She is my love. My life. My one and only <3
Anonymous asked: How does one go about letting her boyfriend know she wants to try anal?


Answer:

caseyanthonyofficial:

"I want to try anal"

It’s not exactly a difficult thing for guys to hear from their girlfriends. 

Notes
47
Posted
19 minutes ago

gingerb3ard:

hannilicious:

gingerb3ard:

rivalstruck:

soulsneasel:

why are bras called bras

battle ready armor

image

you must be fun at parties

i would be if i got invited

(via sn0rin)

Notes
118564
Posted
19 minutes ago

TheDailyPositive.com (via thedailypozitive)

Why compare yourself with others? No one in the entire world can do a better job of being you than you.
Notes
174
Posted
22 minutes ago

How do you stop a woman from getting harassed/raped?
Self control. Learn it.

Posted
2 hours ago

I wonder if a receptionist at a sperm bank has ever used the phrase “Thanks for coming”

Posted
2 hours ago

deathpup:

shrexything:

babyferaligator:

oomshi:

is masturbating while smoking weed called masturblazing 

no its called highjacking

guys no it’s weedwhacking

no its called dissapointing ur mother

(via caseyanthonyofficial)

Notes
432766
Posted
2 hours ago
Cute Quotes to Live by →

(Source: crazy-teenagers-in-love)

Notes
4
Posted
2 hours ago

garlicbreadgasms:

pinkisthenewscarlet:

i-spooky-like-fedex:

skellagirl:

parallelsea:

October

OCTOber

it’s the 8th month

I cracked the code

October is the 10th month though

It was originally the 8th month but then Julius fucking Caesar decided to add in July and August after himself and his nephew Augustus

we should totally just stab caesar

Too soon

It’s been almost 2000 years…

(Source: parallelseaarchive)

Notes
474372
Posted
2 hours ago

My girlfriend said if this gets 50 notes we’ll try anal.
Please don’t like/reblog, her strap on is huge and it really scares me

Posted
2 hours ago

arrafrost:

indecentdrawer:

if someone is mean to you, don’t be mean back. talk to them, get to know them, be good friends, find out all the kinds of books/movies/tv series they love

then spoil it

image

(via spidermanloverchick)

Notes
25607
Posted
7 hours ago
metalgasm:

perspextrive:

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time. She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.


I just cried at this

reblogging for that caption.

Dang

metalgasm:

perspextrive:

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.

This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.

But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.

That’s what love is. Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.

But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.

But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.

And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

I just cried at this

reblogging for that caption.

Dang

(via spidermanloverchick)

Notes
252482
Posted
7 hours ago
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