I think there’s a certain apartment I need to visit soon.

So, my birthday is coming up. All of my friends and loved ones keep asking me what I want. And to be honest, I’ve been having trouble answering them. I’m not too big on technology. I have enough bath/shower supplies and perfumes to keep me through my twenties. I am fairly content with the amount of clothing I have (slash no one is able to size me properly because I have a disproportionally big butt and a small torso). Bottom line: I never know what to tell people when they ask me what I want.

With this in mind, I give you…

Item Number One on Ivy’s Birthday Wishlist.

Questions?

daddyslittlepiglet:

“Do you hear them all talking about you, Piglet?”

Yes, Daddy.

“Do you like it?”

No, Daddy.

“Really? That’s not what your wet little panties say.”

The Infamous Car Story, Part 6

Continued from here.

I stared over my shoulder at my reddened ass in the mirror. I had never seen it so red, it was almost as if heat were radiating off of it. I winced for a moment, tentatively tapping the raw skin before turning back around and pulling my top down. My nipples were swollen, tender. Somehow, I derived some sort of enjoyment from this. I felt a sense of pride at what I had endured.

The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful until Elle suggested we drive back to her place so I could get my car and head back home. My boyfriend pulled me into the back with him and urged Elle to help him tie me up. She chuckled and shrugged, “hell, one more time for luck.”

My wrists wound up back behind my back and they pulled the stockings between my teeth and around my head before knotting it again in my mouth. They sat me up on his lap before Elle got into the driver’s seat and started to pull away.

As we drove, I continuously ducked my head down whenever we passed through traffic, dipping back up to mess around with my boyfriend whenever we found some relative privacy. However, I started contemplating the possibility of being seen as we drove and I could not help but wonder what some other driver would think when he or she saw me tied up in the back seat and messing around with my boyfriend.

We stopped at a stoplight and a truck pulled up beside us. Fortunately, the driver, a young guy probably in his early twenties, was not looking in our direction. I was laid back across my boyfriend’s lap, facing him, my legs resting up on his shoulders. My boyfriend rested his knuckle on the window. I blushed furiously and nodded.

I cannot describe to you the sort of thrilled smile that crossed his face when he knocked on the window and the driver looked over. My boyfriend smiled. I winked. The guy just seemed awestruck, taking in the fact that there was a girl, tied up and clearly enjoying it, with her legs spread, looking up at him from the back seat of a car that another woman was driving.

The light turned green. The guy just kept staring before smiling and honking the horn. Elle honked back before driving off.

I swear I got an adrenaline rush from the experience. There was this complete stranger getting a glimpse into something that I normally considered terribly personal.

“What do you think he thought of it?” I asked as my boyfriend released my mouth.

Elle chuckled, “you’re speaking as if he’s stopped thinking about it.”

The end.

I recently watched and enjoyed Eyes Wide Shut. It’s bad that I wish this entire montage of scenes would’ve lasted much longer. (And that they could’ve done without some of those cheesy masks and the cult shit.)

PS: Nicole Kidman’s a babe.

oh-my-josh:

@Eyes Wide Shut – Stanley Kubrick

Confession: I sent a certain tumblr girlfriend of mine a photograph of myself of a certain variety. And I’m still kind of giggly over it. This may be the start of some sort of exhibitionism kick. Maybe.

The Infamous Car Story, Part 2

Continued from here.

Elle climbed into the back seat, sitting to my left. I was between them now, my body bucking lightly from the orgasm I had just been denied. I managed to regain some control before Elle reached up and pushed me forward, bending me over the padded armrest in the front. My face was nearly in the cup holders. I tried to push myself back up, but my boyfriend’s hand shot to the back of my head and pressed me back down.

“We can’t do this here,” I insisted as Elle pushed my skirt up around my waist. “What if someone sees?” I had decided to abandon the cause of the fact that it was odd that the three of us were performing the act together and instead focused on something a little less grey as my argument. “We can’t do this in public.”

He pulled my panties aside and swept a finger down over my slit. I shivered as he said, “don’t even pretend this is your first time playing around in a car.” I whined softly as he pulled his hand back from my wet cunt. He removed his hand from the back of my head.

Elle’s quickly replaced it, her fingers grasping firmly at my hair to hold me down. “I know for a fact it isn’t.” She leaned down, biting on my earlobe before whispering, “So why are you being such a brat about this?”

I tried to pick my head up and groaned, “Elle, I…” I shrieked as my boyfriend’s hand collided with my pussy. He had these large hands and a way of hitting incredibly hard without really trying.

“I don’t think that’s the proper way to address her tonight,” he rubbed his hand over my soaked mound with a chuckle before gathering my wrists in his hands. “Got anything to tie them with?"

At the prospect of this, I panicked. My legs twisted against the seats in an effort to try to give what was at least a playful kick to one of their sides. Elle reached in front of me and into her purse. She rummaged around for a bit before replying, "no, I don’t think so.” I let out a sigh of relief. Outside, I heard cars continue to speed by and tried to keep my head low.

“Wait a minute,” I heard my boyfriend say. He let go of my wrists and I heard him unbuckle my bag. Suddenly, I felt nylon around my wrists. Fuck. I’d been wearing stockings earlier that day, as per his request, and removed them when the weather was too warm.

He tied them tightly, cinching a few times before tucking the knot inside as to make any effort at their removal rather difficult. I whimpered as Elle set to teasing my clit with the pad of her thumb while my boyfriend returned his hold to the back of my head to keep my face down. “Please, I just want to cum,” I pleaded.

Elle chuckled, “aw, we know, babe.” She adjusted my panties so they covered me again and I whined softly. She had a way of making things drag unbearably. “You make it so obvious."

Suddenly, she yanked the waistband of my panties up, exposing my rear, and clapped her other hand against my left cheek roughly. My boyfriend followed suit with the right. I practically leapt out of the sunroof, crying out and bucking against the armrest. They continued for a few minutes before Elle insisted, "this isn’t right at all. I should be hearing counting. And thank yous.”

My boyfriend smacked my right side again and I panted out a, “one, thank you, Sir.”

Elle hit the left. “One. Thank you, Miss.”

Another to the left. “Two. Thank you, Miss.”

Then the right. “Two. Thank you, Sir.”

It continued that way for a while. Occasionally, they would switch the side they spanked without telling me. His hits were harder, and they laughed each time I correctly guessed that he had moved to the other side when I grunted out a pained, “thank you, Sir.” Whenever I guessed the hitter wrong, the next hit would be square on my panty-covered pussy.

Elle broke the rhythm eventually, hitting me so many times in succession that I simply could not keep track. I slumped against the armrest. My head was starting to feel light. My ass was stinging. My pussy was throbbing.

“What number are you up to, slut?” She asked, giving my ass another smack as if to rouse me from my stupor.

I shook my head and whispered, “I don’t know, Miss.”

“You don’t know?” she repeated back to me as if she were speaking to a child. “Well, that’s no good at all.”

To be continued.

The Infamous Car Story, Part 1

It was the weekend I invited my boyfriend – at the time – to my home to meet my mother. It was summertime, a few weeks before I had to return to campus to start up sophomore year. He had made a good impression on my family and I had set about introducing him to whichever friends still remained in my hometown. One of them was her.

I was a bit reticent to introduce him to Elle. She and I were certainly now on a friendly basis, sometimes a bit too friendly. I was worried they wouldn’t get along. I thought she would bite his face off, frankly. She’s a bit of a spitfire. But, she had heard that he was in town and offered to have the three of us go out to dinner.

They hit it off almost instantly. They just jived so well with each other. I just sat there breathing this huge sigh of relief as they laughed up a storm. I was content to take the third wheel on this one. It was almost comforting.

She had driven to reduce gas and I had left my car at her place. As set off to head back after a really pleasant dinner, I elected to take the backseat with my boyfriend. We all kept up conversation as she drove towards the highway and stopped at a stoplight. This was when the trouble started.

He and I had been planning a game all that weekend where he would reach down and rub me whenever we hit a red light. This was pretty normal in the car just the two of us and I could manage to keep a poker-face as I waited for the light to change. Confessedly, I almost drove right off the road when the light changed during a drive to get lunch earlier that day, but it was mostly a fairly “safe” endeavor.

But in the car with my ex-girlfriend? I tensed up when I felt his hand snake over to me. My eyes begged him not to. It was too weird. She would kick us out of the car. Why had I worn a skirt that day?

I went to slap his hand away and tried to keep quiet until I noticed she was tilting her rearview mirror in order to be able to see what was going on in the back. I caught her face in it. She was smiling. Oh no. This was worse than the awkward interaction that I had predicted would come about at dinner. Her dominant instincts were coming out and she was getting such a kick out of this.

The light changed and he moved his hand away. She chuckled, merging onto the highway and heading back toward our town. “Sorry, dear,” she cooed into the back.

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest in mock upset. I was trying to keep this cheeky, funny. I was hoping the joke was over and that we wouldn’t be getting into anything too…weird.

He laughed and put his hand back down, starting to rub at my clit through my panties. I looked up at him and shook my head, pleading with my eyes for him to just stop. I knew if I opened my mouth to talk to him, I’d just start moaning. He had a way with his hands. It was astounding.

“I don’t know why you’re so ungrateful, Ivy,” Elle said from the front seat, “I seem to remember a certain girl who begged for it all the time in the car.” She glanced back quickly at my boyfriend, “she once got herself off with my vibrator while I drove her home. I wouldn’t drop her off until she came."

To say that I have trouble orgasming when I have a goal is an understatement. Any metaphor that I could make for how much I was blushing would also probably be an understatement.

He was beaming like a champ. My legs were shaking, my body was responding eagerly to his touch. I was so humiliated, yet so aroused from it. I couldn’t believe she was playing along with him and vice-versa. I didn’t expect them to hit it off socially. But sexually? This was almost porno-level interaction.

He stopped before I came and gave my pussy a little pat. It was a typical gloating move of his and I groaned in frustration. I realized my back had sunk down in the seat and I was basically spread out. I was covered in goosebumps, I was embarrassed, I just wanted to orgasm.

I noticed Elle was taking the long way home and huffed. "May I please cum?” I couldn’t believe I was saying it in her car.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking up at Elle. Suddenly, she veered off course and pulled into the parking lot of a playground we were about to pass. It was dark out and no one was there, thankfully.

She pulled the car in a way that it faced the road and the other vehicles that sped by. I instinctively reached to pull my skirt back down and he slapped my hand away.

“Nah,” she smirked as she turned off the car. “I think someone has miles to go.”

To be continued.

I suppose one day I’ll have to get to my car exhibitionism story. Maybe. If you ask nicely.

I sleep next to a big ol’ window, too. But, my bed is level right with the window. This has caused several arguments over whether or not to leave the shades open during “fun” and whether or not people can even see inside. My teensy tiny exhibitionist Jiminy Cricket conscience shoulder-stander says, “who the hell cares?”

Also, one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands, missnikkimoore-cox.

missnikkimoore-cox:

I’ve been sleeping so strange at night. Side effects they don’t advertise. I’ve been sleeping so strange- with a head full of pesticide…