paint – Ivy

A year and two days ago (agh I fucked up this and thought it was the 19th, but it was the 17th ugh), around this time, I took out my cellphone at work, checked my email and found this message from tumblr:

Good to see a fellow [Ivy Universityite] comfortably exploring her kinky side, and consider me impressed by how comfortable and well-articulated your sexuality is for someone our age.

There’s more, I’ve had to cut it because it is too school-specific.

The point is, a year ago Craftsmate came into my life and gave me a fucking heart attack. Like I said, I was at work and I had to walk calmly into the bathroom before having a freaking panic attack. I had just started discovering myself and opening up on here and I was worried that this would not only drive me to have to shut the blog down, but to reconcile the identity I created on here to explore my sexuality as well as all the facets of myself that stayed off the Internet.

I’d been careful and always kept one foot out the door. All my topless pictures only showed one boob, which was totally unintentional but reflected a general unwillingness to be too vulnerable.

So, for those of you who’ve just jumped on board and don’t know how things turned out, here’s everything chronologically.

For those of you who have, I don’t really know what to say without being hokey. But it’s been quite a year (and two days) and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Except maybe that stupid nickname. Sorry I decided to call you Craftsmate, it sounds like a freaking kitchen appliance.

I love you.

I mentioned a little while ago on this tumblr that I have a friend who wants to paint me.

We keep sort of arranging to get together and make it happen, but plans keep changing. To be honest, I’ve also been horribly nervous about the whole thing. We’ve sort of fluctuated on how much of me she’d paint, whether or not I’d be wearing clothes, etc.

She said we should start out small and, if I’m comfortable, she’d love to have me back. So, I think we’re just doing my face or something.

I’m not sure how I feel about being that closely scrutinized. It was sort of why nude appealed to me, if that makes any sense. I could sort of hide behind my nudity without getting into the minute details of, say, my face.

But apparently it’s happening – potentially – early next week.

One of my friends wants to paint me. She’s been asking for the past two years, and, the other night – while a little boozy – I consented.

I have to admit, I’m a little nervous. Also, I don’t know how she wants me to sit, what she wants me to wear, etc. But, I’m a ton excited.

eusimto:

art-or-porn:

http://fotografie.dennisclaes.com/images/zoom/QNZTBN/evianneke_dscf8668.jpg

That tickle would be delicious.

I absolutely love breathplay. I love that swimmy little headspace you get into when your head starts to get light and things just border on a bit dangerous. I love the risk involved. I love the surrender.

But, I feel terrible for my partners sometimes. It’s a terribly risky game to play and I see them trying to maintain some sort of happy medium between going too light and going too hard. I don’t mean in any way that they’ve wanted to strangle the living shit out of me, but it is hard to curb it once you really get started and it’s also very difficult to push yourself further without worrying about the police report.