tattoos – Page 8

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.

Oh, hi, new best friend.

Perfection.

Sometimes, I get completely absorbed in it. I set ridiculous standards for myself academically, personally, physically. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.

To some degree, it’s really helped me along with my life thus far. It’s put me ahead, it’s kept me up to a certain standard in a variety of aspects of my life. But, sometimes, I just get way too fixated with it.

Lately, I’ve been trying to be more lenient with myself. We’ll see.

I really enjoy being naked. It feels nice. Not even for sexy things, just for lounging around.

Cold weather = less naked time.

Sigh.

syntheticpubes:

by Daria

That guy from my frat. I still haven’t named him. I promise, I’ll get around to it. I just can’t figure it out.

Somehow, later on in the evening, he and I wound up separated from the rest of our friends, smoking a joint and talking. I simultaneously impress and scare myself sometimes when I consider how natural inhaling has gotten for me, especially since I don’t smoke tobacco. I have a lot of things about myself that leave that sort of impression. One of those things is my bravado, which it appears he’ll never see the bottom of.

I just have fun being a little mean to him. I made him wait outside of a crowded ladies room for me to stand in line for a stall then fix my hair and makeup just to get a dance with me. I tease mercilessly. It’s just bad.

So, I decided to be kind and gentle when we were alone. Because ever since I was a kid I’ve been told I intimidate the opposite sex for one reason or another. And, because I didn’t want to completely crack the poor boy’s ego to bits; he’s a nice guy.

Of course, I still bullied a bit. He has a long-distance girlfriend from back home and, when pressed about the terms of his relationship, he gets a little evasive. This is something called a red flag in my book. So, finally, I poked, “what’s going on with your lady then, Mr. Fidelity?”

“We’re trying,” he shrugged.

“Trying what?” I asked.

“Trying,” he sighed, “but she has a different definition of fidelity than I did.”

“And what’s that?” I pried.

After all the assumptions I’d made about him being the one making some poor little unknowing girlfriend cry and get into polyamory, he was the one who had been cheated on. I felt a little bad for all the mocking I’d done. Poor kid had his heart broken and was just trying to salvage something. How could I tease?

Our conversation jumped around a bit before I formally apologized a second time. It wasn’t my fault, he repeated. He brushed some ash from my joint off of my thigh. “I don’t know how to ash stuff,” I admitted, “I don’t know how to flick it right. I was really lame in high school. And boring.”

“You’re not lame anymore,” he smiled.

We went and grabbed some 3 am munchie-medicine-food afterwards. I think we’re going to be friends. For real.

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.

We were on her bed, kissing and giggling.

I was on top. My hands were wandering to her breasts, sometimes my face was wandering there, too. She has these amazingly full breasts, especially for being an athlete. They kind of come as a surprise considering the rest of her body. I’m not complaining at all.

I leaned up and smacked her. As mentioned earlier on my tumblr, I’ve been experimenting a little bit with my faint switchy urges. She just laughed, “that’s not how you slap someone.”

She rolled back on top of me, pinning me down with her legs and smacking me with a chuckle. She pushed my shirt down and leaned down to lick and suck my nipples. She bites a little. Gently. Playfully. The mood’s light.

She reached around until she found one of her scarves, rolling me onto her stomach and whispering, “now let me show you how to spank someone.” She gathered my wrists up and tied them to her headboard.

“When was the last time you were spanked?” she asked as she ran her nails over the back pockets of my jeans.

My head is already buzzing. I can’t think straight. “I can’t remember.”

“Well,” she reached around me, unbuttoning my jeans, “that’s not a very good sign, now is it? We’re going to have to fix that.”

This is absolutely what chicks do.

And what this chick is doing tonight.

So, okay, not quite. But, I’m getting together with a bunch of other ladies (who love ladies) to have a night to ourselves.

Oh, and knife girl is definitely going to be there. Remember her?

lonelycoast:

This is what chicks do when guys aren’t around isn’t it? Right? It is.

Now we see this as in a mirror dimly, then we shall see each other face to face.

Tits for tats.