One of my favourite lingerie stores is having a big sale and I just bought fuchsia stockings and a heart shaped riding crop. I sense some pretty joyful beatings in the near future.
keilauren: Keilauren de Vries, Nymphet, 2014. Acrylic on various fabrics.
This artwork comprises of 5 paintings I did, each a meter wide. I stretched the canvases myself with different types of fabrics and painted on them while keeping the fabric raw.
Hi-fiveing after sex because you were both so awesome.
*slaps ass* “hit the showers kid, good game”
*shakes hand firmly* “Doctor.”
(Seinfeld reference…. anyone? Anyone? Bueller?)
(Also how is Bueller not recognized by spell-check? That shit is common vernacular.)
So last week a bunch of us went out to support Cee in a bartending competition. The conversation somehow led me to ask “What, you’ve never high-fived anyone after a really hot threesome?” G was there with his new girlfriend, he looked outraged, “Absolutely not, that’s not classy at all. In fact I’ve turned down high-fives in that situation.”
I explained further, “No I don’t mean in a dude-bro A-frame kind of way, that’s gross, I mean high-fives out of sheer enthusiasm. I definitely have, like ‘good fucking job everybody’, ya know?”
"I have too, in a celebratory way," offered Cub. “Yes! Exactly!” I replied.
We both nodded, smirking a little. “Wait, are we both thinking about the same threesome?” I inquired. “Yep,” he answered quickly. “I thought so…” I trailed off and we were quiet for a moment, holding our breath as the memory flooded back, he caught my eye, I was blushing. We gigged and high-fived again.
(And also, for the record, if I ever fuck G I will totally high-five him afterwards.)
"What are you doin’ up?"
I just need the quiet, the drone of the fan.
My head is heavy, picking apart your projections from my own, I have a lot of work to do.
I’ve been floating since it happened, trying not to let it sink in.
You’re capable of grave things.
You leave me lost in wonder.
Come sit in the dark with me and tell me your favourite colour,
it changes all the time.
It started this way “I wanna do bad things to you, and I want to watch your husband do bad things to my girlfriend.”
But here’s the problem with boys who think with their boners; they’ve got no follow up. They can’t see past their throbbing heads.
Telling me you want to fuck me does not count as dirty talk. It just doesn’t cut it. I mean, thanks for the update I guess, but that’s a simple (and obvious) statement, and what I’m looking for is inspiration. Gimme something I can use.
If your imagination goes no further than getting to stick your dick in me I’m uninterested in giving you that chance. In fact, you might have just lost it.
The real problem is this new guy just has no fucking clue how high the bar is set, you know? Buddy showed up for a marathon wearing flip-flops and doesn’t even know it.