The day before I went back home in January, Sir and I had a nice brunch and went to go get my nipples pierced. It’s something I had been considering for quite a while but had never thought I was crazy enough to follow through. It was my 24th birthday present to myself.

The whole thing almost didn’t happen. The piercer I made the appointment with called in sick that morning, but we were directed to a colleague of hers that worked a few blocks away.

Sir held my hand while it happened. The whole thing was deeply romantic. I squeezed his fingers when the needle went through, and he reassured me that it was all looking good. And then he helped me back into my clothes and brought me, dizzy with adrenaline, down into the subway to head back to his place.

These are the important memories. The ice cream we bought in the dead of winter when the high wore off and the pain set in, playing videogames to keep me distracted from the sting (which didn’t work but was nice in theory), Sir sleeping with an arm over me so I wouldn’t roll over in the night and hurt myself.

Things got hard and weird and ended up not working. But at our best we were brave and wild and tender with each other.

nankingdecade:

An old one with Kitten. That plaid bedsheet’s got memories.

To make up for a skipped Topless Tuesday, here’s me in my favorite posish.

nankingdecade:

Sweetheart, remember that time you broke my cocktail glass?

It’s not my faultttt. You made me squirm.

30 Day Music Challenge, Day 4 – A Song That Reminds You of Someone You Would Rather Forget About

It’s hard, because I constantly say that I don’t want to forget any experience or cast it aside because it helped shape me into the person I am today. Even if that is a person who stops and says, “fuck that. I’m never doing that shit again.”

But, here’s what I have to offer:

“Rolling in the Deep” – Adele.

I had gotten back from one of probably the most emotionally fucked up nights of my life. It was one of those situations that it honestly takes time for you to process and really chew and say that what had happened was severely fucked up. It has, since, helped me articulate my needs and really understand my self-respect.

To add to the fucked-uped-ness, the involved stated over and over how profound and deep the experience was.

Honestly, the only thing profound and deep about it was the degree to which it was fucked up.

But, at the time, I was a mess of confusion and feelings. I had been driven home and it was one of the true instances when I felt profoundly alone. I turned my Pandora on and this song came on and it just cut deep. I hadn’t begun to fully process, but the song somehow struck the right chord.

For another song I’ll be releasing to the universe, go here.

And for one I’m reclaiming because fuck that, go here.

This is the story of the thief and the girl he took home to his partner-in-crime.

Who they were very good to, albeit a little strict.

And who he kept for a time and then returned, because being a villain is rarely as black and white as the pictures.

But who he kept a little piece of. Which is just fine, since she took a little piece of him, too.

Because when you really boil things down, we all are, in our own ways, thieves. Some of us are just better dressed for the part.

True story: I once sent the following text to a girlfriend while in an art museum:

This statue’s nipples look JUST like yours.

I just sort of felt it needed to be said. And I’m a little tired of modern standards for how every last minute detail on a woman’s body should look, when art shows such gorgeous variety.

Since this story went over so well with you all, I’ve decided to write down another similar memoir. Why? Because my sex life does not always run as smoothly as tumblr makes it seem and sometimes really awkward stuff comes up. Things aren’t always pornirific.

Take, for example, my first threesome.

A friend who I was getting intimate with and I really wanted to try to have a threesome. However, we were scrambling to find a third party and just couldn’t turn up the goods. At first, this may have been because our standards were absolutely ridiculous:

He needed to be male, as we just figured there was way too much taco at the party in the first place.
He needed to be on an equal playing field with us intellectually.
He needed to be unattached from any other women.
He could not be one of my or her exes.
He had to have a general respect for lesbianism more than just the simple male-gaze “two chicks making out” sort of fascination.
He needed to like some of the same authors and musicians as us, which we had listed out and assumed that mutual taste in literature and music would equal a sort of ying-yang feng shui experience that we would all be buzzing from afterwards.
He needed to be at least an 8 on our individual scales of attractiveness and he couldn’t have a beard because that kind of scratch plus eating pussy was on par with one of Dante’s rings of hell.
And so on and so forth with increasingly ridiculous criteria for what would be a one-time, completely random sexual experience.

We turned up with no one. The people were either too close to us to be threesome material or could not meet the list of standards we had set.

So, we decided to lighten our approach:

He needs a functioning central nervous system.
He needs a penis with the ability to get erect.

It was like we’d taken the safe-search off of google. Suddenly, half of the population that was our age had met the requirements for a threesome. But, we still held out. Our schedules were kind of busy and we just couldn’t bring ourselves to pick someone.

And, then, finally, the threesome happened to us. This sounds positively Biblical, the whole waiting for grace thing and then being granted it when you stop pushing so hard and trying to make it on your terms. Which is actually super appropriate, as I had just left church and was headed over to hang out with her and one of our mutual friends.

I honestly wasn’t really in the mood to hang out that day. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before for whatever reason and I felt like I had been hit in the face with a brick for waking up to go to church that morning. I probably should not have even been driving, I was so exhausted.

Which is why, when I arrived at my friend’s place, I almost fell asleep on the couch. And then at her kitchen table when we decided to eat something. And then on the toilet when I went to use the bathroom. So, my friend finally declared that we should all just take a nap for a little while.

The three of us climbed into her bed. He was in the middle, we were on either side of him. Before I drift off, I notice her looking at him with this sudden realization. It was as if she were going to say, “dear me, (redacted), I just realized you have a functioning brain and a functioning penis. How could I have not seen it before?"

And then I fell asleep.

I wake up an hour or so later to fell a hand on my butt under my dress. I kind of blink a few times, looking over my shoulder, and see the two of them smiling at me. Then, they start making out. I think this is sort of an invitation, but I decide instead to just fall back asleep.

He pinches my ass. I open my eyes again. I try to go back to sleep. He slaps my ass. I groan and mumble out, "I just want to take a nap.”

Now, you have to know that I literally will never elect going to sleep over messing around. I am notorious among people I’ve been with for never wanting to sleep, which really means never wanting to stop playing around. But this was different. I was deliriously tired.

This is why the two of them assume I am trying to be coy. So he kind of rolls me so I’m between them and they’re both kind of trying to make out with me and grope me as I attempt to sleep. Please don’t interpret this as rape. I was getting plenty aroused and I was very much into him. But, by the same token, I was really flipping exhausted.

Finally, I just tell myself that if I just keep my eyes closed and do this threesome stuff at the same time, it’ll be the best of both worlds and will totally work. This works for about three minutes of sexy pawing and shared moaning before I start to drift off again.

At this point, there is also heated debate about switching spots. She wants to be in the middle. He would like to be in the middle, also. The middle is apparently a coveted spot. But, I am way too tired to roll over or do much of anything about the fact that I am kind of being, in their words, the threesome brat.

Nobody wants to be known as the threesome brat. Threesomes are all about teamwork and this automatically makes you a bad team player. And while it was clear to me that I had to take one for the team here, I just wanted a gosh darn nap.

Finally, my arousal overpowers my tiredness and I’m able to put my best foot forward. The only issue is we have no idea what we’re doing and there’s always a third party kind of at a loss of what to do/where to put themselves. Threesomes rarely work as well as they do in porn. You just run out of spots and someone’s left clamoring for a cranny they can slide themselves into.

We finish a few “rounds”, by which I mean we try a few different permutations of people-arrangements until someone orgasms. Lather, rinse, cum, repeat sort of deals. By this point, my thighs are literally soaked in myself. I am practically shivering from it all. She’s smiling like a kid on Christmas. The threesome is a success. The uphill struggle is over. Everyone’s happy, I am swimming in post-orgasmic bliss and reveling in the fact that despite the rocky start, this may be one of the best encounters of my life, and things just can’t get better.

Except I fall asleep again.

In my last waking moments, it wound up that I’m kind of the odd man out at this point. I kind of crawl around them on the bed like squirrel searching for a buried nut. Then, I just get tired again, curl up on the edge of the bed, and fall asleep to the sounds of her sucking him off.

This is apparently terrible threesome etiquette. Once a threesome brat, always a threesome brat, I suppose.

I really am at a loss again as to a moral for this story. I guess don’t get tired and have a threesome. Or be awake when you have a threesome. Or just don’t get tired.

The summer before college, I was hooking up with this guy. He wasn’t anything special, but we kind of enjoyed each others’ company. I was rigid enough for him to enjoy some structure and he was loose enough for me to kind of let go. Besides that, we really weren’t particularly suited to each other. We don’t talk anymore, but that’s besides the point.

We had this bright idea to try to make out with Pop Rocks in our mouths. Why? I don’t know. We were post-high school and thought we were awesome. I really honestly have no idea why we wanted to do it and I can’t even offer you a reasonable explanation at all for it. It was idiotic.

Procuring the Pop Rocks was more of a task than expected. No stores near us sold them. We checked whatever convenience store we stopped in before retiring to whatever parking lot we usually wound up in. But, our search for Pop Rocks turned up unfruitful each time.

Until, finally, one day, I was out jogging with my father and we stopped into a store to get a bottle of water. There, by the counter, I saw the Pop Rocks. I nearly died. Dream realized. I bought them, only to be awkwardly asked by my father every so often if I was going to eat them or not.

That weekend, we got together to try out the Pop Rocks. We were both just so excited about it, not because of the fact that we were going to make out with Pop Rocks involved, but because we had finally found them after what seemed like forever.

He dipped his head back and poured some into his mouth and leaned in to kiss me. At first, it was kind of whatever. Just random popping and unintentional munching noises. Then, his tongue hit the roof of my mouth and trapped a huge one in between. It burst hard, cutting his tongue and the top of my mouth. It hurt like a mother.

We both kind of eased away from each other and didn’t say much after that besides the occasional “are you okay?”.

Moral of the story: I don’t know. Don’t make out with Pop Rocks in your mouth?

The first time I got tied up in an intimate situation, we planned it ahead of time. I counted down until that day with bated breath, the crawl of X’s across my calendar becoming more nervous and hesitant as it drew nearer. I was tempted not to show up that day. I shook when I showered myself. I could barely clasp my bra or pull on the tights I picked out as to pull off a skirt in the crisp fall weather.

He led me up to his bedroom and closed the door. We laughed uncomfortably. Expectation hung in the air as I removed my boots and then my stockings so they wouldn’t get runs in them. I smiled awkwardly as I stumbled out of them and folded them, placing them on his nightstand. Next came the earrings, my class ring, the cardigan I was wearing. I ignored the chill that had set over my body as I sat beside him on the bed.

I playfully put up some attempt at a fight as he set to work. He had my arms pinned behind me rather quickly and used my stockings to bind them in a knot that paid homage to his Boy Scout years. I fought a bit harder when he tried to thread one of his thick winter scarves between my teeth, but he finally won. The fabric was overwhelming and the knot held harsh against the back of my neck.

I groaned, I squirmed, I explored. I twisted my wrists about and tried to push the scarf out of my mouth with my tongue. I couldn’t. I let out a frustrated huff when he found my own scarf in my purse and set to work on my ankles. I wasn’t sure what I wanted at that point, but I’m fairly sure it was contact aside from the act of binding my limbs.

But, when he had finished, he merely got up and left the room for a few minutes. It was then that I noticed he had me positioned in such a way that I was looking into the mirror on his wall. I’m not sure if it was intentional.

Either way, the effect was sobering. I saw myself. My eyes wide over the scarf, my chest pushed out slightly from the way my arms were bound, my legs lined up neatly, my body covered in goosebumps and shaking slightly with each breath. He returned and I set my attention over to him briefly before returning my attention to my reflection. I was transfixed. I looked just like myself and nothing at all like myself at the same time.

I don’t know if it makes any sense, but it was almost as if I were saying goodbye. Or maybe it’s better described as “hello”.

archangelskytower:

Primping for Playtime

Model: Isabella Belden

Copyright: LoveBondageLadies.com

The Infamous Car Story, Part 1

It was the weekend I invited my boyfriend – at the time – to my home to meet my mother. It was summertime, a few weeks before I had to return to campus to start up sophomore year. He had made a good impression on my family and I had set about introducing him to whichever friends still remained in my hometown. One of them was her.

I was a bit reticent to introduce him to Elle. She and I were certainly now on a friendly basis, sometimes a bit too friendly. I was worried they wouldn’t get along. I thought she would bite his face off, frankly. She’s a bit of a spitfire. But, she had heard that he was in town and offered to have the three of us go out to dinner.

They hit it off almost instantly. They just jived so well with each other. I just sat there breathing this huge sigh of relief as they laughed up a storm. I was content to take the third wheel on this one. It was almost comforting.

She had driven to reduce gas and I had left my car at her place. As set off to head back after a really pleasant dinner, I elected to take the backseat with my boyfriend. We all kept up conversation as she drove towards the highway and stopped at a stoplight. This was when the trouble started.

He and I had been planning a game all that weekend where he would reach down and rub me whenever we hit a red light. This was pretty normal in the car just the two of us and I could manage to keep a poker-face as I waited for the light to change. Confessedly, I almost drove right off the road when the light changed during a drive to get lunch earlier that day, but it was mostly a fairly “safe” endeavor.

But in the car with my ex-girlfriend? I tensed up when I felt his hand snake over to me. My eyes begged him not to. It was too weird. She would kick us out of the car. Why had I worn a skirt that day?

I went to slap his hand away and tried to keep quiet until I noticed she was tilting her rearview mirror in order to be able to see what was going on in the back. I caught her face in it. She was smiling. Oh no. This was worse than the awkward interaction that I had predicted would come about at dinner. Her dominant instincts were coming out and she was getting such a kick out of this.

The light changed and he moved his hand away. She chuckled, merging onto the highway and heading back toward our town. “Sorry, dear,” she cooed into the back.

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest in mock upset. I was trying to keep this cheeky, funny. I was hoping the joke was over and that we wouldn’t be getting into anything too…weird.

He laughed and put his hand back down, starting to rub at my clit through my panties. I looked up at him and shook my head, pleading with my eyes for him to just stop. I knew if I opened my mouth to talk to him, I’d just start moaning. He had a way with his hands. It was astounding.

“I don’t know why you’re so ungrateful, Ivy,” Elle said from the front seat, “I seem to remember a certain girl who begged for it all the time in the car.” She glanced back quickly at my boyfriend, “she once got herself off with my vibrator while I drove her home. I wouldn’t drop her off until she came."

To say that I have trouble orgasming when I have a goal is an understatement. Any metaphor that I could make for how much I was blushing would also probably be an understatement.

He was beaming like a champ. My legs were shaking, my body was responding eagerly to his touch. I was so humiliated, yet so aroused from it. I couldn’t believe she was playing along with him and vice-versa. I didn’t expect them to hit it off socially. But sexually? This was almost porno-level interaction.

He stopped before I came and gave my pussy a little pat. It was a typical gloating move of his and I groaned in frustration. I realized my back had sunk down in the seat and I was basically spread out. I was covered in goosebumps, I was embarrassed, I just wanted to orgasm.

I noticed Elle was taking the long way home and huffed. "May I please cum?” I couldn’t believe I was saying it in her car.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking up at Elle. Suddenly, she veered off course and pulled into the parking lot of a playground we were about to pass. It was dark out and no one was there, thankfully.

She pulled the car in a way that it faced the road and the other vehicles that sped by. I instinctively reached to pull my skirt back down and he slapped my hand away.

“Nah,” she smirked as she turned off the car. “I think someone has miles to go.”

To be continued.