Last night, my friend threw a meet and greet for all of her queer ladies. It wasn’t nearly as scandalous as it sounds. But, yeah, there was a little bit of scandal.

It was a “dry” get-together and we were all just hanging around, getting to know each other, catching up with old friends, griping about finals, and passing around a bag of chips. And then they came in. Fresh from a workout together. Fresh from the showers. Just fresh.

I have a weakness for women with athletic bodies. But black women with athletic bodies? Oh, heavens me. And a whole group of them from one team. Laughing, smiling, joking. There were four of them. Three of which took on the more “butch” side of the spectrum and the fourth more “femme”. I really hate using those terms. But substitute in whatever you want there that makes you happy.

I got into talking with one of the members of the former group. She was incredibly chill, interesting, kind of flirty. She had changed from her workout clothing and was in a loose pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a flannel, and a baseball cap turned backwards. So many Ivy buttons, some that I didn’t even think existed, were being pushed.

But that big ol’ red button got slammed down when someone said they couldn’t get the packaging off of a board game across the room. Without hesitation, she reached into her pocket, whipped out a pocket knife, and flicked it open. It was larger than your average bear pocket knife.

I stared, practically hypnotized. She followed the line of my sight. And smirked.

To be continued.

(Also, do you know how hard it was to find a remotely not-white picture of a female athletic body? Jeez, tumblr.)

I think phrase “sick, wet dread” deserves its own Pulitzer. And I’d be more than willing to give dacrylagnia whatever prize she wanted.

dacrylagnia:

knife (by postbear)

He runs his hand along the blade, thoughtfully, considering the many delicious things he might do with it.

From her position on the floor she has to twist her head to see his pensive expression. She wishes she hadn’t. The look on his face fills her with sick wet dread.

Well, for starters, you’re going to need a bigger knife.

Yes, I’m back. I couldn’t stay away for too long. I have to thank you all for the huge influx of comments and askbox messages. I had no idea so many people actually read and pay attention to my tumblr (and, hell, I even got a bunch of followers while I was MIA). Your sensitivity, wishes, and prayers were really wonderful.

In response to the questions about whether or not I continue to do knifeplay:

I have referenced before that my most recent dom was not into the lifestyle at all before we got together. It’s pretty funny to think of that if you knew him now and how much of this stuff seemed to be waiting underneath the surface. Evidence of that?

Well, he collected knives. There was this huge, menacing one he used to bring out all the time to ~~scare the crap out of me~~ play. There was a smaller one he’d hold against my throat sometimes while I sucked him off (he put the dull side against my throat, obviously, but it still had the same effect). He let me watch him sharpen one once and eye-fucked me into next week whilst doing so. I swear it was like porn for me. It was probably one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen him do.

So, yes, I’d say the knifeplay wasn’t exclusive to one partner. I’m sure I’ll encounter people not into it at all and I’ll proceed accordingly. But, hell, if they’re game, I am more than willing.

This is pushing so many of my buttons right now.

Knives

There has been a mass influx of knifeplay-themed pictures from Heart. I am literally trying everything within my power from turning this blog into a herdirtylittleheart and knifeplay shrine. But, hey, you guys will stick around, right?

Why Heart is my favorite:

Oh honey, big hugs. Wish they were in person. If I lived closer this is how I would distract you from all the icky-ness. xo

Updates from a pretty fascinating evening to come.

The First Time Ivy Tried Knifeplay, Part 3

(part 2 can be found here) (part 1 can be found here)

I was a never a huge fan of having my, or anyone else’s, panties in my mouth. Mostly because cotton gets all waterlogged and nasty, lace becomes scratchy, so on and so forth. And, on top of that, I really don’t like the taste of lace, cotton, etc mixed with the taste of a woman. The second one can be damn good on its own. But with some sort of textile? Blegh.

Now tasting myself and praising my choice of wearing thin, cotton panties, I was going over in my head the details of my situation – the being blindfolded whilst tied down to my girlfriend’s bed as she hovered over me with something only slightly less threatening than a sushi knife – when I heard the wooden handle settle onto her bedside table. At least she had put the knife down.

She started smacking over my thighs, causing me to jump and whimper and quiver with each hit. She stopped when they were stinging, practically screaming with what I’m sure was blatant redness. It was then that she straddled the left one and started to get herself off, eliciting a whimper from my lips each time her knee brushed my desperate sex.

I wanted her so badly. I wanted anything right now. She knew her effect on me when she pleasured herself on me, but she just took her sweet time in acknowledging it. Her hand moved down to my breast, squeezing and twisting my nipple painfully until I cried out around my panties.

And finally, after what had seemed too long, her fingers sank between my legs. “Does slutty want to cum?” she cooed. I bit down hard on the panties, trying not to scream in frustration as I nodded. She pressed on harder, not giving explicit permission until what felt like forever.

When I had finally regained composure, she removed the blindfold and smiled down at me as my focus returned. She pulled my panties from my mouth and held the sopping wet mess of fabric in front of my face. I had bitten down so hard at some points that I had literally munched holes into my panties. I laughed dryly as she leaned up to remove my cuffs and I tried my hardest not to just pass out from exhaustion right there.