Fucktunes.
Oh, Tricky. You and your tricky, tricked-out Tricky-voice.
you wear but don’t like men, no
won’t love, won’t care again
I enjoy myself.
Sub-par Saturday
Ilsa entered the Colonel’s office sheepishly. He virilely goose-stepped towards her. She looked down at his boots. He reached, gripped her wrist and moved her hand over his pulsing manmeat. She gasped. He grasped her by her shoulder and pushed her down on the floor. She unbuckled his belt and went to work.
“I want you to fuck me in the other place,” she said breathlessly, “The bad place.”
He dipped his frankfurter between her moist petals, to coat it in her woman sauce. He pulled out and in one swift stroke, violated her rear entrance. She moaned at the thought of his Bavarian cream coating her insides.
There was a fish on the floor.
I’m still not sure if I’m glad or saddened that I don’t write like this.
Woman sauce. That’s inspired.
(via drinkyourc)
Totally fuckable. Everything in this video is totally fuckable.
I can only describe the feeling as rabid.
I feel like taking my pleasure, my wants and needs from somebody’s body.
Someone to sacrifice their own body, gaining only the pleasure they can find from my base and animalistic fury as their own.
Uncompromising, painful, selfish and unabashed fucking. No love, only lust. No care for their body, less care for my own; any humanity clouded in a fog of desire.
A fucktoy to be used completely.
All for release. Body-shaking overwhelming release that frees my mind from the shackles of oppressive want, allows my soul to return to centre and puts my body to use in the most primal liberation.
I have of late,—but wherefore I know not,—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire,—why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?
Man delights not me…
Hamlet (via begoodorbegoodatit)
(via dishevelleddomina)
http://clubkayden.tumblr.com/post/4019004453/blog-flashback-january-2009
I’m going to slowly just transfer everything to this page so if you’ve read this before, you’ve probably known me too long and I’m sorry.
Dear Lover-
You don’t know me but one day I’ll be curled into the sweep of your arm, laying my face on the moist part of your skin where you’re still…
This is pretty and much better than anything I could do. I like.
4 months ago - 
11
11 