Frolicon Photoshoot HNT

Snippets of a dream

My kitchen, in the house in my head.
You on your knees. My hand on your chest, shoving with words and grief and the sheer power of my fury.

Your arms around my waist, restraining me, forcing my hands to stillness. My fierce almost sobbing breaths against you.

Biting kisses, still as much anger as love. Your hands on my face, my fingers digging into your shoulders.

Pressing you into the table, leaning into you and forcing your body bent back with the sheer force of my desire.

On your back, on my table, golden wood and paler gold skin. My body atop yours, cream and curves and heated slickness.

Riding you, breasts bouncing. Your hands reaching to them, my hands slapping yours away, taking you, using you for my own pleasure and watching your face a study in pleasure and agonizing need as I shake and tremble and cum above you.

Sometimes it hurts.

Recently, I made the decision to break things off with someone I was walking a dangerous line with.
It was a mutual decision, because he couldn't give what I needed, and I wasn't willing to let myself grow gradually more and more resentful of not getting my needs met.
I wasn't willing to harm his current relationship, and he wasn't willing to harm mine.
So we walked away.

It was the right thing to do.
The grown-up thing to do.
The ethical thing to do.

And that doesn't make it hurt a damned bit less, any time I let myself think too hard about it.

Kink After Kids

A few random thoughts on kink post-kids:

• They're amazing at finding bruises with pointy little knees and elbows
• Gags are useful when your only set of eyebolts is 10' from the toddler's bedroom door
• Toddlers are terrifyingly handy with a short singletail. Mine has managed to catch me across the face with it twice... AFTER my attempts at hiding it in the closet failed miserably.
• Fetish parties don't happen anymore, unless you have a spare $60 for babysitting on top of the cost of going to the party
• It's amazing how much that can make me miss my community
• The 19mos old is the biggest sadist in the household
• On the previous note, kinkiness is clearly genetic. Ours has never seen us play, and yet takes canes, whips, or whatever else he can find (his current favorite is Mommy's dressage whip, which she can't seem to hide well enough) and beats the dog (surprisingly lightly, since I have seen him swing that sucker hard enough it'd have left welts), then set aside the whip and start petting her. 

I seriously wish I were kidding about all of these things. 

Courtesy of Rush HNT

I don't normally do groin shots, but Rush took this the other night and suggested that I use it.

Madness

There's nothing sexy about my mood today, nothing sexual. I am worn to the bone and so on edge I could cut with a look.
I don't want to play today, don't want to toy with you and enjoy your pretty reactions. I don't want sex, or the taste of your cock on my lips.
Not today.

Today I want blood, and I want the sweet knowledge of pain, and injury.
I want the wet snap of bone and the sharp hiss of the razor, the gentle burble of blood.

I want a body hanging like a side of beef from a hook, the cool darkness and the weight of the blade in my hand. I want to take out this rage on innocent flesh and feel it give beneath my hand. I want the uncontrolled swing of fury, lodging deep in muscle and bone. I want the spurt of blood as it gives, the flow of life from a body spasming in pain and fear and rage. I want the walls spattered with beautiful ruby designs painted by a swinging arc of shining steel.
I want the deep primal screams which only terror give, the scream that means you know that your death is not coming, but here in the room beside you.
I want the shuddering cry as the last trickles of life flow from your throat to the floor.

Blurry Mirror HNT