jumpingjacktrash:

roachpatrol:

joemamainc:

mweerden:

do-i-smell-watermelon:

risingoflights:

thewintersoulja:

frappemako:

the-one-inside:

someottersmarryhedgehogs:

noiselesspatientspider:

iheartuniversecookies:

angelas-extrasandstuff:

I would like to share this beautiful passage with all of you, it’s long, but worth it. And I swear to god I didn’t alter any of this. 

….

Her long hair, still wet from the shower, had been combed down her back in a wet swath. Hilda was sitting on the floor, her round, wet boobs still wet from the shower’s water. She dried off the water with a towel, which then became wet.

Hilda gasped when she saw a reflection in her bedroom mirror: through the slightly open door, she caught a glimpse of the chiseled abs and square jaw of the mysterious stranger who shared her cabin. She stood and spun around, her breasts swinging heavily with the momentum. She grabbed the door and flung it open, revealing shirtless Torolf (which is seriously his name) quivering with desire in the hallway.

Torolf was ashamed at being caught, but his shame made him even hotter – hotter for sex. He stepped into the room, and his bulging abs accidentally smushed into Hilda’s rich chest.

As Hilda’s buttermilk bosoms squished up against his granite abs, Torolf almost had a dick aneurysm.
“Hilda,” Torolf murmured thickly, his throbbing meat wand pressing against Hilda’s warm thighs. “There is a secret I need to not tell you: You are my forbidden desire.”

Hilda had been waiting to hear these words. Her heart was lifted on golden wings and soared toward a radiant sun of perfect joy. She saw herself and Torolf happy together, bathed in the golden light of love. Her snooch got all warm, too.

“Torolf,” Hilda moaned, her lush teats straining with desire. “I need you.”
Torolf, coarse abs pulsing softly in the moonlight, stood silently.
Hilda looked at him expectantly.
“Oh, sorry,” she added. “Torolf, I need you – sexually.”

At hearing those beautiful words, Torolf flexed his rough-hewn abs and Hilda found herself being guided to her soft bed by the sheer force of Torolf’s undulating midsection. She parted her thighs in anticipation, exposing the soft pink petals of her clunge.

Torolf entered her like she was a lottery. His engorged pecker pushed inside her and she felt fulfilled with sexual fulfillment.

Hilda clutched at the bedsheets with lust and ecstasy and her hands. Her spongy love mountains hurled to and fro with each pounding. Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it.

Then Torolf moaned, arched his back, and suffered from dick Parkinson’s. He pumped in all of his hot pearlescent sperms as Hilda spasmed with so many orgasms!

The two lay still for a moment as the stinky scent of lovemaking billowed around the room.
Hilda got out of bed, still shimmering with orgasm. She glowed with contentment, like a cat who ate the cream of the crop.

She walked across the room and picked up her towel, still wet with shower water. “Torolf,” she said softly, “there’s something I have to tell you…”

But her bed was empty.

Torolf was gone, escaped out the bedroom window. In the distance, Hilda heard the fading sound of galloping abs.

….

DICK

ANEURYSM

GALLOPING ABS

Who told this lady she could write?

Why did she ever stop?

IT GETS WORSE THE FURTHER IN THE PASSAGE YOU GO OMG

i fukcing lost it at meat wand

How could I NOT share this

IS THIS REAL LIFE

If you need some self-confidence in your writing abilities, read this!

Each and every fanfic I have ever read, including even those written by me, are so, so much better than this hahaha

“HER SNOOCH”
“HER CLUNGE”

sandra hill absolutely knew what she was doing, and what she was doing was getting paid by the word while her editor was out sick.

argue about ‘my immortal’ all you want, but never doubt sandra hill wrote this crack migraine on absolute purpose

she may well have been drunk on night train, flipping double birds at the sky in between typing fits, or she may not, but i guarantee there was cackling