Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Dianne at Mandy - Ang Sikreto ni Mandy 06, "Malapitan"

Nakakahilo ang araw na ‘to. Meron pa akong bahagyang hangover, na bumalik nang mawala na ang sarap ng aking afterglow sa pangangantot. Mag-a-alas dos na, at bukas pa ang aking klase. Naisipan ko munang mag-kape sa mall at magpalamig.

Naglakad-lakad ako, hanggang makahanap ng isang matinong coffee shop. Umupo ako at umorder ng simpleng iced coffee.

Andaming bagay na tumatakbo sa isip ko; ang scholarship, ang aking thesis paper, ang nangyari sa pagitan namin ni Pammy, at ngayon naman, ang pagkakahuli sa amin ng kapatid ni Mandy. Bakit nga ba s’ya nagtago ‘dun? At ano ‘yun, nagfi-fingger s’ya habang nagkakantutan kami ng ate n’ya? Nalibugan s’yang makitang nakakantot ang sarili n’yang kapatid?

Weird, pero, sa hindi maipaliwanag na dahilan, ay nakiliti ako sa ideyang ito. Kungsabagay e ‘nung kinse anyos rin ako e alam ko kung ga’no rin ako kakati. Tumatak sa isip ko ang itsura ni Chrissy, gulat na gulat at nasa sakong ang panty. Natawa ako ng kaunti, ngunit medyo nalibugan rin. Mauubos ko na ang aking kape nang may tumapik sa aking balikat.

Isang babae, medyo maitim at cute na cute, ang nasa likuran ko. Pamilyar sa akin ang babaeng ‘to, pero hindi ko maisip kung saan ko s’ya nakilala. Medyo maliit s’ya, siguro’y hindi lalampas ng 5”1, 5”2, at medyo payat rin. Naalala kong sa Baguio ako madalas makakita ng ganitong klaseng mukha, mukhang morenang singkit.

“Hi po, sir.” Nahihiya n’yang bati.

“Uh, hi din.” Sagot ko, “uhm, sorry sobrang pamilyar ka pero hindi ko maisip kung pa’no tayo nagkakilala…”

Tumuro ang babae sa kanyang likuran. “Victoria’s Secret” na shop. Naalala ko biglang s’ya ‘yung saleslady na nagbenta ng lingerie kay Mandy ‘nang una kaming nagsiping.

“Uy, uh…Sally ba?” tumayo ako at inabot ang aking kamay. Humagikgik s’ya at tinanggap naman ang akin. “Sarah po, sir.” Sagot n’ya.

“Sarah, Sarah, sorry.” Paumanhin ko. “Ako si Max. Kumusta naman? Gusto mong mag-kape muna?”

“Ay, sir naku nakakahiya naman.” Nagtaas s’ya ng isang maliit na palad.

“Sure ka?”

“Ay opo sir. Actually, gusto ko lang po sanang itanong kung…’yun pong binili ‘nung girlfriend n’yo? Si miss Yu?”

“Hindi ko girlfr…uh…naalala mo pa ‘yun? Pati ‘yung apilyedo n’ya?”

“Yes sir kasi po ‘yung nanay ko nagtatrabaho sa Hopia factory nila.” Sagot ng saleslady.

“Ah ok. ‘Wag mo na akong i-sir naka-off ka naman yata sa trabaho. May hopia factory pala sila?”

“Ay hindi n’yo po alam? ‘HopYu Love me too Hopia and Cakes’ po ‘yung pangalan.”

“Hop…Yu…?”

Humagikgik ulit si Sarah. “Hihi. Lagi ko nga pong niloloko nanay ko tungkol ‘dun.”

“Wow.” Natawa rin ako. “So…ano nga uli ‘yung tanong mo?”

“Ay, ano po…gusto ko lang pong malaman kung…nag-work po ba? ‘Yung binili n’ya?”

“Nag-work?”

“Uhm…hihihi…nakakahiya naman uhm…sorry po naabala ko pa kayo masyadong personal ‘yung tanong ko…” nag-akma na s’yang aalis.

“Ahhhhh nag-work. Sa totoo lang hindi na n’ya kailangang mag-suot ng ganu’n para mag…uh…work sa akin.” Amin ko.

Tumango si Sarah. “Ah ok po. Kungsabagay may pagka-diyosa nga naman ‘yung girlfriend n’yo. Gusto ko lang kasi po sana malaman kung makakatulong s’ya sa ‘kin…” kinagat n’ya ang kanyang labi.

“Hm. Boyfriend issues ba?”

“Opo…ay naku masyado nang personal nakakahiya naman sa inyo…hihihi. Naabala ko pa kayo sa kape n’yo.”

“Ilang taon ka na ba?”

“Uhm…nineteen po.”

“Kaka-twenty ko lang kahapon kung kausapin mo ‘ko parang ang tanda ko na. Kung ‘di ka busy upo ka muna. Sa totoo lang naghahanap ako ng matinong kausap.”

Nagpaunlak si Sarah at umupo sa harapan ko. Hindi ko alam kung bakit ngunit parang magaan ang dugo ko sa kanya, at parang ganu’n din s’ya sa akin. Bagong salta lang pala s’yang Maynila mula sa Baguio, kaya’t wala pa s’ya halos kakilala at kaibigan. Bibisita next week ang kanyang boyfriend, kaya pala s’ya na-interesa sa pagsusuot ng mga lingerie, upang muling mabawi ang pagmamahal nito.

“Ano ka ba ang ganda-ganda mong babae tapos insecure ka sa sarili mo?” Biro ko.

“Ngek. Tingnan mo nga ‘yung girlfriend mo, si Ma’m Yu, wala man lang ako sa kalingkingan n’ya. Amputi-puti parang artista.” Sagot ni Sarah.

“Ano ka ba? Wala sa puti ‘yan. Kung maganda ka maganda ka, maski gaano pa ka-itim o kaputi ang kutis mo.”

Napangiti s’ya dito.  “Ehh. Magaling ka palang mambola, kaya pala napasagot mo si ma’m Yu.” Tinapik n’ya ang aking tuhod.

Masarap kausap si Sarah, parang matagal na kaming magkaibigan. Kinuwentuhan n’ya ako tungkol sa kanyang boyfriend, at knuwentuhan ko s’ya tungkol sa akin.

“…kaya ganu’n talagang mahal na mahal ko ‘yun si Dianne.” Tapos ko.

Kumunot ang kanyang noo. “Akala ko ba sir Mandy ‘yung pangalan ni miss Yu?” tanong n’ya.

“Oo nga.”

“E ‘di sino si Dianne?”

“Ay…uh…Mandy. Mandy pala.”

“Kayo sir, ha, madami yata kayong girlfriend, e, nagkakahalo-halo na tuloy.” Hagikgik n’ya. “Teka po, gumagabi na po kailangan ko nang umuwi.”

Tiningnan ko ang aking relo. Mag-aala sais na. Mga apat na oras na kaming nag-uusap, ni hindi ko man lang napansin. “Oh wow maga-gabi na nga.”

“Haha ok lang nga sana kaya lang mahirap na pong kumuha ng bus ‘pag alas-siyete na.”

“Hatid na kita.”

Sinubukan n’yang tumanggi, ngunit nakumbinsi ko ring sumama na. Hindi ganu’n kalayo sa apartment ko ang bahay nila.

“Sir salamat talaga ha? Nakakahiya naman sa inyo.” Muli n’yang paumanhin.

“Ayos lang ‘no? ‘Tsaka tama na nga ‘yang sir-sir na ‘yan hindi naman ako customer e.”

Humagikgik s’ya at sinimulan ko nang magmaneho. “E ano nang tawag ko sa’yo?”

“E ‘di Max lang. Gusto mo ng sounds?”

“Ok. Max. Haha. Teka actually kakabili ko lang nito.” Naglabas s’ya ng CD ng ‘UpDharmaDown’ at pinunit ang plastic na balot nito.

“Nice.” Apruba ko, at pinasok ang CD sa radio.

…Di mo lang alam
Ako’y iyong nasaktan
Baka sakali lang maisip mo naman
Puro s’ya na lang
Sana’y ako naman
‘Di mo lang alam
Ika’y minamasdan
Sana’y iyong mamalayang hindi mo lang pala alam…

Dahil sa trapik ay inabot kami ng mga trenta minutos papunta sa kanila. Nakatira sa isang maliit na bahay si Sarah. Hindi naman barong-barong, ngunit gawa sa hollowblocks na walang pintura. Nagpasalamat s’ya at bumaba. Papalayo na s’ya nang bigla s’yang tumalikod, at kinatok ang aking bintana.

“Anong number mo?” tanong n’ya. Binigay ko ito sa kanya. “Ayos.” Sinabit n’ya ang kanyang buhok sa kanyang kaliwang tenga at ngumiti muli. Lalo pang nadagdagan ang kanyang ka-kyutan. Tinawagan n’ya ako para makuha ko rin ang kanya. “Salamat sa  hatid, ha? Text mo lang ako kung tinatamad ka, tambay tayo.”

“Oo ba.” Masaya kong sagot. Muli n’yang tinapik ang bintana habang tinataas ko ito. Pumasok s’ya sa mababang gate na gawa sa kahoy, at nawala sa aking paningin.

‘Sakto lang na tumawag si Dianne.

“Babe?” sagot ko.

“Maximiano Moreno! Kaya pala ayaw mo kaming papasukin sa apartment mo ha! Nakakahiya ka!” sinigaw n’ya. Lumundag ang aking puso. Tang ina inabutan n’ya si Pammy sa bahay! Para akong pinagsukuban ng langit. “Nan’dito ako sa apartment mo at hrrrrrrr nakakadiri! Ano ba ‘tong ginawa mo?” patuloy n’ya.

“Shit. Babe, I can explain…”

“Anong explain-explain? Katanda-tanda mo nang tao hindi ka pa marunog maglinis ng apartment? Ang kalat!”

“Walang ibig sabihin sa’kin…huh?”

“May mga bote ng beer sa sahig, ang gulo ng kama mo! ‘Yung banyo may tubig kung saan-saan! Babe naman you have to take better care of yourself!”

“N-nakita mo ‘yung kalat? ‘Yung kalat lang?”

“Anong kalat lang? Kaya ka dina-daga, eh. Nasa’n ka ba?”

Nakahinga ako ng maluwag. Hindi ko maipaliwanag kung gaano kaluwag ang aking paghinga. Napatawa ako.

“Galing lang mall, baby. Uuwi na ‘ko d’yan.”

“Fine.” Narinig ko muli ang kanyang simangot sa telepono. “Pero bilisan mo ha? Sisimulan ko nang maglinis dito. Pag-uwi mo dapat ready kang paligayahin ako or else.”

Gusto ko ang tunog ng kanyang boses. “Opo ma’m.”

“Good. Bye.”

“Bye baby-girl.”

“Che, kalat-boy. Basta bilisan mo.” Binaba n’ya ang telepono.

Dumaan muna akong restaurant para dalhan ng pagkain si Dianne sa bahay. Ngunit mabagal ang serbisyo, kaya mag-aalas nuwebe na nang makauwi ako.

Malinis na ang buong bahay pagdating ko. Wala nang mga bote ng beer sa sahig at maduduming plato at baso sa lababo. Maayos na rin ang aking mga CDat libro, at mukhang bagong vacuum ang sahig. Nilapag ko ang pagkain sa mesa.

“Babe?” tawag ko.

Ngunit pag-akyat ko’y madilim na ang kwarto, bagamat nakita ko ang katawan ni Dianne sa mahinang ilaw mula sa bintana. Umupo ako sa kama, pinagmamasdan ang diyosa ko.

Nagising s’ya ng mapansing nakaupo ako sa tabi n’ya. Nag-inat at humikab.

“Hi baby.” Mahina n’yang bati, pinatong ang isang kamay sa aking hita.

“Hey. Sorry nagising kita.”

“Hindi, hinde, ok lang.” kinamot n’ya ang kanyang mga mata. “Anong oras na?”

“Nine. Gusto mong kumain? May food ako sa baba.”

“Mmmm hindi na. Bukas na lang.”

Hinalikan ko s’ya sa noo, at may maliit na ngiting sumulpot sa kanyang mga labi.

“Salamat sa paglinis, babe.”

Tinapik n’ya ang hita ko. “Ok lang. Pero dapat inaalagaan mo sarili mo ok?”

“Yes ma’m.”

“Mmmmm good boy” Ngiti n’ya, at tinaas ang kumot, “O ‘lika na tulog na tayo.”

“Hehehe…tulog lang?” lambing ko, hinahalikan ang kanyang leeg. Gumawa s’ya ng isang kontentong tunog.

“Babe…pagod ako…” halinghing n’ya.

“Ows?” Pinagapang ko ang aking kamay sa kanyang malambot na tiyan.

“Ehhh” pangiti n’yang reklamo, bagamat naramdaman kong tumaas ang kanyang balahibo sa pangungulit ko. Patuloy kong hinalik-halikan ang kanyang leeg, at napahagikgik s’ya sa kiliti. Unti-unti kong inakyat ang aking kanang kamay patungo sa kanyang malalambot na mga suso, at maingat na minasa ang malulusog n’yang dibdib. Wala talagang bra matulog si Dianne.

“Wow, lambot-lambot ni baby girl.” Tukso ko.

“Hihihihi ang init ng kamay mo…” tinaas ko ang kanyang t-shirt upang bumuyangyang ang kanyang mga hinaharap. Maski sa dilim ay nakita ko kung gaano kaganda ang korte ng mga ito, at matingkad sa dilim ang kanyang tayung-tayong mga utong. Sinupsop ko ang kanang dyoga ng morena.

“Aaay…hihihi…” gumapang ang kanyang kamay sa hita ng aking pantalon, at maliksing binuksan ang butones nito. Binaba n’ya ang zipper at pinasok ang kamay sa loob ng aking brief, hinimas-himas ang aking malambot pang manoy.

“Baby gusto mong chupa?” bulong n’ya, nang mapansing hindi pa gaanong tumitigas ang aking titi. Ngunit narinig ko rin ang kapaguran sa kanyang boses.

“Hindi na babe. Relax ka lang ako taya.” Ngising-kabayo ko. Binigyan ko ng isang mapaglarong kagat ang kanyang kaliwang utong (napa-ay ng maliit ang morena) bago ako pumosisyon sa pagitan ng kanyang mga makikinis na mga binti. Naka-shorts ng dilaw na spongebob squarepants si Dianne, ‘yung tipong mumurahing ginagamit lamang pambahay at pantulog. Na-kyutan naman ako, pero alam kong walang lugar ang shorts na ‘to para takpan ang kiki ni Di. Dahil maluwag ang mga butas nito’y madali kong nasilipan ang aking girlfriend. Para akong hayok na manyak na inamoy muna ang simoy sa loob. Amoy katas-babae. Napakabango.

Hindi na nag-panty ang aking girlfriend, at maski madilim ay nakita ko pa rin ang kanyang hiwa, nagsisimula nanamang manginang sa kabasaan. Hinipan ko ito at nanigas si Di.

“Hihihi…hoy anong ginagawa mo d’yaann?”

“Bango ng kiki mo babe.”

“Eeeehhh ano ba ‘yun?”

Hinila ko pababa ang shorts ng magandang morena. Tinulungan pa n’ya ako sa pagtaas ng kanyang puwit at pagtupi ng mga legs upang madalian akong hubuan s’ya. Sininghot ko ang kanyang shorts at pinalo n’ya ako sa binti.

“Yuccckk ano ba Maxie!” hagikgik n’ya. Tinapon ko ang shorts at pumosisyon na ng maayos. Ang ganda-ganda talaga ng puke ni Di, maski ilang beses ko nang natitira’y saradong-sarado pa rin. Pinadaanan ko ng mga kuko ang makinis at malambot n’yang mga legs, lalo na sa bahaging malapit sa kanyang singit. “Unnnnnhhhh…” napaliyad s’ya, at sumubok pa akong ipitin ng kanyang mga binti. Pinabalik-balik ko ang aking mga daliri, minsa’y diretso, minsa’y gumagawa ng maliliit na mga bilog sa sensetibong bahagi ng kanyang mga binti.

“Ohhhh baby…” halinghing n’ya, at s’ya mismo’y hinihimas-himas ang kanyang mga dyoga at tiyan. Matapos ng ilang minuto, nang maramdaman kong tumataas na ang temperature sa pagitan ng kanyang mga binti, ay naisip ko nang ibaling ang aking atensyon sa kanyang parausan.

Tumulak ako paharap. Pinatong ko ang kanyang mga binti sa aking balikat, at umekis ang kanyang mga paa sa likuran ko. Amoy na amoy ko na ang katas ni Dianne, humahalo sa malumanay na amoy ng sabong ginamit n’yang pampaligo. Muli kong hinipan-hipan ang kanyang kiki, nararamdaman ang paninigas sa kanyang mga pang humukay sa aking likuran.

“Baby kiss mo nahh…” mahina n’yang pakiusap, nakapikit at minamasa ang sariling suso.

“Kiss ko na pepe mo? Kiss ko na pepe ni Dianne?” udyok ko.

“Mmm-mm…dali na babe, ang kati na…”

Pinagbigyan ko ang kanyang hiling, at pi-neck ng mabilis ang malalambot n’yang labi sa ilalim. Nagmulat s’ya at tinaas ang ulo para tingnan ako. “Ngeeek babe ano ba ‘yun?”

“Sino munang puta?” tukso ko.

“Ako…ako na babe…puta na ako kainin mo na…”

“Ay, walang please?”

“Kainin mo na puke ko tangina!” biglang tumaas ang kanyang boses, at gamit ang kanyang malalambot na mga legs ay hinila ako upang sumubsob na mismo sa kanyang singit.

Hindi na ako nakatawa sa kanyang kahayukan, dahil napuno ng kiki ang aking bibig. Malambot, mainit, at mamasa-masang kepyas. Ubod ng sarap.

Nakipaglaplapan ako sa kanyang kepyas, tinatrato ito ng parang bibig n’ya mismo. Iniingatan ko munang ‘wag magalaw ang kanyang kuntil, dahil alam kong makakaraos kaagad ang morena, at gusto ko pa s’yang pahirapan ng kaunti, hehehe.

Dumukot ako paibaba para malamas rin ang kanyang malambot na puwit. Pinatigas ko ang aking dila at pinaghiwalay ang kanyang mga labi, upang lasapin ang maalat-alat at manamis-namis na lagusan ng morena.

“Babe…ni…ni-fuck mo pahh…oh yesss sarap…” halinghing ng morena, pikit na pikit at napakalalim na ng paghinga. Ako nama’y hindi magkaintindihan kung aling bahagi ng kanyang malambot na katawan ang momolestiyahin, ang puwit, tiyan, legs, o kung tutulungan ko ba s’yang masahin ang kanyang mga dyoga. Matagal-tagal ko ring dinutdot ng aking dila ang kanyang talaba, at hindi ko na kailangang lawayan ang kanyang pekpek, sapagkat nagsisimula nang magkalat ng katas ang kanyang pagkababae.

Tumulo na ang puting likido sa pagitan ng kanyang hiwa, na masaya ko namang nilasap. Dulot na rin ng aking matinding libog ay napakasarap na sa aking panlasa ng kanyang tamod-kike, ang mainit at manamis-namis/maalat-alat n’yang nectar.

Mga limang minuto kong nilalaplap ang kanyang kike ng s’ya na mismo ang gumawa ng paraan. Hinawakaan n’ya ako sa buhok at dinuldol ang aking mukha sa kanyang naglalawang kiki.

“Uhm…ayan…kainin mo…fuck…kainin mo puk-puke koh…gago ka manyakk…uhhmmm…shit ka baby….tang inahh fuckk subsob mo pahhh…ay shit ang sarahahahahapp…”

Naghahanap na ng karausan ang aking dyosa, at nagpaunlak naman ako.

Tinigil ko na ang pakikipaglaplapan sa kanyang mga labing-kiki, at sa halip ay buong-lakas kong sinipsip ang kanyang napag-iwanang kuntil.

Halatang hindi n’ya ‘to inasahan dahil biglang nanigas ang kanyang katawan.

“Ay puhhhtahhh! Hrrrr wow! Puhhtahhh oooh!” tili n’ya, habang walang awa kong sinupsop ang kanyang katiting na butones. Ginalaw-galaw ko rin ng aking dila ang dulo nito, na para bang gusto kong sumuso ng gatas mula dito. “tarantado ka Maxie ayan nahhh…ayan nahhhhhh!”

Nanigas ang buo n’yang katawan, at inipit ang aking mukha sa pagitan ng makikinis na mga binti. Kumisot-kisot ng kaunti ang kanyang pekpek, at may maliit na bugso ng katas na lumabas mula sa kanyang sinapupunan. Masaya ko itong ininom.

Muntik na akong mawalan ng malay nang bumitaw ang pagkakaipit n’ya sa aking leeg. Hingal na hingal na si Dianne, at umalis ako sa pagitan ng kanyang mga pinagpapawisang binti upang dumulas sa kanyang likuran. Nag-“spoon” muna kami, at pilyo ko pang inabot ang kanyang kiki ngunit piniglan n’ya ako. “Sensitive, babe…’wag muna please.” Pakiusap n’ya. Pinatong ko na lang ang kamay ko sa kanyang tiyan.

Inayos ko ang kanyang nakakalat na buhok, upang muling halik-halikan ang kanyang pinagpawisang leeg. May isang matiwasay na ngiti sa mukha ng morena.

“Sarap, baby boy.” Bulong n’ya.

“Ikaw ang masarap.” Ganti ko.

Humarap s’ya sa akin at siniil ako ng halik. “Mmmm sarap ko nga.” Hagikgik n’ya nang malasahan ang sariling katas sa aking bibig. “Ay pa’no ka babe, hindi ka nag-cum?” tanong n’ya ng matusok ng aking nanigas nang titi.

“Ok lang ako.”

“Sure ka ayaw mo ng chupa? Kaya ko pa naman.” Ani Dianne, ngunit humikab ng napakalaki. Halatang matindi na ang kanyang antok, lalo na ngayong kakaraos lang n’ya.

“Sure ako. Pagjajakulan na lang kita ok lang?”

“Oo naman.” Umikot s’ya papaharap. “O, ayan para kita mo ‘yung boobs ko ‘tsaka puke ko.”

‘Yun lang ang kailangan ko. Pinagjakulan ko ang kanyang katawan, habang matiwasay n’ya akong pinanood, nakangiti.”

“Tang ina ka Di laking dodo mo…” singhal ko.

“Hihihi…sige pa baby, kaya mo ‘yan…ang galing mong mag-jakol, Maxie…wow…gogo…e ‘yung puke ko, tingin mo sa puke ko babe? ‘yung puke kong kinakantot mo parati? Hihihihi…nasarapan ‘yan kanina babe…’yung puke kong masikip…ang sarap nilabasan s’ya…tapos boobs ko, o, ang lambot, lambot lambot ng boobs ko, babe…” inudyukan ako ng morenang pinagtitikulan ko.

Dahil sa pagpaparaos na lang rin ang gusto ko’y hindi ko na pinatagal pa. Nang mapanansin ni Dianne na malapit na ako ay inalay n’ya ang kanyang palad para sabuyan ko ng tamod.

“’yan…jakulin mo pa titi mo baby…tapos dito mo ilagay, ha? Sa palad ko ha? Dito mo ilagay tamod mo ok? Gogogo!”

Bilang masunuring boyfriend, sinirit ko ang aking kumukulong tamod sa kanyang naghihintay na palad.

“Unnnhhhh…”

Napuno ang kanyang palad ng malagkit na tamod. Nang matapos ang aking orgasmo ay pinisil pa n’ya ang aking manoy upang masigurong lumabas na lahat.

“Dami…baby…” obserba n’ya sa kanyang kinalatang kamay.

“Ipahid mo sa puke mo babe.” Mariin kong utos. Sumunuod naman ang dalaga. “Hihihi. Ok ka na babe? Solb na?” Masaya n’yang tanong, at muling nilapat ang malambot n’yang likod sa akin. Siniksik ko naman ang aking nanlalambot na manoy sa pagitan ng kanyang malalambot na mga piging-puwit.

“Solb naman parati, babe.” Sagot ko. “Ay, oo nga pala, ok lang ba sila Mandy?”

Matagal na hindi sumagot ang morenang diyosa, at akala ko’y nakatulog na s’ya. Ngunit sa huli’y bumulong rin s’ya.

“Ok lang. Bukas na natin pag-usapan. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

[Via http://maxiemoreno.wordpress.com]

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Is that Pro Wrestling or the Healthcare Reform debate?

Today’s Weather. Sunny and Windy. Current temp 48 degrees.
We still have snow in the shaded areas of the yard.
60 Miles east of here, 9 inches of snow.
Supposed to be back up to 75 by Tuesday.
Wife is up North retrieving the Kid.
Cats and I enjoying last few hours of quiet before the kid returns.
College Basketball Tourney on TV but I cannot pull myself away from watching our Lawmakers go at it on CNN. It’s like watching a roomful of Kindergartners, hopped up on too much sugar, all screaming and crying and yanking each others hair out. I’m putting on my hard hat, just in case, because the House GOP Leadership has even me convinced that the actual sky WILL fall if Health Reform passes.
The cats are sitting around the table playing cards.
Have you read some of the alledged text messages that Tiger Woods sent one his “ladies”? That dude is into some freaky you know what……
I called our Insurance Carrier the other day to get authorization for a family member to get some counseling. The person on the phone wanted to know what the “problem” was. I figured that info was private and did not need to be divulged to some temp working in a call center in Mumbai. The person persisted on knowing the reason for counseling. Seeing that I was beat, I told the person that the family member thinks that he/she (the family member) is a Penguin. I got a quick approval for 50 visits.

Dad? Daaaaaaadddd???? Sorry….got distracted by my favorite new E-Trade commercial…

I got a major stomach ache at the moment. Maybe Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich and Barbecue Potato Chips were not a good match after all.
The kid just called from the car on his way home. He called to brag that he is still 2 games ahead of me on our NCAA Bracket contest. (Damn you Kansas!)
This post is sponsored by Sex Panther Cologne. It is made with real bits of Panther so you know it is good.
The kid is now home and pulled up our brackets. We are now tied. I can start to take my head out of the oven now….
Thanks to Tiger Woods, I will never again hear a Weatherman utter the word “Showers” without getting totally disgusted.
In the local crime blotter:

400 block of Country Living Drive – A man’s dog told him that someone poured hot grease on its back.
(That’s a talented dog! Did he give a full statement or just bark out a vague description of the suspect?)

200 block of Rook Ramsey Drive – A man reported that his mother-in-law harasses him via Facebook messages.

(Someone teach this idiot how to “Unfriend” someone from Facebook! Obviously the man is too stupid to be allowed to use a computer!)

600 block of U.S. 81/287 North – Someone wrapped a logging chain around a bill changer at a laundromat in an attempt to steal the machine. An employee observed the attempted theft and the suspect fled the scene.

(Criminals in the big city tie chains around ATM machines in the middle of the night and try to steal them. Here in Hooterville, our criminals go after Laundromat Bill Changing machines….in broad daylight…..with employees present…)

Two new prisoners arrive at the State Pen to start serving their life sentences. A longtime inmate asks the two newcomers what crimes they had been convicted of…

Convict #1 – “I killed a family of Five, their two dogs, their parakeet, and tortured their pet turtle with a rusty fork”

Convict #2 – “I stole $16 from a Laundromat Bill Changing machine after ripping it from the wall with a logging chain”

[Via http://redriverpak.wordpress.com]

24 Hours from Ulcer

The train standing at platform 4 is shite

Word has it that the next series of 24 will be filmed in London. Apparently it opens with Jack Bauer boarding a DLR train at Lewisham, heading for the Olympic Stadium. 24 hours later he’s still on it. Jack get’s into a heated argument with a Train Captain (ticket collector, to you and me) over which Zone Stratford is in, and has a difference of opinion with a fat bird who wants the window open. In episode 4 he gets a tad miffed with the bloke sitting next to him who’s iPod is blaring our through his earphones. Ok, it may not be most exciting of series of the popular show, but it’ll be the most realistic. I spent a week on the DLR last Tuesday, at least that’s what it felt like. It has to be the most useless mode of transport, even by London standards. How the fuck they expect to ferry the poor sods who turn up to the 2012 Olympics is beyond me. The sight of Jack Bauer whizzing along at 2 miles an hour, his plans going awry cos there’s no lift service at Pudding Mill Lane is unlikely to give a boost to the ratings.

I say all this, but I’ve never seen a single episode of 24. Neither, come to think of it, have I ever watched Lost or Prison Break, or MadMen, or Heroes or CSI…oh I could go on.Twin Peaks, Hill Street Blues, or Spooks or Thirty Something or Curb Your Enthusiasm. I have tended not to tie myself into any of these long series as I’ve never been confident I’ll be sitting in front of the TV at the same time every week to watch the next episode. There are places which serve beer which tend to be open when these shows are aired and they tend to jump out on me on the way home from work.

I have resisted the temptation to tape them as I’ve never enjoyed the pressure that puts you under. Falling behind for a one or two episodes then trying to watch them the night before the next one is shown on TV is stressful, and all the time your colleagues in the office have water cooler chats about the fantastic ending to last night’s show. Trying to go a whole day or two without hearing what happened in the episode(s) you’ve missed: Now that’s real pressure. (Anyone remember The Likely Lads “England F… ” episode?)

Don't nod off, Stanley, CSI is on in a minute

Pre-digi days there’d be piles of VHS videos under the telly with stuff I’d recorded but never gotten round to watching. Piles of 4-hour tapes (8 hours worth of longplay, if you like the quality of playback to simulate watching tv through a sock) with badly scribbled then crossed out labels, reading LIVE AID, DO NOT ERASE (that one was stolen from out of my car in a pub car park), or HOW THE WEST WAS WON (LP) . Or unlikely combinations of viewing as you filled up any blank tape space you had: ZULU/ENGLAND vrs FRANCE W.CUP SEMI F/O.G.WHITSLE TEST/TUC CONF. 1989. There they’d sit, with their tatty white stickers, clogging up the tv cabinet or the bookshelves, never likely to be removed from the shelf until I needed to tape over them again (always remembering to put some sellotape over that clip in the corner I’d broken off to protect them.)

Not much has changed now that I’ve gone all hi-tech and TiVo-fied. I’ve got 30 hours of stuff to watch stored on my TV’s hard drive, plus the whole of the last series of In The Thick of It, (which is the exception that proves my rule as I did make it home to watch all of those.). 30 hours worth! That’s 14 movies. I’ll never get round to watching them, cos every day something else is released so I go onto Amazon and buy that, then something else is shown on TV one night which I’ll record , never watch that either and the backlog just gets longer and longer.

Did I remember to Videoplus the snooker?

But having said all that I find myself believing, and saying “I have nothing to watch”. How come? Well, a couple of years ago the Incumbent, bless her, bought me (us) the box set of The West Wing. We devoured it, were obsessed. We lived The West Wing, we breathed The West Wing, we ate West Wing sandwiches. We quite liked it. What’s more, we could watch it at our own pace. One a week. One a month. Eight in a day. As many we wanted to watch WHENEVER we wanted to watch them. Being a good few years since the show ended on TV, there were no colleagues in the office discussing last night’s episode. It was sensational telly and we didn’t want it to end. Then it did. Bugger.

So what to watch now ? I had this collection of films I’d taped and had never watched, but I couldn’t be arsed to see them now. There was this show which everyone was talking about called The Wire. “Oh I can’t believe you don’t watch it, Mike” they would say. “You’d really like it Mike”.
“Listen” said I, ” I’ll tell YOU what I like and what I don’t, thankyouverymuch”. I dug my heels in, I refused to join their gang. Two months after the last episode of the last series finished, we bought the box set of the whole 5 seasons.

I'll tell you something, bro, I haven't understood a fucking thing you've said in 3 seasons

Fuck me. What a show. It was and is the best thing ever to be made for telly. Sensational. All-day-long sessions watching Avon Barksdale, Stringer Bell, Omar Little and the rest were completely compelling. I just wanted there to be another 5 seasons. But there wasn’t. So, after that had finished I conned Mrs B into watching Band of Brothers with me (I’d seen it before, but I could watch in on a loop), telling her it wasn’t about war but about people. To my surprise she now thinks THAT’S the best show ever made. I’ll never work em out. Finally, this January we started on the Sopranos box set. That’s a bloody good watch too, and another that no-one can believe I’d never seen before. Oh well, I have now, alright? so shuddup!

Now there’s a vacuum, a void in my viewing schedule. The Pacific (Band of Brothers with palm trees) is launched on Sky Movies soon. I won’t be watching, for all the reason’s stated above (and I don’t have Sky Movies). I shall pre-order the whole set from Amazon and try to survive til then. But I will need something to get my teeth into while I wait. It’ll probably be MadMen, it won’t be Lost. Maybe Kiefer Sutherland armed only with an Oystercard, stuck on a train at Deptford Bridge is my only option. Unless I watch The Wire again. Or Phoenix Nights. Or World at War, or…

Return to Stratford, please

[Via http://sharpsingle.com]

Saturday, March 20, 2010

SEX IS GOOD FOR HEALTH

If you thought the only benefit of sex was, well, pleasure, here’s some news for you. Making love is good for adults. And making love regularly is even better! Not only does it help you sleep well, relieve stress and burn calories, there are several other reasons why you need to have sex more often.

A recent study says that men who have sex more than twice a week, had a lesser risk of getting a heart attack than men who had sex less than once a month.

Boosts Immunity : Regular love making increases the body’s level of the immune-boosting antibody immunoglobulin A (IgA), which will make your body stronger against illnesses like the common cold and fever.

Promotes Longevity : When one has an orgasm, a hormone called Dehydroepiandrosterone is released, which improves your immunity and repairs tissue and keeps the skin healthy. Men who have at least two orgasms a week, live longer than men who have sex just once every few weeks.

Because your heart rate increases, fresh blood is supplied to your organs and cells. While used blood is removed, you also discard things from your body that cause you to feel tired.

Notice that just after you make love, the sleep you get thereafter is much more relaxed. Getting a good night’s sleep will make you feel alert and healthy overall.

INCREASES YOUR LEVELS OF ESTROGEN AND TESTOSTERONE  : In men, testosterone is what makes you more passionate in the sack. Not only will it make you feel way better in bed, but it is also known to improve your muscles and keep your heart healthy and a check on your cholesterol. Estrogen in women protects against heart disease and also determines their body scent.

[Via http://myblogpage.wordpress.com]

XXX Trailer HOLLYWOOD MOVIE ....Pirates 2 Stagnetti's Revenge

XXX Trailer HOLLYWOOD MOVIE ….Pirates 2 Stagnetti’s Revenge
Directed by the internationally awarded and highly acclaimed writer/director Joone, Pirates II is the thrilling, erotic sequel to Digital Playgrounds 2005 blockbuster hit, Pirates. Combining intense performances with wildly passionate sex, ten times the budget, and over 600 special effects, Pirates II: Stagnettis Revenge is the most expensive and comprehensive adult film in history! Joone was so dedicated to the films legitimacy that he built a full-scale ship to shoot on.

Superstar, Jesse Jane returns as the sexy, swashbuckler Jules—pirate hunter and seducer, leading an all star cast that includes Digital Playground contract girls Shay Jordan, Katsuni, Stoya, Gabriella Fox, and Riley Steele, alongside industry favorites BellaDonna, Sasha Grey, and Jenna Haze. Ready with swords drawn high, Evan Stone, Tommy Gunn, and Stephen St. Croix reprise their groundbreaking roles from the original.

[Via http://latestvideoclips.wordpress.com]

Thursday, March 18, 2010

The Essential Investment

I’ve learned a lot about being a parent from my children.  I’ve learned a lot about myself through parenting.  I can’t say I’m perfect but I feel like I’ve got some ideas.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned about marriage in the decade or so of being a parent is that the investment in your relationship with your spouse needs to continue.  You are, after all, the reason that those kids came to be in your lives.

I’ve often heard co-workers discuss growing apart from their spouse but they are quick to defend their “all-day tailgates” at football games with the boys or their “girls’ night out” with the ladies.  Those are important too but I would offer then that those are either distractions or escapes from your relationship.

When the wife and I reconciled, one of the issues on the table was “what are we going to do about ‘us’?”.   We had rarely been out alone since children.  We didn’t do the things we used to like to do.  Granted, there’s a time and a place in life for all of that.  Our kids were older at that point and they didn’t need us to the point where we couldn’t have someone watch them for two hours to go out to a quiet and intimate dinner.   When we got back together, that was  a promise.  We’ve been good about it at times and horrible about it at other times but the point is that we see the importance of “dating” and not allowing our lives to be consumed by the rut of being the “kids’ sports taxi”.

God bless those kids.  I love them with all my heart but when they leave home at some point,  I want to still know that woman across the table from me.  I don’t want to have to reach back into my memory banks to pull out the last time we went to a movie and chatted about it afterwards over a piece of pie.

It’s a valuable lesson my friends.  It takes work but it’s worth it.  Tonight, the wife and I have an overnight away thanks to a charity auction that we won.  Those overnights are too rare but they’re always fun, always hot and always bring a smile to our faces come the next time we see our kids.

[Via http://psychofme.wordpress.com]

Why do I put up with it?

No longer am I torn between emotions…now I am flooded by them and none of them are good.  It is 2:50 in the damn morning and I am up writing in this stupid thing because I can not calm down.  I am angry, and insulted, and frustrated, disappointed, let down, and really really hurt.  So hurt that I do not even wan to have sex, i’d rather take care of it myself.  What does that say about our relationship?  when all the perfect words end up meaning nothing because they are not followed up by actions, making them hard to believe.  It has been a whole god damn week…not a particularly busy week do there is no excuses to be made…..he just didn’t have sex with me….period.  Did he have time for other things, of course he did, but pleasing me did not fit into his schedule.  And the fact that he is ok with that hurts the most.  He says he understands but no he doesn’t.  If he did then this would not happen.  Especially off and on for aver a year.  He does not understand and obviously I can’t get him to understand so I guess I take care of myself in whatever means necessary.  I can’t go sexually unsatisfied for a week just because he feels like it.  I have brought it up many times, asked for it, the whole 9 yarsd….and nothing.  So to me that implies it is not important enough to him to satisfy me or even try to understand what kind of hell he is putting me through.  And you want me to start planning our wedding?  With this to look forward to?  Why would I do that to myself?  If it is this bad now what in the world would make me think it is going to be any better a few years down the road when we have kids (have to have sex to have kids) and he is working….i will be lost in the shuffle even more and never be satisfied.  This is actually making me so angry that I even have to worry about something like this at 30 yrs old when I am attractive. I am missing sleep over something I should not have to.  I am crying over something I should not have to.  And I keep questions why do I keep putting up with it?  ALl the promises and the sweet words in the world aren’t going to change what I’m in right now and that is a sexless relationship….one of the deal breakers.  The one I never thought i would have to deal with my fiancée.  All his excuses are out the window this week….this week is pure choice….and he didn’t made his and destroyed me a little more in the process.  I need to just to go to work and get away from all of this , not deal with it for a few hours….but when i return home it will be right here continuing to hurt me and piss me off.  I am really trying to calm myself down so i can get some sleep, i am infuriated that he would put me through this  again and again and again….and even more infuriated that I go along with it.  I am afraid to type anymore for fear of what I might say….but i am crushed that i am losing interest sexually in my own fiancée who i find sexy and love b/c I can’t take anymore disappointment and hits to my self-esteem.  I do not see things like everyone else and this has been explained to him many many times and i have tried to do my best to get him to understand.  him doing this to me is interpreted as rejection…..I dont ddo well with rejection. I can’t take this constant rejection and my therapist tried to explain it to him…tried to explain that he need to make conscious decisions to make me happy, guess this is the one he made.    Either that or all the stuff I have been trying to educate him on about my disorder just went away.  Probably shouldnt have wasted the money on the book I bought him to help him deal with living with someone with BPD.  I need to buy me a book for living with someone who makes you feel unwanted and ugly and tells you things but doesn’t follow through.  Do they have a book like that?  See i am getting angry and going to say something bad ao I am going now.  God I wish it was time for work.

[Via http://whymebpd.wordpress.com]

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

I otymeli for full program

I can not ….. want sex …. I had such a classroom round Polly … such big breasts … well, I did such a nice girl ……. and my cable guy … where it was lost … again …. okay will grow ever … and that I had sunk so on …. love pancake …. And why am I so humble … there would be like other girls to go to a cafe in a mini skirt and get acquainted with the new man …. and then nafig me my boyfriend would be amused … to the delight of myself …. I want to sex .. . …. I want a fat big penis … do not need me any preludes …. simply pulled the pants without ceremony there … and put leaning how to speak the most tonsils … that a member has filled all of my pussy. . I think that I am constantly wet … 24 hours a day …. so ready to burst … I joined …. I have a feeling, as my friend “on a chair leg is sit …” I went to the library … there should be a summary write …. teach scare people, that we will have real problems if we Ineta will download ….. fi … you see before all downloaded and nothing. .. and now teach yourself to become inetu sharitsya … and now all … freebie for us over …. Well … a walk can calm down a bit ….. cooled his ardor …. pancake. .. want to sex … why is this idea all coming back and back … every three to five minutes …. I sat in the library a couple of hours …. quickly found that I had to go otkserila … … Oh no … this golimotyu rewrite, I will not … at home … otskanyu skompanuyu … and will I referatik … or is this Ebook … yes … what a difference a hike of at least one … …. so that more time ….. for what?? want sex … I came out of the library and hear a cry from behind ….” girl, you’re so beautiful, you can meet you …..?” Another situation would, I would have quickened her pace and walked away from these guys … but no … … I turned and smiled at them …. yes … hello ….. We met. I did not even know what a young man like me more. Yes, and they behaved in short …. I was not clear which of them I liked and one and another gave me constant compliments and support the conversation. we arrived at the cafe …. cafe located in the basement of the house … every table were large aquarium … and the cafe was dark .. candles burning … I have been there several times with her friends. From the menu, I chose a salad and some ice cream … young people have ordered champagne for the introduction … I remember … they say a toast .. one second … third … second bottle … and apparently no longer a third bottle of champagne … .. seems to be vodka …. my consciousness was narrowed and narrowed … … I just remember … that we … or rather I was very happy …. I was warm and well …. young people, too, with me laughing …. remember … that the hand of one fell on my foot …. and I did it not pushed …. I asked where I can give myself up, and my companions led me through a dark room ….. we come to what is space, and my companions were told that here I can rest ….. I did not understand what they meant … but then one of them opened the door … .. took me by the hand and led … inside the second came for us … and shut the door behind him …. the room was dark … and I do not understand .. where I am ….. I was scared and I’m a loud voice, asked them to include light … they laughed and told me not to be afraid of … nothing wrong with them … I do not get warm and everything …. and laughed again … I was already very pretty after alcohol … and I not very well pondered …. I feel dizzy … Finally, one of them turned on the lights ….. I saw a small room … … which was zasharpanny TV …. and an old sofa with polurvannym

I can not ….. want sex …. I had such a classroom round Polly … such big breasts … well, I did such a nice girl ……. and my cable guy … where it was lost … again …. okay will grow ever … and that I had sunk so on …. love pancake ….
And why am I so humble … there would be like other girls to go to a cafe in a mini skirt and get acquainted with the new man …. and then nafig me my boyfriend would be amused … to the delight of myself …. I want to sex .. . …. I want a fat big penis … do not need me any preludes …. simply pulled the pants without ceremony there … and put leaning how to speak the most tonsils … that a member has filled all of my pussy. . I think that I am constantly wet … 24 hours a day …. so ready to burst … I joined …. I have a feeling, as my friend “on a chair leg is sit …” I went to the library … there should be a summary write …. teach scare people, that we will have real problems if we Ineta will download ….. fi … you see before all downloaded and nothing. .. and now teach yourself to become inetu sharitsya … and now all … freebie for us over …. Well … a walk can calm down a bit ….. cooled his ardor …. pancake. .. want to sex … why is this idea all coming back and back … every three to five minutes ….
I sat in the library a couple of hours …. quickly found that I had to go otkserila … … Oh no … this golimotyu rewrite, I will not … at home … otskanyu skompanuyu … and will I referatik … or is this Ebook … yes … what a difference a hike of at least one … …. so that more time ….. for what?? want sex … I came out of the library and hear a cry from behind ….” girl, you’re so beautiful, you can meet you …..?” Another situation would, I would have quickened her pace and walked away from these guys … but no … … I turned and smiled at them …. yes … hello …..
We met. I did not even know what a young man like me more. Yes, and they behaved in short …. I was not clear which of them I liked and one and another gave me constant compliments and support the conversation. we arrived at the cafe …. cafe located in the basement of the house … every table were large aquarium … and the cafe was dark .. candles burning … I have been there several times with her friends. From the menu, I chose a salad and some ice cream … young people have ordered champagne for the introduction … I remember … they say a toast .. one second … third … second bottle … and apparently no longer a third bottle of champagne … .. seems to be vodka …. my consciousness was narrowed and narrowed … … I just remember … that we … or rather I was very happy …. I was warm and well …. young people, too, with me laughing …. remember … that the hand of one fell on my foot …. and I did it not pushed ….
I asked where I can give myself up, and my companions led me through a dark room ….. we come to what is space, and my companions were told that here I can rest ….. I did not understand what they meant … but then one of them opened the door … .. took me by the hand and led … inside the second came for us … and shut the door behind him …. the room was dark … and I do not understand .. where I am ….. I was scared and I’m a loud voice, asked them to include light … they laughed and told me not to be afraid of … nothing wrong with them … I do not get warm and everything …. and laughed again … I was already very pretty after alcohol … and I not very well pondered …. I feel dizzy … Finally, one of them turned on the lights ….. I saw a small room … … which was zasharpanny TV …. and an old sofa with polurvannym

[Via http://eroticstor.wordpress.com]

Ex boyfriend of "C cup Hong Kong girl" scolds her back

Remember the C Cup Hong Kong girl who is so angry with her boyfriend? The Hong Kong girl created a video to scold her boyfriend because the guy broke up with her as he thought that her A Cups were not nice. With supplements this HK girl eventually grew her cups to C size and she decided to scold her ex bf on YouTube. Today, the ex-bf decided to fight back and scold her.

Basically he said that he is not sure if the supplements really worked for his ex-girlfriend and he would like the opportunity to feel the results with his own hands.

The HK guy also finally admitted that this whole episode is part of a guerilla marketing campaign by the health care products company which is selling the supplement pills. End of story.

bron: www.wayangtimes.com [14-3-2010]

The original video:

[Via http://wocview.wordpress.com]

Sunday, March 14, 2010

so...

so…

i respond to you. i listen to your words. i watch your mouth. i hold your stare. i nod. i smile. you talk. i listen. i focus on you. when you speak i listen. when you open your lips to speak, i watch. i watch your mouth. i hear your voice. i look into your eyes. and i respond to you. i nod, i smile. my body responds to you. open and receptive. no barriers. i listen. i watch. i nod. i smile. i respond to you. i listen to your words. i watch your mouth. i hold your stare. i nod. i smile. you talk. i listen. i focus on you. when you speak i listen. when you open your lips to speak, i watch. i watch your mouth. i hear your voice. i look into your eyes. and i respond to you. i nod, i smile. my body responds to you. open and receptive. no barriers. i listen. i watch. i nod. i smile. i respond to you. i listen to your words. i watch your mouth. i hold your stare. i nod. i smile… i….

… and i breathe in and out… in and out… in and…

you talk. i listen to your words but i do not hear them. the truth is, i don’t care. i want to silence you with a kiss. my mouth on yours. you talk. and the truth of the matter is i hear your voice, soft and low, and i dissolve. i hear you talk but i am so distracted by your mouth. i focus on you. your sex. i focus on you. your voice seems to brush over me. stroke me. your mouth is my focal point. you talk. i watch. i watch your lips move. i watch, intent, for a teasing glimpse of your tongue, darting behind your teeth. i see your mouth. wet. lips moving. i feel the hunger inside me swell. my mouth go dry. thirsty. i feel my lips part. dry, i lick them. focused on your mouth. i am hungry. i watch you. your mouth. i hear you speak, but i want to silence you with a kiss. i want to lock my mouth on yours. i want to bruise your mouth with my dirty intentions.

i watch you speak. you gesticulate. your hands. soft, gentle. long fingers. soft hands. gentle movements. i want to clasp those hands. i want to suck your fingers. i want kiss the palm of your hand. i want to suck your fingers. lick the palm of your hand. i want to hold your hands. i want to place your hands on me. i want your hands on me.

you sit opposite me in this busy place. busy. noisy. we talk. you talk. i am distracted. i try hard to suppress desires and listen. i do, i try. but it is hard. i sit on my hands for fear they stray and do unforgiveable things. things that could ruin this beautiful friendship. although my mind is pretty much annihilating all traces of friendship there is. obliterating that screen that separates friends, preventing them from stepping over into lovers. in my mind that screen is shattered. vaporised. demolished. destroyed. and perhaps irreparable.

but i watch you, and i listen. my eyes watch your face. and i am lost.

lost.

lost in you. lost in my thoughts. distracted. confused. frustrated.

i remain seated on my hands to keep them under control. i bite my bottom lip. all i can see is you. everything else is fading into oblivion. blurred. you are my focus. i focus on your eyes. your hands. your mouth. your hands. your neck. your hands. your lap. your eyes. your hair. your right ear lobe. your fingertips. your tongue. your right knee. your hands. your eyes. your neck. your mouth. your mouth. your mouth. your sex. your mouth. your thighs. your lap. your mouth. your sex. your sex. your sex.

i hear your voice. soft and low. but the words are a jungle. i am lost. i bite my lip. i sit on my hands. i feel hot. i feel. oh i can feel more than i should. more than you know. for a split second i feel guilty – as if i am raping you, with my eyes, my mind. i can feel it. i will come, that is certain. but you talk, and i listen. you seem completely unaware of this swelter. this agonising surge of desire that i am trying so hard to contain. to temper. to tame.

inside, there is a flood. a tsunami. little earthquakes. hurricanes. a famine. a flood. a storm.

i sit on my hands. i flip them over palm sides up and quickly re-trap them… you talk. i listen, but these hands beneath my thighs could be yours. but this is safer. it is safer to imagine, than to risk losing what little we have.

i bite my lip. my mouth is dry. but i am wet.

i watch your mouth as you speak, how you tilt you head and engage with me. i listen. but i don’t hear. all i can see is you – and i watch as… as….

as i lift my skirt and straddle your lap, hold your face in my trembling hands and bruise your mouth with mine. you talk and all i can think about is how good that would feel, to feel handfuls of your hair as i straddle your lap. feel you hard. lick your right ear lobe and bite your neck. to taste you…. how good it would feel to slip my hands beneath your sweater, or unbuckle your jeans. to kiss you hard. to feel your hands on my thighs, pulling me closer to you.

but in reality i remain seated on my hands and feel guilty. my eyes are fixated on you, but i am lost. i haven’t heard a word you have said. all i can see is your mouth – your lips – your tongue. your eyes look right at me, but all i want to do is fuck you. i want to sit on you, not my own hands. you. i want to pin you to that chair and feel you deep inside me, my legs wrapped around you. and to hell with everything else.

but i sit and watch you speak. i am lost. i am just so lost in this jungle. this jungle of words and spaces in between….

i think back and think of missed opportunities. i could have taken you to the beach where i could have thrown you to the ground and…. i could have led you to the ladies toilets where i could have sat you down, straddled you and….. or….. oh fuck. that night. i could have given more in that kiss. you were in your underwear. i could have given so much more. but…. how i wish i just let go. given in to it. i want to but do you know how i feel? do you see it? can you feel it? i want it.

but i remain seated, on my hands, now clammy. my eyes flit quickly all over you. eyes become touch. i touch you in places. places that make me wet. my eyes unbuckle your jeans. my eyes pull your hair, your head back and bite into your neck. my eyes, in desperation, remove your jacket and pull off your sweater. my eyes kiss you, hard. my eyes hold your hands and i grind into your lap. my eyes slide down into the front of your pants, where i can feel you…. hard. i can feel your hands on my ass. i can feel you. i can almost feel you inside me. and i feel those little tremors begin. my eyes continue to rape you as you sit opposite me – talking to me – oblivious to the carnage going on inside.

god how i love you. i want. but i watch.

i watch and listen. it becomes unbearable. i stand up, go to the bar and order another drink. i can’t bear this. we go outside for a cigarette. i can satisfy one oral fixation. but i want to kiss you. i want to do all sorts of things to you, and let you do whatever you want to me. but you don’t see me like that – do you? or do you?

you sit opposite me and talk. and i sit opposite you and hold on with both hands for fear i succumb to these wild desires and years of longing and lose it all, completely.

you are unaware of my agony. my suppressed desires. or do you sense it? i can’t hold this back forever. sometime, somewhere, something is going to give… everytime i see you i want you.

but i remain seated, on my hands – to prevent them from straying. but my eyes are all over you. do you see that? do you sense it? can you feel my eyes sexualising you. can you feel my eyes undress you. touch you. i can feel the heat from your body. i can smell you. i can taste you. i can feel you inside me. twitching. hard. moving slow, deep. deeper. i can taste your spit. i can feel your hands. i lick your neck. my eyes wander. i am swollen, engorged – open, ready… my eyes can see everything. i can see, i can feel it as i fuck you with my eyes.

everything around me is blurry. voices, neighbouring conversations slow down, become noise. noiiiiiiiiiise… people move around us in a motion blur. you, me, suspended animation in my head. you sit opposite me and talk. i sit opposite you and listen but aside us, we fuck. i find myself talking to you, yes… you talk with me, but i am distracted. because, right next to me, i see you and i see me straddling you. out of the corner of my eye, i watch as we fuck. we fuck with such intensity and desire – like we are trying to climb inside each other. but the reality is you remain seated opposite me. i remain seated, on my hands – palms up, clammy. i continue to watch your mouth and sense that my mouth is dry.

i am thirsty.

another drink? yes.

i bite my lip and swallow hard. as the little earthquakes inside subside, and i wonder if you sense any of this chaos… any of the carnal lust and desire soaring inside me… any of the sweltering heat within this jungle… i wonder if you sense i am lost. lost and thirsty.

yes. i respond to you.

yes.

do you know how i feel? yes?

no?

so….

(c) Kat McDonald

[Via http://katmphotography.wordpress.com]

Ima Pickin' and Ima Grinnin'

I must apologize to my dedicated readers for not writing last Sunday – all two of them. I was recovering from a horrible experience.

I was curled up on the couch with the dogs, watching the news to see if I knew anyone in the constant parade of murderers and victims that streamed across the screen on the Sunday morning news when I felt a minor irritation in my nose. It was nothing, really, just a small discomfort that one would normally ignore, which is exactly what I tried to do, refocusing my attention on the news.

Yet, my mind again wandered to my nose, and I soon realized that I wouldn’t be able to think of anything for the rest of the day – not the news, not the hours of HGTV that Gradon and I watch every Sunday, as we wished to God those fuckers would show up at our house and fix our porches, landscape our yard, remodel our bathrooms, replace the carpet in our bedrooms and give us blowjobs while they’re at it (face it – those guys are all SO gay, and SO hot!).

Immediate relief was required.

I glanced around, and confirmed that Gradon was upstairs seeking relief of another kind in the master library (that’s what we call the terlets in this here fancy joint) and saw that all of the dogs were asleep. Wonderful, I thought, no witnesses. Not that it would matter – once you’ve been with someone – ILLEGALLY married, that is to say – for 12 years, you’ll do damned near anything in front of them – who gives a shit at that point?

And without further hesitation, I began to pick.

I started with my forefinger first, shoving and twisting, trying to reach what had, by now, become a major distraction. I could touch the tip of the crust with the end of my finger, but could go no further without tearing my nostril. I sighed in frustration, but refused to give up on my goal.

“Never quit!” I always say, although that usually applies to drinking and smoking, but I digress.

I switched implements.

“Nurse, hand me the pinky.”

“Yes, Dr. Pickins.”

I did both voices.

In went my pinky and this time, success was mine.  The offending booger transferred its stickiness from the interior wall of my nose to its new host, and I slowly, carefully, as if playing a game of Operation, began to retract said pinky.  The booger followed like a lost puppy dog.  A sticky, gooey, nasty puppy dog, but you get the point.

My pinky came out of my nose, and the booger, the dry, crusty part, came out, too. But it was followed by a booger placenta.

And that’s where the emergency began.

It was also followed by a booger umbilical cord.

I continued to pull, ever so slowly, so as not to break the booger-bilical. I was afraid it would spring back and break my nose; however, as I pulled and pulled, my concern grew exponentially.  Soon, the booger-bilical was as long as my arm, and my eyes were as big as saucers. My pulse and breathing quickened, and the dogs stirred.  They opened their eyes and began to growl at me and back away.

The booger-bilical was soon so long that I had no choice but to wrap it around my forearm over and over again like a garden hose.  It flowed from my nose like a magician’s handkerchief, only the colors didn’t change.

After I’d wrapped the booger around my forearm five or six times, I felt a tug in my left big toe. I stopped and narrowed my eyes. The dogs sensed it too, and began to sniff my toe. I forced myself to to slow my breathing and then, exhaling once more, pulled gently but firmly.

I heard a distinct “ping” and felt the booger-bilical come free from the depths of my foot.

I continued to pull and wrap and pull and wrap until the entire booger was free of my body and wrapped around my arm.  I stared at it in amazement and disgust, kind of like you would a train wreck, or a woman that married your first and third cousin (same person) then joined a crazy Baptist cult. Not that I’m speaking of anyone in particular or anything.

I then heard the toilet flush upstairs, and knew that Gradon had finished reading “Entertainment Weekly” and that I had only moments to get rid of the evidence.  Due to the mass of the booger, it wasn’t going to fit under the couch or easily be flung across the room to be vacuumed up later with all the dog hair (and be blamed on said dogs).  Additionally, because the entire process had taken so long, the booger had gelled into a sort of plaster-of-mucus mold from Hell and wouldn’t be flushed without being broken into tiny pieces requiring multiple flushings. I also couldn’t imagine explaining to the plumber that I’d clogged up the toilet with the biggest booger man had ever known. Boogersaurus, as it were.

I had to throw it away, but that meant taking out the trash on a Sunday morning, which would normally never happen.  I’d have to cover somehow.

I sprang from the couch and ran to the kitchen to stand before the trashcan where I quickly ripped the booger off my arm, which was a HUGE mistake.

“MotherFUCKER!”

I had just accidentally waxed all the hair off my forearm.  As I cried, I threw the booger in the trash, pulled the trash bag out of the can and stumbled to the front door.

Gradon was coming down the stairs as I walked back in. “What’re you doing?”

“Did you throw away some chicken guts or something?” I countered with a question. When on the defensive, it is always best to counter with a question.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Why?”

“Because the trash stank so damned bad, I could smell it in the living room, and I had to stop what I was doing to take it out,” I replied.

“You’re full of shit,” Gradon said, effectively ending the conversation, with him left wondering what the hell he’d thrown away, and me pretending to be in a huff over the stinky trash.

I’m sure he later noticed the hair missing from my right forearm, but he never said anything, probably figuring that I’d accidentally poured Nair on it while manscaping. (Not that I’ve ever done that. Three times.)

I’m sure he also noticed me grinning all day. I could BREATHE! I think I’ve been carrying that particular booger since birth.  It was some sort of parasitical booger that had been feeding off me for nearly 38 years.

I lit a cigarette that night to St. Marlboro (the Patron Saint of Hot Cowboy Fags – “I wish I could quit you!”) and prayed that the booger didn’t have a twin on the other side of my body, just lying dormant, awaiting discovery.

I must also say that before all of you – I mean, both of you – judge me, fuck you. Everyone picks their nose. EVERYONE. In fact, according to Urban Dictionary, there are those that incorporate it into their sexual proclivities – look up “dirty nose,” “RoflCopter,” and “Booger Noggin.” And yes, I threw up a little doing that research for you, so I hope you fucking appreciate it.

But it’s also important to remember that everyone’s a-pickin’ and a-grinnin’ (even Johnny Cash – look at that picture up there!). So, the next time someone’s intimidating the shit out of you or pissing you off or getting in your shit about something, imagine them with their finger shoved up their nose to the fourth knuckle, their mouth slightly open, their other hand shoved down the front of their sweat pants to scratch at their venereal warts (you KNOW they’ve got ‘em) and say to them…

“Fuck you, Booger Boxer.”

[Via http://neverwascool.com]

Saturday, March 13, 2010

in which Emily is right about attachment. And the Guardian is wrong. Again

Oh Guardian Science, you make me feel like a critical mother. I’m licking my thumb to smear dirt off your cheek, I’m poking you between the shoulder blades to make you stand up straight, I’m suggesting that maybe your recital would have gone better if you had just practiced more like I told you.

I’m sorry. I love you. But I expect more.

I expect, in fact, at least two of the following: good science, good writing, good advice. Oh Guardian Science.

So this week the Evolutionary Agony Aunt offer us two bits of advice. In the first… well gosh, I think our Ms. Jahme must have had a bad experience with a boyslut, to write such a judgy and, worse, ill-informed column.

The question is why would a guy be repulsed by the idea of marriage and kids, and just want superficial sexual flings with mothers (insert “About a Boy” here)?

Her answer… I’ll leave alone the controversial but potentially interesting sciencey stuff about “activated behavioral strategies” or “males find short-term mating strategies more acceptable than do females.” I’ll skip over the half-hearted gesture toward tolerance for individual differences – “If you are happy and not making those single mums miserable with your cold repulsion” – and move right to attachment.

The most likely answer to why someone would prefer sluttiness to relationship-ness is attachment style – an avoidant attachment style would, I think, parsimoniously and comprehensively account for a revulsion in response to marriage and kids and stuff. No grown up with an anxious or secure attachment style feels that way. If you’ve got an avoidant style it’s in response to the way you were parented; it’s a sensible way to view the world if you learned early on that people aren’t reliable.

The crazy thing here is that in her next Q&A she actually cites a paper that shows me to be right about this! So let’s move on.

The second bit. Oh god. So you break up with someone because neither of you is over your ex and then you end up engaged to that person you broke up with, having messed around with said ex again?

Any student who’s heard me talk about relationships can identify this as the rubber band dynamic. And yes, it can work out fine; a relationship’s stability isn’t much related to attachment style – or it is, but not any straightforward way.

Anyway, Ms Jahme actually refers to attachment and cites a paper when she says “secure attachment is essential in primates.” Being me, of course, I went and read the paper and found that it find “various attachment styles [to be] equally adaptive.” This falls short of being the precise opposite of what Ms Jahme says only insofar as both her claim and the paper’s assert that attachment of some kind or other is essential in humans. (Btdubs, the paper only concerns itself with humans and doesn’t discuss any other primate, so there’s that too.) Belsky is actually suggesting that all attachment styles, not just secure attachment, is adaptive.

Which (within the entertaining though dubious framework of applying population-level conclusions about individual lives) supports my thing about the avoidant guy above not being broken but just doing what makes sense given his life history. And why judge that? Duder’s just trying to be happy in a world where people suck a lot of the time.

So anyway.

If the evolutionary agony aunt weren’t in the Science section, would I be bothered about the sloppiness of her logic? Probably not. But see, there has to be somewhere, somewhere, some interface between scientists and the general public, where technical but interesting science is translated into good, solid entertainment, without any loss of truth. I just insist that the Science section is a place that should happen.

The NYT manages it in its science section! (How’s that for critical mothering?)

[Via http://enagoski.wordpress.com]

Live Alone ... and Like It

After an amazing day with Holly yesterday, I was all geared up to have an equally amazing night with my roommate Ron Morgan and our friend Sharlene. As usual, Sharlene was going to drive us around in her gold PT Cruiser … and as usual, she was late. This didn’t really cast a shadow on a perfectly good evening, because Ron was on the fence about going out and was still not ready either. After Sharlene and Ron snacked on McDouble’s from McDonald’s, we visited Charlie’s … which, was really “meh” in my opinion.

The very popular gay cowboy bar had a very large female population last night … and there really wasn’t anyone that I knew personally there, which is odd considering many people I know frequent Charlie’s a lot. After one drink for both Sharlene and Ron, we decided to head to Fun Hog Ranch, which is always bustling with activity. No matter what night it is, Ron and I always end up having a great time at the Ranch. When we got there, Ron instantly was having a good time … do to his extreme height (he’s 6′11″), he instantly commands attention. I hadn’t realized shopping with Holly had taken so much out of me and I was instantly tired the moment I sat down at a table. Sharlene seemed tired too … and we spent the majority of our time watching Sober House on VH1 on the plasma flat-screens hanging above the bar.

What I find so comical is that every guy that hits on Ron always does the “how tall are you?” pick-up line … then they marvel at his size and make it so painfully obvious that they want it up the butt. With me, it’s always “what ethnicity are you?” Then, of course, when I say Puerto Rican, Japanese, and Italian … they react the same way they do when Ron tells them his true height: “WOW!”

In any event, behind Ron was another table where a gaggle of homo’s were sitting. The first time they walked by, I noticed the cutest one out of the bunch. Ron picked up on this and pointed at that they were insecure and bitchy because of that insecurity. The cute one, later revealing his name to be Chris, sat at his table, and as I stared past Ron, Chris and I continuously made eye contact. It was cute … and the subtle thing really worked. Sharlene grew hungry and wanted to go to a place called Ricardo’s … which is just typical that my rides are always ready to leave right before I get hit on.

I decided to stay behind as Sharlene offered to come back and get me. Ron left with Sharlene, and soon as I by myself.

But not for long. Chris came over … and introduced himself. With scruffy facial hair and cute brown eyes, I obviously found him attractive. He sat down, we chatted, got to know each other … and he was completely adorable. His friends eventually migrated to my table and I was introduced to each of them … Chuck (who Holly and I had met at a previous Halloween party), April, JJ, and Brandon. Trying to get some alone time with Chris was annoying because his friends never really left the table … and if they did, one would stay behind. As nice as they all were, it made me take note to not do the same to my own friends in the future … to catch a hint and walk away.

Ron and Sharlene eventually returned, shocked that I had this new entourage flooding our table, and they had the decency to let me do my thing. Chris was very touchy-feely, which wasn’t a big issue for me at all … until he started accusing me of having a “thing” for Chuck, someone that I had met previously and was having a conversation with. Instantly, I recognized that this guy was very insecure. Every time he got up from the table, he told me to make sure I kept my hands to myself … and to only pay attention to him.

What … ?

As everyone knows, I’m in the market for a relationship, or to at least seriously date. But, c’mon … this was taking it a little fast, don’t you think? When Sharlene was ready to take us home, Chris offered to drive me so I could stay … I was having a good time until issues flared up and tension enveloped the table as JJ and Brandon – a previously broken up couple from what I gathered – started having an intense conversation. Meanwhile, Chuck was hit on by some guy from … Kentucky? Ohio? I can’t remember … it was one of those two I believe. The guy was … not really my cup of tea; lanky and annoying, with uneven facial hair and the teeth of Austin Powers, I immediately wanted him gone from the table.

Chuck convinced him to show his penis to the table if he was going to sit with us … and Chris got all defensive before I even showed any interest in looking (even though I didn’t and obviously had no interest of knowing what his nether-regions looked like at all … I even shielded my eyes).

After that fiasco, Chuck, Brandon, and JJ (all sweet guys) wanted to go to Terrible’s for breakfast … a common practice for the gays that go out to the club and bar scene in that area. Chris and I hung back and chilled in his car, where an intense make-out session (and other events) took place. He made it clear he wanted sex, to the point where he was very abrasive about it. After a nice breakfast with the guys, Chris held my hand while driving me home … and he made mention of how tired he was. I figured the thought of sex had finally left his mind as I seriously didn’t want to have sex.

On the car ride home, I discovered that Chris’ former partner of four years was the same guy that had interviewed me for the job at the GAP at the Boulevard Mall when I had first move to Las Vegas.

Small-fucking-world.

Once home, a goodnight/morning (it was five in the morning) followed … and he made sure to do what he could to arouse my interest. When I had asked if he wanted my number, he talked about his plans to eventually move to Arizona … and how he wasn’t looking for something serious. He also made mention of dating someone from his past who he had had lunch with earlier the previous day. He wanted sex … and then made the comment:

“If you didn’t want it too, you would’ve left the car by now.”

Going into the house, I experienced the most awful hook-up I had ever experienced in my life. I have had ugly guys … fat guys … guys that I shouldn’t have hooked up with; guys that were clear signs of my mounting desperation. While Chris was attractive, he was overly aggressive … what I tried to keep as some friendly third-base action, turned into Chris trying to make a home-run. I had to literally push him off of me as he tried to mount me so I could get a condom. I wasn’t raped or anything … I wasn’t held down … but I was clearly in a risky situation with someone who wanted to be in control. Maybe it was do to his obvious insecurities … all I knew, in that moment, was that this fucker obviously didn’t know who I was. I told him that me bottoming for him was not going to work because I wasn’t comfortable … he ignored what I said. Because I wasn’t comfortable, he tried harder … which caused me to whimper and for him to respond with:

“Shut your mouth. Shut your fucking mouth.”

Excuse me? At that moment, I seized control of the situation. I became the top and I made him submit to me. I don’t mind a little roughhousing … and I certainly don’t mind dirty talk. But he had crossed a line, and to come into my house and to come into my bed … and to act like he was the one in control? Not acceptable. I had sex with him. I finished. But there was no feeling in it. There was no joy in it. I felt like a machine, and afterwards, when he got all sweet and cuddly, I just sat there, cross-legged, wishing he would get up and just leave like every other hook-up I’ve had. I just wanted him gone.

I love sex. I’ve had some of the most passionate experiences you could possibly imagine … and if the Tommy of 2004 met the Tommy of 2010, well, let’s just say, the old me would be very surprised. The fact of the matter is, I am ready for a relationship … I am long overdue for one … I am long overdue to have someone all to myself, someone that’s not going to leave right after the cloud of euphoria has been lifted, someone who isn’t going to ignore me if I say he’s being too rough, and of course, someone who isn’t insecure … someone who doesn’t feel the need to be overbearing or dominant in an attempt to “screw me into submission.”

While it wasn’t my first hook-up … the fact is, I felt completely and totally cheap afterward. I put my neck out there, and once again … I caught another asshole. It reminded me of why I shied away from commitment … why I purposely sabotaged or shoved away any chance I’ve ever had with any guy. And it makes me scared to stick my neck out there again.

One day, sometime soon hopefully, the pattern needs to break. And until then, I’ll just have to live alone … and like it.

[Via http://themandiva.wordpress.com]

Thursday, March 11, 2010

The Nipple Post

My son is standing in the living room playing the Wii. He is playing a tank game in which you drive your tank around shooting everything that moves. He apparently is not doing too well as he has been constantly blurting out nonsensical words right and left for the past 10 minutes. My wife is TRYING to read the newspaper and is seated on the couch just behind him. She just yelled at him after he blurted out “NIPPLE”!!!! after his tank was shot by another tank. Yep….he’s a 13yr old male alright……playing tanks and war games on the Wii….and still thinking about Nipples………That’s my boy!…..

If you are a fan of the CBS Sitcom “How I met your Mother” you might want to check out the Idiotflashback blog of mine and check one of the newest entries.

My wife laughed at me when she came home from work because I had one of those fake logs burning in the fireplace on a day when it is 60 degrees outside. She asked why I was using the (expletive deleted) fireplace….I told her I had a “chill”…she said to turn on the (expletive deleted) heat!…..I replied that it was cheaper to burn a fake log than to turn on the (expletive deleted heat)…..

I should have just yelled “Nipple!!”

Should I be offended, with me being the cook of the household, that as soon as dinner is over, both the wife and the kid head straight for the microwave to nuke bags of popcorn? Sometimes, they will get up and start the nuking…..while we are still eating……. Something tells me that I should be offended….

Nipple! Nipple! Nipple!

I’m gonna make Microwave Popcorn for Dinner tomorrow night and see what happens…..

We each have different modes of nuking popcorn in the microwave.

The kid puts it in and programs the timer for like 12 minutes then only takes the bag out when the bag has physically burst into flames inside the microwave. Once ALL the smoke alarms in the house have been activated, he takes out the bag.

I use the “listening” method. I listen to the sounds of the pops and once there is only 8.4 pops per 4 second interval, I take out the bag. Taking the bag out with only 7.3 pops in like a 3.6 second interval will also give you a decent bag but I much prefer the 8.4/4 ratio…..don’t you?

My wife uses the method under the theory that ALL popcorn on the planet MUST be nuked for EXACTLY 1 minute and 32 seconds……NO EXCEPTIONS!! If you take out the bag a second or two too early….she will dump out the bag, pick out the unpopped kernels, and will hurl them at you with all her might. If you leave the bag in for an extra second or two…..she will get out a magnifying glass, dump the popcorn out on the counter, and then will pick out the ONE single piece that is slightly browned….and she will then hurl that slightly browned kernel at you with all her might….all the while yelling that YOU burned HER popcorn!

As you know, I have feet that are completely numb due to my disability. I trot around the house bare-footed most of the time. The by-product of being bare-footed AND numb-footed is that I tend to walk around with a whole slew of objects embedded in the bottoms of my feet…….translation……I pick up everything that I step on. I go to the Doctor regularly and she usually looks at my feet and legs as part of my checkups…… The last time I was in the Dr’s Office, she is looking at my feet and picks out a couple unpopped popcorn kernels that were embedded in my foot…… The Doctor looks at me and smirks….”Ya took out the Popcorn a couple seconds too early didn’t ya?”

The Popcorn Conspiracy must be unique to ALL women!

On the local crime blotter:

A woman reported that an unknown person entered her home, opened her bedroom door and turned off her heater.

(Welcome to Texas. Down here, masked intruders cut your phone lines and security system, break into your home, creep through your home, and with you lying sleeping in your skimpy nightgown on the bed,…….they turn off your heat!….. Do ya now see why we enforce the death penalty so strictly down here??? Do you see the brutality of our crimes we deal with??? Just reading this bit from the crime logs made me go out and buy a rabid one-eyed Doberman that I will now physically chain to my Temperature Control Unit on the hallway wall. You can never be too safe)

A deputy responded to a verbal dispute. A man was arguing with his elderly mother on the sidewalk. He wanted her to move into his house, but she refused because he owns cats.

(I tell ya….it’s always the damn cats fault! Though…………I do own 3 of the little farts….so maybe this will actually protect me from Dear Old Mom wanting to move in……..hmmmmmm)

An unknown suspect attempted to force open the back door of a residence.

(Probably that sex-crazed heater psychopath again…..)

A man was found wandering down the road with a head injury. He was transported to Wise Regional Health System. His story kept changing as to how he received the injury.

(Uh….Yeah!!….Take it from a former Nurse…..a concussion or severe head injury…..tends to make things a “little fuzzy”…..)

[Via http://redriverpak.wordpress.com]

Progress...

I sent my boyfriend a few articles to read several nights ago. I got them from an adult blogger’s page. I found two entries she had written that were on topics that interested me. I copied their text and emailed them to my boyfriend, telling him to look into these things.

One was on “mindfucking” and the other was on erotic asphyxiation.

Since then, he’s left me several notes of a sexual nature on my vanity where I’d find them. While they aren’t turning me on, I find the effort sweet and worth rewarding.

He emailed me while I was at work tonight and told me he hasn’t found anything on the internet that describes the appropriate and safest way to choke someone. I’ve experienced it  with lovers in the past but I’m not about to call one of them up and say “Hey, remember how you used to choke me? Yeah, so, how did you do it? I want my boyfriend to do it, too.” Awkward much?

I asked him to be more dominant but I feel my dominant side taking over. The last few sexual experiences we had, I found myself ordering him around, telling him what he was going to do before he did it. He seems to enjoy it seeing as how he is a submissive by nature and I a dominant. I don’t want to be his master…err…mistress. I don’t want to completely control him. But in the attempt to be submissive to him, I still have to tell him to dominate me. Maybe I got the fantasy all wrong. Maybe being the top is what is going to get me off.

I chatted with Ryan for a little bit tonight. He just got back from a three day get-away and I think the space between us was a good thing. It gave me time to cool off and stop being such a maniac over my libido. It gave him time to not be worried about the social issues I was beginning to cause and it gave the social issues time to fade away. He mentioned a few things to me (jokingly, maybe?) about ways he’d like to dominate me… and I honestly didn’t find the ideas too appealing. Then again, I didn’t think I’d like being spanked until the first time it happened. I told him I am more into the idea of being out of control in the bedroom than actually being out of control. I like some pain during sex and I like to give up some control, but I don’t like being humiliated or restrained in a way that hinders my ability to communicate. I have a lot of injuries and communication is the key to keeping me from getting really hurt.

I don’t want to be closed-minded. Maybe I should try some new things. Honestly, I just think I’m a little scared. I’ve looked at a lot of images from the BDSM world in the past few weeks and I find a lot of it just plain frightening. Maybe I’m being too vanilla but there is some pretty extreme stuff out there! I am interested in seeing just what kind of toys Ryan has stashed at his place and which ones he would chose for him and me to play with. There’s always the possibility that I will discover a fetish I never knew I had. But I don’t know if there is even still a possibility that he is going to play with me. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

[Via http://genesislives.wordpress.com]

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Wall of the Sky

Lethem, Jonathan. The Wall of the Sky, the Wall of the Eye: stories. New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1998.

I like that way Nancy Pearl describes Lethem’s style of writing. Basically she says (in Book Lust) you never get the same book twice. Even within his short stories in The Wall of the Sky, the Wall of the Eye you don’t get the same short story twice. Nothing is the same. Even the style of writing is different. Like a box of chocolates with only one candy containing chocolate…

Here’s a list of the short stories:

  • The Happy Man ~ a weird sort of deal-with-the-devil story about a man who is dead, but isn’t.
  • Vanilla Drunk ~ a story that mentions Michael Jordan over 40 times.
  • Light and the Sufferer ~ brothers, an alien, drugs and New York City. What’s not to love?
  • Forever, Said the Duck ~ a virtual party where virtually no one is who they say they are.
  • Five Fukcs ~ I have no idea how to describe this story. It’s all about getting screwed over…
  • The Hardened Criminal ~ a very strange story about a man who ends up in the same prison cell as his father…only his father is built into the cement wall.
  • Sleepy People ~ there is a group of people who sleep through anything…including sex.

Because of Lethem’s copyright statement I am not going to quote favorite lines (and yes, I had a few). Just leave it that I liked the entire book (even though I would have liked more description about the Sufferer from “Light and the Sufferer”).

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust in the chapter called, “Jonathan Lethem: Too Good To Miss” (p 145).

[Via http://gr4c5.wordpress.com]

Video for Le Pink Lingerie Brazil

I am happy to finally present the video for Le Pink lingerie’s Autumn/Winter 2010 Campaign.  I first posted a preview of the shoot back in January (link) and you can see a few more photos at their website, Le Pink Brazil.  I will post some more photos on this blog any day.  I thought I already had, but I guess I just got too busy.  I think you will like them.

The video was shot and edited by Nicholas Miscusi under the realization of Lucas Cuhna and myself.

More to come!

.

Thanks!
Michael Creagh

.

Buy my Book!

http://www.blurb.com/books/455779

http://highartweddingphotography.com

Check back at http://michaelcreagh.wordpress.com as I update it weekly.

[Via http://michaelcreagh.wordpress.com]

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Birth without Conception...

Walked – Now walking in mind - Followed?  Now following the whispers of vapor or the melody of singsong choir below the line where sea meets sea and sky rises above a long forgotten shimmer of water stretching beyond eye’s perception. I’ve walked upon the salty waves of that dead sea between melody’s path and into the mists or vapors of another dawn. Little matters that I exist. Less, now that I am almost gone.

Come now and dance into the Spider’s Web. Enter web-side. Hold onto the nothingness of thought without form until substance becomes madness. From this bridge, freedom.

Radiation meltdown of human shape into a living gelatin and into vapor. A knowing vapor. Would I travel across the heavens in timeless mist? “Who could have known that I without shape and I without substance, would still be me?” Memory, fear, instinct and that knowledge. The knowing that even as vapor, I almost am. I am not displaced by what I am not. I am not- not by displacement. Even when I am vapor.

Celestial alignments at birth. Moments before and moments after the being is presented beneath the heavens. “I dream of the sea. I hear the whale singsong my mother into a necessary sleep. It also singsongs the heating of my blood-self until I warm to non-fear.”

Inside, the other sleeps, no dreams of the sleeping self. Other does not wait nor will other be until need transcends fear of the dancing one. It fears allowance of existence of other/others. They rise from emerald seas and from black sands where tide pulls against current and the alignment of  micro-moonlight is perfect and is orderly in its dispersal upon the dustless night.

Then other comes. One that guides the hand that passes spear without fault thru the living heart of the charging beast and brings crashing down, the food that sustains the abstracted multitudes attracted by these twirling lights that gather below the mountains of the enhanced or the enchanted ones. And without spear-song the other would not notice need.

Those right notes played thru the convoluted flute held against the heart beeps of a roaring sea pass other/others into light and set other across star streams beyond sun, beyond sea and beyond sky.

htt://www.anovelplaceonline.com

[Via http://pmespeak.com]

Sex... why? what? how?

what is it? how does it happen? why is it the most revered experience of all times? why is it also the most secretive experience of all times? why does it lead to crime? to molested children? to bleeding, hurt, dying women and men? how can it lead to the most confident women too? why is it such a huge industry? why is it so personal as well? why do you read so many stupid articles in newspapers and magazines about it? why can’t you simply accept that you have a sexuality and you will never find more about it in the entertainment section of your Sunday newspaper? why do you, a woman,  hide that you masturbate? why do you judge others who say to you that they do? why do you equate a phase of sexual experimentation to sexual dissatisfaction and whoredom? why do you never tell your husband that you want more? why is kinky a sinful word that you enjoy in stolen glimpses of a porn website? why is it so dreadful to admit to even your same sex friends that you love having sex? why do you allow yourself to be touched by someone you don’t like? why do you blame the world for your miseries? Why do you want what you want even if you have to hide it from the world? why do you lie? cheat? back stab for fulfilling another fantasy?

why is sex not just sex? why is it fun? love? one-night stand? marriage? adultery? morality? judgment? performance? show-off? secret?desperation? denial? demand? power? death? greed? selfish? sacrifice? fun? no strings attached? possessive?

Pray, sex stays just sex… a pleasure to experience the other person in their purest, most vulnerable avatar… a pleasure to receive… an act that makes us human, pleasure with praying, praying with pleasure…

[Via http://reverberatingmusings.wordpress.com]

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Virginia AG Ken Cuccinelli Loves the Gays


From WaPo
RICHMOND — Virginia Attorney General Ken Cuccinelli II has urged the state’s public colleges and universities to rescind policies that ban discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, arguing in a letter sent to each school that their boards of visitors had no legal authority to adopt such statements.
[...]

Anyone who has seen Kenny trolling the gay bars in and around Richmond is invited to comment.

[Via http://failedprofit.wordpress.com]

Until the even

15:16 And if any man’s seed of copulation go out from him, then he shall wash all his flesh in water, and be unclean until the even.
15:17 And every garment, and every skin, whereon is the seed of copulation, shall be washed with water, and be unclean until the even.
15:18 The woman also with whom man shall lie with seed of copulation, they shall both bathe themselves in water, and be unclean until the even.

god commands…. to have sex in the hot bathtub until dawn? Oh yes, please… :)
Now that is some command to follow. With that those little blue pills seem to really be a gift from heaven. Seriously, if you, say, have sex in the morning, are you really supposed to spend the whole day in there? And as long as you’re unclean already… you can just try to enjoy it. Just try to be done with it until evening comes. Oh, an put those bedsheets in the laundry, will you?

[Via http://wtfgod.wordpress.com]

Thursday, March 4, 2010

what's all this fuss about?

I’m astounded at the level of public interest in the Nityananda “affair”. so what did he do? He had sex with a lady and now he is absconding!!!

What is our crib? That a sanyasi should not have sex? Sure, it goes against the grain of ‘Sanyas’ but all this only shows that this person could not control himself and succumbed to his desires. Fine, so what? You do not want to follow him, that’s your choice!

I really do not understand what’s the big reason for the law to get involved? 2 adults engage in consensual sex like millions of married couples do every day. Is that a crime? I can understand all this fuss if Nityananda forced the starlet but it was simple plain sex!

Is the media saying that the so-called sanyasis having sex is a crime? What about the recent incident involving a Governor? He was merely sent back and relieved of his responsibility!!

Let’s get off from all these ivory towers that people should behave in a set manner and start taking care of our lives.

The police and the law have no business, imo, to harass two adults where there is no crime established!!

I also understand that Nityanand’s ashram in Bangalore was razed down by goondas and even this is acceptable because Nityananda had sex.

C’mon Guys! There are better things to focus our energies (pun unintended!!)

[Via http://badrirag.wordpress.com]

how to speak too soon. by: me

I got a comment today that said this blog was in a dire need of an update.  i agree! And I apologize for those that have been checking back recently, because I should have posted this earlier.  Remember the job I was talking about in my last post?  Well, I got it, and I’m no longer in NYC, at least for the moment.

SO.  for now, little dream came true, don’t need to escort.

Now, i do have a couple updates left that i could do while i’m off doing this job…  i don’t have the time to do that right now, but i may in the coming months!  And i may even have the time to make a new website, as i had planned before.  So it’s worth checking back…  and I will still respond to emails and comments if i can!  and i’m not sure i’m done ‘doing this’ forever…  which in terms of the life of this blog is really the most important thing, isn’t it?

Thanks for reading.  Whatever happens, I’ll keep you updated!

-B

[Via http://internetrentboy.wordpress.com]

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

I Met A Man

I met a man and that man was beautiful, not because of the smile he flashed to melt the hearts of many but because of the soul he hid deep down inside. My heart give itself to him the moment he bared his secrets revealing the tenderness he himself did not realize was in his possession. His voice, his eyes declare ownership of the kisses I keep locked away in a tiny lil’ box floating way above me, past the clouds & among the stars protected by the moon. Only when his mind and … my mind releases the fear that stays us apart shall this thing we dream of – I think they call “love” – shall we move closer to each other and … with the slight of his touch, bound will we be.

©2009-2010 Ellen Cortez Alvarez | All Rights Reserved

[Via http://herheartsmiles.com]

Rumor: "Marques Houston Used To Pipe Down Beyonce..."

Well, well, well what do we have here…LOOKS LIKE BULLSHIT, but hey you never know…SMH…So apparently ex-Def Jam artist Joe Budden posted a twit on Twitter, in which he stated that Marques used to “pipe down” Beyonce. Now hearing this for the first time as any other person would you might think this is completely false, but take a glance back into both of their childhood music upbringings and then you begin to wonder…OR NOT, but hey take things like this “with a grain of salt” as my Grandmother would say…LOL

Is Joey Lying?

[Via http://idiotzdistrict.wordpress.com]