Regarding orgasms at work.
I don’t. I don’t equate number of orgasms with the level of enjoyment of sex, nor good sex with the ability to produce an orgasm. At the age of 19, if I remember the person and the conversation correctly, I realised that sex was about the quality of your enjoyment and that doesn’t always mean coming.
Let’s be honest, this is a customer service position, not a self-fulfillment odyssey. They’re paying for their orgasm, not mine (although I wouldn’t turn down such an offer).
The inability of punters to produce such a response in me is no way a comment on their shortcomings. As far as their part of the bargain goes, they’re doing a great job, and I enjoy sex for more than the merely physical tingle. Being desired is fun. Dressing up is fun. No pressure to experience physical release for fear of damaging someone’s ego, or give someone an orgasm for fear of never hearing from them again, is hella wicked.
Sometimes a race is a good day out - regardless of where you finished.
“
| — | Belle |
Tommy in the blue bra (via Dobcrosser)
LOLing so bad. This will be the first breed I rescue. For real.
TEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEEE! Look at their eeeeaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrssssssssssssssssssssss!! <3
Zoli
Jesus. Now if only I could strut around in a transparent green dress like that. I’d be so rocking.
When did live LIFE (wtf my spelling nowadays) become so fucking dull?!
I need to wear heavier make up.
hit repeat
I hate having arguments with the boyfriend. It hardly ever gets solved and we’re always forced to apply a temporary band-aid on the problem in order to function again and for me to stop the tears from flowing. It has been two days since the incident and my heavy heart is still floating in my stomach and yet I am forced to pretend that I am doing just fine because that’s the mature and right thing to do.
Sigh.
