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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.

via skwyrtle from reddit. (via nikolaiolivier)

Amen!!!!

(via mssbold)

diveintothegrave: havocados: knowledgeandlove: BUFFALO, NY — Adam Arroyo returned home from work to find his door busted down, and his apartment in shambles, riddled with bullet holes, and stained with blood. The government had paid him a visit while he was away.Police were performing one of the many, many home raids that occur annually in the tyrannical Drug War. Arroyo’s dog, Cindy, had been killed by police. But police raided the wrong home. “She’s over here, chained up, and look at all these bullet holes man. Look at the blood right here,” Arroyo explained. “She was tied up in the kitchen like I tie her up every single day, and they shot her for no reason.”“For police to wrongfully come into my house and murder my dog… It wasn’t that they felt threatened. No. They murdered my dog,” said Arroyo, beginning to tear up.“That was my dog, man. That was my dog. They didn’t have to do that, you know. They didn’t have to do that.”Arroyo now has to pay to have Cindy cremated. He also had to repair his door at his own cost and has had to miss work. Source This happened yesterday. Not only is this my city, but this happened in my direct fucking neighborhood. Cindy was a pit bull. Not only did the police raid the wrong house, but they saw a pit bull who was chained up, unable to cause any harm and decided to just shoot her. Not once. Not twice. The poor thing was riddled with bullet holes. I am disgusted. I am in tears. Adam Arroyo I will do all I can to try and help you.  Reblog every single police brutality post Fuck the cops involved in this.
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diveintothegrave:

havocados:

knowledgeandlove:

BUFFALO, NY — Adam Arroyo returned home from work to find his door busted down, and his apartment in shambles, riddled with bullet holes, and stained with blood. The government had paid him a visit while he was away.

Police were performing one of the many, many home raids that occur annually in the tyrannical Drug War. 

Arroyo’s dog, Cindy, had been killed by police. But police raided the wrong home. 

“She’s over here, chained up, and look at all these bullet holes man. Look at the blood right here,” Arroyo explained. “She was tied up in the kitchen like I tie her up every single day, and they shot her for no reason.”

“For police to wrongfully come into my house and murder my dog… It wasn’t that they felt threatened. No. They murdered my dog,” said Arroyo, beginning to tear up.

“That was my dog, man. That was my dog. They didn’t have to do that, you know. They didn’t have to do that.”

Arroyo now has to pay to have Cindy cremated. He also had to repair his door at his own cost and has had to miss work.

Source

This happened yesterday. Not only is this my city, but this happened in my direct fucking neighborhood.

Cindy was a pit bull. Not only did the police raid the wrong house, but they saw a pit bull who was chained up, unable to cause any harm and decided to just shoot her. Not once. Not twice. The poor thing was riddled with bullet holes.

I am disgusted. I am in tears.

Adam Arroyo I will do all I can to try and help you. 

Reblog every single police brutality post

Fuck the cops involved in this.

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