Gallery

“I think I want to kiss you,” Craftsmate said one night about a month ago while in bed with me.  

The last time that I had happened, there was a little bit of an episode, as you may recall. So we had agreed to be play partners and not kiss or be emotionally intimate. Which was all fine and good until there would be nights he would sleep over and we would wake up curled into each other and I would feel some little pang of something growing in my throat.

That night, the lights were already out and I couldn’t see him. “Are you sure? I’m not sure my ego can handle you freaking out over this again.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “yeah, I’m sure. I want to kiss you.”

I climbed over him to get out of bed. “I’m going to the bathroom. Think it over and when I get back if you want to, maybe we will.”

When I returned, he confirmed that he was still on board about it. I was a bit embarrassed at how nervous I suddenly felt. It was too dark in my room and we bumped noses. The entire kiss was awkward and reminiscent of a middle school playground. 

Somehow, that felt about right.

Gallery

Fuck Baseball, Part Five

I was really, really enjoying what was going on with Craftsmate. On a lot of levels. I was blindfolded, tied to the bed, having my nipples played with, and being condescended to. Just about every part of that is an A+ in my book.

Except that stupid creeping feeling came up again where my brain went “well, he didn’t even try to kiss me, so he must not respect me at all”. Except, I didn’t particularly want to kiss Craftsmate. He’s a fun friend and an interesting activity partner, but I just didn’t feel too terribly inclined to kiss him. 

But I’m lying there and thinking, “well, here’s the natural progression of stuff and we’re not doing the natural progression so this is wrong and I am a whore”.

Which is, uh, how I felt with that guy from my frat that time we hooked up. Even if kissing did kind of clash with the intended activity.

But I asked and he kissed me. Awkwardly. We were both uncomfortable and it was plainly obvious that neither of us particularly wanted to. And so I made him untie me and I proceeded to freak out about how sleazy I am.

So, uh, sorry to put a damper on the sexy for a moment. But, yes, it’s honestly how that went down and I wasn’t particularly proud. But, I think it’s important to share this stuff with the sexy. And, we got to talking and, yes, I promise, there’s a happy solution.

Gallery

It was super awkward, confessedly, when the Southern Gentleman first arrived at my place. There was – and hopefully I am not putting words in his mouth – a general pervasive feeling of wanting to jump each others’ bones. 

But, there’s things like formalities. And so we greeted each other with a hug, we spent a little time discussing our holidays, we shot the breeze.

Eventually, I moved over to the corner of my room to fetch something. He followed me. I’ve noticed that men tend to do this thing when they want to start something but words wouldn’t be smooth enough. They just start encroaching on you. It sort of helped that I was in the corner.

I turned and said something to him, something completely vague and a little snarky but not having to do with the fact that he had been gradually closing in on me. He just reached down, took my chin, tilted my head up, and started kissing me. Our hands roamed, settled into comfortable permutations on each others’ bodies, his eased up my shirt then back around my back then up into my hair and around again. He shoved me against the wall and my rear hit the windowsill. He pulled my head back by my hair and started biting my neck. Somewhere in the middle of pulling my shirt off, I suppose he realized that we were right in front of an open window and pushed me over to the bed.

I don’t know why, but somehow his clothes seem to manage to stay on much longer than mine. But, I kind of like the contrast.

What was I saying about formalities?

Gallery

So, sometimes kissing can be sweet.
And sometimes it can be the meanest, most condescending thing one could do in a situation. 

Gallery

I hate the expression “we were goofing around and then we started hooking up”. I think it’s stupid. I don’t get how it works. I can’t imagine that you just sort of fall on someone and start making out with them.

But, um, that’s exactly what happened last night.

I was over at her room. I know, I know, I know. I said I wasn’t going to do anything with her. (Forgive me, tumblr, for I have sinned.) But she had clearly defined the lines of non-monogamy with her guy and they had both explored some other stuff with no negative repercussions. This changed the climate immensely.

Anyway, we were kind of goofing around on her bed. I know this was baiting it, but I was lying there and thrusting and faking sex noises when she told me that she was concerned about her neighbors being able to hear her through the wall. She climbed on top of me to shut me up. I rolled over back on top of her. We kind of started making out. You know how it works.

We keep this up for a while. Kissing, touching, giggling. It’s light and sweet and fun. 

So how did this wind up in probably one of the most intense spankings I’ve gotten in a while?

I’ll get to that, I promise.

Gallery

Biting my jawbone is an instant melt for me. Just a nibble goes a long way.

Gallery

Pretty, soft girl kisses. So good.

Video

My Simian Mobile Disco phase coincided with me coming to terms with my sexuality. So, naturally, when I found this video, my theories were confirmed. (Not to mention I totally set to plotting how to get this to happen.) And, while I’m totally nostalgic, I can only imagine the sleazy conversation, probably over some pizza and beer, that went on when they were writing the treatment.

“So, okay, it’s a bunch of girls at a party. And they’re sitting in a circle and they are playing telephone. And then…they all just start makin’ out, man.”

Which is fine by me, but apparently this is the UK version. The US version has a bunch of models on pedestals eating junk food and luxury items and then vomiting until their faces get all disfigured. Social commentary aside, why the hell did my country pass up girls making out at a party for a really creepy video with ralphing models?

Oh, America. You don’t make a lick of sense.