Tuesday, March 25, 2008


I honestly don't remember if it was his teeth or his nails (my memory-forming skills are disturbingly poor during good sex; there have been times when having multiple orgasms has caused me to basically black out a few minutes), but Alan made a two-inch cut on my left breast. He held my face and kissed me and with a little sigh laid his cheek against mine, and then while he was fucking me he made me bleed.

I feel so proud of the mark. I keep pulling my neckline down a little and looking at it and smiling.

I love it when sex comes with souvenirs.


  1. I have been reading your blog for months now, back to front and then some. Just wanted to say.
    And also, I love it.

    I also love souvenirs - to the point that I'm sctually disappointed if I don't have any marks the day after. I want them to stay around so I know everything was even more real than real :/
    Also, I like it when I pick up my backpack or lean against a wall and there's the tiniest, most subtle bit of pain that reminds me of something awesome that I wasn't even thinking of at the moment. Souvenirs are like secret decoration or something*. (Insert obvious pun about Purple Hearts here.)

    *I do NOT in any way mean to mock veterans o_O

  2. That's why I love hickeys. That's really the only mark I'm ever left with. I can leave some good marks on him, though. He has the palest skin, so hickeys become raging bruised welts, and when I scratch him you can see the marks for a good long time afterward.