There is passion in restraint. The kind that could keep me away from a bed and the same that could bind me to it. Though I’m not sure I’m going play with much more than words.
And so the plot thickens.
heels
This is a test.
They’ve tried things like this before. It was much more contrived. There was fur on the handcuffs. There was an unwritten agreement not to push anything too far. It was, in its plainness, simple and safe, just a few twee forays into something vaguely perverse. Something they could laugh over later.
Now, no laughter. Just stares, expectation, a hope for some sort of common understanding in the shifting against the chair and the tightening of his fist in his pocket. Someone could say something, but it wouldn’t do any good in air this electric and unstable. It’s somewhere between vulnerability and a sort of bravado that had been, since today, unparalleled.
There could have been conversations, they both knew that. There could have been things hinted at when rolling over between bouts of sleep. But there was something gorgeous about this sort of spontaneity and the way she was, in this terribly available and humbling position, boring into him with such a gaze as to suggest that she would devour him were it not for how she were restrained. If he were not to partake of this, it seemed, there was a chance he could be swallowed whole.
This is a test. And the light on in the bedroom, the ringing telephone, that look on her face are all just factors. The answer’s somewhere else entirely.
I got together with an ex the other night as friends. At first, the entire get-together seemed just fine. We shared some laughs, we caught each other up, we really just enjoyed each other’s company on a purely platonic level. We got high and I was seriously feeling great until I realized that there seemed to be an expectation for something physical lingering in the air. And it was terribly uncomfortable.
In the past, I’ve created a lot of problems for myself in blurring the lines between friend and something else. I had made a pact with myself to really exercise more caution when getting to that level with friends and to, unless the case was very promising, keep things platonic.
Not to mention this person is my ex. I was really, really hurt on repeated occasions and I really fought to try to keep interaction peaceful and platonic, both of which were made nearly impossible for me by the other party. This situation is just one of many. And then it’s almost always turned back to me and made to feel like my fault.
This time, I rejected the advances and I was almost automatically shut out. Not physically, but certainly on every other level. Things got terribly uncomfortable. I kept asking if I should leave and got defensive responses each time. I was dropped off at my house soon after in near-complete silence. I felt awful.
I’m proud of myself for the decision I made and the restraint I exercised. But, by the same token, I realize how easy the other choice could have been and how much instant gratification I could get out of it. But, I am really trying to change the ways I make choices about certain people and situations, however difficult it proves to be.
Ready for takeoff.
She was terribly selfish when it came to pleasure. She only wanted to feel fingers and mouths upon her own needy body and rarely took the incentive to return the favor. The way she saw it with other men, just letting them have her in such a way was doing them a favor.
But not with him, he won’t stand for that sort of selfishness. He’ll stop touching her all together, stop playing her body the way he does so well. And, when she’s finally so frustrated by the inability of her own fingers to mimic the feeling of someone else’s hands, she’ll come to him. He’ll present her with two options: be a good girl and give him her mouth or simply just go without.
Sitting down is not going to help you, brat.
Now stand up, touch your toes and learn your lesson.
Oh my God this happens to me all the time when I wear dresses and carry my laptop in my shoulder-bag. Of course, I keep on top of it better than this cutie.
One of the little pleasures of the moment. Going commando.
Alice Springs by, Helmut Newton
She may have to take the punishment lying down, but she won’t take it sitting down. She’ll moan around that bit deliciously. She’ll squirm and pout in such an enticing mockery of remorse. She’ll tilt herself in such a way that her dress proceeds to ride up just an inch more each time he walks by. She’ll make him forget which one of them is being punished.
Ruka
“And in the dark, we will take off our clothes and they’ll be lacing fingers through the notches in your spine and when all is breaking everything that you could keep inside.”
OMG! 3 to 1? Umpf…