deny my existence

post collection vent and kink blog. i’m not white or xtian.

[renixie]

got my tits out at a party last night and everyone was crowding around to touch them and exclaiming "oh my god they're so soft and nice" and ppl were putting their faces in them and oh my god chat actual highlight of my life

[asimpledom]

@enfanceoblige we need to just do that to you with people who are ok with it

Just leave your tits out, having you be groped and teased till you're just squirming more and more~

[mil5635-deactivated20250404]

just fxkin say it silly little girl. I promise once you give in and let me have you, things will never be the same again.

[t-boy-whore]

Just got used by an anonymous stranger in my basement hehe.

When he asked if he could come over I if course immediately said yes even though idk him because I'm a huge slut for cock. Then he told me he didn't even want to meet me, didn't want to come into my apartment, just wanted to properly use me like the dirty whore I am.

He told me to kneel down on my dirty basement floor, face down, ass up and leave the door unlocked. He told me to wear a blindfold. I was bent over on the floor completely sightless and getting so so wet in anticipation for a stranger's cock inside me.

After a few minutes, I heard the noise of the basement door opening. For a second I was scared it would be my neighbour, but then I heard the rustling of pants being let down and not soon after I could already feel the tip of a stranger's cock on my opening.

He didn't use a condom of course, why would a dirty freeuse bitch like me want a man to use a condom. He just thrust in completely bare, groaning when he bottomed out. It didn't last long but it was rough. He held my shoulders down so I had to arch my back and meet his brutal thrusts, his bare cock fucking so deep into me. My pussy had never felt so good.

When he came, I could feel it filling me up, he pushed it deep inside me with a few more thrusts before pulling out. The cum was just gushing down my thighs. The man said nothing, just gave a last hard slap to my ass, pulled up his pants and left. I felt humiliated to be used like such a fucktoy, and it made me so so wet.

Anyways, if any other men need a freeuse fuckdoll, just come to my basement, I'll be there waiting with my ass up and a wet pussy for you to thrust your bare cock into

[the-sensitive-sadist]

I'll never stop obsessing over forceful, intense groping in risky public settings. A walk through the woods or alleyways, a trip on an elevator, a ride on a train, sitting together at a restaurant. Taking any opportunity I can to abuse and embarrass you for my own amusement. Reaching under a table and touching you, putting my hand a little too low on your back as I guide you around, stealthily slapping your ass and grabbing your hips, making you sit on my lap so you can feel how hard you make me, greedily shoving my fingers under your clothes for a few seconds or grabbing you by the neck and spitting in your mouth whenever I think no one's looking. Or even more intense, whenever we have more than a few seconds out of view, the sudden juxtaposition of sweetly holding your hand as we walk together, then suddenly shoving you against a wall and forcing my fingers inside of you the second we're out of view, putting my hand over your mouth and roughly teasing your hole until the second we're visible again.

[peachedrinks]

I need somebody to get me blackout drunk tbh. Take me out on a date and use my polite people-pleasing-ness against me. Order me drink after drink knowing I’ll try so hard to finish them, since you’re paying after all. It’s the polite thing to do, even if you keep ordering so many and I’m already soooo dizzy and floppy. Take me back to their place and pour me a glass of something strong and feed it to me. Make me walk in a line and pronounce something difficult to see just how incredibly drunk I’ve become. And then of course fuck me so hard I can feel it afterwards even if I don’t remember.

[corruptedbyhim]

Our Entertainment. The dining room buzzes with chatter and the clink of wine glasses as you step inside. Your eyes snag on it immediately... your seat. It’s parked at the head of the table, a sleek, sturdy thing with a matte black finish, and jutting up from the chair is a thick, glossy dildo, shameless and impossible to ignore. My friends are already here, interspersed around the table, half drunk and grinning, their curiosity pinging between me and that obscene piece of furniture.

"What’s with the setup?" one of them asks, jerking his chin toward the chair. His smirk says he’s already got a guess.

I don’t dodge it. "It’s for her," I say, locking eyes with you. "Keeps her cunt busy while we drink. She’s the night’s entertainment."

Their laughter ripples through the room, and you feel the heat crawl up your neck. You’re still standing there, frozen for a second, but I nod towards it. "Go on. Sit."

You hesitate, but the pull’s too strong — my voice, their stares, the promise of what's waiting for you. You ease yourself down, and the dildo slides in slow, stretching you open with a dull, insistent pressure. A ragged little sound slips out of you, and someone across the table snickers. I work quickly, looping rope around your wrists and ankles, tethering you to the chair’s frame. Your arms flex, testing the give, but there’s none. Your legs are splayed, locked wide, and that dildo’s buried deep now, pinning you in place.

"Can’t have you pawing at yourself," I say, loud enough for everyone to hear. “That'd ruin the fun.”

I step back, letting them see you. All of you. Your thighs twitch, muscles jumping under your skin as you adjust to the fullness. I dip my fingers between your legs, brushing the edge of where the dildo’s sunk into you, and pull them back glistening. "Look at that," I say, holding up the evidence. "Soaked already!"

They lean in, eyes glinting, and the questions start flying at you. "Does it feel good?" one asks, teasing. "You like being stuck like that?" Another chimes in, as if he's just discussing the weather.

You try to answer, but your words come out fragmented, sliced up by the shudders rolling through you. "It’s... mmphhh... it’s a lot," you manage, and then your breath gets caught as the first orgasm slams into you, yet another uninvited guest. Your head tips back, lips parting, and a moan spills out, raw and loud. The table erupts with laughter, a few claps, someone muttering, "Wow, that fast?"

I don’t let you settle. I circle behind you, resting my hands on your shoulders, and nod at the man closest. "Go ahead. Touch her." He doesn’t need telling twice. His fingers graze your chest, finding a nipple and tugging hard. You yelp, a high, desperate sound, and your body jerks against the ropes. Another hand joins in — someone’s pressing two fingers into your mouth, sliding them along your tongue. You choke a little, drool pooling at the corners, and they laugh at you, delighted.

"She’s a mess," they say, impressed. "You trained her well."

"She’s a good fuck doll," I agree, casual as anything. "Watch this." I remove their fingers, grip your jaw, tilting your head back, and shove my cock into your mouth. You whimper; eyes glassy. "See? She’ll take whatever you give her."

You’re fighting the restraints now, hips shifting, chasing friction that isn’t there. The initial entrance pushed you to orgasm, but now that you’ve settled in, it’s not enough. The dildo is filling you up but not moving, not giving you what you need. It’s maddening, and I can tell. I see your breath turn shallow, the way your fingers curl into fists. I love it. They love it. The whole room is feeding off your desperation.

Another hand snakes out, latching onto one of your nipples, pinching it tight and rolling it slow between their fingertips. Your moan comes out choked, garbled around my thick cock shoved deep in your mouth. "She’s loud," one says, grinning at me. "Is that the only way you can shut her up?"

"Pretty much," I say back, voice flat and smug. "Only keeps quiet when I’ve got her throat stuffed" That earns a burst of rowdy yells, glasses clinking in approval. "Don’t be shy now, I’m the only one that can fuck her, but you all can touch!"

And just like that, they swarm you. Hands everywhere, a frenzy of grabbing, stroking, yanking at your skin. Fingers are digging into your thighs, palms smacking your chest, someone raking nails down your side. It’s a flood of sensation, too much to track, hitting you like a shockwave that leaves you squirming, ropes creaking as you strain against them.

You’re trembling now, sweat beading on your forehead, and I can see the strain in your arms as you pull against the ropes. Another orgasm is building. Your thighs clenching, the little gasps you can’t hold back. Even more of the tells that I've learned to track.  "Go on," I mutter. "Show them how greedy you are." It hits you hard, your whole body locking up as you cum again, a strangled cry breaking free. The table’s a chaos of noise. More cheers, filthy comments, a fist on the table. You’re panting, chest heaving, and I slide a hand down between your legs, stopping just short of where you want it. "Good girl," I say, voice carrying over the racket. "Keeping us entertained."

[xinm71]

Certe cene iniziano a tavola e finiscono a letto... e sono le più prelibate!

[pvmisty]

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[sub-julia]

[porshablue]

xxx♥ :)

[corwinprescott]

“Brick by Brick” Philadelphia, Pa 2015 Corwin Prescott - Tanya Dakin - Full set on Patreon

[phoenixxflames]

[cinnabunashspeaks]

[mydaddysdead-deactivated2020011]

[lovleybunni]

[loneberry]

“Virtual particles are not in the void but of the void. They are on the razor edge of non/ being. The void is a lively tension, a desiring orientation toward being/becoming. The vacuum is flush with yearning, bursting with innumerable imaginings of what could be. The quiet cacophony of different frequencies, pitches, tempos, melodies, noises, pentatonic scales, cries, blasts, sirens, sighs, syncopations, quarter tones, allegros, ragas, bebops, hip-hops, whimpers, whines, screams, are threaded through the silence, ready to erupt, but simultaneously crosscut by a disruption, dissipating, dispersing the would-be sound into non/being, an indeterminate symphony of voices. The blank page teeming with the desires of would-be traces of every symbol, equation, word, book, library, punctuation mark, vowel, diagram, scribble, inscription, graphic, letter, inkblot, as they yearn toward expression. A jubilation of emptiness.”

—Karen Barad, “What Is the Measure of Nothingness? Infinity; VIrtuality; Justice”

[lepertamar]

“If the measurement intra-action plays a constitutive role in what is measured, then it matters how something is explored. In fact, this is born out empirically in experiments with matter (and energy): when electrons (or light) are measured using one kind of apparatus, they are waves; if they are measured in a complementary way, they are particles. Notice that what we're talking about here is not simply some object reacting differently to different probings but being differently. What is at issue is the very nature of nature. A quantum ontology deconstructs the classical one: there are no pre-existing individual objects with determinate boundaries and properties that precede some interaction, nor are there any concepts with determinate meanings that could be used to describe their behavior; rather, determinate boundaries and properties of objects-within-phenomena, and determinate contingent meanings, are enacted through specific intra-actions, where phenomena are the ontological inseparability of intra-acting agencies.

Questions of the nature of measurement—or, more broadly, intra-actions—are at the core of quantum physics. Intra-actions are practices of making a difference, of cutting together-apart, entangling-differentiating (one move) in the making of phenomena. Phenomena—entanglements of matter/ing across spacetimes—are not in the world, but of the world.

[…]

Representation has confessed its shortcomings throughout history: unable to convey even the palest shadow of the Infinite, it has resigned itself to incompetence in dealing with the transcendent, cursing our finitude. But if we listen carefully, we can hear the whispered murmurings of infinity immanent in even the smallest details. Infinity is the ongoing material reconfiguring of nothingness; and finity is not its flattened and foreshortened projection on a cave wall, but an infinite richness.

The idea of finitude as lack is lacking. The presumed lack of ability of the finite to hold the infinite in its finite manifestation seems empirically unfounded.”

—Karen Barad, “What Is The Measure of Nothingness?”

[vaporwavie]

Does this count as Vaporwave?

Source