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my gf suprised me with sucking my cock soo good and b4 i knew wht happened she already had her vibrator buried n my ass n started sliding it n out my ass with it on the highest vibrating speed made it feel so good getting my ass fucked bby my gf and every since tht time she bought her a strap on (black mamba) and n instead of her only getting fucked now we take turns n i get fucked like her bitch n its sweet
I love anal sex! I was surprised the first time but I loved everything. I loved him rubbing my anus and sliding fingers inside me. We used a lot of lube and it took a few tries to get his penis all the way in but after he got it in and started thrusting it felt incredible. After he came and pulled out, I wanted it again.
Me and my husband like having sex like daily using techniques i learned from sean but anal sex sometimes we wait a few days or weeks in between sometines not however when its been awhile it does hurt for like 10 seconds when he does penetrate sometimes he does use his fingers when I give him a blow job other tines he just gently penetrates but we never use lube or condoms i hate the feeling of condoms but What can I do to make it less painful that first 10 seconds and to make me actually orgams like a OMG orgams because from anal I never received a mind blowing orgasms
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The very title of Julia Alvarez's How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents reveals the central role that language plays in a novel that chronicles the difficult paths that four young sisters from the Dominican Republic take while growing up in the United States. The novel, made up of three parts of five chapters each, traces the Garcia girls' story backwards in time, beginning with American adulthood in 1989 and ending with their Dominican childhood in 1956. As Joan M. Hoffman has observed, despite this unique chronological structure, language is one of the unifying symbols for the four sisters' transition from one culture to another. Hoffman writes:
This aspect of Hoffman's article is particularly important, especially since she correctly notes that the Garcia girls have to acquire the English language skills necessary to tell their story in several of the novel's first-person narratives. Nevertheless, Hoffman also concludes that language is a powerful symbol of the four sisters' successful bicultural assimilation into the American way of life:
In Ayanna Dozier\u2019s little book about The Velvet Rope, from the 33 1/3 series, she gives context that I knew nothing about at the time I first listened to \u201CI Get Lonely.\u201D Janet wanted to write a personal album, one about her battle with depression, among other things, but the media, mostly dominated by white men, didn\u2019t get it (or in some cases actively went after it). No one believed a star at the height of her game could also be depressed. Those who believed it found it laughable. People dismissed the album as a failure, and wanted to talk about her weight fluctuations instead. But the music lives to tell the tale. It\u2019s fucking good.
Thinking about this album and how worthy it is of celebrating made me think about the year it was released, 1997, and all that was going on in our ear waves. That year, I transition from eighth grade to high school. I became a full-fledged theater kid. I smoked weed for the first time, in my sister\u2019s bedroom, and wrote some really, really solid poetry. I touched my first penis.
I don\u2019t remember the first time I laid eyes on my husband, sadly, but I do remember the exact moment when I first Erykah Badu\u2019s voice, on the single track from Baduzim, \"Next Lifetime.\u201D I was in the 90s-aesthetic clothing store Allston Beat in Harvard Square, paying a conjugal visit to a pair of pink patent leather platform Converse All-Stars, which I\u2019d been longing for but didn\u2019t have the money to buy. I stumbled to the register and asked something akin to \u201Cwhat in the gorgeous, heart-breaking fuck is this???\u201D and the cool clerk pointed towards the CD case, displayed on the counter like they used to do in those days before iPods and smartphones. There I saw her, though she hides her face from the camera, hands grasping the back of her head-wrapped-head in either resignation or certainty or anguish or all of the above and I knew something different was coming. I must have bought the album soon after that, maybe even that very day, because by the time my eighth grade class took an all night bus ride to Washington DC that spring, I had almost worn it out. Newly rejected by my group of friends in that horrible, mundane way middle-school girls are wont to do, I listened to Baduizm on repeat on my Discman, through the night and the interstate highways, feeling a profound loneliness, but relieved to have Erykah feeling it with me.
That was not the first time that I had made my family wait for me sothat "work" could get done. There were the weekends I was out of town,the hours and hours spent in front of the computer, the unexpectedcrises that had to be solved immediately. I've lost track of the numberof times I told my family, "hold on, it will be just a minute," only tofinally emerge from behind the computer three hours later. The thingwas, it wasn't that I loved my job. It wasn't that most of the work Iwas doing was even paid work. It was that the work I was doing was"revolutionary." It was "liberatory" and "world changing," and"necessary."
A genuine smile crosses my face for the first time since my Grandma Lane died. The thought of seeing my mom and dad and the rest of my family makes my heart sing. From what I've gathered, family members that we\u2019ve lost touch with or haven\u2019t seen in a while will be at Grandma Lane's funeral. It will be like one big family reunion, except the reason for meeting is bittersweet.
I want to keep talking, but I hear the engines revving up. Oh, fuck, we're about to take off. You would think that as many times as I've flown, I would be used to it all. But I feel like a newborn calf trying to stand up for the first time. I tighten my grip on the armrest. There\u2019s a light brush of fingers over the top of my hand, then a calloused yet soft hand envelopes mine. If I think too hard about the feel of those hands on me and in me, I'm not going to make it through this flight. I swear, if we were on a private jet, I would be tossing my\u2014you know what\u2014in the air like a female cat in heat. Taking, throw that ass in a circle to new heights. 2b1af7f3a8