John Brownstone and I have a new game we play – not often, but enough. And it gets us both hot.
He pins me down or against a wall or just against him, and he teases and torments me with his tongue and his fingers. I squeal and fight against him. He holds me closer. I “fight” against ravishment. I really am struggling – we both walk away with ragged breath and tender parts. It’s exciting, erotic, and makes us want to rip each other’s clothes off – sometimes we do.
Silly me, I did an images search for “ravish.” A few things….
- A lot of authors use “ravish” in the title of their books.
- There’s actually a book called “Ravished by the Triceratops” – dinosaur erotica…really?!
- Ravishment humor is real. And apparently, I find it hilarious. (The second one is for my friends who love tentacle erotica.)
For the record, in case anyone was getting themselves worked up to be outraged, when he “ravishes” me, I have the option of a safeword at all times. If I truly didn’t want things to continue, I’d use it. That’s why ravishment can be part of our play – consent is involved. Ravishment without consent? That’s called rape.
All images via Google Images
R is for ravishment. I’m just tired enough at this point in the month that I have no brain power for a long, in-depth explanation of ravishment, what it means for us, and why it’s so hawt. Let’s just say, if you’re willing, it’s erotic as fuck. And it gets the heart rate up and the endorphins pumping. That can be fun, too.