#cxnt posting

[the-cult-of-cxnt]

Your lips looked beautiful wrapped around my joint.

Your legs wrapped in tights, the night sky wrapped in stars. A hazy fog wrapped around your mind; I wrapped you around my fingers.

There, on a bench. On the other side of the country.

[the-cult-of-cxnt]

Girl, are you a cancer? (She is)

@pothoscurves demonstrating how erotic sharing a joint can be, no matter the context, shits hot asf

Mind you dynamics add the context beautifully

[the-cult-of-cxnt]

11hours of rough fucking with 4hours of sleep is doable but unwise if you’re both disabled. (even if one’s a runner and the others a bodybuilder)

anyway how was everyone else’s weekend?

[the-cult-of-cxnt]

Hearing ‘Fuck you’ and knowing you made it twitch

Seeing bratty behaviour and knowing she just wants to be brainless for you

[the-cult-of-cxnt]

Coffee & this?

[the-cult-of-cxnt]

The Side Table; Part of the Furniture

NSFT/NSFW- Writings on BDSM/Kink fantasies.

[general content warnings: Heavy Impact/Objectification/deliberate transition from they/them to it/its pronouns/denial & all of my writing is written from an incredibly queer place]

Been thinking about furniture design. Taking a sub, blindfolding them, tying their forearms to their calves flipping them onto their knees, taping up their useless cunt and balancing a tea tray on their perfectly presented ass. They become a pretty side table while the party goes on around them. I wonder how long it will take, being subjected to the lewd sounds, smells, bodies around them, before the tape begins to come loose and slip away from them.

Will they drip?

[heavy impact warning]

How long before the lack of attention, of social interaction, while they’re so vulnerable, so needy, drive them insane?

Desperate sounds escaping their lips, almost like creaks. Haha. A creaking table. That might be worthy of my attention. No one else here would want to fuck a table. Well, neither do I. But, look, I’m no saint. I’ve slammed my fists on the counter. I’ve ripped doors off of cupboards. And kicked over tables. Laid out on their side, the tray upturned beside them, wheezing from the shunt of my boot against their ribs. Creaking with each shallow breath. No matter the noise around, I hear the crackling in the back of th- its throat.

‘Thank you’

Well that’s an odd creak. Maybe it has wear, maybe it has damage. What’s a little more. Returning it to its knees, I can see its cunt glisten reflecting the warm candlelight. Its eyes blinded to the beauty of the warm bodies 3-4ft from it now.

‘Please, please’

Barely a whisper, again odd creaking. It’s shaking now. What a shitty side table. Must of been cheap. No one will mind right? I glance over at the upturned tray; round with a brassy finish, handles on each side. Probably just as cheap but we’ll see. The sounds, the hiss of the air as I brought it down from above my shoulder. The sharp smack of the metal against its bare ass and cunt. The screaming creak it managed to let out after a violent intake of breath. A beautiful harmony of agony & ecstasy.

Still, the tray stayed intact. Perhaps more force on the swing. Smack. Maybe if I take a slightly lower angle. Smack. Plant a foot behind me. Smack. Put my whole torso into it. Smack. Clang. Look at that. Didn’t take me long, it must be cheap. The impressively round lesion has, at the very least, added some much needed colour. Beautiful maroon marks developing beneath its surface. Surely they’d be looking now? The party goers, surely they’d notice the loud crashes, the piercing creaks. No of course not, what a shame. Bending down to its ear so I can be heard above the exaltation around. My tone low.

‘No ones looking, who gives a shit about breaking the furniture at a place like this’

The creaking becomes almost sad, sniffling, pathetic. And how would it know for itself, blindfolded. The continued moaning and wet sounds around them, distant smacks and cries, would suggest I’m right. That not a single person here has noticed it. Not only did no one want to fuck it, to use its holes as it had so hoped for, longed for; they didn’t even care when someone was loudly breaking them. It’s blindfold now wet with tears, creaking softening slowly. It’s pitiful really. And I mean, I’m not much better am I? All these beautiful people.

Only I could appreciate the furniture at a sex party.

[the-cult-of-cxnt]

Be careful folks, one minute she's sending you an ask about disability in Kink on your blog, next you've met her parents and are waiting in her bed while she makes you toast.

There may have been a few orgasms in between tbf, hence why I'm getting toast.

[the-cult-of-cxnt]

Nah because don’t show me new music and tell me ‘this is so me’

Because I will listen to it while I touch myself.