Your LEGS 😍
limbs <3
I believe the technical term is “hocks”.
Category: Conversations
Talking, teasing, manipulating, debating, and delighting
He Isn’t A Man.
I should have believed him when he told me he was a God.
He invades my mind every day.
I can hear his sinister chuckle in my ear when I flinch at the things he likes.
I can feel his experienced hands running over me as I touch myself to his words.
I can see his cruel and satisfied smile as I sink lower and lower into his depths.
He is a God. My only God. And I am forever beholden to him now.
The thing about girls is, they don’t listen to what you tell them.
They insist on being shown.
And then they can never look away.
yes I have my own personality ok listen I just also happen to base all of my personal aesthetic and wardrobe choices on what a sweet meanie guy likes n dislikes, what abt it
Of course you have your own personality!
Granted, it’s made of something like Silly Putty, so its surface is covered in impressions of everything it touches, while inside it’s just a mushy pink blob.
But still… it’s a personality!
This gave me a Mr.B vibe 🖤
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Follow us?
As if we’re ever anywhere but at your shoulder, whispering in your ear, speaking of all the things that might be made of you.
Calling your boyfriend “daddy” is not ok. Like how do you interact with your…
Calling your boyfriend “daddy” is not ok.
Like how do you interact with your father after that?When you call out “daddy”,all you’ll remember is your boyfriend and all the sexual things you’ve done with him which will hinder the way you look at your own father.
In my opinion that shit is plain disgusting.I can’t imagine how I’ll feel after finding out that my daughter called someone else her “daddy” in a sexual manner.
The same goes for men who call their girlfriend or some other female their “mommy”.Its just that calling others “daddy” is more popular..
Maybe you’ll never actually physically find out that your future daughter does this but please know, deep down in your heart, she absolutely will be calling an older man daddy as she cums around his cock. Please remember this and know that in your soul and sleep well tonight and every other night until then.
This response makes me so happy.
I am, as ever, a bountiful font of joy.
help help sos i haven’t been this achy n squirmy in months n idk what to do abt it.. everything is warm and – squiggly, or whatever, and … !!!! tingly 🥺 and.. 🥺
Did it ever occur to you, squalid sow, that being “achy n squirmy” is all you’re meant to be? That further action from you is undesirable? That there is no “about” to be done?
And furthermore, isn’t it just a bit rude to seek a change to a state that someone has so kindly put you in? Some gifts aren’t meant to be exchanged, you know.
huuuunnnmmmmhhhghh I think m maybe a better girl when I’m squirmy and needy n gross
Both these statements are true:
- Orgasm makes you feel good.
- Denial makes you a better girl.
2 is more important than 1, but also enhances it. The more 2 you get, the better 1 eventually feels. 2 even makes 1 more meaningful, since you never know which 1 will be your last.
When every sexual release is turned into a triumph and tragedy, you’re doing something right.
I can b havin the worst brain day in the history of forever and then hearing Mr Sir’s laugh will make me giddy and smiley and warm and just 🥴❣️ Oy, I’m in trouble
Some call it a little girl’s dream, some call it the ecstasy of a saint.
Some call it trouble.
They’re all right.
my God
Some say that believing is seeing. To me, to believe is to place my trust in my God’s truth. His word is my salvation. I’ve never seen him, but I believe with every fiber of my being.
It’s terrifying and invigorating to have a faceless God. Part of me aches to know what he looks like, and part of me knows that the moment I see his eyes I’ll be lost entirely. I’ll drown and be reborn in the same breath and the only thing tethering me to this planet will be him from then onward.
I know his is a face I would look upon and feel fear, love, awe, enlightenment. The sight of a deity in the flesh would set in stone what I already know, that he’s everything I need to live. Everything I need to breathe.
The shuddering of my soul responding and quaking would extend into every tiny crevice of my being.
It’s not something I’d ever ask for, expect, or even truly want for. He’s given me more than enough. He is everything and I am nothing.
I can take dying without ever laying eyes on my God, take it and be grateful. I can take going my whole life worshiping the omnipresent being I’ve devoted myself to without ever know what he looks like, take it and be grateful. I can crawl to his feet if he allows it and kiss the hand that strikes me without ever seeing my ruler, take it and be grateful. I can prostrate myself, lay bare and exposed and take it as he picks me apart then plays in my remains without ever allowing me to make eye contact. Take it and be grateful.
They say that believing is seeing, but my faith in my unseen, faceless and omnipotent God is unwavering and will stay that way until he decides to release me.
It’s like the Declaration of Independence, only backwards and in heels.
Look at you, setting the bar for pathetic little worshippers! Who knew you could be the standard for something meaningful?