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I was going through my phone today, looking at pictures. I miss my old apt, roommates; I miss my parents house and my old room, their puppers that slept with me when I was there. Of course there's pictures of you everywhere, even your own album.

I knew it was over months before I left, the day you said we could make four hours long distance work; that you weren't coming with me, after months of us avoiding talking about it; I started saying goodbye that day. I knew, so did you probably, that with your work and my classes, it wasn't realistic was it?

I don't know why you couldn't understand why I wanted to live somewhere else; of course I knew I'd miss everyone and everything, that really wasn't the point. I didn't want to live my whole life in one place, and things being what they are these days, four hours was as brave as I could get, at least from here I can still get home, just not to you anymore.

I've seen your posts, and your friends. I wonder if she's anything like me? Do you like her for the same reasons? Do you look at mine? See that I'm talking to the same people I always did?

Anyway, yeah I'm home sick, and these pictures of you, us, our friends, they don't help, but they're also the cure. No way could I go home and see you again, maybe that's best.🏳️‍🌈
 
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Nina327 said:
Here is Todays Question:

Would you rather always lose or never play?
Click to expand...
Lessons Learned

- A lesson learned is more than an experience, it is a scar tissue that shapes & directs the decisions you make later in life. Learning how to lose is valuable, but understanding the level of that value is equally important. If it turns you into a pessimist who only sees the bad things & expects to lose in every situation than it shaped you into a person who is not worthy of the lesson.
 
He could remember. The feel of her warmth, the press of her to his side, arm carelessly thrown over his chest as she lay her head on his shoulder. The feel of his hand sliding up and down her back, soft soothing strokes. His free hand sliding along her beautiful face and deep into her soft curls. He could never describe what that felt like and the sadness that he sometimes felt remembering the peace of those moments, when he felt so protective and she seemed so safe in his arms, happy to be his and he just breathing her in, so in love that there weren’t words.
 
Nina327 said:
New question for today!

What's the funniest story for why someone couldn't turn in a work assignment?
Click to expand...
She was involved in a threesome with her boss’s wife & her secretary.

Oh wait, that was the “movie” I watched yesterday.

Sorry. Got those two confused.
 
He frowned. He looked up at his very pissed off boss. She wasn’t going to like his answer. “I don’t remember all of what happened last night but it involved alcohol.” Her frown deepened, “And boobs. Yes, I’m positive there were boobies, large ones, and I just was so distracted. They’re so fun to suckle on and women make these cute noises when you doo.” He gushed, now oblivious to the purple the that her annoyed face was turning.
“You didn’t finish the million dollar project because of some breasts?”
“Well I mean they were pretty awesome,” he muttered sheepishly.
 
New question for January 28th.

What personality trait has gotten you in the most trouble?
Nina327 said:
This is a writing prompt:

Anyone can play along, no matter your skill or how long you've been here.
Answer in any way you wish.
Directly
as a memo
as a letter
as a poem
as a snippet to a story

Keep in mind that this is The Lounge in the Sexual RolePlay boards, not your therapist's office. Keep it sexy (or not) and keep it within the rules.

Stretch your writing skills and answer from the pov of your least favorite character or answer as if the question came from the person you most want to fuck today. Make it interesting.

ALSO, keep in mind that this is the conversation section of the board. We will be commenting, asking questions, adding to, or otherwise interacting with whatever you post. Please keep your butt and your butt-hurt separate.

Lastly, don't be a dick.

Have fun,
Nina
Click to expand...
 
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Nina327 said:
New question for January 28th.

What personality trait has gotten you in the most trouble?
Click to expand...
(This feels like a trick...again! I need to warm myself up a little anyway)

He placed the rich red leather play collar around her throat as she held her crimson braid up out of the way. Were it not for the word 'Fucktoy' emblazoned across it then perhaps it could have passed for a day collar. He locked it on and checked the fit with a single finger, satisfied with it, his eyes traveled up and down her lithe form. The outline of her curves in only that slinky black mesh paneled slip with golden buckles was enough to make his pants tighten.

She smirked, noticing that, and he returned his attention to her face, "What are you?"

Her eyes twinkled with amusement, she loved this question - it was a challenge as to how she'd answer it every single time.

"Patient." She answered simply, eyes locked with his.

The corners of his mouth upturned ever so slightly and he reached to grip her braid, pulling it back tightly until she strained into an arch and the smile disappeared from her lips.

"What are you?" He asked again, a little sterner.

"Oh I know this one! A white woman!" She answered, her voice strained but laced with devilish glee.

He snorted and rolled his eyes, that cruel smile flittered over his lips as he bent her over the kitchen island by her hair alone. His large, calloused hand came down across that barely covered rear of hers with a resounding 'SMACK', 'SMACK'. Her lips parted in a loud exhale, her eyelashes fluttered as she absorbed the sudden pain on her otherwise cold ass.

He kept her there, "What are you?"

A moment stretched between them in silence as she calculated.

"...your Fucktoy." She surrendered loudly as the math dictated she'd gotten what she wanted out of this game.

...now for the next one...
 
monique_minx said:
(This feels like a trick...again! I need to warm myself up a little anyway)

He placed the rich red leather play collar around her throat as she held her crimson braid up out of the way. Were it not for the word 'Fucktoy' emblazoned across it then perhaps it could have passed for a day collar. He locked it on and checked the fit with a single finger, satisfied with it, his eyes traveled up and down her lithe form. The outline of her curves in only that slinky black mesh paneled slip with golden buckles left her to notice how his pants tightened.

She smirked and he returned his attention to her face, "What are you?"

Her eyes twinkled with amusement, she loved this question - it was a challenge as to how she'd answer it every single time.

"Patient." She answered simply, eyes locked with his.

The corners of his mouth upturned ever so slightly and he reached to grip her braid, pulling it back tightly until she strained into an arch and the smile disappeared from her lips.

"What are you?" He asked again, a little sterner.

"Oh I know this one! A white woman!" She answered, her voice strained but laced with devilish glee.

He snorted and rolled his eyes, that cruel smile flittered over his lips as he bent her over the kitchen island by her hair alone. His large, calloused hand came down across that barely covered rear of hers with a resounding 'SMACK', 'SMACK'. Her lips parted in a loud exhale, her eyelashes fluttered as she absorbed the sudden pain on her otherwise cold ass.

He kept her there, "What are you?"

A moment stretched between them in silence as she calculated.

"...your Fucktoy." She surrendered loudly as the math dictated she'd gotten what she wanted out of this game.

...now for the next one...
Click to expand...
WOW!!!

Excuse me for sweating after reading this… a lot.
 
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