Real women in their own place. Not too crazy and just a pinch of naughty…
By creating evocative and alluring portraits of women with body types that have traditionally been left out of mainstream media, Me In My Place is redefining a genre that has been over-run with unrealistic expectations of what it means to be beautiful. With full acceptance of the “male gaze”, the images promote not just acceptance, but also an aspirational message about everyday appeal. The project is a celebration and is meant to be fun and open to all.
In an effort to monetize the project to keep it going, we created a simple mobile web app, more commonly called THE MIMP APP (https://mimp.findrow.com). This gave fans of the project a simple and inexpensive way to show support. In exchange, they receive more images, exclusive images that are not on the tumblr, and the ability to quickly view and ‘like’ their favorite content.
The MIMP APP was such a success, we decided there must be other content providers like us who would like to give their fans something extra, so we created FINDROW. With flexibility that Instagram and Facebook won’t allow, we give our content providers the freedom to express themselves as they see fit… even if that is not always safe for work ;-) Again, they control their own content and are leading the conversation about how they feel beautiful in the world. For a complete list of all the Findrow apps, click here.
FINDROW Partner: textsafterdark:
Let me just preface this by saying, that no matter what you may think of me, I am not always a good person. I know this; I’ve always known. However, at one point, I decided to just discard that fact and attempt Christianity. Because, fuck it, why not? They always have the best donuts.
Let’s take it back to 2010. I was maybe twenty-one or so, working part time, only a year into my life in Los Angeles. I was bored as hell. I decided, maybe I’d meet some cute, nice friends at this hip church in Hollywood. I was raised in several different churches so it wasn’t anything too weird. I’d never really considered myself a Christian, but they always say to go to places like churches and libraries to meet new people. Whenever I go to libraries, I end up just burying myself in books because I am one of the few left that does not own a Kindle, so that was out.
I went to the church a few times - it wasn’t terrible; wasn’t great. What was great though, was the bountiful supply of cute, single Christian boys with little hipster haircuts, tight pants and eager smiles. They were all just so innocent and it was driving me fucking insane. One in particular, who’s ridiculous name I’ll leave to the imagination, was particularly friendly. A singer-songwriter, with long eyelashes and a penchant for plaid. We sat together each Sunday night, our pinkies touching throughout the sermon, his cheeks flushing when I’d hook mine around his. I kept it light, didn’t push him; he just seemed so…soft. I was afraid I’d break him and his toothy grin.
Every Sunday night we’d go out to dinner after church, his treat. Such a gentleman. He’d drive me home and walk me to my front door. Each time, I’d ask him if he wanted to come in for a beer or a movie, a late night snack perhaps? And each time, he’d smile all warm like the fucking sun itself was trying to burst out of his pores on his scruffy face and give me a sweet kiss goodnight, sending me inside - alone.
I would then groan out loud in frustration, kick my shoes off violently across my living room and hit the shower to finger myself almost aggressively; angrily because goddamnit I didn’t want to marry the idiot, I only wanted to fuck him! And he was just so nice, so fucking wholesome. It was adorable and it was driving me mad. I had gotten involved with a good, Christian boy just like my mother had always wanted. I was absolutely furious about it.
So, the following Sunday, when I had gotten up during the sermon to use the bathroom, I did not expect him to follow me. I didn’t think much of it, at that point, I had given up on getting anything else out of him except a nice little makeout in his car here and there, going just far enough until it started to get steamy and then he’d just stop. Just like that.
We casually chatted along the hallway towards the bathrooms, each to our own separate restroom and then when I walked out, there he was waiting for me like a good boy. Always such a good boy. And then, suddenly he wasn’t. I could hear the music had started back up inside as we headed back towards our seats, when suddenly he grabbed my hand and pulled me into a closet in the hall. The light stayed off, his hands burning against my waist as he kissed me, hard. What the fuck was happening? Who was this person? Had he been abducted by aliens? By satan?
"I can’t help myself anymore." He mumbled, his mouth moving towards my neck.
All of our previous makeouts had been tame, something you’d see in an 80’s teeny bopper movie. No actual visual of tongues, no heavy breathing. But this, this was outright sloppy. Dirty. He lifted me up onto some kind of shelf and I could feel him hard through his jeans as he moaned, licked into my mouth. Fuck yes.
I couldn’t wait anymore. I didn’t ask permission, didn’t care at this point as I grabbed at his belt, shoving his jeans to the ground and oh hello penis. Hello indeed.
I’m pretty sure I fucking purred, making grabby hands at his dick because it had been so fucking long and I was so fucking sexually frustrated and he was so fucking hot, I needed his dick in my mouth. Immediately. I shoved him backwards and got down on my knees, biting a little on his hipbone, hearing his breathing, ragged above me.
Honestly, I don’t know who moaned louder when I took him into my mouth. My hand wrapped around the base of his cock, my tongue lapping at the head. I wasn’t going to be gentle with this, he didn’t deserve it. Driving me up the wall, like he had been. Such a bloody tease. My own saliva dripped down my chin; through my fingers as my other hand cupped his balls. One of his knees buckled, “Jesus,” he muttered, inhaling deeply.
We both laughed. It was just too appropriate. He stopped laughing, however, when I took all of him into my mouth. Feeling his cock hit the back of my throat. I loved it. I was so wet, myself, but all I wanted was this. I could still hear the ridiculous alternative gospel music, muted in the background and it only made me want more. I pulled off, pumping him in my hand and looked up. He looked fucking wrecked, his hands white-knuckled to the shelving behind him, breathing heavily and I grinned up at him, my mouth wet and lips swollen. He met my eyes and moaned. I fucking preened.
"Where can I cum? I’m gonna cum, fuck."
"In my mouth."
I laughed, moving to match the motion of my hand with my mouth again, building him up to it. He shot hard and fast, cursing as he came in my mouth and it was too much as I choked a little. I moved off, getting a bit of him on my chin and neck, oops. I stood up and he looked at that, at his goddamn jizz on my face and he flushed like a little school boy, sinking to his knees.
"I can’t move. You’ve ruined me."
I laughed and grabbed his hand, touching his fingers to my wet panties under my skirt. “We’re not done yet, altar boy.”