“Don’t look at the full moon with her. It would break my heart.” I know it’s unreasonable so I never ask, but I wish I could. I know better though, I know the moon doesn’t belong to me, and neither does he. Standing under the moon is a different thing between any two people, I know this, but it feels like mine.
Never let her turn around and kiss you on the stairs the way I do. Never let her write stories on the back of your neck with her fingernails after you fuck. Never let her fall asleep on your shoulder, in the crook of your arm, the one that’s just the right shape for me to nestle against. I know in my heart it’s not just for me, I know it’s human-shaped, not me-shaped, but let’s pretend okay? Let’s pretend you were built just for me. What a pretty little fantasy.
Let’s pretend that there were rules that could protect us, that if we just stayed within the right boundaries this would never hurt. Let’s pretend we can legislate our feelings, follow the red tape, let’s pretend regulations and a page of things we Can Not Do would be simple, like a grocery list. You never look at the moon with her and I’ll never let anyone brush my hair out of my face when it’s messy. I’ll never let anyone kiss my baby toes or hide my face during movies at the scary parts. I’ll never slow dance in the kitchen with anyone but you.
Until I’m dancing, in a different kitchen, with someone who isn’t you. It’s a different dance, of course. They don’t hold me like you do, they’re cooking dinner and I touched them, it drew them to me, and next thing you know we were dancing. It doesn’t feel like a travesty or an invasion of our space, your space, my space with you. It feels like dancing in the kitchen with someone else. It’s wonderful in it’s own way, but different entirely.
That’s why it would be a silly rule; You can outlaw an activity but you can’t control the intimacy between two people, the way any arbitrary act can feel magical, the chemistry at play. These things are not compartments you can lock up or barricade, they are life experiences, lived moments. Building blocks to connections that neither you or I can predict. We have to trust in what we’ve built together, and all the unique ways we make each other happy. The moon is going to look amazing tonight, no matter whose hand you’re holding as you look towards the sky. And if there’s fireworks between two people, you wouldn’t need the moon to see them. We can feel how we feel, that’s the deal.
Since I’ve had a bunch of books banned and even more stories I didn’t even try to publish, I’ve updated my Taboo Bundle to include the super fucked up shit. At least while it lasts and I don’t get shut down for selling the really pervy shit.
So, I’ve included the last two banned books: Trigger Warning (con-non-con) and Daddies and Babygirls along with four stories of blatantly fucked up incest (some of which are sweet once you move past the moral issues.)
It’s $12.99 via PayPal and will send you to a dropbox folder where you can download them all and red hower you like.
Probably for a limited time since I doubt it can last.
https://transactions.sendowl.com/products/78008241/C1B9A8DF/view
When the censors start coming, we go full-on fucked up.
If you’d like to download an entire Tumblr blog, you can use this open-source application called TumblThree. I’m including a link to the GitHub releases – if you have a Windows system, just download the one marked as “Application”.
I’m going to allow my blog to remain up and force Tumblr to delete it.
Here is the story I read at Impact last night. @msdarker read from Laura Antoniou’s The Reunion, which is the fifth in The Marketplace Series.
Forbidden
“Promise?” she whispered.
Her pink t-shirt was pulled up, as was her bra. Her thick black rimmed glasses were almost falling off and her bangs were in her eyes. Her breasts were big, pert, the imprint of the lace of her bra left pink and red patterns on the soft skin. Their eyes locked and she squeezed one breasts hard as her hips swayed. Her eyes were thickly rimmed around with black makeup and the corner of one eye was smeared.
She was straddling his legs as he laid back on the couch. She moved one hand down and grasped his cock again, biting her lip as she played with it. “I promise, but you’re the one on top,” he said quietly, aware of roommates who might or might not be asleep in nearby bedroom.
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