Scratching is not a kink I’ve explored, though it is a kink I would like to play with… I think. I’m not sure I’m doing Kink of the Week right, because I’m actually linking kink to mental health, meaning that today I’m going to talk about non-sexy sex-ness. First, however, I’d like to add a content warning for quite explicit description of mental health and self-harm.
In case you’ve somehow reached this post without mentioning the name of my blog, I am rather proud of my boobs. They’re a part of my body that I’ve grown to love, and they’re now named in my blog’s title! However, even I am not sure about posting this photo directly after I shared my two pairs of tits yesterday. Can there be too many nipples within a 24-hour time period?
“I’m going to come like this, little slut, when you can’t touch me. You’re craning your neck up, gag pushing your pretty little mouth open, begging me with your eyes to let you help. But you want to be used, little slut, don’t you? So you don’t get my cock in your eager cunt or your pliant mouth, even though you’re desperate for it…”
Somewhere, there is a guy who insists that I have stolen a pair of his boxers. I haven’t, but considering the number of times I have held them over my face and deeply inhaled, I do see why he holds this mistaken belief. Frankly, I struggle to understand why he wouldn’t have stolen some of my knickers; one of the first things I discovered when I began exploring my body was how much I love the way I smell.
Does it sound strange to say that something good has come out of my mental illness? It’s a wonderful thing, really, to be able to look back over the horrible dark tangled mess my life became and be able to see good things have emerged with me. I’m stronger now than I was a few months ago, much more resilient, but there’s something else as well. A much more unexpected side effect.
I have never felt better about my body.