piercings – Page 3

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

I may or may not have been a little playful and naughty with a girl in my frat. She said she’d never kissed a girl and I obliged more than willingly. It was more silly and fun than anything else.

But, get this, followers. She is a ballerina. And she has her septum pierced. The buttons? They’re getting pushed.

The temptation to make a “burning the candle at both ends” joke is almost too great.

Last night, my friend threw a meet and greet for all of her queer ladies. It wasn’t nearly as scandalous as it sounds. But, yeah, there was a little bit of scandal.

It was a “dry” get-together and we were all just hanging around, getting to know each other, catching up with old friends, griping about finals, and passing around a bag of chips. And then they came in. Fresh from a workout together. Fresh from the showers. Just fresh.

I have a weakness for women with athletic bodies. But black women with athletic bodies? Oh, heavens me. And a whole group of them from one team. Laughing, smiling, joking. There were four of them. Three of which took on the more “butch” side of the spectrum and the fourth more “femme”. I really hate using those terms. But substitute in whatever you want there that makes you happy.

I got into talking with one of the members of the former group. She was incredibly chill, interesting, kind of flirty. She had changed from her workout clothing and was in a loose pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a flannel, and a baseball cap turned backwards. So many Ivy buttons, some that I didn’t even think existed, were being pushed.

But that big ol’ red button got slammed down when someone said they couldn’t get the packaging off of a board game across the room. Without hesitation, she reached into her pocket, whipped out a pocket knife, and flicked it open. It was larger than your average bear pocket knife.

I stared, practically hypnotized. She followed the line of my sight. And smirked.

To be continued.

(Also, do you know how hard it was to find a remotely not-white picture of a female athletic body? Jeez, tumblr.)

Oh my gosh. I literally don’t know what to do with myself here. I just…she just…I…

Sometimes, I like to touch myself in the ways other people have in order to recreate those sensations. But, I never, ever can in quite the way they did. Maybe it’s like the fact that you can’t tickle yourself. I can recreate the motion, but I will never, ever fully recreate the feeling. It takes two to tango.

I took a shower with a girlfriend once. It was kind of like this. But it was a dorm shower, so we were squished together and trying to keep quiet. And, unfortunately, we didn’t have all of those sexy tats and piercings. I’d like to imagine we were still sexy nonetheless.

herdirtylittleheart:

Thanks for all the love tumblr buddies… a few hours of looking at and reading your smut and I’m feeling much better. Also, Goldie sent me a text asking to come over tonight. I’m not sure if it’s to hang out or to play. Maybe both. I feel like getting goofy and naked. But I’d settle for goofy. I’m excited to see her.