herdirtylittleheart

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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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thisexactmoment:

morethanthewhole:

thighighighhigh

Original photo source. Just in case anybody’s confused.

What is with taking a perfectly lovely picture of Heart’s leg and not only changing the source but freaking making it black and white? Seriously? It’s no more artistic or authentic or anything else. 

It’s like oh look at the Mona Lisa. It’s so unsophisticated in color. 

Excuse me…

Well, now look at how much classier it is in black and white. Despite the artist’s initial intention, I now prefer it by the strange implication that black and white works, especially in photography, are somehow much better than color works. Even if the photographer wanted the photograph to be in color, clearly we’re just doing them and the world a favor by altering the image to be black and white.

NEVER FEAR, GUYS. TODAY IS THE DAY THAT (He)ART WAS SAVED.

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Happy Birthday to my first and probably favorite follower, the stunning, awesome, practically magnetic Heart. 

Party on, lovely lady.

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In case anybody needed to know what makes me blush:

herdirtylittleheart:

Daddy feeds me grapefruit. He eats it a few times a week, “It’s good for you baby.” I hate grapefruit. Unless it’s covered in white sugar. But that’s not how Daddy eats it.

He sits down beside me and peels it effortlessly with his big strong hands. He eats the pieces quickly and without fuss. But for me he does it differently. He takes the most plump section and carefully peels away the skin and the rind and the white stringy parts that make me say ick, leaving just the juicy raw insides. Exposed. It’s always that ruby colour, like the inside of my cunt. It’s always dripping and falling apart. He hands it to me, my fingers accept it gingerly.

I make a sour face when I chew, I shiver a little, but I don’t complain. I know it’s for my own good. He doesn’t pay much attention to my reaction anyway.

“Good girl,” he says when he sees I’ve swallowed.

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herdirtylittleheart:

Random mid-day sneaking-a-peek-at-tumblr-and-getting-stuck-staring-at-this-gif-for-much-longer-than-is-appropriate thoughts:

One thing that appeals to me about the Daddy/Little dynamic more so than the traditional Dom/Sub dynamic is that I get to still be treated as precious, even when I’m being roughed up. Moments of tenderness are so powerful when they’re in the midst of (consensual) violence.

Heart gets it.

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Oh my gosh I cannot even. Just absolute perfection.

herdirtylittleheart:

OMFG Yes! It was begging for it! ;p

Kissses! (And lasers! Pew!!!)

(see itmakesmewet’s original inspiration here)

itmakesmewet:

couldn’t help myself, ms. heart.

xo.

I can’t stop giggling

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Meet Switch, Part Seven

Eventually, I got a little mean.

I took his clothes off slowly, his shirt first. I licked and bit over his skin. I made him shiver.  I told him to be a good boy and hold still for me. I told him not to disappoint me, he wouldn’t want that.

I felt a little absurd. I’m much smaller than him. I have to stand on my toes to kiss him. He can hold me down fairly easily, he can overpower me pretty effortlessly. 

I felt even sillier when he called me Mistress. I felt uncomfortable when he called me Ma’am (it’s what SG calls his mother). I felt like a teacher when he said Miss.

And so I took a page from Heart. 

“You’re going to call me Pretty. Capital P, proper fucking noun,” I yanked his pants off. 

He didn’t hesitate, “yes, Pretty.”

I sat down on his thighs and traced my finger over his cock through his boxers. He shivered. “All worked up, huh?” I grinned. 

“Yes, Pretty,” he said again.

I kept his boxers on and started a slow sweep of two fingers up and down his cock. His body tensed, his hands curled into fists. I’m sure it was partially to keep from grabbing me and pushing my face into his crotch. There was something undeniably erotic about that sort of personal restraint. “Bet you want me to take it out, huh?”

“Please, Pretty,” he groaned out. I wasn’t sure if he was using it as my nickname or as an adjective when he added, “pretty please.”

I shrugged, “I don’t know, I sort of like playing like this.” I kept at slowly running my fingers up and down his cock, experimenting with the pressure through his boxers. “Tell you what? Hold still for three minutes and I’ll take your cock out.”

Switch stared up at the ceiling and sucked in a deep breath. It was going to be a long three minutes.

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Psst. Heart. I think I found your new bestie. She has great taste in shoes.