I’ve been crazy stressed this week: I’ve got a pretty awful one-two punch of deadlines coming up. And as always to make everything worse, my body always kicks into all the yucky thoughts and the weird dysmorphia feelings kick in. It was really hard to take this photo yesterday, but I’m pretty glad I did.
neck
And sometimes I am reticent and confused.
Sweet spot porn.
What do I have to do to get a pretty girl to come here and bite my sweet spot?
“I looked at his eyes. I was thinking: they are bluer than the sea.
But then the sea is not blue at all, is it?” – Judy Budnitz, If I Told You Once.
This is actually some of my favorite stuff right here.
I’m small in stature and I like having someone’s arm across me like that, emphasizing how holdable and moveable I can be. I feel held, possessed. I like the strength behind being pulled into someone that way, even if it is gently.
That spot on my neck is my sweet spot, especially from the back. I melt. I absolutely melt. I give over to it so quickly that I barely even put up any attempt at a fight or a last effort to maintain some sort of dignity or composure. I literally can’t help it sometimes.
And together? Well, I guess you can imagine.
I have an interesting relationship with danger. I like to push myself to a place of uncertainty. There’s almost something calming about total surrender to the unknown.
Visual representation of the constant battle waged in my subconscious.