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So, this weekend was super fun, guys and dolls (and everything in between).

On Saturday, I met up with some friends from college and celebrated a birthday. I got to see a ton of people I normally don’t get to and had a really awesome time, which culminated in a really absurd cab ride where we had loud, sloppy, tipsy conversations that warranted leaving a generous tip for the poor driver.

At the party, I had a really frank conversation with a guy friend of mine about kink and it turns out he’s a filthy bastard in the best way possible. I may have let slip about my tumblr (not the web address but the concept). But, he was totally cool about it and promised to keep it all hush hush.

Today, I got to spend the day with Craftsmate and I was a brave girl and told him about a super secret fantasy I’ve had that I’ve never told anyone about. And he was super proud of me and we had some pretty awesome sex during/as a result, so go me. 

“Just Friends” by Ivy Kink

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In this installment of excerpts of my collection of erotica, I take on the stereotype of bi-curious college girls. Enjoy!

Since she had moved away to college, Jenna was not used to being awoken by anything aside from an alarm clock and her anxiety that she would oversleep class. Sometimes, an ill-timed triggering of the fire alarm or the wail of a truck backing up into the construction on the new Chemistry building across the quad would jolt her from sleep, but certainly not another person. So, she was surprised that Saturday morning to feel the brush of fingertips across her shoulder. “Hey, Jenna,” a familiar voice whispered gently, a lock of hair tickling over her arm as her morning visitor leaned closer, “wake up, it’s almost eleven.”

Jenna attempted to shoot up in bed at the mention of it being so close to the afternoon. Usually, she prided herself on her punctuality: a quality so many of her classmates had abandoned in the second semester in favor of an extra few minutes of sleep. However, before Jenna could scramble off of her bed in order to snatch up her backpack and sprint across campus to class, two factors stopped her from dashing off in a blur of scattered bed sheets. The first was her realization that it was the weekend, which momentarily abated her distress until she noticed the second: that she was immobilized, held in place by bonds she could not immediately recall. She panicked, twisting in her sheets as best as she could until she was lying on her side and found herself face-to-face with her roommate, Brenda.

“Brenda, what the fuck?” She exclaimed, noticing the wicked grin that had crossed her friend’s face. She followed Brenda’s gaze and discovered the neat layers of thin, white plastic looped above and below her breasts, pulling her nightgown taut over her chest. Her nipples protruded beneath the light cotton in conspicuous arousal, drawing a mortified rush of blood into Jenna’s cheeks. Giving what she was sure was even more of the strips plastic encasing her arms and legs another tug, she recalled the events of the night before with a heavy sigh.

She had just finished brushing her teeth when Brenda returned from the novelty store in town with the bondage tape, which she had excitedly shown her roommate with a flourish. Tearing the roll from the packaging with Christmas-morning eagerness, Brenda explained the merits of the tape’s abilities to not stick to skin to her visibly underwhelmed roommate. While Jenna was hardly a prude, she was caught off-guard by her roommate’s willingness to discuss her sexual repertoire in painstaking detail, her unabashed carelessness that resulted in the chain of her nipple clamps being left to dangle over top of their minifridge, her willingness to lend Jenna her vibrator – an offer of generosity that was a tad too intimate for Jenna to redeem.

Although she had not shared her roommate’s joy over the new method of restraint, Jenna was intrigued, if a little skeptical. “I mean, it’s cool, I guess,” she replied, stepping out of her slippers, “I just don’t really think it could hold that well if it’s just sticking to itself with – what – static?”

“It’s pretty effective from what I’ve heard. And once Dave gets back, I’ll have a personal testimony,” Brenda cracked, winking and plunking down on her bed at the other end of the room. Although the two shared a bedroom, Brenda’s proclivity to sleep at her boyfriend’s across campus made Jenna often feel as if she had the place all to herself. While the privacy came in handy for late-night study sessions or the occasions that Jenna would bring a boy around, she was grateful to have the company of her roommate that evening while Dave was away.

“And how would you know, anyway?” Brenda added with just a hint of coyness, “nobody’s ever tied you up like that, right?”

Jenna shrugged and reached for her hairbrush, “educated guess.” With a sigh, she started to comb her hair.

“You want to try?” Brenda asked, offering the roll of tape with an inviting shake of her hand, as if wagging a chew-toy. “I’ll tie you up, you get out.” She strode over to Jenna’s side of the room, running her thumb excitedly over the loose end of the tape, “in fact, we’ll make this fun. We’ll turn it into a bet. You get out, I’ll buy you lunch. You concede that you can’t and lunch is on you.”

Mulling over the offer, Jenna hesitated. The tape did not look very harsh or so completely inescapable, but the idea of being tied up was not particularly appealing. As far as sex went, Jenna was what her roommate deemed “a nice scoop of vanilla ice cream at a church picnic.” She was much less interested in relating the details of her escapades. Any tales that Brenda had managed to wheedle out of her roommate were seriously abridged and relied heavily on euphemism. To Jenna, cunnilingus was just as exciting and scandalous as flogging was to her roommate. Unlike Brenda, Jenna seemed immune to diminishing returns and was content to repeat her preferred repertoire.

“Come on,” Brenda pressed, a wicked grin crossing her face, “you said yourself that you’d be out in two seconds.”

“I didn’t say it that way.”

“Oh, same difference,” Brenda insisted, plopping down next to her on the bed, “now lie down on your stomach.”

Jenna shook her head, “I’m not into it, Brenda.”

“Aww, you didn’t think I was coming onto you, did you?” she asked slyly, looping arm around Jenna’s shoulders. “We’re just doing this for fun, okay? Just as friends, I promise. It’s just a silly bet.” She winked and wagged the roll of bondage tape once more. “Now, really, get on your stomach.”

With a huff, Jenna set the hairbrush down on her bedside table and swung her legs onto the bed. Tentatively, she settled onto her stomach and rested her hands up by her pillow. “Fine,” she groaned, “but hurry up, would you? I’m getting sleepy.”

Brenda rearranged Jenna’s arms behind her back. Carefully, she began to wrap them in the tape, encasing her roommate’s forearms in the slick, white plastic from wrist to just below the elbow. “I picked the white kind so Dave can wrap it like a bra, too, make me look like the girl from The Fifth Element,” Brenda explained as she cut the tape with a pair of brow scissors and carefully tucked the loose end under the bonds. In order to ensure it stuck, pressed it carefully against the looped plastic. “But it comes in all sorts of colors.”

“Cool beans,” Jenna replied with just a hint of snark. Her brow furrowed in confusion as her friend carefully eased her torso up and began to wrap the tape under her breasts, securing her bound arms to her back. “Hey,” she exclaimed as Brenda shifted the tape above her breasts, wrapping the tape some more. “Isn’t that a little excessive?”

“Shush, would you?” Brenda chided as she sliced off the tape from the roll. “I haven’t even gotten to your legs yet, whiner.”

With that, she began winding the tape around Jenna’s legs, easing her nightgown up slightly to extend the wrapping up to the middle of her roommate’s thighs. Despite her general aversion to bondage, Jenna could not help but blush as Brenda’s fingertips brushed her legs and her skin receded below the meticulously wrapped bondage tape. When Brenda leaned down to bite off the tape from the roll, Jenna felt a slight tremor at the feeling of her roommate’s lips dragging along her skin, the sharp motion slowed in Jenna’s mind by its sheer audacity. When the bite proved unsuccessful, she found herself stifling a shiver as she felt the chill of the scissors.

“All right,” Brenda said, straightening up and climbing off of the bed, “let’s see your best attempt.”

Although she attempted to wriggle out, to snap the plastic, to work some part loose, Jenna found that the tape did not give. What she did find, however, was that she had underestimated the degree to which she would enjoy being encased in the stringent white tape. While she dreaded the fact that she might not be able to free herself, she relished the new sensation of helplessness at the hands of her roommate, however trite. She felt her cunt tingle, wet and eager at the prospect. With every squirm and tug, she sank further into the fantasy of having been captured and was unable to contain a moan or two as she considered what her roommate might do with her in such a state. Or, what she might have to do to encourage Brenda to release her. Or, touch her again. She couldn’t decide.

Brenda was nothing short of demure, politely asking every so often if her friend’s circulation was unobstructed and watching with only the faintest hint of smugness. In her struggles, Jenna grew tired and, before she knew it, found herself staring up at her grinning roommate the next morning.

“You bet me you could get out,” Brenda explained, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her. She brushed her roommate’s hair off of her face before reaching for something behind her. Jenna craned her neck to see where her hand had fallen, but her question was quickly answered by a flash of red and her friend’s fingers pushing firmly into the corners of her jaw as she pushed the thick, rubber ball past her teeth. She buckled it in a quick – almost rehearsed – motion. “Looks like you lost that bet, huh?”

Brenda got to her feet and moved to her dresser, flicking open her jewelry box. “Anyway,” she continued, “you fell asleep in the middle. It was pretty cute, to be honest.” She extracted a pair of silver hoop earrings, clicking one into place in the lobe before turning and adding, “you know you drool when you sleep.”

Flushed, Jenna hung her head as Brenda put on the other earring. She moved around to the side of the bed and took a seat, stroking the back of Jenna’s head. “It was funny,” she commented idly, tickling the skin behind her roommate’s ear with the pad of her thumb, “waking up this morning to find the whole room smelled like your cunt. And there you were, insisting you didn’t like this sort of stuff.”

As her roommate’s accusation felt more and more valid with each squirm, Jenna felt her embarrassment spread from her cheeks, coloring her chest in the glow of her new sexual discovery and the humiliation of having Brenda there to bear witness. 

“You’re lucky you’ve got me,” Brenda continued, her voice something of a purr. “Forget about lunch, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do, don’t we, get you up to speed on all the fun things you can do?” Jenna shivered as she felt her roommate’s thumb wander beneath her nightgown and brush the fabric of her panties with barely the tip of her fingernail. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to fuck you. We’re just friends, remember?”

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I apologize for the lack of response to messages or general activity on tumblr – my life is crazy hectic.

Also my compooper is broken so I’ve been tumblring on my phone. Hence, the queue and lack of activity.

But while I’ve got your attention, what does a girl have to do to get a little friend like this?

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So I’m sitting here flipping through Playboy and I’m like okay, you’ve got an article on fossils, an article on mud and stuff, I get it. And then I’m *finally* like boobs, finally! And then there’s a freaking article on Frank Sinatra and I’m like there just aren’t enough boobs in this magazine.

The Redhead, doing the exact opposite of “reading Playboy for the articles” proving once more why she is one of my best friends.
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Now that I’ll never be able to listen to Bach again without picturing some girl receiving analingus on a plush, white carpet.

Here’s the pornchestra. Which is exactly what it sounds like and much, much more.

That guy from my frat showed this to The Redhead and I, who proceeded to watch it, speechless. Because my friends are probably significantly weirder than yours.

Brownie points to whoever can figure out the pornstar with the pretty impressive vocal register is.

Flash Forward #1

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The fact is, tumblr, that in writing about my visit to Penthouse, I set myself back a month in terms of posting. Which is definitely not a bad thing, usually. Except, this was an incredibly eventful month. So, since a lot of my favorite movies involved fucked up presentations of time (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Memento, etc.), I’m doing some flash forwards. Essentially, I’m writing about the present time sans context. Posts from the past are forthcoming, but I thought it would be fun to intersperse some stuff from the present.


It’s movie night.

That guy from my frat and I are on Craftsmate’s couch, waiting for the Redhead to arrive. Craftsmate is in the kitchen with two of my other friends, making popcorn. Apparently, this is a three-person job.

“You should thank me for tonight,” that guy from my frat says.

I roll my eyes.

He presses. “Ask me why you should be thanking me.”

I humor him. “Why should I be thanking you?”

“I leant Craftsmate my whip for tonight,” he reveals with a grin. The night before, the two of them had been discussing this stuff. After that guy from my frat had left my room, he had sent Craftsmate a text offering the whip. Naturally, Craftsmate showed me and we had a laugh about it.

“I know,” I reply. “Craftsmate showed me the text. So, thanks, you weirdo.” I give him a playful nudge.

He smiles. “Just being a good neighbor.”

The Redhead arrives just as the popcorn is finishing. She sits on that guy from my frat’s other side and starts up another round of our mutual complaining about applying to grad school. 

Craftsmate emerges from the kitchen with my two friends and sits down on my other side. I curl up into him as my friends sit down on the other couch. 

As the movie plays, I look up and down the couch over The Redhead, that guy from my frat, Craftsmate. Things feel strangely good, like all the pieces were thrown up in the air and have somehow fallen into some pattern that works. Craftsmate leans down and kisses me. He tastes like popcorn and ginger beer.

After the movie, that guy from my frat has to make a big deal out of showing me the whip. The two friends, who are pretty vanilla, are kind of intrigued.

“Oh,” I reply, putting on some fake dismay to mess with him. “That’s a flogger. Craftsmate already has a few of those. But I guess that makes sense since you also thought all the random people in Public Disgrace weren’t actual paid participants and just literal randos on the street." 

That guy from my frat starts trying to bust my chops and saying he’s going to sign me up to model for Kink behind my back. The Redhead reaches behind him to pull on my sleeve. "Don’t worry,” she mouths, “I make him pay for it when he messes with you like that." 

We both start laughing hysterically. 

"And for your information, young lady,” reads a text from that guy from my frat after he and The Redhead have left. “I’m usually a top.”

I chuckle and send back, “have fun biting the pillow.”

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Once a week, three friends and I meet up to watch movies. The cast of characters of the movie-watching group have wound up being:

  1. Craftsmate – The classmate who found my tumblr and proceeded to give me an identity crisis.
  2. That guy from my frat – A former hookup who has now become a rather good friend. And, much to my mixed dismay and amusement, has become friends with Craftsmate.
  3. The Redhead – A friend of mine who helps run a student organization with me. I have pretty solid evidence that she, along with everyone else in the room, is kinky as all get-out.

Sometimes, I glance around the room at them and try not to die from laughter or irony or whatever else. It’s strange how things work out, but I’m learning to be comfortable with the weirdness.

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Playdate with Popcorn, Part Two 

One of the best parts of my visit to see Penthouse was that I got to see one of my friends from Ivy University who graduated this past spring. She now works in Penthouse’s area and so I ventured off with her for a few hours before the playdate to have a drink.

Of course, I couldn’t keep my mind off of my plans for later. And, even if I only had one drink, apparently I have no sense of subtlety. 

“What’s going on?” My friend finally asked, giving me a nudge. “You’ve got that little sparkle in your eye.”

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This past Friday night, I was talking with my best friend here at Ivy University and she mentioned that she had been hanging out with that guy from my frat and he had brought me up in conversation. Recently, he had said something vaguely complimentary and a little rude about me to Craftsmate, so I rolled my eyes and tried to change the subject.

“He says that he really wanted something with you but realizes that if you two were ever something that it probably wouldn’t last long. And he would rather be your friend and not lose you,” she blurted out.

It was the most vindicating thing I could possibly hear. Things were strange and ambiguous and he had been fluctuating between aggressive pursuit and then trying to basically Almost Famous me away to Craftsmate. I wanted to be his friend, just his friend, without the weird grey areas and the weird nonsense flirting.

Fast-forward a few hours. We’ve all had a little too much to drink and I spot that guy from my frat, rush over, throw my arms open and say a little too loudly, “I want to be your friend, too!”

“Ivy, we are friends,” he replied, laughing. He hugged me close.

I could feel that I was smiling like a moron, “that’s great. That’s really great." 

We went out together Saturday night. As friends. Before we met up with some other people, he and I were having a drink and hanging around. Nearby, somebody turned and made a comment about our banter, saying we should go tour. We laughed, smiled at each other, and went to go find our friends. The evening was fabulous.

Sunday, we had dinner together. Conversation was easy and afterwards he walked me to the library in the most unassuming way possible. 

Hurray. Chapter closed.