#im not really old fashioned

It feels a little old fashioned, a lot of the time. All these rules bearing down on you like the dust of a fine wine, oppressive reverence that you can’t help but breathe in through your mouth and down into your lungs. It’d choke if it didn’t taste so very good once you popped the cork. 

Sepia tones and soft vignettes, creeping in on the picture while you try and keep things progressive and moving. It’s this weird blend of old and new, pushing yourself into experiences that you don’t even know exist, that you’re creating just for you, just for me, while at the same time layering it all in a shroud of ‘yes sir’ 'no sir’ 'please may I come sir’. Politeness as a gas mask, filtering everything through.

We might be the most polite deviants in the world, you and I. But don’t let that become a defining factor. Use it like a foil, something to cut through the moment, humour at the end of a point. It’s old fashioned, sometimes, but that doesn’t mean we have to be stuffy about it. We are the masters of our own destiny, but ignoring that we’re the masters of our own kink. 

Well, I’m the master of my own kink. You’re the slave to it.