I find strands of my girl’s hair when I unpack my blankets from storage, little golden threads against the navy fleece, hidden from the sunlight for months. It makes me miss the way our bodies fit together so perfectly when we spoon.
Ugh, it is too early for feels.
I got to be a kitty yesterday for Sir: ears and tail and all.
He held so firmly onto my hair while he was fucking me that, when he finished, the imprint of his grip was actually in my hair.
I like the idea that he could finish up, zip up his pants, straighten out his suit and then just leave her there at the hotel, tied to the bed, while he heads back to work.
“What matters most is how well you walk through the fire,” – A brilliant title of a collection Charles Bukowski’s writings and my general attitude lately.
I try to get into the notion of harnesses when used during scenes and not just worn under clothes and sometimes I’m totally sold. But I can never get into harnesses that don’t really have any bondage component to them. I’m the kind of person who, if I’ve got something kinky going ok and I’m not tied up, I don’t know what to do with my hands and I feel a little lost and uneasy.
harnais ♥
Real things said to yours truly:
“I know you feel like a rapper right now, but they’re just cookies.”
The amount of pride I take in my baking abilities would make Betty Friedan cry.
Sweetheart, they’re not laughing at you. They’re laughing with you.
Daddy says she’s just the fussiest.
