Too pissed off to post sexy tonight.
Seriously, how the fuck is somebody like Rick Santorum doing so well? I am literally in awe that we’re just letting him, gosh, I don’t know, exist.
Sorry I have so many feelings. Ugh.
Month: March 2012
That guy from my frat and I have a sort of banter going on, explains my friend. We’re interesting to watch, sometimes in a funny way and sometimes in a slightly painful way. We don’t always go easy on each other.
Today, he sat down with some friends of mine and I and we proceeded to go at it with each other. There’s something about someone who comes so close to being able to outwit me that incredibly turns me on. Intelligence is terribly, terribly sexy. So is confidence.
When he left, one of my friends threw his hands up in the air and cried out in frustration, “would you two just fuck already?”
Guess what I’m stuck thinking about now.
Oh my God. I die. I just die.
Thank you, pushhertoherknees, for making my night.
I love how no one involved can even remotely take this shoot seriously. Like, what is this neighborhood? What is this reality this porn has created in which suburbia is plagued by lemon-stealing whores? When did lemons become so valuable? Even James Deen can’t handle the absurdity.
I’m fantasizing that this is the shoot Deen and Angel met. This is how their relationship was born. They fell in love over lemons, theft, and justice.
I just cannot stop laughing. Those first five minutes are just ridiculous.
(Source: http://pushhertoherknees.tumblr.com/)
-
- Giggity
I know it had to be someone.
But did it have to be you, James? Really?
Sometime while I was out last night, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I assumed it was a text, but it vibrated again. It took my phone out. Blue was calling.
“What do you think this is about?” I showed my phone to our mutual friend.
He laughed, “probably a drunk dial. Take it. It could be funny.”
I answered my phone and Blue asked right away, “where are you right now?” I named off the place. “Great, great, I’ll be there in five minutes, don’t move.” He hung up. I gave my friend a knowing look and we started laughing.
“I think I’m being booty called,” I shook my head and put my phone away.
Blue came in a few minutes later and made a beeline to us. He was quick to get me over to the couch and start trying to talk me up. I was sober, amused. His breath was hot on my collarbone and his hands were gentle but intentioned, “I don’t know, I don’t get attracted to girls like I get attracted to you. It’s your confidence, your sexuality, the way you look, that damn freckle…”
It’s hard to pick out the sincerity from the alcohol and the ambition sometimes. It felt nice to hear him say those things and I wouldn’t be crushed if he were just saying them to get some, but come on. And then there was his hand, at my throat.
“What are you doing?”
Blue chuckled, “you told me you liked this.”
“Not in the front of the children,” I gestured to my friends and got up. A few minutes later, he was off talking up some guy.
I have no problem with the fact that I didn’t get any last night. And Blue later apologized for his incredibly drunken behavior.
But I wish things weren’t so blasé sometimes.
There’s a lot I write on here that has to do with people discovering each other in different ways. And, discovery is a huge part of relationships and sexuality. It’s definitely a valid thing.
But self-discovery is really equally important. And while a lot of people reading a sex blog are usually a little busy discovering themselves already (winknudge), there’s real validity to the fact that getting to know yourself is a really important part of sexuality.
You need to know what you like. You need to know where your limits are. And a really safe way to figure that out is on yourself. Because then it’s between you and your hands. And that’s an incredibly safe space.
This is one of my favorite games.
I like to play a little game, when you can’t speak. It’s a mean little game, but I find it amusing. You find it infuriating. That’s quite possibly what amuses me so about it, but then I always was a sucker for your reactions.
I like to talk to you, hold long conversations when your only input is the most monosyllabic of moans, perhaps a ‘uh uh’ if you really try. So I do your half of the conversation for you, because I’m generous like that.
“You know, the way you’re looking at me, it’s almost like you like being tied up and gagged like this. Do you like it?” You fix me with a piercing, angry gaze, all furrowed brows and needles for eyes.
“You mean you do? Oh that’s wonderful news. We should keep you like this more often then! I’d hate to get in the way of you and your passions.”
And so forth. It’s just a little game, but it’s one I enjoy ever so much.
Won’t you indulge me?
Oh my goodness.
I just received the most amazing message a few hours ago and I’m still shaking with joy. The future looks amazing, tumblr. My optimism is through the roof. I feel like I’m on top of the world.
wehadfacesthen: Lisa Fonssagrives on the Eiffel Tower, 1939, photo by Erwin Blumenfeld
“You said I came close
as anyone’s come
to live underwater
for more than a month.
You said it was not inside my heart, it was.
The city should tear a kid apart, it does.”
Transportée ..*
In other news.
After some really, really wonderful things today after some monstrous amounts of stress, I’m going out tonight. Even my mother insists. (Seriously.) I’ve been far too hard on myself and while it’s clearly paid off, I need to give myself something senseless and fun.
Like this week’s episode of Dance Moms. Yes, I watch Dance Moms. We all have our vices, but at least I’m not wearing a full suit of beef jerky or putting my child in a burlesque routine.
Someone please tell me that they’ve gotten the rights to the porn name The Sausage King of Canton.