(Source: explicitsubstance, via fuckyeahpenetration)
Vibrating w/the live wire energy of music… still echoing in my cunt…
in the dimly lit room, the music like a tongue on my clit… the bow’s slow caress like fingers inside me… vibrating against my tightening walls … each stroke a calling…electrified intensity of sound sending shivers up my spine…
fighting to contain the arching of my back, the need to writhe on the concrete floor…
The music speaks to me… tells me to let go of the things that limit me… to choose a new path.. . to open to a life where such moments end in fucking…but also to seek something more than a mere cock to fill the ache… a sharing that fills the longing that goes beyond my cunt…
to free the secret self inside me… to release all the things that bind me… to discover in that vibrating energy the woman I am meant to be.
(Source: hottiehotthot, via fetishdreams)
(Source: ella9, via kikosexandrealestate)
(via infinitefilth)
Anger… Rebellion… Activism… Vulnerability?
I am a feminist. I am a punk girl. I don’t like to be told what to do, esp. when that comes to men deciding what I can and can’t do w/my sexuality. So, why did a couple of days of ranting about men in power attempting to limit my reproductive freedoms end w/me feeling vulnerable and so over exposed that I in essence silenced myself by deleting statements on a subject I am passionate about from several social media sites?
I have a story… one I don’t tell… one that I can’t seem to tell… it isn’t as bad as some of my friend’s stories… I was “lucky” in many ways… but still it is a story that a writer should be able to tell… yet no matter how many times I’ve tried, I still can’t tell it/write it/share it & b/c of that sometimes when I least expect it that story surrounds me like an Iron Maiden, digging blades into old wounds
While the hearings before congress are about paying for birth control and the more than 1,000 bills proposed want to restrict women’s reproductive freedoms or redefine what constitutes rape, what they all have in common is shame…they want women to be ashamed… of our sexuality
SHAME. The thing that makes women believe the people who say we “asked for it”: the thing that says that b/c you are sensual/love sex/wild/whatever you forfeit the right to decide who you fuck and who you don’t fuck… who gets to touch you and who doesn’t get to touch you…
Good girl’s keep their knees together (and have the aspirin to prove it); “dirty girls” lose their right to decide, their right to be in control of their own body, to resist the forceful entry of legislators into our lives and our cunts. Today, I let an old untold story have too much power; I gave into the feeling of powerless and silenced my own voice on a subject that demands we all speak, loudly.
but tomorrow is another day…
I want to watch you as your pleasure builds with each stroke of my fingers against your hard cock… keeping you in my gaze more and more challenging as you finger me to the edge of ecstasy… my eyes held fast by the power of yours. . struggling to hold your gaze as I explode around your touch…
(Source: eagerlicker)
the exquisite torture of pleasure’s wild energy restrained… fueled… the promise of release dangled till w/a whispered command it explodes
daddys girl
(Source: canbesexy, via fuck-me-hard-baby)
(Source: thebadboys, via gentlekama)
"I'm dancing barefoot/ heading for a spin/some strange music draws me in/makes me come on like some heroin/e"