nipples

Fuck Baseball, Part Four

One of the things Craftsmate had listed wanting to do was to torture my nipples. And when he put it that way it was kind of hard to refuse.

He retied me on my back, blindfolded me and pulled my shirt up. After tugging my bra up as well, I heard him chuckle a bit under his breath and felt myself tense nervously.

He twisted, pulled, and pinched hard. I gasped when he would go from gently brushing his fingers over them to pulling them hard while twisting them.

Somewhere amidst the condescension and teasing, he blurted out, “this reminds me of Fight Club.”

“Uh?” I blinked behind the blindfold.

“That part where he says that he wanted to destroy something beautiful,” Craftsmate replied, stroking his fingers over my nipples before flicking them.

I went to say something, but all I could manage was an “oh”.

Confession: My nipples aren’t horribly sensitive to light touch, but when pressure comes into play it’s an entirely different story. I’m usually entirely too sensitive for most clamps/clothespins/etc. I have a pair that work the way the ones in this picture do, so they can be adjusted, but I’m still a huge wuss about the whole thing.

I love when people just play around with my body like that. Pinching nipples, playing with hair, all of that. I guess because I kind of feel like a toy. There’s a harsh way of being used, but then there’s a casual way. And it can be just as effective.

We were on her bed, kissing and giggling.

I was on top. My hands were wandering to her breasts, sometimes my face was wandering there, too. She has these amazingly full breasts, especially for being an athlete. They kind of come as a surprise considering the rest of her body. I’m not complaining at all.

I leaned up and smacked her. As mentioned earlier on my tumblr, I’ve been experimenting a little bit with my faint switchy urges. She just laughed, “that’s not how you slap someone.”

She rolled back on top of me, pinning me down with her legs and smacking me with a chuckle. She pushed my shirt down and leaned down to lick and suck my nipples. She bites a little. Gently. Playfully. The mood’s light.

She reached around until she found one of her scarves, rolling me onto her stomach and whispering, “now let me show you how to spank someone.” She gathered my wrists up and tied them to her headboard.

“When was the last time you were spanked?” she asked as she ran her nails over the back pockets of my jeans.

My head is already buzzing. I can’t think straight. “I can’t remember.”

“Well,” she reached around me, unbuttoning my jeans, “that’s not a very good sign, now is it? We’re going to have to fix that.”

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.

Ivy

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