stockings – Page 13

Jack and Jitters, Part 2

(Note: What is to follow here depicts some consensual nonconsent. In no way was I ever actually not consenting to what was going on this evening, nor was I coerced into these acts by physical force. While certain acts depicted can be completely considered to be illegal and wrong in a very different context, SG and I are two consenting adults with a mutual understanding about the dynamic of our relationship and the fact that I could have terminated these actions anytime I wanted. While alcohol was involved, I was coherent and completely aware of the situation, not to mention I had the equivalent of what you’d rub around a baby’s mouth when it has a toothache. Seriously. Sober, safe, sane. Consensual.)

I was feeling a little bit bratty by the time I pulled the nightgown over my head. I wasn’t entirely thrilled with the fact that he’d made me go through the formality, so I decided I wasn’t going to make anything too easy for him either.

I took the glass out of his hand and took a sip. Then another. I set it back down on my bedside table. He reached for my hand, I took a step back and cocked a brow, lowered my head, raised my eyes. He reached out again, this time grabbing my arm, and swung me over to the bed.

SG has a sort of favorite way he likes to hold me where I’m bent over backwards on the side of the bed. The bed is on risers that put the mattress about a yard off the ground, so really just my shoulder-blades and up touch it. This time, he pushed me hard and I pushed back. He tried to pin my arms down, I struggled against his grasp. The second he reached down to pull the nightgown up, I used my free hand to try to shove his away. He gathered both hands above my head under one of his and proceeded to try to use a sheet to tie my wrists. Obviously, that’s just way too much fabric.

“My stockings are in the second drawer from the top,” I said, briefly breaking character. He smiled through his, reached in and grabbed a pair of black stockings. He secured my wrists together impossibly. Freaking Eagle Scouts.

He held onto the ends of the stockings with one hand, yanking my arms up further across the mattress to the point that I was forced onto my toes. He reached down between my legs and his fingers brushed over my lips and I closed my legs. “No,” I breathed. (Once again, dear readers: safe, sane, consensual, sober.)

“What did you just say?” He shoved my legs apart, holding one open and trapping the other between his.

“No,” I groaned again and tried to close my legs. He reached down and smacked my cunt. Hard, sharply. I cried out.

It’s strange. I wanted him and because I wanted him I wanted to refuse him. I know it doesn’t entirely make sense. But it’s like every time I said “no” and every time I refused him, I was bringing more of him out and into this. And the more of that part of him came out, the more of that part of me came out. It’s carnal. It’s completely and totally animalistic.

And it was also a demonstration. It was a trust fall. And as he pulled the stockings harder, pulling my body taut and arching my back more dramatically, I knew he’d catch me.

Jack and Jitters, Part 1

On the last evening SG and I were planning to spend off-the-radar, we attempted to go out somewhere. However, everywhere we went was either closed or just plain lame. And so we decided we’d “spend the night in”. It sounded vaguely domestic.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” I began as I picked up the bottle of Jack I had in my room. “I’ll put a nightgown on and we’ll have an evening like the Drapers.” I poured out a glass and took a sip.

The Southern Gentleman snorted, “and of course that starts with drinking.”

“Just like everything else in Mad Men,” I held out the glass to him and started to remove my clothing.

I was down to my sweater and bra when he set the glass down and came over, placing his hands on my hips. He kissed down my neck, pulled the sweater off for me, unhooked the bra. I reached for the buckle of his belt and he stepped back, smirking. “Go put your nightgown on.”

“Oh, come on,” I groaned.

So.

I woke up in a collapsed blanket fort in my friend’s basement to my friend asking me where his jacket was.

Skinned right knee, still a little drunk, two texts in my phone.

The first:

“Hey, Ivy. Sorry I had to run, my ride left early. But it was amazing meeting you and good luck on your research.”

The second, from the friend asking for his jacket:

“Top five moments of the night. FIVE: That comment I made about that one girl. FOUR: You being able to have anybody you wanted in that room and your thing with Pink. THREE: We got. Really. Really. Wasted. TWO: Freckles, ‘nuff said. ONE: The new friendship that has been formed between two of my best friends in life.”

Tumblr, I have some explaining to do.

Happy Upcoming New Year, tumblr!

Please have fun and be safe tonight. Don’t drink and drive. Keep an eye on your drink. Keep friends close.

And here’s some girls with sparklers in their asses. Because people seem to be at their most creative when it comes to conceiving porn.

Seriously. We could figure out world peace in two seconds if it was in porn form.

I am so into this, but I would be super concerned about having my shoulder pulled out or something from some faulty rope-placement. I’d like to fancy myself the (very) amateur engineering type, so I’d probably micro-manage the shit out of anyone attempting to do this to me.

Truth: If introduced to a comfortable couch, I will naturally curl up and want to take a nap. Especially in the right lighting. I have the impulses of a house-cat.

just45mike: lychees:Chad Muller – nudes

Bright red stockings. If only there was a use for you besides wearing nothing else and eyefucking someone from a couch.

Seriously, I love the color. But what would I wear it with?

The Holiday Party, Part 4

Noodlegirl and I settle in on the couch and get to talking. Somehow, I tell her I may be into girls. She’s intrigued. Seriously. Like I told her I was a world explorer or something. We keep moving closer and closer until suddenly this guy plops down next to her on the couch and I assume he’s creeping. Ugh.

He kind of curtly acknowledges my existence, but Noodlegirl goes out of her way to introduce me like I’m the President. It was undeniably sweet, but this guy wasn’t feeling it. She turns back to me and asks, out of nowhere, “so, what are you into more, guys or girls?”

I shrug, “I mean, I typically just kind of go for the personality.”

Noodlegirl’s couch companion is suddenly threatened and kind of awkwardly starts making out with her. He then gets up to get her a drink.

I don’t want to cross boundaries or make trouble, so I decide to ask some questions. “Is he your boyfriend?”

She shakes her head, “no, of course not. He just drove me here and we hook up sometimes.”

Whew. “Well, he’s cute.” It’s really a common courtesy that I’m saying that. I’m not terribly attracted to him and any vague attraction I may have had was totally killed by how he had to get really defensive once he found out I was into girls. Really? Did I threaten his masculinity that much?

“Nah,” she chuckled, “he’s okay. We should go dance.”

Part of me may have recognized the dilemma of the fact that I was kind of swooping in. But, hell, the guy’s a jerk and, while I wasn’t expecting a threesome (nor do I want one), he didn’t have to overreact and be such a prick about “marking his territory”. So, yeah, we danced. And the look on his face when he came back and saw us was priceless.

The Winter Formal, Part 2

We were all having a blast before we knew it. Wine was poured out, laughter bounced around the room, and the impending threat of finals was – for the night – left back at our dorm rooms. It was a nice change to see everyone dressed up and amidst the formality of the event, there was definitely a pervading sense of ease.

“I would like to propose a toast…”

I raised my glass and started roasting my friends. It was in good spirit, maybe a bit acerbic, but never hurtful. We laughed, we clinked glasses, we cracked jokes. It was nice to just relax, to just enjoy each other. The evening was off to a great start.

theropeview:

Top Hat and Tush

http://www.tumblr.com/blog/theropeview

Perfect commentary, absolutely true.

etherealgirl:

I’m strong. I will put up a fight, but not to be a brat, or to manipulate. It’s not because I’m not a ‘true’ submissive. I fight because I need to know you’re stronger than me.