Oh! & a very happy belated birthday to the lovely Ivy.
Wish I could’ve told you so in person 😉
Shucks, lovely.
lips
“Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?” – Clarice Lispector, The Hour of the Star.
I have this terrible tendency to bargain and make offers I can’t possibly give when I just really, really want to orgasm.
One of the first times Craftsmate messed around with edging me, he worked me up to such a point that I literally started spewing offers. I’d be so good, I said. I’d suck his cock, I’d be so, so sweet to him.
He started laughing when I actually offered him money. I’d never really give him money to cum, but I get so wrapped up in it sometimes that this stuff just sort of comes out. I have such a one-track mind when I need to cum that it’s ridiculous.
Sometimes, he provokes it. He asks what I’d be willing to do for it, what I would be willing to put myself through. And, often he’ll shake his head or click his tongue and tell me that he knows it’s a promise I can’t keep.
And so he stops, gathers up my wetness on his fingers, and makes me lick it off, all the while smiling down at me.
“Speak every time you stand so that you do not forget yourself.
Never let a moment go by you that doesn’t remind you that your heart beats 900 times a day.
That there are enough gallons of blood to make you an ocean.
Do not settle for letting these waves settle and for the dust to collect in your veins."
– Anis Mojgani, Shake the Dust.
My favorite animal being cute.
A gorgeous leg tattooed with a face that looks a little like mine.
Sounds about right.
“She was afraid, and the afraid, she realized, sought opportunities for bravery in love,“ – Lorrie Moore, Like Life.
Every night during my visit to Penthouse’s, he set me a bedtime.
Somehow, I always managed to maneuver my way out of it.
Penthouse asked me, before I came, if I would want to be leashed in front of a friend of his. He knew I liked it, he knew she liked the idea of it, and he conspired to make it happen. Blushing, but not thinking anyone would actually want to, I agreed.
On Friday night, we went to hang out with a few of his friends and he mentioned that she would be there. The whole time, I nervously looked around trying to figure out who this girl was.
At one point, this very pretty, petite girl in a little denim skirt mentioned that she liked popcorn because it was something she actually wasn’t allergic to.
Earlier that day, he had discouraged me from eating Nutella, because he mentioned the girl had a pretty bad nut allergy. Putting two and two together, I blushed about six shades of pink.
If the last post didn’t give a vague inkling already, my time with Penthouse gave me the opportunity to explore the Daddy-little dynamic to a degree that I have not in the past. I’ve been into the idea of it for a little while now, but societal condemnation of it had sort of kept me shoving it into the periphery.
While I can objectively say that it’s not about my father, nor do I think of him during this sort of stuff, it still made me uncomfortable. You know, because statutory rape and incest happen. They’re not something to be taken lightly.
So, I approached it with a lot of caution.
Therefore, a bunch of the posts to come are going to feature this dynamic. So, I thought I’d post a disclaimer. Or something. I don’t know.
For all the enjoyment I derived from it, I’m still a little hesitant to associate myself with the whole Daddy-little concept.
So bear with me here. This is as much an exercise in acceptance for me as it is an exercise for your right arm.
Snicker.