I was like the artist that painted every curve. My brushstroke ran against hills and made puddles around her. I could tell she was a water type as soon as I opened my mouth on her. She was like a blank canvas and I made sure as to use gentle strokes as the first artist to lie upon her velvet skin. And there was pop. Moments later I painted red dots. I was like the conductor to her song. Her sweet magnificent song burst out like the sun behind a cloud. And then she popped.

We were at an incredible high. She was my euphoric pleasure. I delved into her ocean and just like that she was my world. I broke my promise to her and she rained. And my heart ran over with regret for a year. And in that time my world was broken. Our love was stolen.

Because I bit the apple. The succulent flavor rolled off his lips like nectar. I loved his warm breath. And I loved his tongue tracing circles on my neck. We shouldn’t do this, I say. But I’m helpless to his decadent aroma. I licked my lips because I couldn’t help myself. He knew what I wanted to do to him. Give me more, I say. I’m a greedy little boy. I’ll take all of Johnny’s apple seeds. He’ll let me know when he’s ready. I’ll fuck him repeatedly till he’s sweaty. Do me and now we’re both breathing heavy. I’m smitten by him. He tastes too good to be true. My candied apple mister sweet to me like caramel. Adam’s apple will speak the truth when I tell him

I couldn’t resist him and his snake like charm. And his snake was charming. His tongue was silver and the soil his intentions grew from were vile. I never knew things would be so different. I noticed we weren’t going anywhere quickly. We wanted different things. We grew apart and like ice we grew colder. Months later he came chasing after the footprints I left in the snow.

1,710 plays
Posted on September 2 with 277 notes at 3:08 pm

Created by Mira Dyachenko
Posted on September 2 with 225 notes at 2:06 pm

42,599 plays
Posted on September 2 with 226 notes at 1:59 pm
White privilege




Forty-six million white adults today can trace the origins of their family wealth to the Homestead Act of 1862. This bill gave away valuable acres of land for free to white families, but expressly precluded participation by Blacks.

"how do I have privilege?"

I’m using this in my essay about how the American dream is a racist myth

I don’t want to earn my living; I want to live.
-Oscar Wilde (via purestik)

(Source: coronaroyal)

Posted on September 2 with 90 notes at 1:13 pm



Masturbate With Me

Beto’s Corner 

Awesome Bros!! Latino Men!!
Posted on September 2 with 643 notes at 1:09 pm
Posted on September 2 with 14 notes at 1:08 pm





Cut or Uncut?

Uncut yesss


> cut

Natural. Cut dicks all look dried out, scarred and worn out.