Truth: If introduced to a comfortable couch, I will naturally curl up and want to take a nap. Especially in the right lighting. I have the impulses of a house-cat.
fishnets
There are those things I have to keep locked away in the back of my mind because I worry what will happen when they come out. I worry about how I will react, what I’ll turn into, if I’ll like it. Sometimes I just don’t want to know.
This is one of those things.
(via tittyglitter, purecream)
It would be lying to say I haven’t had a fantasy along these lines.
“She understood that her heart operated on its own instructions, that she had no control over it or, indeed, anything else.” – Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex.
I’ve been learning to say no.
I know this is the worst thing for someone with a sex tumblr to say. You guys probably don’t want to hear me saying no to stuff. Well, you don’t want to have to read about me turning away from potentially fun decisions.
I have a friend. A very good-looking friend. A very good-looking friend who I have, in the past, had some serious fun with. And we were planning to pick some stuff up and have a little fun. But, she’s in a relationship with someone and, despite the fact that they are trying to do polyamory, I’m not entirely sure they know exactly what they’re doing. I don’t want feelings to get hurt and I don’t want to ruin our friendship and drag down her relationship with it.
Because, above all, she’s one of my great friends. I would absolutely hate to lose her. And, while the fun we’ve had was pretty great, I need to get some priorities straight. I think I’ve made the right decision here. And, yeah, it stinks a little, but I have a feeling I’ll be glad I did this in the long-run.
“Whether you sniff it smoke it eat it or shove it up your ass the result is the same: addiction,“ William S. Burroughs, Naked Lunch
They keep her like that for hours. They reach around the stone to touch her. To squeeze her breasts. To tweak her nipples. To tease their fingers over her slit. She’s not even sure if she can call it a “they”. She’s not sure how many there are. She’s unsure if she’s reading too deeply into when she feels some hands are coarser and some are smaller.
She tries to study shadows on the wall, but the room is far too dark. She is left to rely upon the sounds of their steps as they enter the room, the feeling of those hands, the patterns that they take, and their all-too-quick departure.
It becomes her whole world. Those hands, those footsteps, the occasional grunt or cough, they’re just about all she’s got.
Something about the tacky, “rent by the hour” quality of this is incredibly arousing.