The other night Sir threw a party and some of us got to discussing what the ugliest body part was. We’d agreed upon knees (sorry, knees) until someone interjected that she thought feet were actually grosser than knees.
And Sir, looking as if someone had personally insulted his taste, blurts out, “no! Feet are beautiful and delicious.”
And I just kind of looked at him like baaaabe. Rein it in.
Me: Why is she plunging her pussy in step 5?
Sir: Ivy, that’s the penis.
Uh, Sir? You been making porn without me?
When my date seemed totally unsalvageable, I made an excuse and ducked out. Within ten minutes of calling him, Sir picked me up.
We traded stories. I pffted and huffed that he had such a good time while I was stuck going out with a frumpy snoozer. He took me out for dessert and brought me home.
In bed, he tapped my collarbone and said, “this is my home base.”
Sir and I went out on dates last night with other people.
His went amazing.
Mine was…well, refer to the photo.
My favorite impact tool is the cane.
She hates it.
So I’m having fun at Sir’s or something.
Hmph.
Somebody says I own way too many “sweetheart” outfits and not enough “big girl” clothing.
Pfft. Whatever.
I know I am behind on posting about just about everything but here’s a gif that reminds me of the person I’m seeing tomorrow and I am so excited to see him that it’s literally making it impossible to sleep.
Umm. I think I just learned my new strategy for when I want to try to be in charge. Don’t tell Sir.
