How They Make Sex Scenes
okay but an example of why we need better sex education in schools is the story of how I lost my virginity
i’ve included illustrations to further illustrate what im trying to illustrate to u today
oh my god i shouldn’t be laughing this hard
50 Shades of Grey (via kaley)
aRE YTOU FUCKIng KIDDINg mEE@@@@IUEHQIAFHJA
(via dieter-braun)
no that can’t be right
(via thelilnan)
“But it was too close.” - Gate of Darkness, Circle of Light, by Tanya Huff.
Sex, Socialism, and Science Fiction.: Contrary to popular belief, gender and sexuality labels are worth more than just standing there and looking wordy.
Or, better titled: If the phrase “WE’RE ALL HUMAN” is about to come out of your mouth as a reason why no one should be allowed to label their gender or sexuality, do me a solid and shut the fuck up.
Here’s the thing: Being able to label your gender and sexuality…
UNGHFF tumblr… I had a chronic Shane crush for ages… Please don’t make it come back.“I don’t need a dick to do that.”
Lmaooo
Shane is a dumbass cheaterface who can’t read, but I’ve always really appreciated this moment.
… Her long hair, still wet from the shower, had been combed down her back in a wet swath. Hilda was sitting on the floor, her round, wet boobs still wet from the shower’s water. She dried off the water with a towel, which then became wet.
Hilda gasped when she saw a reflection in her bedroom mirror: through the slightly open door, she caught a glimpse of the chiseled abs and square jaw of the mysterious stranger who shared her cabin. She stood and spun around, her breasts swinging heavily with the momentum. She grabbed the door and flung it open, revealing shirtless Torolf (which was seriously his name) quivering with desire in the hallway.
Torolf was ashamed at being caught, but his shame made him even hotter – hotter for sex. He stepped into the room, and his bulging abs accidentally smushed into Hilda’s rich chest.
As Hilda’s buttermilk bosoms squished up against his granite abs, Torolf almost had a dick aneurysm.
“Hilda,” Torolf murmured thickly, his throbbing meat wand pressing against Hilda’s warm thighs. “There is a secret I need to not tell you: You are my forbidden desire.”
Hilda had been waiting to hear these words. Her heart was lifted on golden wings and soared toward a radiant sun of perfect joy. She saw herself and Torolf happy together, bathed in the golden light of love. Her snooch got all warm, too.
“Torolf,” Hilda moaned, her lush teats straining with desire. “I need you.”
Torolf, coarse abs pulsing softly in the moonlight, stood silently.
Hilda looked at him expectantly.
“Oh, sorry,” she added. “Torolf, I need you – sexually.”
At hearing those beautiful words, Torolf flexed his rough-hewn abs and Hilda found herself being guided to her soft bed by the sheer force of Torolf’s undulating midsection. She parted her thighs in anticipation, exposing the soft pink petals of her clunge.
Torolf entered her like she was a lottery. His engorged pecker pushed inside her and she felt fulfilled with sexual fulfillment.
Hilda clutched at the bedsheets with lust and ecstasy and her hands. Her spongy love mountains hurled to and fro with each pounding. Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it.
Then Torolf moaned, arched his back, and suffered from dick Parkinson’s. He pumped in all of his hot pearlescent sperms as Hilda spasmed with so many orgasms!
The two lay still for a moment as the stinky scent of lovemaking billowed around the room.
Hilda got out of bed, still shimmering with orgasm. She glowed with contentment, like a cat who ate the cream of the crop.
She walked across the room and picked up her towel, still wet with shower water. “Torolf,” she said softly, “there’s something I have to tell you…”
But her bed was empty.
Torolf was gone, escaped out the bedroom window. In the distance, Hilda heard the fading sound of galloping abs.I just. I. I have to list everything wrong about this.
- The usage of “boobs” in descriptive text.
- Where on his body are his “bulging abs” that they manage to “smush” her “rich chest”?
- What the fuck are “buttermilk bosoms”?
- “dick aneurysm”
- “throbbing meat wand”
- What the fuck is a “snooch”? I mean, I assume they’re talking about her snatch and maybe they wrote it the way they pronounce it?
- WHY IS HIS MIDSECTION UNDULATING AND WHY IS IT POWERFUL ENOUGH TO LEAD HILDA TO THE BED? I’ve seen enough horror and sci-fi movies to know that if any part of the midsection is undulating, you should probably run because he’s about to give explosive, fatal birth to an alien baby.
- The fuck is a “clunge”? And why do they seem to think it’s worthy of a floral metaphor? If you’re gonna refer to the southern swamp as a flower, stick with the stock stuff. Lilies, lotuses, etc.
- “…entered her like she was a lottery.” This just reminds me of a Margaret Cho routine about the G-Spot.
- “spongy love mountains”
- “Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it.”
- “dick Parkinson’s” - Well, they get points for at least capitalizing Parkinson’s.
- Ejaculate is not pearlescent. It’s never pearlescent. Unless I am watching porn that stars humanoid alien biological males engineered to shoot milky come…
And now you know why I hate “romance” novels. I’ve read sex scenes in fic better than this.
Of course, now I feel like I need to go write some porn just to show I can do it better.
You missed Liza’s dramatic reading of this
This is the funniest goddamn thing I’ve ever read.
so here’s the thing
I like kink. Really, I do. Kink is fun, kink is neat, kink is just alright with me, etc, etc. However, I generally hate being in large groups of kinky people, mainly because about 90% of the self-described “kinksters” I’ve met are in at least one of the following three categories.
a) The Awkward Turtle. Close talkers, mumblers, mouth breathers, people who are either unable to make eye contact or unable to break it: there are a lot of kinky people who for whatever reason suffer from this. I feel for awkward folks, honestly, because I am one if I don’t watch myself. Social interaction is fucking scary and I have to work really really hard not to collapse in on myself and start shoegazing every time I go to a party. However, all the feels in the world will not make an awkward person any easier to talk to. Particularly if they insist on announcing THAT’S AWKWARD or SORRY I’M AWKWARD or THIS IS GETTING AWKWARD ISN’T IT. Yes, yes it is, and you just made it worse.
b) The Creepster. There’s always that one person, right? The one who shows up cruising in that very blatant, entitled, someone-better-do-me-or-I’m-gonna-be-SO-CROSS way? The one who takes a riding crop to the local McDonald’s to freak out the general public and zeroes in on the shyest, most visibly uncomfortable person at kink meets because they think they’ll get some easy ass? There are people like this everywhere, of course, because these people are cockheads and cockheads are a universal phenomenon as unfortunate as silverfish. Kink-adjacent creepsters just hike the recoil factor up a notch by carrying ostentatious weaponry and getting huffy when you don’t respond positively to their graphic laundry list of things they’d like to do to you.
c) The Kinkcyclopedia. A person who, upon meeting you briefly in a completely non-kink-related social situation, will start talking about nipple clamps and rape play and nothing else. Ever. Ever. This one would be understandable if we were meeting up for a munch or kink-related event, but seriously? Just because I see you in the mall and ask how you’re doing doesn’t mean I want to hear about the last time you got your balls stepped on. I’m sure you know a lot about kink, and I’m sure that’s very exciting for you, but can we talk about something else? It’s not even that these kind of topics make me uncomfortable- they don’t, as a general rule- it’s that having the same goddamn conversation every time I meet you gets. so. BORING.* Round out your interests, brah, and let’s talk about music or something.
I have met kinky people who fit none of these stereotypes, obviously, and they are grand people, would hang out again, etc. But seeing the same three basic types over and over in group settings is very tiresome.
* I understand that YMMV on this, but personally, I probably only care about the details of your sex life if you are a) me or b) the person I am currently having sex with. This isn’t to say that having sex or talking about sex is a bad thing by any means- have all the sex! talk about all the sex! seriously, good for you! Just don’t bother talking to me about it, because I will probably zone out due to a serious case of the Just Don’t Currs.**
** … now that I think about it, this may be the reason why Sex and the City failed so spectacularly to capture my interest. Aside from the fact that The Golden Girls did it better and had Bea Arthur.
brought to you from fetlife
One of the most irritating things about being part of the kink community is the fact that everyone seems to want to talk like a character from a fucking Terry Goodkind book.
Jareth tempting Sarah to give up.
I can guess what everyone’s choice here would be if Jareth was asking ‘Love me, fear me, do as I say and I will be your slave!’
My childhood fascination with Jareth was one of those early indications that I was maaaaaaaybe into the weird shit. (See also: my tendency to enact abduction/imprisonment scenarios with my Barbie dolls.)
