See, I don’t think they call this a game. I think they call this supper.
fuck fuck this is hot.
I wonder where I can find a kitten to play this game with…
hair
I go back and forth in terms of inking myself up. I have a few ideas and, I’m fairly sure, the means to do it, but the idea of how permanent it is kind of freaks me out. Also, I don’t want to deal with the “why the hell’d you do that?” from my family. But, oh, so tempting.
such a sensual painting…
I want you to take me right after I’ve gotten out of the shower. I want you to tear the towel from my body, grab a fistful of my wet hair, and throw me onto the bed.
I’ll put up a fight. I’ll pout. I’ll try to explain that I just got clean. Yet I’ll just watch the puddles soak into the sheets from my dripping hair. I’ll moan and bite my lip as my protests become stifled by my growing desire. I’ll squirm and whimper and give myself over to it.
Of course, that doesn’t mean I won’t get just as pouty when you tell me to clean myself back up afterwards.
Yesterday, I had a conversation with Heart about when she revealed her own little taboo experience and we got into how strangely freeing and comforting tumblr can be. The car story I’ve been writing about is probably only known by two other people than those involved and one part, specifically, no one has heard. I’ve been debating putting it up here.
But, either way, I suppose what I’m getting at here is that the catharsis that this site offers is simply marvelous (provided no one I know finds this and figures out it’s me).
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
— Anaïs Nin
The Southern Gentleman: My frequency of listening to Stronger has drastically increased in the last few days. And it’s all your fault.
Me: Why is it my fault?
SG: You know that line “I’d do anything for a blonde dyke”?
Me: But I’m not a…
SG: Shhhh.
thefashiondontlivewithoutvogue:
“Blondshell!” – Vogue Germany June 2010
Equal parts sweet and devious.
Exactly how I love them.
And those freckles? Swoon.
My girl A and I pulled it out last night. And when I say “pulled it out”, I mean had an amazing time.
She’s literally just the best person in the world. Like my absolute “twin”. Which is kind of hilarious to say because, although we have the same sense of humor and very similar personalities, I’d say we’re pretty different.
A’s completely straight and completely vanilla. She’s active, but she doesn’t masturbate. I just couldn’t even imagine.
And so I naturally kind of kept my shit on lock when we first got close. Because, you know, I’m not entirely candid with people to begin with, but when she was the first one to break the floodgates and tell me about something sexual, I kept myself massively toned down.
The first time I told her the whole song and dance, we had been drinking. We were at a friend’s pregame and stopped by my room to pick up sweaters to wear over to the party since the weather had gotten very cold very suddenly. She asked me a question about something vaguely kinky, I answered, and then the floodgates got opened.
But, not by me, I was still incredibly tight-lipped. It was A who wanted to know everything. She asked to see the handcuffs, the nipple clamps, the vibrator, everything. I don’t think I would’ve gone along with it had I not had some liquid confidence. When we were finally heading out to go, I asked, “so, do you think you’re kinky?”
“Me?” she laughed, “hell no. I just find it fascinating.”
And that’s why I love this gal. We’re going out again tomorrow night and bringing this photo 200% (with some clothing on). She’d so be the one on the left.