what the fuk u even suppose to do with ur hands while ur getting ur dick sucked
clap
[plays Lana Del Rey’s ‘Honeymoon’]
It is 1947 and I am driving through the hot South California evening in a pale blue convertible with a boy with an amazing jawline drawing on a cigarette next to me. Jazz standards play softly from the radio, mixing with the lazy breeze and the salty beachside air. My heels are in the backseat, we don’t know nor care where we’re going, and I am madly in love once again.
