These are where my hands need to be.

These are where my hands need to be.

If I have to read one more buzzword, nonsense-filled process email from my boss I’m gonna lose my mind.

How can one person talk so much without. Saying. Anything?

helmlockshears:

Being insecure is the most exhausting and the biggest waste of time ever invented. I’m trying to stop. It’s just not working.

My life story.

Oh. I kind of just wrote this out didn’t I?

Oh. I kind of just wrote this out didn’t I?

(via nakedfairylover)

veryspecialporn:

Christina Lindberg, in “Exposed" (1971)

Those eyes…. the goddamn devil is in those eyes.

veryspecialporn:

Christina Lindberg, in “Exposed" (1971)

Those eyes…. the goddamn devil is in those eyes.

(via pussylesqueer)

  • You put on the nearly sheer leggings and bodysuit I bought you.
  • You lay down.
  • I squeeze your ass. Your thighs. I'll massage them both. I'll tug on the body suit slightly so it goes in the crack of your ass.
  • I'll occasionally lean in and give your cheeks a kiss.
  • I'll run my fingers down the backs of your legs.
  • When the mood takes you, you tuck your arms underneath you. One on a breast, if you like, the other on your pussy, as I like.
  • I'll keep rubbing you.
  • I'll whisper, "Yes."
  • I'll give a long sigh of appreciation.
  • You'll notice you are only feeling one hand on you for a moment. That's when you'll hear my belt buckle open. The metal stem will clink on the clasp.
  • Then the zipper noise.
  • My finger is running along the crack of your ass, and pushes between your cheeks looking for your pussy's opening. I expect to find wetness.
  • I do.
  • I slick my hand with saliva, and you start to hear my hand on myself.
  • You'll start to press harder on your clit. Your legs open a bit more.
  • You can feel pressure from my free hand on your opening. On your asshole too.
  • I'm squeezing your cheek too.
  • When you moan, I reply, "Mmmhmmm."
  • You strain your neck to look back at me. You can see my hand stroking myself. I take the moment to touch your face, your mouth.
  • You give my finger a lick and a bite.
  • I draw back and smack your ass.
  • You press hard on your clit and lift your ass up so you can move across it faster, with a broader stroke.
  • "Yes. Come for me."
  • Moments later, you do, and at that moment you feel the wetness and warmth of my own cum landing on your ass, your thighs.
  • You giggle as you cum. I'm breathing hard and smiling.
  • I smack your ass again.
  • You pull your arm out from under you and rest back down.
  • Another smack and grab.
  • I lean down. Kiss your neck.
  • Kiss your cheek (on your face).
  • Your eyes close.
cinestalgia:

RUSHMORE

Strongly considering deleting this thing.

I need a new persona. A new bend.

A new life.

Nope. Shut it down.

I made my wife cry tonight. We were talking about general stuff and I started talking about how sick and tired I was of being told I should be a nice, kind person.

Which is not the real issue, but that’s at the surface.

I feel pressure to be some amazing guy. A great husband and exemplary worker. An amazing friend. A good son. A courtesy stranger. A citizen of my community. A knowledgeable voter. A philanthropist. Giver. Kind. Putting goodness into the world.

Ugh. Why do *I* have to put goodness into the world? Why me? Why do I need to work harder and be kinder and do more for others? No one else is. No one else is kind or selfless.

The real thing is that I feel guilty all the time. Guilty for my taste. Guilty for not being more than what I am. Guilty for my sex and race. I feel like a villain. A criminal. A perpetrator. I don’t do enough and I look like the kind of people that enact injustice.

I want to be left alone. I’m sensitive. I take it all to heart. I genuinely think I am garbage. Human garbage.

All this made her cry. So I apologized.

For the first time ever, I’m worried she might not always love me. It will be my fault. The villain’s fault.