Kinda Need To Have Sex In A Hot Boxed Car. Like I Want To Be Hazily Touching Up On Someone And Every

Kinda need to have sex in a hot boxed car. Like I want to be hazily touching up on someone and every breath and pant is just getting us higher. To be surrounded by the heavy smell of weed, stuck in a cramped space, groping and pleasing each other through our clothes while everything feels so good.

Reblog this to place a small flower in the hair of prev, and that you're very proud of them

“its not forcefem if you want it”

how does it feel to be deviod of imagination abd whimsy huh? its forcefem as long as saying things like “no stop” “please no dont do this to me” and “i dont wanna be a girl”

thinking about being free use for a group of friends. any time they want, any of them can bend you over and take you, but even beyond that, they can tell you to flash them in public, lift your skirt up to make sure you’re not wearing panties and see how wet you’ve gotten by the day, change your plug out for a bigger one, a vibrating one, an inflatable one. any time you’re all hanging out, you sit on the ground, usually between someone’s legs, even if they’re not actively using you. they decide as a group if and what piercings, tattoos, brands you get, how you cut your hair, what your fashion is going to look like for the next few weeks. one of them is done with their gum, they whistle at you and you immediately know to open your mouth and stick out your tongue. they pinch your nipples through your shirt, sometimes just one of them, sometimes all of them, just to confirm if you wore a bra that day or not. they get near-constant sexual service, a toy to take their anger out on, an eager tongue to clean up any fluids, and you get…well, not nothing. if you didn’t have them, you wouldn’t have any friends. and they make sure you wouldn’t be able to make any more if you ever stopped coming around.