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Turns out nobody really measures average penis weight (science has failed me) so I went the route of “treat the object as a standard shape.” In this case, a right cylinder.
Sources: Wikipedia for average length and circumference, https://bionumbers.hms.harvard.edu/files/Density%20and%20mass%20of%20each%20organ-tissue.pdf for the density of muscle tissue (it was the same for all kinds of muscle)
ANYWAYS yeah matter/anti-matter reactions create energy based on the Mass-Energy relation (E=M C^2). If you did this you’re blowin’ your shit smooth off (plus anything in you’re immediate vicinity)
Side note: the final number might be double? I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to count the corresponding mass of anti-matter as well but I didn’t. Either way you’re setting off the equivalent of a small nuclear bomb.
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“my father is a boy and my mother is a girl so i’m mixed” is the funniest possible response to someone asking your gender and it came from 6’5 Viking footballer and notable weird little guy Erling Haaland on a Snapchat
The dingy cabin light of your daughter's best friend's shitty little sedan winks on and off past the flame of your lighter while you stare down the driveway, and once the paper catches, you suck in a deep, disposable breath of the second cigarette you've had since stepping outside to watch for her. Another breath while you wait, and the cabin light winks on again, Ruby's shaved head ducks down, and then it shoots back up and she smacks the light switch again.
Powderhead.
At least Salia didn't catch onto that, of all the things to pick up on. She stumbles a little bit as she rounds the hood of your truck, and her eyes flick up to you to check if you saw. You did.
She straightens her skirt as she slowly walks toward you, the plaid fabric white and pink and clutched unevenly with a phone and wallet in one hand, and a distinct lack of keys in the other. She was expecting you to let her in, it seems.
She tugs at her white shirt next, trying to smooth out a wet spot over her lack of bra that you can already smell as spilled vodka from ten feet away. You take a leisurely drag off the smoke again, and leave your face placid as she makes her final approach.
"Mom."
Cousin, technically, just ten years apart. But you were the one left when all the paperwork burned itself out, and then she was on your doorstep. And then you were mom.
Probably because of that.
"Mooooom." She croons at you, her free hand on the wrist of the other in front of her as she leans forward, an inch past a more socially discrete threshold for personal space.
"I told you to wear a bra when you leave the house."
Salia squeezes her tits together with her arms and pretends to shrink back with a false affectation of shyness. "But it's so hot, and Ruby's car doesn't have AC…"
"Bullshit."
"No, it really doesn't!" In your daughter's inebriation, she really thinks that finding a crumb of truth is a triumph in this conversation. You take another drag off your cigarette and just stare at her, your eye contact unflinching through the smoke you don't bother pointing away from her face. She takes a visible breath of the smell, then she takes yet another step closer to you. "You're mad at me."
She's close enough that you can smell the vodka on her breath, so vivid you might think she'd done a shot in the car before she got out. Knowing her, she might have. You flick your head slightly. "Why would I be mad?"
"No, you're mad." She leans as close as she can without touching you, face five inches below yours, red eyes focusing on your own as imperfectly as they can manage.
You flick the ash off your cigarette into her cleavage. "I can't have you drinking."
She stretches up on her tiptoes. "C'mon mom, it was just one shot, it's nothing!" There might be one shot drying on her shirt, but there was certainly more than that in her mouth earlier. Who knows what else.
"And I told you not to lie to me."
Salia's empty hand finds your hip, and the other braces on the wall behind you to let her lean as close to your chest as possible while she stares up at you with a clumsy attempt at puppy-dog eyes. "I was just exaggerating mom, I wasn't lyinggggg."
You adjust to spread your legs enough for her to press forward with your thigh between hers. You keep your voice flat as you reply "You know what'll happen if anyone finds out you're getting wasted."
"They can't take me away again, there's nobody else." She leans her face around to your neck and takes a deep sniff while she grinds forward against you. "Just me and my mommmm."
You reach up with your free hand and slide your fingers into her hair and rotate her face to look at you. "God you're such a drunk little slut."
"Uh-huhhhhhhh" she moans as she grinds on you again, and this time she doesn't stop, continuing to press hard against you as she rocks her hips and stares transfixed into your eyes. You take another drag and blow it in her face. "What did I ever do to get stuck with a slut daughter like this?"
Her voice is shaky from the pressure between her legs. "You-… were the only one-… that stayed."
And maybe you shouldn't have. This is so fucked. But fuck your life, so fuck it.
You drop your hand to her hip and pull her harder against your thigh. You haven't been exactly tepid in the clammy air so far, but her intoxicated moan pushes you into earnest heat. Her eyes roll up in her head and her motions become more emphatic while you half-assedly facilitate her grinding and finish your cigarette.
It finally burns out, and when you flick it onto the concrete past Salia her grip on your hip tightens and she leans her face on your chest while she rocks her hips and moans "Please, please, please, please-" under her breath. You glance around, and with no witnesses, you slide your hand up along her body and find her nipple, then pinch it - not too hard, not too light.
Just like she likes.
She squeaks at the pressure, then her motions cease to allow her to stretch on her tiptoes as close as she can get to your face. You know what she wants is a sloppy kiss, but you also know "You want your mom to fuck your face, don't you, daughter."
"Uh-huh!" She nods at you frantically, so you push her away. She knows it's not a rejection, so she grins and flips up her shirt to flash you.
You shake your head and roll your eyes as you point a thumb toward the front door. "Don't do that outside, dumbass. I let you get away with too much."
"cuckolding" no man it's called an oral fixation. you don't need to have vaginal sex to be an active participant in the threesome. miss me with that heteronormativity please
I've never once felt so good that I've involuntarily made noise and I've convinced myself that everyone is just lying about how good sex feels because otherwise id have to admit that there is something fundamentally broken in me
When I was still struggling with the full-scale dissociation I had submerged myself in to manage my (unknown at the time) ME/CFS symptoms I experienced something like this. It sucks.
I didn't miss out on just 'good sex' - anything based in physical touch was blocked for me, including that canon moment where I realised how soft I suddenly was. I have a vague memory of something like that happening, but it's horribly brief.
But when it did come to sex it all became so much more complicated. It was no longer the pain I was constantly filtering out, but also the role I was supposed to be playing, and the pleasure I was supposed to be feeling *for her.* The moment I realised I was having *bad* sex I freaked out really badly.
I felt broken, I blamed myself for ruining it, I felt guilty for trying to enjoy it, I had so many other thing going on in my head that would make this post so much longer, and I was in a whole shitload of pain.
I had a lot of numb sex before I fixed my stuff, but it was temporary. I hope yours is too.
holding back an amused "I love you" after someone makes a really good personal comment or joke is like making the move for your sheathed blade and stopping midway through
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need someone to do some permanent shit to me during sex. i need to be fundamentally altered in a way that is both meaningful and tangible. or whatever.
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Late night drinking with your sister, and you shift from the catching up and inside jokes to serious talk as you both get tipsy. You get a bit closer and ask if she's seeing anyone lately, she says no, nobody ever loves her how she wants. You feel your heart break, and you hold her close, you say "they dont deserve someone as lovely as you, none of them", and feel her sob a bit about how lonely she is. You kiss her on her forehead and pat her head sympathetically, saying you know. She's so warm, you hold her maybe a moment too long, but when you finally separate, you pause and look into eachothers eyes. Her breathing is heavy, her eyes are sparkling, and before you can think she kisses you on the lips. You're stunned, wondering if that really just happened, when she says "Sorry, I've...had too much to drink," and your heart droops, but you hear yourself say "It's okay, I...I want it too," against all your better judgment. Both of you freeze. She wants to say "but we can't...", but she doesn't. Suddenly she's on you, making out with you, and both of you know the line has been crossed, the taboo has been broken. It can't be fixed again, and neither of you think it should be.
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