Honestly, Sir banning me from wearing panties and disallowing bras unless I have serious nipple has saved me so much time when it comes to laundry.
I also always have a ton of quarters now.
lingerie
So I might just need this for conducting business and general lounging purposes.
I need a bad influence.
Starting off the week right with some lingerie I’m seriously coveting right now.
Ugh, if only.
Sacha Kimmes x
I like feeling pretty and delicate and utterly corruptible.
If I had a strap-on, it would have to be super pretty.
Because, come on,
if I had a penis, it would be a really pretty penis.
At the end of our second date, Nilla asked me if he was too vanilla for me. I laughed, because the question was kind of silly.
I guess because I mess around with Flint sometimes and I’m a kinky girl, he assumed that I only gravitated to kinky people when looking for partners. Which is, I understand, how some kinky people navigate non-monogamy and partner-finding.
But let me lay out our second date for you:
- He picked me up and brought me to his place.
- We took a few bong rips and watched The Muppets, which was the best thing to do.
- When I said I didn’t want to have sex right away, he asked instead if he could go down on me. To which I was like, uhhh, yeah.
- He was really good at that. Like, I mean, full-on loving the pussy good at it. Like, way beyond spelling the alphabet with his tongue good at it. Like, enthusiastic, game-changingly good at it.
- When I sucked his cock, he actually murmured, “how do you even do that?” at one point which might be the best testimonial ever.
So, no, when a guy grabs my hips, throws me down and makes sweet face-love to my pussy, he is not too vanilla for me.
Torn as to whether or not to write the earliest item of my adventures that would get you all caught up or to write about something really hot that happened last night, divorced of context.
I’ve been busy. I’m in quite a dilemma.
It’s a good life.
Halfway There, Part Nine
When the food was done, Macy walked into the living room with her plate and took a seat on the couch. “Make sure you put your feet up on Ivy,” Flint said, which was in theory hot, but Macy has the coldest feet I have ever encountered. As in, do you have a circulatory system?-level cold. I groaned, but it wasn’t so uncomfortable that I was going to make it stop.
Lida’s feet soon joined hers and the three ate, talking and mostly not acknowledging my presence on the floor until I asked to be untied when my legs were starting to lose circulation a bit from being folded up for so long. They let me out, taking a bit to admire the rope marks on my skin while I stretched out.
We sat and watched television for a while, letting ourselves relax before the start of the inevitable round two.
I like the idea of her having spent so much time getting all nice and pretty, and then the cuffs and chains are so, so dirty.