Dirty

You might think this was a post about my working in the garden today. And I did. And I could. But I won’t.

This isn’t that sort of post, nor is it that kind of blog, is it now?

No, this girl is a dirty girl, and we all like me that way, don’t we?

I clamped my nipples the other night, first time since playtime in February. My nipples were almost virginal. Oh! Ouch! I forget how much it hurts after a few minutes. I sat and wrote, crafted my ending of the A-Z Challenge (could you tell I was aching when I wrote that? No? I’ll just say it was some of my fastest typing then.)

Afterwards, as I lay in bed, the tips of my tits aching at the persistent bite of the clamps, I finally knew I had to get those bastards OFF! As you may know, they hurt more coming OFF then they do going on.

Oh.

OOOOH.

The rubber on the tip grabs the skin and does. Not. Want. To. Let. Go.

Fuck. Fuckity fuckity fuck, I moan as I peel it off of one nipple, then the other. Fuuuuuuuuuck,  I breathe the word out softly. It really hurt. I was so turned on. But this wasn’t about fucking or masturbating or a task or anything. It was desire to turn things up between M and I just a wee bit.

So of course I snapped a picture or three.

My poor nipple, with a “D” shaped indentation right there, the little bud all pink-blushed from the experience.

I sent it to him, and I know it pleased him by the tone of his reply. And the teasing comments that have zinged between us since. We’re not having playtime again for a while, but that doesn’t mean things can’t be spicy, you know? If you don’t keep it fresh~and boy can I do fresh (wink wink!)~ it gets old, fast.

There will be more of this sort of thing. More dirty talk. More dirty texts. More dirty pictures. And someday, hopefully not too many more weeks from now, there will be more than words.