Not To Be Too Much Of A Whore, But Pin Me Down And Fill Me?

i ran to tumblr to post this because i knew you guys would understand

Hi again from my bathroom+desk. I love you. Mwah.

New gnarly collage dropped

Save a cowboy, ride a butch 🖤

So tonight I’m thinking about fucking her in the backseat. Like kneeling on the floor or on the seat. Her back pressed against the door. Her Legs over my shoulder as I flick my tongue against her. The confined space only making us hornier as we just hope and pray the tint is dark enough.

edging her until all she can say is "uh uh uh" and her hips start to move desperately as tears drip down her cheeks, poor baby, I bet she just wants to cum and make a mess

My wife and I have a little game we play called "Speaking From Ignorance."

To play Speaking From Ignorance, all you need is a phone with a voice recorder, and another person who knows considerably more or considerably less about a topic than you do. The topic can be anything: from "how to bake a quiche" to "what happens in the Peter Jackson Hobbit movies" to "who is Florence Pugh" to "how does the traveling salesman problem work." All that matters is that one of you has a firm grasp on the material, and one of you absolutely the fuck does not.

Then the person who knows about the topic turns on the recorder, and says to the person who knows barely anything: "Hey - tell me everything you think you know about [X]."

The speaker is then not allowed to ask any questions. Nor is the expert allowed to volunteer any information. The expert is allowed to pipe up with a faintly incredulous "Oh--really? Do you--do you think so?" from time to time, but for the most part, the expert's job is just to sit there and make encouraging sounds while the speaker digs their own grave.

This is never not funny.

The reason you record it is because, very often, the first thing the speaker wants to do after finishing the recording is find out how you actually make a quiche, or whatever. Then you both get to go back and listen to how wrong they were.

We have a small library now of Speaking From Ignorance recordings, and I'm going to be listening to them until I'm eighty.

How I like it.

That blissed-out, fucked-stupid smile, lips parted, eyes glazed with pure need—like a pretty little trans girl lost in the pleasure of finally being seen, wanted. When words barely make sense, but she just nods, clinging to every touch, every praise, like it’s the sweetest affirmation of who she is. That soft, desperate look that says, more, please. Ruin me. Make me yours. Make me feel real.