Shuffle and Splooge - Playlist #13

In this installment of Shuffle & Splooge, Sophie Saint Thomas thinks about the many uses for a tongue, and reveals her love for BDSM porn. 

"Sparkly" by Young Magic

When we get back to my place I glance over my shoulder then bend over the couch, turning my head to sever your gaze as I peel down down my underwear. Gold American Apparel boy shorts, a cliche, but they frame my ass well. You lunge across the room and flip me around so I'm forced to face you. "You have a sparkle in your left eye," you tell me. Lovers always notice my eye freckle, but no one's ever called it a sparkle before. We hold eye contact as you begin to touch me. It's strange how far you can travel by looking into somebody's eyes. Beyond the bar noises rising through the pipes of my dingy Alphabet City tenement where neighbors stomp above and roaches scurry below. Where you…the way….going. You get down on your knees and breathe me in.

"Wild" by Beach House

My mother said to me that I would get in trouble. She saw the garbage bags of empty beer cans I hid in my closet, and the hickies on my chest when I wore a bathing suit. I knew our father wouldn't come home, because he's living somewhere else, seeing double. And so I ran wild in our ways. During the summer nights I would lie in bed fully dressed thinking of my lover's tongue. Thinking of my own tongue, and what I could do with it. And that's when your car pulls up. I silently slip out of my room and out the basement door, dashing from tree to tree as not to be caught. I get in your car and your hand grasps at me, opening buttons, sliding up my thigh, the other on the wheel as we speed off into the darkness. We're out all night exploring chemicals and orifices in public places. You have me home by dawn and I sleep all day, as all the kids do.

"Run My Heart" by Twin Shadow

"I'm worried about you," he tells me. He's propped up on one elbow staring down at me, making worried eyes like he's my Kindergarten teacher and I'm in trouble for playing kissing games on the playground. "The image you're projecting, it's not you." I shove the self-righteous prick off my bed.

"You don't know my heart, so don't you dare," I fire back. We're friends who began fucking with no talks of exclusivity and none will be had. Does he think the come stains on my bed spread are just from him?

"I'm just concerned about the way other people see you. I don't want them to get the wrong idea."

I'm not in love. With him or with anybody else. I'm in love with myself and New York and finding the self-acceptance to fuck both men and women and the happy face dogs make when they're being walked on a sunny day and dirty martinis from hotel bars and rib-eye steak and BDSM porn. God, if he saw the porn I watched he'd call my fucking parents. I allowed him in my bed because it felt comfortable and he has a perfect cock but if he's going to encroach on any of my shit he can get the hell out.

"It's you who doesn't see me the right way." He's still on my floor, with messy hair and some sort of blind determination in his eyes. "You hear what you want to believe, but you don't owe me, and I don't owe you nothing."

Previously: Shuffle and Splooge: Playlist #12

@TheBowieCat