This camera angle’s just about right. It’s basically all he sees.
But very, very rarely gets to touch.
ring
Sometimes, I yearn for the little touches above the grandiose acts. I want to experience that small, swimmy feeling of being told what I am going to be drinking and how much, of having it ordered for me while I just sit there in silence. Sometimes, it’s really those little things that tug at me.
Too pissed off to post sexy tonight.
Seriously, how the fuck is somebody like Rick Santorum doing so well? I am literally in awe that we’re just letting him, gosh, I don’t know, exist.
Sorry I have so many feelings. Ugh.
Whenever I see a picture on here of a girl with that sort of look in her eyes, it’s like something inside of me says, “whatever you want."
I’m a sucker for powerful gazes.
Sometimes, I just want to be pushed around. No real rhythm to it, no finesse at all. I want to be afraid of you. I want to fear that you’ve completely lost control.
Of course, the reality is that you haven’t. But, there’s such a freedom in feeling as if you’ve just totally tapped into something primal, something completely sub-human that the Rubicon is fading fast on the horizon.
I want you to drag me around by the hair, shove me into things, make me doubt that we’ll ever return to normalcy again. And once you’ve pushed me that far, I want to show me how well you can restrain yourself. Because pure self-control is dull and pure carnality is dangerous.
Rollercoasters need agonizing rises and uncontrollable falls. Show me you know how to ride.
Oh my good gracious, it’s snowing and my heater is working. Who would’ve thunk it?
This afternoon is all about drinking tea, doing laundry, and reading. In my ushanka, which looks exactly like the one pictured here, down to the pattern of the fabric. Here’s to good taste.
I am shocked at how easy it was to find a picture of a cute naked girl in a cute ushanka on tumblr. No, wait. I’m not shocked at all.
To the person who stole my Half Baked out of the communal kitchen: it’s on.
Neu Sex: Sasha Grey
I hate the expression “we were goofing around and then we started hooking up”. I think it’s stupid. I don’t get how it works. I can’t imagine that you just sort of fall on someone and start making out with them.
But, um, that’s exactly what happened last night.
I was over at her room. I know, I know, I know. I said I wasn’t going to do anything with her. (Forgive me, tumblr, for I have sinned.) But she had clearly defined the lines of non-monogamy with her guy and they had both explored some other stuff with no negative repercussions. This changed the climate immensely.
Anyway, we were kind of goofing around on her bed. I know this was baiting it, but I was lying there and thrusting and faking sex noises when she told me that she was concerned about her neighbors being able to hear her through the wall. She climbed on top of me to shut me up. I rolled over back on top of her. We kind of started making out. You know how it works.
We keep this up for a while. Kissing, touching, giggling. It’s light and sweet and fun.
So how did this wind up in probably one of the most intense spankings I’ve gotten in a while?
I’ll get to that, I promise.
I want to protect her. I want to keep her safe. But I know it’s not my job or my responsibility or my place. And I know it would just make some things much more difficult.
I have a collection of dainty little dresses that I wish I could just roll around in all the time.
(PS: Casey, I absolutely love this song and this photograph.)