Hair pulling rocks. (NEEHU6 Scene)

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Hair pulling rocks. (NEEHU6 Scene)

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This blog is mine.

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So it appears I’ve whispered “switchette” three times while looking into a mirror and conjured several Real People (which is to say, people who know me in real life) to follow this blog.

And this is giving me a couple feelings that I want to address. Two feelings, to be precise.

  1. Vulnerability: This tumblr started out as a personal journey. Literally no one I knew was aware of it but me. I created a lot of posts and reblogs and comments that touch on my real and true and exploratory and secret self. I figured I would keep it secret forever and ever. 
  2. Pride: Apparently “forever and ever” is equivalent to approximately one year. Shortly after creating this blog, I got tired of imagining and started dipping my feet into the local kink community, and I’ve been at it like gangbusters since then. I went to an kink event this summer that changed me irrevocably; I started actively opening my quietly-poly relationship; I met and continue to meet really awesome people who push and support new parts of me; I started the process of learning to love my body; and guys, also: crop tops. (Crop tops are AMAZING!) I’m really proud of myself for taking the leap and becoming more like the tumblr bloggers whom I admire.

While sometimes knowing that I’m sharing perceived intimacies with people who know me gives me some shame (most often of the delicious variety that warms faces and wets panties), I generally forge on because this is my space.

I post dirty, pretty, mean, moist kinky things. I post gorgeous and inspiring people of color. I post a lot about racial and gender inequality and structural, institutional, and internalized oppression. I post about relationships. I post kink & sex ed. I post the occasional nerd reference, uplifting or commiserating quote, and absurd joke.

But most of all, I post for myself. Maintaining a safe space for me is of vital importance, and so I won’t waste any emotional energy defending my right to any of my posts or beliefs. Because here, I say what I want. For me, this is a space to experiment with what being wholly me might look like while I continue to evolve and to peel back the layers in other spaces in my life.

Thanks for being here with me.

And special thanks to thinkivykink, @herdirtylittleheart, and the ever-supportive ohokaybueno for modeling boldness and the adventure of selfhood before I was ready to.

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eurotrottest:

I remember freshman year I used to fucked with this dark skinned nigga. He wasn’t too tall (bout 6’0) and he had short dreads but he was hella insecure bout himself (and his stroke game was superb BUT ANYWAY, BITCH)

I saw how much he didn’t like himself physically. He was shy and didn’t really like his appearance. Always talkin bout his gut and how he’s not as tall as he wants to be. Talked about his size and how he wish he had a stronger physique.

Every time I was with him and we talked I would kinna interrupt him and say “You know you’re so damn beautiful right?” And he would just stop and start awkwardly smile and then try to continue talking but I’d go on “I’m serious you’re beautiful. I can’t stop looking at you your skin is everything.”

I’d tell him when I saw him he’s beautiful. When we fucked that he’s beautiful. When we talked that he’s beautiful. I wanted to tell him until he believed it.

We fell off afterwards but I do hope he carried some of that with him to his next endeavor. Some of my encouragement to feel beautiful.

I tell guys they’re beautiful so they can hopefully see that they are. And I don’t really fuck with the niggas that EVERY girl would find beautiful cause honestly my definition of beauty in a man is different than everyone else’s. I find beauty in every man I associate myself with. Prolly just me.

This is everything. Yes, please tell these men how beautiful they are. Shit, tell everyone.