk about this kind of a road-trip far too often.
I thought that if I left the special lube for Mr. Purple at Sir’s place “by accident,” I’d be able to avoid having to put him in my butt again. I felt pretty clever about that one.
Except that plan just backfired, and now Sir’s sending me to the store to buy some lube where I’ll have to freaking present it to a cashier and uuugh.
Pouting forever.