So here's the deal. Until I resolve the issues with my repressed sexuality I'm left with one healthy option for sexual fulfilment...MASTURBATION. Don't feign shock or disgust. Tumblr is the greatest masturbation aid since astroglide (not that the two don't work even better together).

With that in mind, I'm rededicating my tumblr to the fine art of self love. I hope you all enjoy and that my posts inspire you to reach that climax we're all chasing.

25th August 2013

Post reblogged from Sassy Bitch


I like masturbating in front of my window. Sometimes, I really wish someone walking by would stop to watch me.

I thought I was the only one who gets turned in by that thought!

17th August 2013

Photoset reblogged from first


feel the moist

This is one insanely hot couple! You should have a look for yourself.

8th April 2013

Photo reblogged from Something Well

Some things are simply too beautiful to pass by.


steam 20 bench by bae sehwa via dailytonic

Some things are simply too beautiful to pass by.


steam 20 bench by bae sehwa via dailytonic

31st March 2013

Photo reblogged from some of my favorite things

A continual process this.

A continual process this.

Source: groundedonthedaily

2nd January 2013

Photo reblogged from Hoping!!

18th December 2012

Photo reblogged from BlondeChristmas



Source: rageagainsthemachine

23rd November 2012


Mandatory Read (This is just the poems beginning. Find it…read it.)

The Waste Land


T.S. Eliot

"Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi
in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Σιβυλλα
τι θελεις
; respondebat illa: αποθανειν θελω.”

For Ezra Pound
il miglior fabbro.

I. The Burial of the Dead

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar kine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

   What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

8th November 2012

Quote reblogged from Shake it baby.

You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.
— C.S. Lewis (via loneland)

Source: gefahrengebiete