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."
omfg reblogging till the end of time
u deserve a nice boy who texts u back and buys u jelly beans and doesn’t kiss other girls behind ur back and who makes u laugh and thinks ur funny
ok apparently if a duckling imprints on a human and doesn’t meet other ducklings he ends up believing he’s a human too. that’s unbelievable. what if im just a duckling with an overactive imagination. what if im just a sleeping duckling and this is all a dream
I went to a catholic elementary school with a really strict dress code and one time in 4th grade I came to school with my shirt untucked 2 days in a row and my teacher asked me if I was having problems at home
people saying it’s not realistic to have entire friend groups of queer kids in films or TV shows because ‘that never happens’ and instead they just have straight kids and one gay person like…… my friend group in school was made up of a trans boy, an asexual, and three bisexuals…….. like………… we exist
this will always be my favorite interaction from okcupid
Narrating peoples lives, gone wrong
Peter Joseph on structural violence, from this video.
You speak dead languages
that haven’t been tongued for ages
every syllable onto my lips
every letter into my neck.
I’ve been learning them
so I can speak them
back to you.
a lot of people talk about how they cant understand how people can hook-up with a bunch of different people…which, I totally see how people can, it makes sense.
what i cant fathom is how people can be in a new relationship every month or so…to constantly develop an emotional connection and lose it and replace it.