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    acidpunch:

    still laughing about yesterday during gender/sexuality studies class when our professor had everyone chant “VAGINA! PENIS! VAGINA!” a few times to make us more comfortable with saying those terms

    and this girl just stands up slowly and says “…this… this isn’t math class…”


    mangomartyr:

    loodletooboodleroodlesoodle:

    santullianal:

    This honestly made me tear up. Imagining how great he must have felt that his planned worked and choosing that risk paid off.
    I also feel like him and the model have such good chemistry, they’re always so kind and loving to one another.

    Holy shit what did he do?? That’s rad as hell!

    Since the runway was going to have simulated rain, he wanted to make the outfit become colorful because of it rather than deflect it. He sewed dye into the seams and once the rain hit it the dye ran! Very simple but super effective. He was one of the two winners of that challenge.

    Sex is not a goddamn performance.

    Sex should feel as natural as drinking water.

    It should not require confidence.

    Sex should happen, because the moment is ripe.

    Ripening lips, ripening labia, ripening cock, ripening pupils, ripening state of being. Ripe and augmented and brimming. Your energy goes to your pumping heart, then to every external nerve, then to theirs, on fire.

    You bask, roll, play in it. You sigh, moan, laugh.

    It’s not about being “good in bed.”

    It’s about being happy.

    One should never worry if they’re doing it “correctly.” Sex is not factual. I don’t want your cookie-cutter sex, I don’t want your meticulously crafted, calculated, fool-proof fuck. I don’t want a show. I want you. Let your instincts, urges and whims define that. It’s enough.

    What do most girls like? Forget about it. Statistics are meaningless when there’s only one. Hello, here’s me. Here’s you.

    Don’t worry about taking it too slow. We got time. We got infinite rhythms, combinations, possibilities. Explore each fuck. Take our time. We can do a different one later.

    Don’t worry about making me come. I’m here. Right where I want to be.

    I am overwhelmed by wanting; you don’t have to convince me. I want you because I like you. So don’t put on a front. Don’t taint this.

    I’m frustrated—it’s just authenticity I want.

    It’s originality.

    It’s passion.

    It’s joy.

    Don’t say that something I like is ugly. Don’t compare yourself to the rest. You will live and die with and within your experiences like everyone else. If someone thinks you are amazing, they are not wrong. Their universe is as real as any other; it is forged through perception.

    I don’t care if you accidentally slammed my head into the wall, if you slipped out, if my arm cracked, if the delightful pressure of your wet lips on my anything made a silly sound. There is no right way and no wrong way.

    “Good in bed,” what.

    You’re good in my bed. I’m pleased you’re there. I feel it suits you.

    Shove your technique. Let your memory swallow it. Fuck me like you’d fuck me, fuck me like you feel.

    This isn’t a test.


    (via khadijahh)

    (Source: nikolaiolivier)

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