Hey, Long Time No Talk

(via quickienewyork)

A Blind Test

“If I was blindfolded, do you think I could tell you apart?” “Tell us apart how?” he asked as we leaned in closer. She blushed a bit and mumbled something.  She took a drink and looked back and forth as if we should know what it was she meant to say. We asked her again, and she closed her eyes as each of us put a hand on her knee. The harder we tried to make her answer the more flustered she got until finally she just blurted it out a bit too loudly. “Fucking!  If you took turns fucking me, I wonder if I could tell you apart.” The dirty looks from the other customers ushered us happily out the door, down three blocks, around a corner, up the stairs, and into my apartment and bedroom.  At first she closed her eyes as we kissed her and she whispered our names quietly.  One of us tied the scarf without her guessing, and by the time fingers were undoing buttons she was nearly lost. As clothes fell to the ground and she lay back on the bed, she began to ask us to take turns.  One set of lips on her breast was followed by a guess.  One hand parting her thighs and stroking the soft flesh between them was followed by another, and before we knew it, each of us had a hand wrapped around us, and a name assigned.  She studied us each in the darkness until finally she sat up on the bed and put her hands to her sides. “Let me guess with just my mouth.“  We circled the bed and kept silent.  We touched her hair gently and kept moving until honestly even I wasn’t sure who was who.  One of us stepped towards her and her lips opened before he was even close.  She moved her head slowly hoping to find what she wanted and when she finally did she swallowed it all.  Her hands were still at her sides and she took him all the way into her mouth and then sucked, kissed, and licked until she thought she knew.  When she lay back on the bed and opened her legs she had correctly guessed us both.  By the time I pushed inside her she was calling out my name without doubt and pleading for more without reserve.  The first three times we switched she guessed correctly.  By the fourth time she wasn’t so sure and by the tenth she didn’t care. She finally stopped guessing altogether and her pleading change from the specific to the urgent. "Just fuck me,” she moaned to no one, and the more she asked the closer we got.  One of us came first, and she swore she could feel him pulsing through the thin latex.  She came with the second and refused to kiss him for fear of discovering whom it was.  “I thought you wanted to know,” we said, as the three of us lay entangled on the bed. “I did,” she whispered.  “At first I really did, but by the end it didn’t matter.  You were both here, and hard, and inside me, and the only important thing was that you didn’t stop.” “Should we take the blindfold off?” I asked. “Leave it on,” she answered.  “And let’s try again in the morning.”

–Guy New York

$840,000/3 br/1880 sq ft

built in 1920

Seattle, WA

Because sometimes, you just feel fabulous. (via)

Parking lot flirtation

We hit it right off. She likes me, she isn't hiding it.

I lean forward and stare at her alluring eyes for a minute. My my she’s beautiful. She leans on in. Our first little kiss. I like it.

The rugby world cup is going on. We were at a club house. RSA is about to make a try. Nobody notices us.

I whisper, "Let's head to the car." She smiles kisses me again. I guess that's her way of saying YES.

We're at the trunk of the car kissing. My hands make their way up the short skirt, her skin is silky smooth. I grab a butt cheeks. I can't seem to let them go.

She does the kinkiest thing. Whilst staring at me longingly, her fingers slide into her pussy. She does three quick thrusts pulls her hand to her mouth then licks her finger. She does it again. This time we fight for the finger. Fukin sweet.

I pull the back door open. I loosen my belts and lie on the back seat. She pulls her dress up, slides the underwear to the side, proceeds in slow motion to sit on my dick.   My tip has just gotten to her inside. She’s very wet. My heart is pounding. The adrenaline is rushing.  I am staring in her beautiful eyes. I am in heaven.

A security guard comes around and shouts, "What in F!@# hell is going on here!"

I couldn’t grab it without your help.. much better when you grab me.. 🖤

Ethical non-monogamy and the full moon.

“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. 

Forbidden

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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