Just taking advantage of that quirky thing called the internet, where identities are constructed and taboos pulled down. It’s artistic license with anonymity. Spilling your mind to a stranger without worrying about bumping into them again. Revealing secrets about yourself without the guilt, or fear of reprisal.

Think of it as a privilege, reader, for you can catch a glimpse of the ‘me’ that barely anyone else who knows me knows.

Isn’t that just delicious?

Background Illustrations provided by: http://edison.rutgers.edu/
Reblogged from booksandporn  28,076 notes
Posted 22, November, 2012

The reality is that so-called pro-life movement is not about saving babies. It’s about punishing women for having sex. That’s why they oppose birth control. That’s why they want to ban abortion even though doing so will simply drive women to have dangerous back alley abortions. That’s why they want to penalize women who take public assistance and then dare to have sex, leaving an exemption for those who become pregnant from rape. It’s not about babies. If it were about babies, they would be making access to birth control widespread and free and creating a comprehensive social safety net so that no woman finds herself with a pregnancy she can’t afford. They would be raising money for research on why half of all zygotes fail to implant and working to prevent miscarriages. It’s not about babies. It’s about controlling women. It’s about making sure they have consequences for having unapproved sex. By

How I Lost Faith in the “Pro-Life” Movement

This is an amazingly powerful, clear and well-researched article that exposes how the “pro-life” movement is anything but.

(via bagleworm)

Reblogged from   28 notes
Posted 13, November, 2012
So, of my ultimate depraved fantasies, this is something that ranks pretty damn close to the number one spot. Forced deepthroating. In my mind, I’m naked, blindfolded, and lying spread-eagled on a table, head hanging over the edge. Ropes at my wrists and ankles holding me almost completely immobile.Then hearing the slow grating zip before the sound of material hitting the floor, knowing I’m just about to feel the tip of his cock brush over my parted lips, that I’m just about to smell cologne, sweat, and an underlying musk of lust that will cling to my skin for days. I love giving oral. I love using my tongue, my teeth, feeling the slow measured slide into my mouth and throat. This is different though. It’s deep. It’s messy. It’ll hurt. It’s beautifully brutal. And he’ll tell me all those things as his fingers drift over my skin, raising goosebumps in their wake, over a pebbling nipple. And then he’ll pinch, and my lips will part further, and it’ll begin. And he’ll force me to take him all the way in, to swallow him, to accept the pain and bruising in my throat and the digging in of his fingers into my flesh, and I’ll bear it with a masochistic streak of delight, sliding my tongue against the shaft as best I can, crying out when he graces my aching cunt with a sharp slap every now and then that’ll make me gurgle a little and my larnyx vibrate in a blend of protest and encouragement. And then the moment when he thrusts in deep and holds still and lets me feel him pulse once, then twice, before he slowly pulls out, letting me taste his cum on my tongue and not just feel it down my throat. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Sorry it’s short guys and excuse the quality of writing, I’m so freaking tired, and I really wanted to write something ESPECIALLY when I saw this gif. The way her throat moves… phew, hot! I might reblog with a better little textual accompaniment another time.

So, of my ultimate depraved fantasies, this is something that ranks pretty damn close to the number one spot. Forced deepthroating.

In my mind, I’m naked, blindfolded, and lying spread-eagled on a table, head hanging over the edge. Ropes at my wrists and ankles holding me almost completely immobile.Then hearing the slow grating zip before the sound of material hitting the floor, knowing I’m just about to feel the tip of his cock brush over my parted lips, that I’m just about to smell cologne, sweat, and an underlying musk of lust that will cling to my skin for days.

I love giving oral. I love using my tongue, my teeth, feeling the slow measured slide into my mouth and throat. This is different though. It’s deep. It’s messy. It’ll hurt. It’s beautifully brutal. And he’ll tell me all those things as his fingers drift over my skin, raising goosebumps in their wake, over a pebbling nipple.

And then he’ll pinch, and my lips will part further, and it’ll begin. And he’ll force me to take him all the way in, to swallow him, to accept the pain and bruising in my throat and the digging in of his fingers into my flesh, and I’ll bear it with a masochistic streak of delight, sliding my tongue against the shaft as best I can, crying out when he graces my aching cunt with a sharp slap every now and then that’ll make me gurgle a little and my larnyx vibrate in a blend of protest and encouragement. And then the moment when he thrusts in deep and holds still and lets me feel him pulse once, then twice, before he slowly pulls out, letting me taste his cum on my tongue and not just feel it down my throat.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sorry it’s short guys and excuse the quality of writing, I’m so freaking tired, and I really wanted to write something ESPECIALLY when I saw this gif. The way her throat moves… phew, hot! I might reblog with a better little textual accompaniment another time.

1 note
Posted 11, November, 2012

Remember

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest 
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Dulce Et Decorum Est - Wilfred Owen

Owen was killed just seven days before Armistice was declared.

War is awful. It destroys lives, it destroys hearts, and it’s the playground for human greed and ambition. I am so grateful to the soldiers that have fought and given their lives for the subsequent generations of their country, but people forget that where there is a winner, there is always a loser, and there are always innocents on both sides. We should never forget what they have done for us, but we should start learning from history, and stop making the same mistakes that lead to the lives of men and women being thrown away.

1 note
Posted 3, November, 2012
I keep checking your blog and its suspiciously quiet... are you still alive???
Anonymous

I am, just dealing with life and all that jazz. I’m still kicking around though, stalking everyone on tumblr silently haha, I just don’t have much motivation to write stuff at the moment, and I’d hate to turn into one of those blogs that just does reblogging. I like sharing my feelings and junk with you guys, not just other peoples’ ;) 

3 notes
Posted 18, October, 2012

The Power of One (link)

Add it to your ‘must see’ list

Watched this today, sobbed my way through it. A really beautiful movie, with the harsh truths of life in Africa during Apartheid. I really recommend it, and whilst the movie diverges a lot from the novel (which I’ve not read yet), I can honestly say this doesn’t detract from the message or the poignancy of the story.

Far too often I think people can brush aside the things they only hear about in classrooms or glimpse in a picture in a history book. Films, stories and biographies have emotion, not just empty statistics. Share this, and other films, like The Help, or To Kill A Mocking Bird, with your friends. Watch them with your kids. Read the stories to them if they’re old enough to learn about injustice, tell them they can make a difference. Keep the memory of what things used to be like fresh in your mind so that they don’t ever revert back to that state again.

There’s an African proverb to go along with all this…

If you think you’re too small to make a difference, try sleeping in a closed room with a mosquito.