YUM

I get so confused....

Sometimes I don't know where I'm going.

I know what I want to do. I have goals. I have dreams. I have aspiration and ability.

But do I know how to get there?

Will I ever know?

Fuck.

Kiss

I want it. I want you.

What must it be like to be desired? To have the words, the flirtations, the promises, become real?

My skin itches for it. The touch. The first kiss. The first REAL experience that has meaning and I remember forever instead of a drunken mistake with a guy I barely knew the name of.

I wanna kiss you. See where it goes.

When Will It Be Me?!

Why does it hurt so much? Why can't I make it stop?

It feels like everyone has a someone. I never had a best friend, I mean, I thought I did, but even then, it was never like a team. Me & ____. No, I never had that.

And the one time I had a relationship, it was broken, right from the start. She never loved me, I didn't really love her... it was a huge mistake.

And they physical. Oh God, I want the physical. I want it so bad I literally ache. I've been ready for so long and it just never happened for me. I'm scared it never will. Realistically I know it will, but when the parting words from the guy I (nearly) lost my virginity to were "It could have been worse," it doesn't do much for your confidence.

I want to be The One. The Best Friend. The Lover. The Best.

I like his face.

Whoa, I'm Alone

There few things worse than a Friday night. To some, it symbolizes freedom, and they get together with their friends and hang out and drink and dance and have fun. Or just hang out on the couch, have sex, go to bed with their favorite sleeping buddy...

Or you're like me. And you go home to your computer and your parents and your dogs, and you try to reassure yourself that you're working to save money so you can move. So that hopefully you can find those things in another place. A sleeping buddy. A friend to laugh with. A life.

Part of me knows it's my fault. I'm shy, kinda scared to put myself out there, fearful of rejection. That's kind of how I've always been, and it's not helpful to my well-being. But I like people to like me, and there is nothing worse than that feeling of a person looking you up and down, sneering, and walking away. Just plain ignoring you because your friend looks better through beer goggles. I've never ever once felt attractive to anyone, and part of going out and having fun is having confidence in yourself, which is shoddy at best on my part.

Part of it is where I live, which is why I want to move so badly. I literally live in a one-stop light town (and it's not even a stop light...) and the town nearby doesn't have much more to offer but a one-night stand with a tourist and/or a local guy who bow hunts, has a tin of chew and 3 children with his high school sweetheart (who he's still married to). Trust me. I've gone out. That was the major demographic. That guy, and then the guy that does meth that I went to HS with.

I'd do anything to change it. I work and save as much as I can to make sure that I can just leave someday and be able to *finally* support myself. I want independence, for myself and from the circumstances I live with daily. I hate what I have become. And I don't want to just lay here and take it. I also know that I have made too many excuses and they have to stop... I need to be motivated!! Friends do not make themselves.

............................................................................................ AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

No More

Dear A, HO & TF,

Yes. Our middle school nicknames that we gave each other when A and D were being buttheads and kept us out of everything. I know the meaning behind each one, and so do you.

How. The. Fuck. Dare. You????????????

What in the HELL did I ever do to you???????? Why have you essentially plunged a fucking knife in my heart?! Because you're a selfish bitch that has no heart?! I never would have said it if it weren't true. Fuck. You.

Do I mean nothing to you? Does the last 13 years mean NOTHING to you?! You were my BEST FRIEND and you fucking killed me.

You got married. Your life changed. I get that. But I have been there for you through HELL. Remember in high school? You almost died? Yeah. I was there for you. Through everything. Even wrote that damn paper for you that almost got us in trouble.

We had prom pictures together, we walked together in HS graduation, we took pictures together as college grads. For 13 years you were always just a mile away, or just across the quad. Do you realize how long 13 years is? Let's put it this way. J, your nephew, was 5 when we met, and now he's graduated from high school. Next week it will be officially 13 years, when we met in Mrs. G's 5th grade classroom, and you hit me because you didn't realize I wasn't a boy like all your other friends. I hated you. Then you became my best friend. We were the awkward kids, the fat girls that people didn't pay much attention to. And then suddenly you were Miss Popular, and sometimes you forgot me. You'd disappear from my life for a few weeks or for a summer, but I always wrote it off and always "took you back" when you'd come back, because I always forgave you. We'd become thick as thieves again and nothing would separate us... until something new distracted you and I got forgotten again.

You're the reason I've done anything crazy. Really. You got me to drink before I was 21, to smoke pot AND trespass at the same time, to skip class or to drive without a license to Walmart the next town over. You got me to do spontaneous and ridiculous things, to meet new people and push my boundaries and live life the way it should be lived. You make me laugh. We'd ride your riding lawn mower in your yard and lay on the trampoline and read romance novels to each other, or I'd just be content hanging out with you while you cleaned your room. Go down the river with your nieces and nephews and lay out in the middle of the road to warm ourselves up even when I told you not to because you were so much more relaxed than I could ever be.

It's like a horrendous breakup. Everything reminds me of you. Movies, songs, books, foods, you name it. I have dreams about you all the time, of saying the things I'm saying now, only to your face.

I'd be a fucking fool to forgive you, but I know if you were standing in front of me now, I would in a heartbeat. You know me better than anyone, and I thought I knew you too. But you lied and you hurt me more deeply than I could ever admit.

I shouldn't have been surprised. The signs were everywhere. My parents never liked you, even if my aunt and my grandma and my cousin and the rest of my entire fucking family did. They told me you were selfish and rude and I didn't listen. I should have. You didn't tell me when you lost your virginity, when you got engaged (the first AND the second time), and you didn't tell me when your fucking wedding was even though I got the invite. Yet weeks before I won "Who Knows A Best?" at your fucking wedding shower... because I was THERE. We lived all of it together.

And yet you weren't there for me when I had my surgery. You came to see me ONE time with R afterwards, when I was hopped up on drugs and barely remembered my own name... and then ignored me for four months after. You didn't tell me we picked the same college, by coincidence, and when we lived on the same floor in the same dorm, but we still hung out and made friends... the same friends you later chose as your bridal party. You promised I'd be in it. But no. You lied. How did you THINK I'd react? That I'd be happy? Forgiving? "Oh, she promised I'd be in her wedding, but you know, M knows her SO much better...." NO. FUCKING BULLSHIT. I love those girls too, but why wasn't I there? Why didn't I matter?

You were going to be the godmother of my kids. We joked often about being in nursing homes someday together, terrorizing the nurses. Obviously a joke... but I really did think you were going to be in my life for that long. Why wouldn't you be? You were the best friend I had in the world.

And now.........................

The only good thing I can see right now is that you introduced me to fan fiction. Without that, I never would have met people that help make this pain go away, that showed me what true friendship means. That's the only thing I'm grateful to you for right now. Everything else is blinding pain.

Fuck you.

Love, L, HR & FT

Lisa's List of Grievances

I've been having issues. I'm sure anyone who knows me knows this already. My ulcer didn't come from nowhere...

So I had a suggestion from the person who is very quickly becoming the best friend I've ever had and probably will ever have, that I should write down my feelings in letter-form; getting it out in the open and off my chest. Rant and rave and all those good things. And I'm going to take that idea and run with it.

But in the spirit of wanting to improve my life rather than hinder it, I wanted to write my first post as a positive one, one of gratitude instead of anger. Cuz all you need is love, and all that jazz.

Dear Emmalee,

I don't know what I'd do without your friendship. I mean I lived the last 13 years thinking I had a best friend (who's going to get a letter of a lifetime here soon...), thinking I knew how friends treated a friend: greedy, selfish, rude. Fun to laugh with, but you know, not always there. Well now I know the meaning of a true friend because even though I've probably put you in a weird position more than once with my... emotions... you've stuck with me, even when you yourself are going through shit times. I'm always scared I'm not going to be good enough to deserve that, like that you'll finally reach your limit and say "OK, she's not worth the whining..." but so far, you've treated me better than anyone I've ever known, listened and given advise, but never pushed and never told me to STFU even when I probably should. AND we're brain twins. I swear it's true. It's odd how we had totally different backgrounds and yet found... friendmates? Not soulmates cuz neither of us believe in that. but you know what I mean. Maybe. Haha. In any case... I really do hope I can move to CA and be closer to you. That's not the only reason, but that'd be a huge fucking bonus. There's a huge amount more I could say. But I think you already know it. :-) Thank you. That's all. Just.... thank you.

Love, Lisa

All Inked Up

I love tattoos. Hopefully, I'm getting one soon. So in order to bring order to the chaos that is my brain, I give you tattoos that I think are beautiful and/or sexy. Enjoy!!!

I'm in love with her chest... *dies*




The nipple ring kills me.

P.I.C's Fan Fic Corner Pimpin'

Hey! Happy Thursday people. So our next Guest rec of the week comes from Laurel aka FrogQueen to those on Twitter.


I am thrilled that Nikki asked me to rec a story for the site, but I had a hard time finding one that wasn't already covered. Seems a lot of us have the same tastes in stories. But I found a recently written one-shot that isn't on the list and I'm happy to be the one to recommend it! It fits my first major requirement for a great story...Emmett!!!

I don't know how HopelessRomantic79 got into my head but she managed to invade it and pull out my perfect man: a geek (more specifically a software guy), built, glasses, COOKS and although he's quiet in the real world he's a Dom in the bedroom! I couldn't ask for anything more than that.

In "Consent to Release", Emmett and Bella are a fairly typical married couple. She's a cop, he works for a software company. They come home, cook dinner, talk about each other's days...you know typical stuff. But somewhere along the line they came to the conclusion that they enjoyed the freedom that taking on a Dom/Sub relationship brings. She didn't have to be the authoritative figure with him and he could let loose of his shy, quiet side and become "well, a stud".

They, like many part time lifestyle couples, don't have an extensive playroom but have learned to effectively use what they have and can make themselves happy in just the play.

Bella broke one of Emmett's major rules. She pleasured herself without his presence or permission. All of her orgasms belong to him, plain and simple. So he proceeds to show his displeasure in her outright disobedience...

“Isabella, I can see that you’re wet and swollen. Is it possible you’re looking forward to your punishment?”

I bit back a moan. “N-n-no, Sir.”

I gasped with a start as he slapped my pussy lightly, making sure to brush against my clit.

“Don’t lie to me!” he growled. “You’re such a naughty girl, Isabella. Only bad girls want to be punished. Only bad girls get punished.”

I inwardly smiled, knowing I was the only “bad girl” he’d ever really had acquaintance with. This had been a first for both of us.

“Yes Sir,” I replied.

“Open your eyes,” he said and I slowly opened them, meeting his hard gaze in the mirror before us. I could see that his pants were strained already and that he’d taken off his shirt. His muscles rippled as he walked slowly behind me, pacing like a predator that had just cornered his prey. I wanted to whimper at how sexy he was at this moment, when he was in his element.

“How many strokes should we say, Isabella?” he asked. “Twelve? Fifteen? What will make you remember that this,” he reached between us and cupped my heat, “is all mine?” He dipped a finger inside me and I wanted to gasp at the feeling but then it was gone and I was left aching for more, knowing it probably wouldn’t come any time soon. “Every orgasm belongs to me, Isabella. I’m the only one who tells you when and where to cum. On my fingers… on my face… on my cock…”

I shivered. This was the only time he talked dirty to me and I relished every minute of it and he knew it.

“So you will count the strokes,” he said. “I think twelve will be enough. And if you are good, I will give you a reward. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

I nodded; my eyes half-lidded with desire. I was dripping wet and he was not making things easier for me, especially if he didn’t want me to cum right away.

I could see him grab the soft leather paddle from our closet. It was the easiest of our supplies and I knew that he wasn’t entirely angry or too serious about the paddling. In fact, it was entirely possible he was going to go easy on me and make the spanks pleasurable for me.

Whap! I guess not. The paddle came down hard on my ass and I yelped a little in surprise.

“One!” I shouted.

He soothed my ass in between each swat and his hand felt heavenly in comparison with the paddle. By the time we reached twelve, I was a whimpering, moaning, wet mess, and I could barely even hold up my head.

“Get up, Isabella,” Emmett ordered and I knew better than to disobey him. Besides, this might mean I get my reward! Somehow, I managed to flip myself over on the ottoman and sit up on my sore ass. I’d have to ask him to rub it down later, not that he’d forget. He was such a good Dom, and husband, for that matter in that way. He always took care of me.

“Do you understand now? Will I need to punish you again?” he asked.

Probably, I thought.


I HIGHLY recommend this story!! Anything with Emmett works...but geeky, hot, Dom Emmett? TOTAL GOLD!!!

Pimping someone pimping me

Rec from Les Femmes de Twilight!!! :-D

Consent to Release by HopelessRomantic79

Summary: Emmett is a software programmer and Bella's a cop- how do things switch up when they're in the bedroom? AH/AU/OOC/slight BDSM.

Pairing: Emmett/Bella

Rated: M

Chapters: 1 (This was an o/s, but I believe it's being continued)

Words: 3,604

Geek in the streets, but a freak in the sheets. That is the best way I can describe Emmett in this fic. I am not a huge Em/B girl, but everything about this o/s just drew me in! The title is extremely fitting and even her Bella is different than most. I mean, seriously, Bella as a cop? I've never seen it done and would have never thought to put her in that role.

I have a few favorite lines/scenes, but I won't post them all as I don't want to give too much away.
Here's a couple examples of what you will find in Consent to Release:

“Isabella, what have you been doing?” he asked, barely keeping the growl out of his voice. A shiver went up my spine, because I knew exactly what would happen next. I could feel the arousal dripping from me even now.

“What do you mean, Sir?” I asked calmly, carefully.

“I thought I made it perfectly clear to you that your orgasms are mine and mine alone.”
My heart skipped a beat.

“I didn’t-”

“But you wanted to,” he interjected. “And I did not give you permission to pleasure yourself.”

Have I convinced you yet? No? Okay, here's another

“Very good,” he said, and I was happy I’d pleased him already. “Isabella, I can see that you’re wet and swollen. Is it possible you’re looking forward to your punishment?”

I bit back a moan. “N-n-no, Sir.”

I gasped with a start as he slapped my pussy lightly, making sure to brush against my clit.

“Don’t lie to me!” he growled. “You’re such a naughty girl, Isabella. Only bad girls want to be punished. Only bad girls get punished.”

I inwardly smiled, knowing I was the only “bad girl” he’d ever really had acquaintance with. This had been a first for both of us.

“Yes Sir,” I replied

UNF!

I absolutely loved this and can't wait for the author to continue. Please go read & review. Encourage her to give us more of this geeky, yet, dominate Emmett.

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