#kenly posts

About Me

Name: 「 ✦ Kenly ✦ 」

Age: 26

Orientation: Lesbian

MEN AND MINORS DNI 18+ allowed to follow, 21+ to DM

Hello, I’m Kenly! I am a dominant switch living in the southern US. I am twenty-six years old and work in the culinary industry in upper management. I would describe myself as a gentle domme with a limit to her patience. I love to praise and appreciate all the wonderful ladies I come across. I’m always in the mood for conversation and a laugh. I enjoy writing, singing, reading, video games, filmography, musicals, outdoor activities, and simply sleeping.

I occasionally post random naughty thoughts, so I hope you all enjoy those.

I am lazy with tagging but these are some tags I usually try to label:

#kenly posts

#kenly answers

Virgo sun, Aquarius moon, Scorpio Rising

Claimed anons:

🫧, ♑️ , 🗡️, 🌹, 🌌, 💚, 🐇 , 🐰, 💐, 🦢, 🐈‍⬛, 🐬, 🌻

NSFT/NSFW below the cut

Usually.

Then she appears. Fiery, clever, an attitude that borders on bratty if she wasn’t so sweet at the same time. She wears a coy smile when she presses her rouge lips down my chest and paints those all-but-damning sins along my stomach. I wonder if she’s aware of how it stirs up the little moths fluttering in the graveyard of my chest.

My hunger reveals itself again, gnashing teeth on both furled sheets and the image of a goddess between my thighs. A sight almost too much to bear, so I have to turn my head though I still sneak glances under heavy eyes and feel that rush when I see her tongue flicking up, down.

Up, down.

I can’t bear it, I shove her head into me, I want to choke her on desire. My hips won’t cease their thrusts, a jutting motion not unlike an overheating truck, and I feel her burn right through me like a fever.

I mentioned before about her mouth, yes, sly and cunning. It teases a path up my torso, along the curve of my breasts, until her mouth latches on a pert nipple at the same time she enters me and it’s too much—

Winter whispered through the night and the words gathered in blankets on our lawn. I was already up—of course I was, despite my claim as night owl, I can’t always sleep for long—preparing breakfast. Whining so early, pretty darling? I heard you from the next room over.

Why didn’t you wake me?

You and I both knew how you are waking up. I giggled and pressed those little serenades into your tousled hair. “My love, the north wind greeted us this morning. Should you have no shame in returning it with this?” I cooed, chuckling.

You’re a mean wolf, aren’t you?

I responded with a kiss of giggles through clumsy teeth.

We complained about the cold as we stepped into the street, but reveled in it all the same with snowball fights, faces buried in the snow as wings were fashioned— though the only angel around was the girl beside me with the rosiest cheeks. The color was something I always strived to paint there.

By late afternoon and after our bellies were full of warm soup and tasty meats, our return to the house welcomed the shopping bags of our detour to the liquor store. You wore that brown sweater I adore, and that’s plenty cause to celebrate. Clinking glass chimed in my hand as I snatched them from the cabinet and I murmured an apology.

My ears turned pink as you replied with a sweet scolding, though I wasn’t sure if it had been that or the accompaniment of nips on each word up the length of my neck. The moment passed as the glasses filled with vodka, straight for me, and a neat whiskey for you. We ended up on the couch, much too warm but neither willing to split from one another.

Straying hands led to firm grips. Our legs intertwined and pressed where we needed it. I always love to win and you love to make it hard for me, but perhaps we left our pride in the snow or in the shared need, the fever consuming us both.