Dream-cheating: what does it mean for your relationship? Join me as I explore the realms of subconscious, mid-slumber, sexy-time. Our journey begins with a threesome of Titanic proportions. (Photo via tumblr, edited by me)
Question: is it weird to joke with your pregnant friends about the ferocity of your pre-abortion morning sickness? This and other questions answered within. (Photo via Pinterest)
*Chandler voice* Could there be a more perfect image for me?! A vagina, made of DAISIES. Genius. I digress… Join me as I march purposefully into the unchartered territory of female masturbation, and help me put it back on the MAP. OH YEAH. (ph. source unknown)
Considering the amount of time I dedicate to pondering the state of the downstairs baguette (not a euphemism), I might title this thought-train ‘Sex and Baguettes’. Maybe that’ll be the title of my first memoir. Savvy marketing tool, too, because who *doesn’t* like at least one of those things? (ph. via the uhmayzing Sarah Bahbah and her photo-series Sex & Takeout)
We were on holiday near a place called Heraklion. I made a joke about premature herakulation and started referring to the holiday as our ‘holidaisy’. My ego was soaring. My fake tan was fresh. Conditions were great. We decided to make a sex tape… (ph. via Tumblr)
How does that inspirational, popular-on-the-gram quote go? ‘If a guy can’t handle your asshole at its worst, then he doesn’t deserve it at its best.’ Yep, I think that’s it.
Sebastian was on to something when he sang: “Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter”. But the little crustacean crooner didn’t warn us about fanny farts, did he?! (ph via joesdaily)
To personify it, I’d say my vagina is less like the abrupt, rude bouncer, and more like the approachable bouncer who really *wants* to appease you and let you in but just can’t. (p.s. pretty proud of my Barbie edit, if I do say so myself)
*Waiting for bae to make me orgasm like…* (That is the first and last time I will ever use the word ‘bae’. Promise.)
I’ve searched high and low for a waxer that won’t break my bank balance, or my vagina. This shit is harder to come by than it sounds, and I’ve got the bruises to prove it.
Wrong hole or oh-so-right hole? I think it’s about high time that we have a frank and honest discussion about the elephant in the room and the tongue in the flume. That’s right: Rimming. (ph via Stephanie Gonot)
