“HUMPBACK WHALES’ ROMANTIC MATING RITUAL CAUGHT ON CAMERA FOR FIRST TIME,” via PawNation, June 2012.
In the midst of shark week madness, we couldn’t resist the chance to spotlight the softer side of marine sex. Apparently humpback whales are the Don Juans of the animal kingdom.(via bedsider)
My naked body is not sinful or immoral. It is not dirty or bad or wrong. My naked body is not pornographic, obscene, or “slutty.”
My naked body is just a body.
Any negative ideas you have about a naked body are due to sexualizing bodies, and the idea that sex is a dirty thing.
Why are you offended by and afraid of your own anatomy?
Get over it.
My naked body is just a body.
‘Oh, I see,’ she exclaimed, bounding towards me, all nerves gone, now caught up in a physiological field trip. ‘It’s not at all how I thought it would be!’
‘What did you think it would be like?” I asked, feeling slightly objectified but also in the same moment acknowledging I had totally invited it.
‘Well,’ she said, her eyes still fixed on my pudendum. ‘I thought it would be more like a flip-top bin!’
‘What, like you’d stand on my foot and my foreskin would pull back?’ I guffawed.
‘Something like that!’ she shrieked, and soon the two of us were bent double with the silliness of it all.
At that moment, a vision was hatched. I chose to accept a mission to lift the lid as it were, to educate and enlighten what a penis is supposed to look like, without having to actually get mine out every time to do so! Alan Cumming, explaining the inspiration for his book “May the Foreskin Be With You: Why Circumcision Makes No Sense and What You Can Do About It” (via uncutting)
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.
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)