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“Hell,” I said, “I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?”
“Yes. I want to ruin you.”
“Good,” I said. “That’s what I want too.”
– Ernest Hemingway,  A Farewell to Arms.

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Valentine, Part Five

My pussy was impossibly swollen and sore after being fucked with the glass dildo that had been in the freezer. Somehow, it was both numb and tender. Pup and Saltine let me rest a bit while I was coming down from the orgasms and the adrenaline and the associated emotions that come from being railed by a freezing cold hunk of glass.

I was curled up on the bed, Pup smoothing my hair and Saltine rubbing my back. “That was a lot,” I mumbled into the pillow.

“Aw,” Saltine kissed my shoulder blade. “Good a lot? Bad a lot?”

“A lot,” I replied. “I came a lot.”

After I’d finally called a safe word because I had cum so much it had started to hurt, Pup had let me cry on his lap and calm down. It wasn’t a bad cry or a bad pain, it was just intense. It was an intensity I’d really enjoyed – I still to this day touch myself remembering it – but it was still a whole lot. But I liked intense scenes like this, how brave and strong and sexy I felt when I handled them, how good it felt to be praised for managing it.

“Yeah,” Saltine said. “It was funny, you’d get off and whine about how hard I was fucking you and then just get off again a minute later.”

I rolled my eyes and nudged them, “yeah, yeah, I guess you know best.”

Saltine rolled me over and pulled my head up onto their chest. They kissed my forehead. I wanted to fall asleep there, even though it was morning. Somehow, I think Saltine told him to or just of his own volition, Pup got down between their legs, pushed the sheets aside, and started to eat them out.

Photo credit: elles par moi

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Admit it, there’s a certain relief in knowing you’re not going anywhere.

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lipstixxx-noir:

Gif by Lipstixxx-Noir.

I basically write some variation of this post once a month, but it never gets old: gagged kisses are the best. The fact that the person wearing the gag is the passive receiver of it, the fact that reciprocity is essentially impossible and any futile attempts at it are just adorable. 

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herdirtylittleheart:

My Mother points to this story when she’s explaining how I’ve always been overly concerned with other people’s feelings. It was 1990, New Kids on the Block just dropped Step By Step (ooh baybaaay). I was 9 years old and that album and my hamster Dusty were the most important things in my life that summer. I was a ridiculously huge fan, my room was plastered in posters and collages I had cut out from Tiger Beat and other such bubblegum publications. I had stickers and t-shirts and even my bed sheets that were graced by the faces of NKOTB. Initially I had a crush on Joey Mac, that baby face, those icy blues, his prepubescent swoon-inducing songbird vocals on “Please Don’t Go Girl”…. 9 year old me was like “THIS IS SAFE AND I FEEL SQUIRMY”. But then I matured a little, as you do, and it was all about Jordan. His smile, and the way he sang “Baby I believe in us…..”. Ohhh and the way he danced, I was lost in daydreams of marrying him and doing things I couldn’t quite imagine as he sang to me. 

Later on that year something inside of me shifted. I started listening to other albums that had just come out, fucking Rhythm Nation by Janet Jackson,

Pummmmp Up the Jam (pump it up) by Technotronic, Love Shack by the B52′s. I heard Just a Friend by Biz Markie at the roller rink in my shitty neighbourhood. It just hit me. New Kids were shit. It was crappy formulaic pop music and it just kind of… sucked. I mean they were hot and sure they could sing but like, that’s not fucking satisfying me like Nothing Compares (2U) by Sinead O’Conner was. Hallelujah right? 

Except at this point being a New Kids super fan was a huge part of my identity and I fretted over how to let my parents know I was undergoing such a big change. Looking back I’m not sure what I was afraid of, that they might be upset with me for suddenly taking down all of my posters and various shrines? That they might criticize me for being so fickle? Either way I was nervous about breaking it to them. Which is fucking adorable right? 9-and-three-quarters me sat my parents down with my most sombre tone and dropped the bomb, “I just wanted you to know, I don’t like the New Kids anymore.” I exhaled a deep breath, my anxiety cresting like a wave now that I’d gotten this off of my chest…

Now this is funnier if you know my parents, who are bonafide hippies and put on such supportive faces while they cringed through *3 albums* at that point of my obsessive pop-tart dance-routine-making hair-brush-microphone livingroom concerts. (My Mama loved Donny Osmond as a kiddo so she understood.) But the bottom line is they didn’t give a fuck! Of course, as parents, they knew my teeny-bop admiration was just a phase. I guess in retrospect I was worried they might not accept me as I grew and changed my mind. 

They stifled giggles and assured my furrowed brow that it was okay to change my tastes, and that my tastes would change a hundred more times before I was through.

I remember fighting back tears of relief, because it was okay.

It’s taken a lot of years and a lot of work for me to not feel I have to ask permission to change. To be flexible with myself and my desires. To find partners and friends who can transition through different phases of life with me and appreciate that evolution. To really understand that growth and change and ebb and flow are the only real things you can count on. Nothing lasts forever, thank god. 

Art: Romantic Anatomy by Lisa Perrin
Words by Heart

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tkayleighb:

acureforbrainwork:

cosmic-kleptomaniac:

dismantlethefeminism:

I do not understand this “male privilege" bullshit.

What. Fucking. Privileges. Do. Men. Have.???????

Name them. I swear, I challenge you to name these “male privileges" and be able to prove them. 

Come on, I fucking dare you. 

Name them!

Oh boy. Well, as a man, I’ll tell you my male privilege.

  1. My odds of being hired for a job, when competing against female applicants, are probably skewed in my favor. The more prestigious the job, the larger the odds are skewed.
  2. I can be confident in the fact that my co-workers won’t think that I was hired/promoted because of my sex – despite the fact that it’s probably true.
  3. If I ever am promoted when a woman of my peers is better suited for the job, it is because of my sex.
  4. If i ever fail at my job or career, it won’t be seen as a blacklist against my sex’s capabilities.
  5. I am far less likely to face sexual harassment than my female peers.
  6. If I do the same task as a woman, and if the measurement is at all subjective, chances are people will think I did a better job.
  7. If I am a teen or an adult, and I stay out of prison, my odds of getting raped are relatively low.
  8. On average, I’m taught that walking alone after dark by myself is less than dangerous than it is for my female peers.
  9. If I choose not to have children, my masculinity will not be questioned.
  10. If I do have children but I do not provide primary care for them, my masculinity will not be questioned.
  11. If I have children and I do care for them, I’ll be praised even if my care is only marginally competent.
  12. If I have children and a career, no one will think I’m selfish for not staying at home.
  13. If I seek political office, my relationship with my children or who I deem to take care of them will more often not be scrutinized by the press.
  14. My elected representatives are mostly people of my own sex. The more prestigious the position, the more this is true.
  15. When i seek out “the person in charge", it is likely that they will be someone of my own sex. The higher the position, the more often this is true.
  16. As a child, chances are I am encouraged to be more active and outgoing than my sisters.
  17. As a child, I could choose from an almost infinite variety of children’s media featuring positive, active, non-stereotyped heroes of my own sex. I never had to look for it; male protagonists were (and are) the default.
  18. As a child, chances are I got more teacher attention than girls who raised their hands just as often.
  19. If my day, week or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether or not it has sexist overtones. (Nobody’s going to ask if I’m upset because I’m menstruating.)
  20. I can turn on the television or glance at the front page of the newspaper and see people of my own sex widely represented.
  21. If I’m careless with my financial affairs it won’t be attributed to my sex.
  22. If I’m careless with my driving it won’t be attributed to my sex.
  23. I can speak in public to a large group without putting my sex on trial.
  24. Even if I sleep with a lot of women, there is little to no chance that I will be seriously labeled a “slut,” nor is there any male counterpart to “slut-bashing.”
  25. I do not have to worry about the message my wardrobe sends about my sexual availability.
  26. My clothing is typically less expensive and better-constructed than women’s clothing for the same social status. While I have fewer options, my clothes will probably fit better than a woman’s without tailoring.
  27. The grooming regimen expected of me is relatively cheap and consumes little time.
  28. If I buy a new car, chances are I’ll be offered a better price than a woman buying the same car. The same goes for other expensive merchandise.
  29. If I’m not conventionally attractive, the disadvantages are relatively small and easy to ignore.
  30. I can be loud with no fear of being called a shrew. I can be aggressive with no fear of being called a bitch.
  31. I can ask for legal protection from violence that happens mostly to men without being seen as a selfish special interest, since that kind of violence is called “crime” and is a general social concern. (Violence that happens mostly to women is usually called “domestic violence” or “acquaintance rape,” and is seen as a special interest issue.)
  32. I can be confident that the ordinary language of day-to-day existence will always include my sex. “All men are created equal,” mailman, chairman, freshman, he.
  33. My ability to make important decisions and my capability in general will never be questioned depending on what time of the month it is.
  34. I will never be expected to change my name upon marriage or questioned if I don’t change my name.
  35. The decision to hire me will not be based on assumptions about whether or not I might choose to have a family sometime soon.
  36. Every major religion in the world is led primarily by people of my own sex. Even God, in most major religions, is pictured as male.
  37. Most major religions argue that I should be the head of my household, while my wife and children should be subservient to me.
  38. If I have a wife or live-in girlfriend, chances are we’ll divide up household chores so that she does most of the labor, and in particular the most repetitive and unrewarding tasks.
  39. If I have children with my girlfriend or wife, I can expect her to do most of the basic childcare such as changing diapers and feeding.
  40. If I have children with my wife or girlfriend, and it turns out that one of us needs to make career sacrifices to raise the kids, chances are we’ll both assume the career sacrificed should be hers.
  41. Assuming I am heterosexual, magazines, billboards, television, movies, pornography, and virtually all of media is filled with images of scantily-clad women intended to appeal to me sexually. Such images of men exist, but are rarer.
  42. In general, I am under much less pressure to be thin than my female counterparts are. If I am over-weight, I probably suffer fewer social and economic consequences for being fat than over-weight women do.
  43.  If I am heterosexual, it’s incredibly unlikely that I’ll ever be beaten up by a spouse or lover.
  44. Complete strangers generally do not walk up to me on the street and tell me to “smile.”
  45. Sexual harassment on the street virtually never happens to me. I do not need to plot my movements through public space in order to avoid being sexually harassed, or to mitigate sexual harassment.
  46. On average, I am not interrupted by women as often as women are interrupted by men.
  47. On average, I will have the privilege of not knowing about my male privilege.

And lastly, I am taken as a more credible feminist than my female peers, despite the fact that the feminist movement is not liberating to my sex.

This is male privilege.

THIS. THIS IS HOW YOU BE A MALE FEMINIST. 

Whew. He asked for one and got a nice, abbreviated version. Priceless.

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herdirtylittleheart:

marissalynnla:

April, 2015
Shot by a friend

of one of my performances

Rope by @yzendeshi

This is so gorgeous Marissa! It’s freezing and snowing here and this whole image just warmed me up.

Oh my gosh so pretty, such warmth, that smile!

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cubicletocollar:

junestpaul:

just some girly play time

@the–great-catsby and @cubicletocollar

Mrow.

This dynamic like so hard. Just this dynamic all day. I can’t even begin to explain.