I was never much of a biter. But I dated a girl who definitely was. She used to love to grab my hand, my fingers, my neck and bite down. She used to love the marks it left. She loved to be able to run her fingers over it and see the marks of her teeth that were left some prominently for a few minutes.
And after a while? I started to bite back.
My girl A and I pulled it out last night. And when I say “pulled it out”, I mean had an amazing time.
She’s literally just the best person in the world. Like my absolute “twin”. Which is kind of hilarious to say because, although we have the same sense of humor and very similar personalities, I’d say we’re pretty different.
A’s completely straight and completely vanilla. She’s active, but she doesn’t masturbate. I just couldn’t even imagine.
And so I naturally kind of kept my shit on lock when we first got close. Because, you know, I’m not entirely candid with people to begin with, but when she was the first one to break the floodgates and tell me about something sexual, I kept myself massively toned down.
The first time I told her the whole song and dance, we had been drinking. We were at a friend’s pregame and stopped by my room to pick up sweaters to wear over to the party since the weather had gotten very cold very suddenly. She asked me a question about something vaguely kinky, I answered, and then the floodgates got opened.
But, not by me, I was still incredibly tight-lipped. It was A who wanted to know everything. She asked to see the handcuffs, the nipple clamps, the vibrator, everything. I don’t think I would’ve gone along with it had I not had some liquid confidence. When we were finally heading out to go, I asked, “so, do you think you’re kinky?”
“Me?” she laughed, “hell no. I just find it fascinating.”
And that’s why I love this gal. We’re going out again tomorrow night and bringing this photo 200% (with some clothing on). She’d so be the one on the left.
Continued from here.
She closed up her pocketknife and held it out to me, “so, you like knives?”
I smiled and took it from her, “yeah, I just think they’re beautiful.” I flipped it back open and looked over it. I traced my finger up the blade. It was an absolutely gorgeous pocketknife.
“Do you collect?” she asked.
I shook my head, “no, no, I don’t collect. I just admire.” I tested the tip against the pad of my thumb before adding, “this is pretty nice.” She had to know what she was doing. She had to. No one who isn’t into knives would pick one like this.
No, I told myself. I was reading too much into this. This was probably just some girl who kept a knife around for fun. Who now thought I was a freak of nature for how giddy I was getting over hers. But she had smiled. I tried to think it over, but decided it was pointless to try to analyze it any further.
I closed it and reluctantly handed it back to her. The rest of the night played out fairly normally. I dismissed the entire situation as just a case of a girl who had, by some stroke of luck, but herself a knife without realizing how nice it was. Or someone had gotten it for her. I wasn’t going to ask any more about the knife. I didn’t want to attract more attention to how much I was feeling it.
I had gravitated to a different group of girls before I determined I should head back. I made my rounds, saying goodbye before heading toward the door. I passed her in my friend’s foyer, my hand on the door to the hallway.
“Ivy,” she said as I passed. “I hope I can see you again sometime.” There was a catch in her voice. I turned. She was holding the knife.
I booked it out of there, blushing like crazy.
Ah, forniphilia. Most of why I enjoy this particular kink is the feeling of usefulness that is associated with it. Of course, the degradation aspect also has a special pull on me.
When people buckle and thrash like that, I just can’t control myself. I think it’s one of the sexiest, most graceful (yet feral and animalistic) things ever.
It was so kind of you to take me under your wing and teach me all about the art of performance. I’ve been practicing in the mirror just like you told me to. I know you must be awfully busy, but I could always use another go at rehearsing some of the finer points of our technique.
<3, Ivy
What was it about silence speaking louder than words? Can we apply that to muffled cries underneath a hand? Either way, the commentary here speaks volumes.
“Mmm hmmm mmnf mumf gumf.”
As loud as you want sweetheart.
Normally Sexy Porn Ruined By The Weird Or Inappropriate Or Nonsensical Setting Day: I’m Makin’ Porn Asbestos I Can!
As per the suggestion of Heart.
Sin’s basically got this one in the bag. Because, I never feel sexier than when I’ve washed myself off, applied a face-full of makeup, put on my “fuck-me” pumps and gone down to the local abandoned warehouse (you don’t have one?) to squat amongst the shards of spackle and rat shit.
(Please forgive my third grade asbestos joke.)
Another “abandoned building in heels” photo shoot. Always a great example of my pet peeve, porn that doesn’t make sense.
Now, India, you know better than that. For the last time, no girlpets on the furniture.
Reason #4056 why I’m running away to join the circus.
“What’s your name dear?”
“Verity, Sir.”
“Lovely. And can we have another volunteer from the audience to come into the ring and fuck the lovely Verity?”