You Don't Understand

Me, dancing through my problems with godlike swag

🔞

In the late afternoon, I lie on my bed.

The sunglow seeps through spaces in the blinds and warms my soft brown skin. I trace the outline of my hip with my forefinger, admiring my new panties. They're hemmed with delicate lace, and there's a little pink rosebud made of tightly coiled ribbon stitched to the center of the waistband, directly beneath my n@vel. It makes me feel like a sweet little candy all wrapped up nicely. An image of my boyfriend's reaction to a picture of me like this popping up on his phone flashes through my mind. Heat rises to my face and I push my phone a little further away from myself on the bed. Of course I can't send him a picture of me like this! What will he say? What if he barely responds at all! I'd be mortified. But what if he likes it?... In my mind, I see him at the end of my bed, parting my legs to lie on top of me. His hand traveling from my collarbones all the way down my body and - oh, you know where. I try not to think of that for too long. The reason I laid down here was to take a simple nap before returning to finish my housework. It's time for my Sunday reset, after all. But I can already feel a bit of pressure building between my thighs.

I hop off the bed to look out the window at the stillness of the neighborhood. I can see the driveway and the house across the street which has been adorned with myriad flowers by the elderly couple that lives there. I can't help but imagine my boyfriend's car in the driveway. Imagine him looking through the window and seeing me, giving me a shy smile as I shimmy my hips playfully. I open the window to let in a little bit of fresh air, in hopes of distracting myself. The scent of spring with all its youthful exhilaration wafts in.

I inhale deeply and stretch upwards with the warm sun beaming down on my face. The cool breeze slips up my cropped, very baggy white camisole, and kisses my n¡pples. In response, they harden to peaks. I immediately cup my hands over my bre@sts, worried that someone might glance at my window and see me like that. My bre@sts are a bit too big to fit in my hands. E cups that sway with every step, so I can never go braless without garnering a lot of attention. My n¡pples are hypersensitive, with @reolas that dimple at the slightest touch. Any chance of distracting myself from the growing heat between my thighs vanished with the breeze coming through my window when I cupped my tits. My nap time fantasies made me even more sensitive to the warm touch. A jolt of pleasure shot through my chest and melted into a drop of soothing ecstasy.

"There goes nap time" I giggle to myself.

My hands begin to massage my chest in large circles. Cupping my bre@sts and fondling them gently. Now my n¡ps are even more pronounced, and when I glance down I can see them jutting out through the thin fabric of my camisole.

I give them a teasing flick. A breathy m0an escapes my lips. Warmth drips onto my panties from that simple touch.

So I begin to flick my n¡pples, one after the other in quick succession. Bliss swirls my chest. I just want more. A gentle pinch and a tug gives me a twing of pain mingled with the pleasure, causing my knees to buckle under me.

I quickly moved to the bed and lied down on my back, rubbing my @reolas in soothing strokes. Every now and then I encircled one of the hardened peaks in between my thumb and forefinger, eliciting a sound of excitement to escape me.

I bend my knees upward and begin to squirm as I moved my fingertips faster.

I tease the waistband of my panties with one hand while the other brushes across my entire chest. My chest is heaving up and down, my tummy shivers with every light touch.

My fantasies swirl out of control now. I can't help but wonder what it would be like if I were seen. A moment ago the idea frightened me. But now, entangled in the thrall of my ar0usal, I found it so exciting. I know everyone in the neighborhood is probably off at work. So I felt safe enough, during these quiet hours, to slowly part my legs in front of the window. I reach down to feel myself, and my fingers are met with a slick, warm, puddle seeping through my pretty little panties. I wonder if it could be seen from outside, just how wet I am.

Sliding my fingers up and down my slit is enough to make me shiver with ecstasy. My hips buck when I pass over my cl¡t with featherlight touches. The lack of pressure is torment, but I enjoy holding off my own release. My back arches away from my mattress as my pvssy throbs with need. I can feel myself soaking through my panties as I deny myself sweet release for a little longer. My mind has gone to another place now. I am floating in the middle of space, surrounded by my own pleasure sounds.

That's when it happens.

I hear a voice calling my name. The single word tumbled out, a startled, urgent, breathless sound. I recognize the voice immediately. In a panic, I rip my blanket off my bed and wrap it around my half naked body, sitting up to face my boyfriend, staring at me through the open window, jaw slacked, obviously shaken.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I didn't - I didn't mean - to - to watch. I swear." He stammers.

I am quivering from the anxiety and hypersensitivity reverberating through my entire body, and absolutely stupefied into silence.

"I wanted to surprise you, because you said today - today was a boring day, so I tried to knock and you didn't hear me, and then I heard some - some sounds. So I - I came to investigate." He shifts his weight uncomfortably, and starts to move away from the window. "I'm so sorry. I'll come back another time. I really didn't mean -"

"Wait no, no." I interrupt him. He freezes in place. I take a deep breath, summoning my courage. "I... liked it."

"What?" The word comes out soft and weak. I can see redness spreading across the bridge of his nose.

His blush only makes me want him more.

"I liked... that you saw me." I tell him.

I try to steady my quavering legs as I stand up to raise the window higher, with the blanket clutched around my neck, falling over my shoulders, providing minimal coverage.

My heart is pounding in my ears.

We are so close now, with only glass between us. I breathe as slowly as possible. My voice is barely above a whisper.

"Do you want to come in?"

"This is the season of holding on,

Of wrapping your hands

around the warmth of a dream

That refuses to fade

even as the cold settles in"

DAMN OK --

The weather is frosty—

breath trails like unspoken prayers,

straight smoke rising,

soft and sure as forgiveness.

The air tastes of sugar-glazed cranberries,

sweet but sharp,

like the memory of a love

too wild to tame,

too tender to forget.

Every step crunches,

a hymn beneath winter’s breath,

the world stitched in frost,

its edges trembling,

alive with the silence of waiting.

This is the season of holding on,

of wrapping your hands

around the warmth of a dream

that refuses to fade,

even as the cold settles in.

I was watching Spiderman: far from home the other day. When Mysterio told Peter "you're not selfish for wanting a normal life" I almost started bawling my eyes out.

One thing I noticed is how Iron man brings out the worst in many people. There were multiple times when someone wanted to present him with something that they thought could change the world, and instead of trying to make the best of it, he ended up being dismissive or completely ignoring them, resulting in a traumatic event that triggers the worst aspects of their personality to come forth. Now ofc I'm not excusing their own bad choices, but I thought it was interesting how it seems like Iron man has inadvertently sabotaged Peter in several ways.

Mysterio could have been the perfect mentor for Peter. But he chose to be a terrible person. And that just makes me so sad.

Even still, a broken clock is right twice a day. And that speech "you're not selfish for wanting a normal life" means alot to me.

"You are the whole shape of sound, whether or not you sing"

Joanna Klink, from “Night Sky”, The Nightfields

*starts sobbing profusely*

L. A. Johnson, from "Birthmark"

"What would Jesus do?"

No, what would Sabrina do?

Intriguing...

Have any nightmares lately?

This figurine represents the Baku (獏 or 貘). The baku’s story originated in Chinese mythology as the mo (貘), believed to resemble a giant panda. It later evolved into a nightmare-warding figure in Japan.

Early depictions illustrate the baku as a chimera with the trunk and tusks of an elephant, the ears of a rhinoceros, the tail of a cow, the body of a bear, and the paws of a tiger. While this version was said to ward off pestilence and evil, its dream-devouring ability emerged later in Japanese culture. By the late 18th century, the baku as known as the guardian of sleep. One legend describes how a child waking from a bad dream could call out, “Baku-san, come eat my dream,” repeating it three times to summon the baku.

Folklore warns that calling the baku too often could have consequences—if left unsatisfied, it might consume not just bad dreams but also the person’s hopes and desires.

Image: Baku, Mythical Animal. 18th century. White porcelain (Hirado ware), H. 7/8 in. (2.2 cm); L. 1 7/8 in. (4.8 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

It's not an act of love if you make her

"All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid

Nymph then a virgin, nurse then a servant

Just an appendage, live to attend him

So that he never lifts a finger

24∕7, baby machine

So he can live out his picket fence dreams

It's not an act of love if you make her

You make me do too much labour."

- Labour by Paris Paloma

Happy Women's day to all beautiful women who continue to be brave even after the world tries its best to shut down their efforts, their voices.