Lana… Lana… Lana! LANAAAAAA! Sploosh.

"Slick and hot, her juice gushed from her vagina, the feel of it sliding over the sensitive inner flesh dragging a low moan from her.
Archer’s lips covered hers, his tongue licking over the seam of her lips. Pleasure washed over her, through her, as his lips sipped at hers, his tongue licked and stroked, penetrating her lips with a slow, sensual glide.”

Secret Sins — Lora Leigh

folderlol-chan:

I hate mainstream romance novels. And if you’re curious, it’s because it’s always “flawed person meets perfect person and perfect person solves all their problems.”

"Why do you hate that?" You ask. 

I hate it because that’s not what love is. AT ALL. Love what happens when two equally flawed people find strength and comfort in each other, and help each other become better people.

I’ve never even been in a romantic relationship, and I know that to be a fact. 

I dunno, dude — UW’s pretty perfect. ;)

The funny thing is, I’m only partially joking.

Reality is, love is different for everyone. That’s cliche, but it’s true. Sometimes it’s two people whose flaws are complementary. Sometimes it’s two people whose flaws fill in the other’s gaps. Sometimes it’s one inherently flawed person who meets someone without any obvious flaws.

Sometimes it’s not TWO people at all.

And sometimes a person is completely whole on their own and the love they get is completely different than that of a romantic partner.

Romance novels are supposed to be ideals. Generally, a person the reader can relate to, who meets a person who wants them anyway. Often that person seems “perfect” simply because (no matter what POV the book is written in), that’s how it’s meant to appear to the READER. But for the most part, there is no “perfect” hero/heroine in a romance novel. Mainly because perfect people aren’t compelling reading.

Basically, it’s oversimplifying both love and romance novels.

And sometimes, life really IS like a romance novel. Like when an inherently flawed and unhappy woman meets a man who seems perfect, who then whisks her away from a miserable lot in life, and then they get married, have a couple of kids, and then start a blogging empire. Because that’s actually kind of what happened. ;)

Is that… is that what’s most important? the toe suckling? Really?

Is that… is that what’s most important? the toe suckling? Really?

Never have I gotten a more inaccurate “fortune.”

Never have I gotten a more inaccurate “fortune.”

Five days later his body was found on the side of a road by some hikers. Family members described him as unrecognizable from the waist down.

"I sucked DJ better than I ever had, just because I wanted to show this bitch she was not better than me. She thought she was gonna snatch Andre from me and he stayed. Now she’d see that I throws the pussy like a free-throw line. I was such a beast I ripped into DJ’s dick like he was my last meal, and he busted within five minutes of me doing my thing. I sucked all his nut out of his dick and held it in my mouth."

Kandy Girls — Nichelle Walker (Heartbreaker)

arabellesicardi:

Here is a side by side comparison of how The New York Times has profiled Michael Brown — an 18 year old black boy gunned down by police — and how they profiled Ted Bundy, one of the most prolific serial killers of all time. 

Source for Brown, Source for Bundy.

We’re kind of nerdy people.

We’re kind of nerdy people.

Her routine was energetic and athletic, culminating in an aerial invert and slow dismount.

"She grabbed onto his shoulders and rode him like he was a pole, her sexy little body shooting up and down his cock, taking him deep with each thrust. Tremors rolled through him with each move she made. His blood flowed thick and heavy as watched her, loving the way she let go like this."

Burn for Me — Lauren Blakely

melthemagpie:

when you’re reading porn and you can’t tell what position their bodies are supposed to be in and you’ve lost track of all limbs and you’re just

image

Totally what UW and I look like half the time.

Source: melthemagpie

Edison would stop at nothing to discredit Alternating Current.

"He did somthing with his tongue then while she was inside his mouth that made her jerk on the bed like she was being electrocuted."

Perfect Match — Bella Chal

Typo is that of the author, not Uncle Walter.

unclewalter23:

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Here we have another Uncle Walter walk into the past with “Sewing for Men and Boys,” circa 1973 from Simplicity Pattern Co., New York. While I am sure this is an excellent guide, exploring the techniques of sewing and clothing fabrication, I feel that I must focus on the styles held within. They present us with the forefront of seventies clothing culture, which we will spend the next thirty years trying to forget. Collars that reach down to nipples, plaid in places plaid should never be, and the gratuitous bow tie. Here we have three models, Token Black, Wyatt Earp, and Token White. They will lead us through our journey (with a little help from their friends).

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No yearbook of fashion would be complete without a class photo. Earp is sporting the “Tailored Traditionalist” look, otherwise known as the “Cheesy Banker.” Next we have Ted Bundy in “Active Casual.” I am assuming that his rust-colored suit jacket is “active” in the sense that it adequately hides blood stains. The book informs us that this outfit contains sins of the seventies such as corduroy, brushed denim, and suede — which, when combined, create an outfit of pure evil, the likes of which the world had never seen before. Token Black chimes in with “Plaid Explosion.” Worn over a tan vest, this outfit is nicely rounded off with the ever fashionable bow tie, an accessory that compliments any outfit, especially when over sized and yellow. Token White decided that formal wear was too… well… formal. He has opted for a tablecloth fashioned “Sound of Music” style into a suit with a massive lapel. What other treasures do they have in store for us? Let’s turn the page and see…

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Our next display is fairly neutral. Sure the lapels are large, but a basic red tie is always a winner. The super-sized collar on the shirt was standard for the era. No, nothing bad h… Oh. My. God. Would you look at those pants?! They look like those awful little tiles that used to be in bathrooms. And they are in some alien color pattern that no human would every willingly choose. Were the male models really so brainless that they would wear anything?

As I recall, the movie Zoolander mentioned something about them… “They’re in peak physical condition. They can gain entry to the most secure places in the world. And most important of all, models don’t think for themselves. They do as they’re told.” Must wear horrible pants.

…MUST KILL THE PRIME MINISTER OF MALAYSIA!!

Wait, where was I? Oh, yes. It’s time for some garage work.

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This concerned gentleman is clearly a garage owner, as you can see from his overalls. What is that you say? These aren’t overalls? They are, instead, a synthetic suede suit? Well then. Maybe he thinks he is an airplane. With collars like this, with enough speed he could take off and that propeller neckerchief should keep him aloft. At least the striped shirt adds some flair to such a monochrome outfit. Turns it into an anaglyphic masterpiece.

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Token Black has fallen victim to the vomitous “Plaid Beast.” Very little has escaped its fearsome attack. The bow tie was all that protected him from being decapitated by the polyester shrapnel. After that near miss, he decided to play it safe, switching to a tamer red turtleneck with grey woolen pants. He kept the plaid jacket for camouflage. Should The Beast return to spread its multi-colored lines of doom, he’ll appear to have already been marked. Unfortunately he still retains a single scar; but no one should wear a white belt. Ever. Especially after Labor Day.

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Oh my, it looks as if the “Plaid Beast” has struck again. This time “Shaggy” has been caught in the criss-cross crossfire. Is no one safe??? Even saddle shoes cannot protect you!

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Moving on to the Nambla sponsored section of our book: Nothing says “Hey there, I’m a pedophile. Let me put my arm around your velveteen-tunic wearing plaid-adorned boy” like a pink leisure suit. Modeled here for us by “Bundy” who was good enough to step outside his comfort zone to pose with a boy.

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Just in time for summer, our star presenters return for the made-for-tv special “What happens on Fire Island Stays on Fire Island.” Those are probably penises on Token Black’s mini-kirtle. Phallic fashion has never been so hot!

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While the boys are away, the women will play. The men may be “experimenting” in the surf, but don’t think that the wives are left at home pining. Not when they have tennis instructors like this. Granted he kind of looks like he’d rather be on the Island, too, but one has to pay the bills somehow, mustn’t one? He’s explained away his leg-shaving tendencies, not by disclosing his Saturday night turn as “Priscilla, Queen of the Court,” but as a necessity for the game — wind resistance and all that. Women are pretty gullible sometimes.

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Finishing up in winter, Earp and his rainbow scarfed tennis lady friend reclaims the child from Bundy. Sure, she’s had some fun on the court and the kid’s spent some time… with Bundy, but they always come back to Earp. No one can resist a ‘stash of such power, majesty and magnitude, especially when mated with such an impressive butt-chin. In their quilted jackets, they are prepared to push forward. And perhaps, one day, escape to the eighties.

Now it’s time to say goodbye to all the fashion pains we have witnessed today. Remember them. For those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Please, God, let’s not repeat it!

-Uncle Walter

A non-PC review of a 1970s “fashion” catalog, courtesy of Uncle Walter.

Are you following UW?

You should be. 

Unlike all those other dickhounds who get distracted by the non-functional ones.

harlequin-resents:

badromancenovelquotes:

badromancenovelquotes:

harlequin-resents:

badromancenovelquotes:

harlequin-resents:

badromancenovelquotes:

"I’m sure he’d have no trouble tracking down the smell of a functioning cock."

Bree: Wolf Run — Skye Eagleday

Okay, this is a long post, so strap…

Uncle Walter has the BEST dreams. Even his boring ones are kind of hilarious. Like, he’s had dreams where he’s done nothing but laundry — washing, bringing it upstairs, folding it, putting it away, then starting over. Other times, he’ll have these epic dreams with intricate plotlines. Also, when he wakes up from a dream, he can sometimes get back into it if he goes back to sleep. And, if he is having a nightmare, he can control his dreams enough to make them pleasant.

I actually wake myself up by screaming a lot. I don’t remember what I was dreaming when that happens, though.

  Oh, wow. So he kinda lucid dreams? That’s pretty cool. I can barely even control my vision in dreams (I’ve had entire dreams where I’m squinting the whole time for no goddamn reason, and any attempts to open my eyes don’t last long) so I’m pretty envious of that…

Aha, I have a friend who has dreams that are awesome to watch while she sleeps. She gets super physical while dreaming… Over the years she’s
- Punched a desk so hard she dented the wood, and did not wake up

- Sang a flawless high C (yet has an alto range while awake) as part of a passage of an opera she had never heard.

- watched Pitch Black then fought aliens (my ass + the cat) all night like she was Vin Diesel

- Meowed randomly all night

and so on- and most of her dreams went along with these (I can’t remember most of them now).

I rarely wake up screaming- though I have a lot of dreams where I end up sitting on the end of the bed staring into space like that weird stuffed fox picture that’s all over tumblr.

I don’t know if it’s just sometimes or all the time, but yeah.

he doesn’t hit or kick, but he does reach out and grab hold of random parts of me and then not let go. The Girl takes both of her hands and SHOVES them (HARD) underneath you. The Boy (and the dog, heh) presses himself so close against me that I get so hot and his skin sticks to me with sweat. I have to shove him over, but then he somehow manages to get right up against me again.

We’ve got a Sleep Number bed and I like my side soft, and UW likes his side hard, so when the kids come into the bed they always seem to migrate onto my side. So imagine if you will, The Boy, pressed solidly up against me. The Girl on his other side, with both of her hands jammed under him, stretched out to under me, and UW’s arm draped over both of them, holding onto my arm. I GET SO HOT.

Hoverclit? It's almost 2015, where's my hoverboard?

bookaholic1988:

bookaholic1988:

badromancenovelquotes:

bookaholic1988:

badromancenovelquotes:


"Her pussy—now tantalizingly bare and smooth, large pink clit peeking from between the folds—hovered just above Liz’s scant lavender panties."

French Quarter: Hot in the City —…

The best form of chastity belt- the hovering blades over clits…

Why would anyone think of such a thing?! What is WRONG with these authors???

Hoverclit? It’s almost 2015, where’s my hoverboard?

bookaholic1988:

badromancenovelquotes:

bookaholic1988:

badromancenovelquotes:


"Her pussy—now tantalizingly bare and smooth, large pink clit peeking from between the folds—hovered just above Liz’s scant lavender panties."

French Quarter: Hot in the City — Lacey Alexander

Like a helicopter…it has wings ;)

But… but… a helicopter doesn’t HAVE wings!

The whole thing confused me so much I called the spinning blades wings (lol)
Spinning blades hovering…

I don’t want a propeller on my clit! That would be terrible. Go to masturbate, lose a finger. And let’s not even get into all of those severed tongues!

Hoverclit? It’s almost 2015, where’s my hoverboard?

bookaholic1988:

badromancenovelquotes:


"Her pussy—now tantalizingly bare and smooth, large pink clit peeking from between the folds—hovered just above Liz’s scant lavender panties."

French Quarter: Hot in the City — Lacey Alexander

Like a helicopter…it has wings ;)

But… but… a helicopter doesn’t HAVE wings!