garters

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Ivy’s First Trip to a Dungeon, Part One 

Yeah, you read it right. And while getting ready was not nearly as glamorous as this gif and mostly took place in a public restroom, it happened.

Craftsmate and I picked pseudonyms, practiced all of yesterday calling each other them and headed out that evening to a BDSM club. Naturally, I was completely nervous heading in and just about panicked when Craftsmate left me alone within the first fifteen minutes to find the men’s room.

This was for a number of reasons, some being:

  1. I was severely underdressed and was starting to realize it. Or maybe overdressed. It’s hard to tell. Because people were wearing significantly less clothing than I but it was significantly more ornate. I had on a blouse, a skirt, stockings, boots. I don’t really own any fetish wear and agh I don’t know but yeah. 
  2. I had no idea where to look because literally everywhere I turned there was some crazy stuff happening. And so I kind of stood alone fiddling with my skirt and trying not to die on the spot after going face-to-face with literally one of the biggest penises I have ever seen in my life.
  3. Some guy came up and tried to be social. Apparently “so, what do you do?” is not an appropriate or specific-enough question for a BDSM club.
  4. Then this girl ran over to me and was like “OH! I know you!” And I just about peed my pants and I was like, “NO THERE IS NO WAY YOU COULD KNOW ME NO I HAVE NEVER BEEN HERE BEFORE I HAVE NEVER SEEN YOU IN MY LIFE BEFORE.” And then she’s all, “oh, nevermind, you just look like someone” and some nearby woman was like, “don’t mind her, she’s trying to hit on you.” Cue the blushing.
  5. And then, right before Craftsmate finally finds me, there’s some guy literally screaming on another floor. So, ah. There’s that.

We wind up sitting with the girl who had just approached me while she emptied out this huge bag she was carrying to show us the absurd plethora of toys she was lugging around. After watching her explain her hoard to us for a while, Craftsmate and I decided to slip away to one of the more secluded areas to mess around for a bit.

(Oh, and happy 2000th post to meeee.)

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This week, I have been committing several small acts of bravery. I am moving past that which I have been anxious about and denied about myself. Tonight, I’m going to take a big step.

Wish me luck.

robotcosmonaut:

Love Me, I’m Trying

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Once, I played a game with someone where it was in my interest to hit red lights. Until, of course, his touch grew so distracting that I almost prematurely took my foot off of the gas.

Oops.

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“Women should be obscene and not heard." – Groucho Marx.

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quickienewyork:

©2012 The Dirty Gentleman (#561)

We sat across from each other and watched her undress between us.

First she looked at me as she undid straps and clasps, and then it was his eyes she looked into as she stepped out of her dress. She watched me as she dropped her bra to the floor, but she turned again when the black lace slipped off her ass and down over her thighs.

As for us, we undid belts, opened zippers and gripped our cocks in our hands as we struggled to get hard enough for the condoms she left next to our drinks. I watched him watching her, his hand a blur as he squeezed, twisted, and stroked, and his eyes moved between us. By the time she was standing in nothing but her lipstick, we were ready.

It was a slow dance. She lowered herself down onto him like a violinist tuning a string. Her hips moved slowly as I watched him disappear inside her and their fingers touched gently. It was less than a minute later that she turned to face me, kissed me on the mouth and then let me fill her as well. Her lips were soft and her skin was warm.

For half an hour she moved between us. I watched, over and over again, as she lowered herself around him, and when it was my turn I closed my eyes and pretended she was mine. When she finally came I was looking into her eyes as his hand moved furiously behind us. I kissed her mouth and pulled her to me with a hand on the small of her back.

She moaned into my ear as she began to shake, and his voice joined hers as they both found their release in a single perfect moment.

The lovely Heart has informed me that the lap time photo is a QNY photo that someone just decided to make black and white.

And we all know how I feel about when people do that.

So here is the original: even more gorgeous, in my opinion. You lose so much of the clothes and just the general feel of the picture when you put it into black and white. You also TOTALLY DEFY THE ARTIST’S INTENTION COME ON PEOPLE.

And you also lose that really hot story going on up there. Like. Woah. So problematic how hot I find “and when it was my turn I closed my eyes and pretended she was mine” to be.

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No matter how grown-up she tries to be, she’s never too grown-up for lap time.

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Fuck Baseball, Part Two

“I want to hear what you like,” Craftsmate said after he had finished listing off what he wanted to do. I was aroused, I could feel myself blushing and I was having trouble thinking totally straight. Not to mention I find having to name the things I’m into totally humiliating.

“Why don’t you just read my tumblr?” I whined, “it’s all right there.”

He laughed and reached up, looping his fingers through my hair. “Because I want to hear it from you.” I attempted to turn my head away and he twisted his hand, pulling me back and forcing me to look up at him. “I want to hear it from you and I want you to look at me while you say it.”

I tried to turn my head once more, but he pulled it back roughly by the hair. Squeezing my eyes shut, I managed to stammer out, “I…ah…I like getting tied up and used.”

“Open your eyes and say it again.”

I huffed and shook my head. “I can’t.” He pulled my head back and I gasped, opening my eyes. “I like to be tied up and used.”

He grinned, “used how?”

“Roughly,” I choked out, thoroughly humiliated but glad the ordeal was over.

“Good,” he smirked and patted my head. “Now, what else?”

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This camera angle’s just about right. It’s basically all he sees.

But very, very rarely gets to touch.

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So, followers. I’m aware of this tendency I have to begin describing a part of my life, conflict, etc and then being too lazy to continue it or describe the resolution. So, ah, I’d like to get around to that sometime.

definitelydope:

gallows hung around (by the girl who tamed the tiger)