Since I have the week between Christmas and New Years off, I picked up a couple guest bartending shifts at a few bars to recoup from my holiday spendings. And I will say this about the season, it makes the bars unusually crowded on a Tuesday night. But I was doing God’s work, I was helping to push along the holiday suicides. This is how I came to met Carol. Carol’s a waitress at a bar/restaurant I picked up a few shifts because I was friends of friends of the owner and they needed somebody. Quite frankly, I could see why other people can’t stand Carol, as the other bartenders gave me the immediate heads up. Carol would pester me for her drinks while I was taking care of my half of the bar…and she was impatient about it. Of course, this forced my hand into making her customer’s drinks stronger than they should have been, as to cut down on the time between their drink requests, while I was handling my own customers. Eventually we developed a sort of banter, and a sort of playful pushing/shoving of each other. She kept insisting that she didn’t have to take me seriously, as I wasn’t sticking around. And I told her that I didn’t have to worry about pissing her off, for the exact same reason.
Carol and I shared a sparse, awkward dinner together. We made chit chat over Chinese food. I made her a cape codder, and served myself a beer while we ate at the far end of the bar while we waited for last call. It hit me that I didn’t even ask her age until after serving her her drink, but I honestly didn’t even bother to care. I vaguely recalled her talking about applying to grad school…and I was correct as she had just turned twenty one. Most of the dialogue contained joking wise-assness, and talks of her being on my hit list. She talked about wanting to be a nurse, and I pretended to pay close attention. I was distracted. Visions of not quite sugar plums were dancing around in my head. I thought about other girls, and I picked apart her facial jewelry.
I won’t say anything but the truth here (right…), but I’ve been too lazy to post anything here so today I thought that I could take and make up for it at the least partially. With that said it’s time to post a bit more and first out is my extremely literally and very quickly translated (at the most 5 minutes were used) Negima ED (Mahou Sensei Negima!: Mou Hitotsu no Sekai, for more info at AniDB or/and at Anime News Network).
Click here to download the .ass script
The line-up for following days should(!) be Kanji of the day (mornings), glossary of the day (evenings) and a post containing information or anything else (might often be .ass files) should be(!) posted sometime during the day. For knowing the time I’m planning after it’s EST (GMT+1).
Ashlynn Brooke (born August 14, 1985 in Choctaw, Oklahoma) is an American pornographic actress and feature dancer. Prior to becoming an adult film actress in 2006, she worked at a used car dealership near Oklahoma City for over three years. She became an exclusive contract performer with New Sensations / Digital Sin in 2007,and in 2009 she began directing and writing scripts.
2007 Adultcon Top 20 Adult Actresses
2008 F.A.M.E. Award – Favorite Breasts
2009 AVN Award – Best Continuing Video Series Ashlynn Goes to College
2009 AVN Award – Best Interactive DVD My Plaything: Ashlynn Brooke[
2009 AVN Award – Best New Series Ashlynn Goes to College
Alison was and always will be the definition of the two week relationship. We met the day before my Junior year of college and I was all kinds of in lust with her, and then two weeks of 4am phone calls, hour-drives, and some pretty damn good oral sex, we were sick of each other. To be honest, I forget of her existence on an a pretty consistent basis. The only way I think of Alison is when I think about the small relationship I later found out she ruined in hindsight..then Facebook decided we should be friends, and she decided she wanted to grab a beer and chat.
When I got to the bar, I was greeted by an already tipsy Alison. She hugged me, and I’m pretty sure that this was the first time that ever happened. I got a sloppy kiss on the cheek that was essentially on the side of my lip. She bought me two shots, so I could “catch up”, I just joked that I thought thats what we were supposed to be doing…but just in the other kind of sense.
Ali was there with a couple friends who, within ten minutes, had all but vanished. I asked her vague questions, because I didn’t remember a whole lot about her other than her life-gaurding job and the fact that she was blonde and Irish. I didn’t forget the Irishness, but I did forget the freckles. So we did another shot..on her time. I have to say that I don’t entirely hate women trying to liquor me up and buying me free rounds. It’s the 2000s for Christ’s sake…at least for a few more weeks.
So yes, knowing me how well you know me by now dear reader, I got fairly tipsy on a Tuesday. In the middle of the bar, she just loudly asks, “Do you plan on kissing me, or what?” So I obliged the young lady, being the gentlemen I am. And we made out a little in the bar. And I really truly hate making out in public, and I’m pretty sure people were watching. After two minutes max, we cut it out and went back to talking.
Last call hit, and I (read: the bar) decided we should call it quits, and I walked her to the 6, and she let me finish my cigarette. ” I felt the need to ask if she wanted to do it again sometime. A beat. Then a sharp inhale and a, “well…”
Well, I just guess that was that and that that was fairly confusing.
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I love how some things transcend cultral differences and just lie inherent in all people. Like smiling. Or basic emotions. Or that moment you’re at a loud party and the room suddenly goes quiet just as you are screaming something innappropriate.
That so has to be a universal phenomenon…!!
Unless you’re Canadian. Everything flies in the Great North. That’s why people like Celine Dion, Chris Haney and Scott Abbott*, and all the dudes from Nickleback have been allowed to thrive. There is just no sense of right and wrong there. If a moral line exsisted in Canada it wouldn’t just be occassionally crossed. That line would be sodomized and held in a kinky postion until it curled itself into a safe little circle. But I digress…
Those awkward moments in a suddenly silent room….
As with many things in my life, I can’t help but feel I experience a freakishly abnormal amount of cringe-worthy shit. Like there was a mix-up at the People Factory in the Sky (you know, like where we all come from?)…. and there are rotund dwarfs that dole out various situations in little scoops and dollops (resulting in situations known to average folk as – fate, coiencidence, karma, bad luck, good luck – and all of those other wonder terms we use to explain things). But that’s all just science fiction we made up to explain for the fact that those ofish little men in the sky are fucking life up for people.
I’m pretty sure they’ve been dealing with substance abuse problems for centuries. That’s why crappy lives are not evenly distributed across the board like they’re supposed to be. The cracked-out, sky men are screwing the whole system up. I’m calling for a mandatory NA meeting in heaven so they can get their shit together.
Because burnt-out, sky-dwarf junkies are the only explaination I can come up with for the outlandish amount of humiliating experiences I get myself into…
The list is long…
Things like having a piece of basil the size of Kanye West’s ego stuck between your front teeth. And no one tells you. So you go to a job interview with it unknowly bitch-slapping you in the face like the imbecil you are every time you smile.
Unintentionally setting off a fire alarm in the Smithsonian.
Walking in the door after a date, only to realize your zipper has been down for God-knows-how-long. Then noticing (as you’re ripping the bastard dennim from your body) that you are wearing panties so hideous your eccentric aunt wouldn’t even wear them.
Drinking way too much iced tea at a political rally… and then peeing on a sidewalk in front of the mayor. All because your friend told you a dead baby joke that made you laugh so hard you lost bladder control.
I can’t even recount the number of times I’ve stuck not only my foot in my mouth, but my leg- all the way up to my perky vagina. (That bitch seems to stay oblivious to the wretched situations we find ourselves in. I can only attribute this to her passion for screwdrivers and desire to remain in the dark).
For example, a few weeks ago at a family dinner. I was talking to my 87 year old grandmother (who is the definition of traditions and lady-like manners) above the den of thirty family members screaming over each other. As I tried to convince her that this is the PRIME time to hit the dating scence up, the noise volume in the room reached a record-smashing level. She said she was done with men.
So naturally, the exact moment that I screamed, “Grandmother- YOU SHOULD TOTALLY BE A LESBIAN AND HIT IT WITH SOME HOT OLD CHICKS!!!”, was the precise moment of a room-wide lull.
Every single eyeball swiveled towards me.
Then I exploded in a massive cloud of sulfurish smoke.
Not really. But that would have only been fitting had it actually occured. Instead I was resigned to stand there and listen to numerous biblical lectures on homosexuality from my uber-godly cousin.
I have a feeling that all I’m going to get for Christmas is a do-it-yourself surgery kit with all the gear I will need to sew my mouth shut.
* The inventors of Trival Pursuit. The board game 77% responsible for public recognition amoung my family and friends of what an idiot I am.
Next morning there was a change in the appearance of his mother. The sari was replaced by a negligee. Shobha had seen that her body was well covered as she had put on a veil over it. Rahul was pleased to see the change, as whenever his mother came under the sunlight the impression of her voluptuous body was clearly visible.
Shobha had not realized this. She had dressed up in negligee as it freed her movements and was light on her. Rahul’s eyes had a field day ogling over his mother’s features. At one stage Shobha was curious as Rahul did not speak to her and as she suddenly turned to face him, she saw his eyes were glued over her back.
She could feel his stare and this made her heart beat a leap and felt the warmness creeping over her body. She stepped into the kitchen to avoid her son learning about her and when she came back she was recomposed.
Rahul after finishing his breakfast and washing his hands took hold of the material of his mother’s veil and as he wiped his hands with it, the veil slid down from his mother’s body exposing her rich breasts ensconced in the thin material of the negligee to his gaze.
Rahul was embarrassed as his actions disrobed his mother and uttering ’sorry’ he ran out.
Shobha smiled at his discomfort and shaking her head and steadying her dress she went back to her chores.
By the time Rahul returned home from college, his mother had changed over to her usual sari but the sari she had draped on her body had a tantalizing effect on him. It was peach colored one which went very well on her figure. For a few seconds Rahul stood looking at her and his stare again made his mother get excited.
Rahul on reaching his room for wash took his own time to come out. He had locked himself in the bathroom, wondering at his mother’s mode of dressing. He was in two minds. He did not know whether she was tempting him or was acting just casual. As he made up his mind to try to be a little bold and find out for himself, he came down.
After having his supper as he was working out over the math problems, his mother entered. This time her hair was in plaits and this mis-fired all his calculations. He felt sad and dejected. He diverted his attention to his studies and when he felt his mother sit next to him and hug him, he has elated.
Carrying out his math’s assignments as he tried to nudge his elbow over his mother’s thighs it slipped and got lodged between the v of her thighs. He immediately jerked his elbow away as he felt her hot thighs and said ‘oh! Sorry.’
Shobha hugged him closer saying its okay.
This prompted Rahul to face her and on seeing a smiling face, he put his hand on her head and said ‘why is your hair plaited?’
‘Do you want to it to be loose,’ she asked softly? ‘I like your hair to be untied and loose,’ he replied.
‘Do you like to untie them,’ she questioned?
As soon as Shobha saw her son bow his head, she slid across and pushing her back she wedged her body on to his chest and lifting her head up said ‘please’.
Rahul was wonderstruck by this act. Feeing his mother rest her back to his chest and seeing her plaited hair in front his face he felt aroused. He lifted his hands and holding her plaits he slowly untied them and when her hair was set loose, he nuzzled his face into it and inhaled deeply.
‘Do you like its fragrance so much,’ asked his mother.
‘I love it,’ he said pushing his head deeper into her thick curls.
Feeling his face dig deeper into her curls, his mother plastered her back on to his chest and let out a soft moan.
Rahul was excited on seeing his mother squirm and moan softly. Instinctively he put his hands over her shoulders and having a grip on them, he nuzzled his face in her hair and making way he kissed the nape of her neck.
Shobha’s body trembled on feeling him kiss on the nape of her neck and in response she lifted her hands and held his head hard. This emboldened Rahul and taking cue from his mother he slid his hands under her arms and tried to caress her arm pits which were fully covered by her blouse.
This move tickled Shobha and feeling her son trying to caress the hair under her armpits she straightened herself and gently removing his hands from under her armpits said ‘later.’
As soon as she uttered the word ‘later’ she felt shocked as in one way it meant that she was game for it. Thinking it over she felt she had unknowingly accepted her son’s move to caress her armpits. Though it was totally wrong she let go off it there.
Rahul on the other hand was overjoyed to hear her words and he mentally pictured caressing her bare armpits. He felt delighted and impulsively kissed his mother on her cheeks.
All this had aroused his mother and hugging her son she said ‘now go back to your studies.’
This prompted Rahul to be deeply engrossed in his studies and when after an hour or so as he got up, his mother standing in front of him hugged and kissed him goodnight.
Today’s action had gone a shade ahead of what both of them had thought off. Both were pleased with the outcome of it. Shobha for one felt delighted as her closeness made her son work hard in his studies and for Rahul it was like sailing on cloud nine.
The next morning Shobha was up early preparing breakfast and after setting the table she saw him coming down and sit on the dinning table with a book in this hand. Today was the first day of his examination.
Seeing her son absorbed in the book prompted Shobha to sit beside him and feed him. As she was feeding him, which she often used to do, many a times her fingers felt the warm wetness of his mouth which invigorated her.
She kept feeding him and once even pushed her fingers into his mouth. Rahul loved all this and without giving a hint he had opened his mouth wide for her fingers to penetrate his mouth.
As he finished his breakfast he took one spoonfull of food and looking up at his mother he reciprocated her actions. Shobha very gladly accepted it and as she got up from the table she felt his hand brushing her thighs as he wiped his hand on her sari.
Feeling his fingers on her thighs, Shobha to tease her son a little said ‘now don’t pull out my sari.’
On seeing his mother tease him, Rahul was thrilled and in a reflex he jerked her sari a little.
‘You devil’ cried Shobha and smiling at him said ‘enough, now please go.’
Rahul went to the college elevated and wrote his exams with ease.
When he returned home a bit late after meeting his professor to discuss some problems, he saw his mother waiting impatiently for him. This brought much joy to him coming in and he hugged his mother and said ‘I have done well in the exams.’
It was but natural for his mother to kiss him on hearing the news but the kiss which was intended for the cheek slipped a shade down and landed on the edge of Rahul’s lips. Rahul stood shocked on having felt his mother’s lips brush his and before he could come out of it, he saw his mother hurrying to the kitchen.
As his mother strode into the kitchen in a hurry the impressions of her voluptuous buttocks were clearly visible from her sari. Rahul after having captured an eye full of her heavy buttocks juggling in the sari went to his room with a hard on.
Shobha did not come to his room at the usual time but was late. She had to regain some strength before coming in and when she did so, she did not find Rahul at the desk but saw him perched on the sofa.
Rahul was reclining on the sofa as he had completed his math’s papers which required him to sit before the desk but now as he only had to read for the other subjects he was resting on the sofa.
Shobha silently made her way to the sofa and sat down a few spaces away from him. Rahul sensing his mother hesitate, sat still for some time and when he saw her inching towards him, he turned to face her.
Both of them smiled and this brought much relief to them. It was Shobha who started the conversation by asking ‘what exam do you have tomorrow.’
‘Its science Mom’ replied Rahul.
‘How are your preparations going on’ asked his mother?
‘I was waiting for you for the final revision’ replied Rahul.
‘Why me?’ asked his mother smilingly.
‘I need some comfort’ saying this he slid closer to his mother.
‘My poor child’ saying this, Shobha hugged her son and asked ‘are you comfortable now?’
‘I need to feel the softness of your hair’ saying this Rahul started to fondle her hair.
‘You can feel as much as you wish’ uttering these words she let her loose hair to brush his face and turning she settled her back on his chest.
Rahul was enchanted to have his mother reclining on his chest on the sofa. He held a chunk of her hair and inhaled its deep aroma. His mother had used a new fragrance which intoxicated him.
‘You smell lovely, Mom,’ he said as he dug his face deep into her hair.
‘This is for you, my Son,’ she replied grinding her back on his chest.
Rahul by instinct put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her up a little.
Shobha went limp in his arms and slid up as he pulled her.
Rahul on having pulled her up started kissing her on the nape of the neck and moved down to her shoulder blades.
Shobha shivered as she felt his warm wet lips on her naked shoulder blades and uttered some words which were inaudible.
Taking her murmur as a green signal, Rahul put his hands upon her shoulders and on squeezing them he slid them under her arms.
Shobha feeling her son slide his hands under her arms lifted her hands and taking hold of his head she lifted her face and kissed him on the cheeks.
As Shobha lifted her face up, Rahul’s chin which was resting on her shoulder blades slid down and felt the upper part of her swollen breasts for a fraction of a second. This touch excited him and getting bolder he thrust the open palms of his hands down and held her armpits.
This action aroused Shobha and again she lifted her face and kissed his cheeks which in turned lodged Rahul’s chin squarely on the rising mounds of her breasts.
Resting his chin on the warm soft swelling breasts, Rahul started to caress her under the armpits and as his mother did not complain he started to feel the coarse thick hair under her arms. This action of his made his mother moan.
Rahul taking it for granted started pressing his chin down on her breasts while on the same hand he tried to grasp as much of her coarse hair under her armpits as possible.
Feeling his ministrations getting bolder Shobha could not sustain from asking ‘do you like to play with my hair so much?’
This was music to Rahul’s ears and he replied ‘I love to feel and caress them.’
‘Why? What’s so nice about it’ she asked?
‘Its softness and its silkiness,’ replied Rahul.
‘Now are you happy that you felt it,’ she asked?
‘I wish you would wear sleeveless blouse,’ he shot back.
Hearing those words Shobha was mesmerized. She took hold of her son’s face in her hands and bringing closer to hers she planted a wet kiss on his cheeks and said ‘maybe tomorrow.’
On being kissed on his cheeks Rahul by instinct put a finger to his lips indicating that he would want her to kiss his lips. Shobha shied at this gesture and getting up she said ‘now finish off your studies.’
Rahul was more than happy to have had a felt her armpits and also conveyed the message that he would want her to kiss him on his lips. As he went on with his studies, Shobha got up and left him.
Once inside her room she went in search of a sleeveless blouse and found a few old ones. As she tried them on her she felt they were very tight and exposed much of her breasts. She made it a point to get some new ones stitched.
The next morning it was a repeat of the previous day’s proceedings. At the dining table as Shobha was feeding him, she felt him opening his mouth wider when her fingers came up with the food. To cool his passion Shobha intentionally thrust her fingers inside his mouth two or three times. And when Rahul fed her she bit his finger lightly.
When Rahul washed his hands and looked up at his mother, he saw the loose end of her sari was tucked in her waist and his mother had put her hands on her waist daring him to pull out the end of the sari and wipe his hands. Seeing this Rahul acted as if he was baffled and when he had passed his mother and his mother felt sure that he had lost, he suddenly turned and putting his hands from behind he pulled the loose end of her sari and wiped his hands.
The sudden action of her son made her loose control and she fell backwards in his arms. Getting up she said ‘you devil,’ and pushed his son out when she regained her composure.
‘Your own devil’ saying this Rahul went out.
Shobha smiled on hearing him say so and feeling good she went to complete her house hold duties.
That evening Rahul came home late as he had his practical examinations too and as he was very tired he went up to have a wash. Coming down later he saw his mother tucked up in an old cotton sari that had covered her bosom and shoulders completely. He did not get the meaning of it and as he finished his supper he went to his room all the time thinking he still had three papers to compete.
It was after some time that he heard his mother come in. He was puzzled to see her holding a glass of milk in her hand and the way she had tucked her sari so tightly.
Sitting by his side on the sofa Shobha lifted the glass of milk to his mouth and Rahul gulped it down. It was when his mother lifted the loose end of her sari to wipe his mouth that he saw for the first time that she was wearing a sleeveless blouse and this aroused him instantly and he gaped at her.
Looking at him gaping, Shobha asked ‘happy?’ ‘I am delighted’ replied Rahul trying to hug his mother.
‘Wait.’ Said his mother to put down the glass and moving closer and stating ‘you are still a small child’ she again wiped his mouth with her sari.
As his mother came closer Rahul laid his hands over her shoulders and as she was wiping his mouth he moved his head on her forehead.
Shobha continued wiping his mouth and when she was satisfied, she gently placed her lips on his cheeks in such a way that her lips even touched the corner of his lips.
Rahul feeling her lips bracing his, he turned his face slightly till his lips came in full contact with his mothers.
As soon as Shobha felt his lips on hers she hugged her son tightly in her arms and hid her face on his chest in shame.
Rahul realized the dilemma in which his mother was and as he gave her some time to recompose he put his arms over her back and held her tightly in his arms. This was the first time he had held her in this fashion and this gave him a sense of being the man he wanted to be, that is, a fully grown up.
After seeing his mother relaxing Rahul gradually fondled his mother’s back, feeling the fleshy curves on her back. His mother moaned and continued nuzzling herself deep on his chest. This gave him some encouragement and Rahul sliding his hands down on the exposed flesh of his mother’s back and waist, fondled her bare flesh for the first time. This act made his pecker to vibrate inside his pants.
This also invigorated Shobha and tightening her hold upon him she moaned louder. This motivated Rahul to pull his mother up and reclined on the sofa. As he pulled his mother up, he felt his mother’s breasts flattened on his chest and feeling her breasts crush his chest made him erupt his cum in his pants.
Shobha on feeling her breasts were crushed over his chest and on seeing her face close to his, looked up at him and seeing him sweat and understanding its implication she planted a wet kiss on his cheeks and getting up she left the room.
Rahul was flabbergasted on having erupted his cum in the presence of his mother. He had not expected this to happen and this worried him. He was not sure whether his mother had known about it or not. And as he lay on the bed thinking about it, his mother was happy to have made her son cum. Though she knew it was wrong she was content in making her son happy.
She felt there was nothing wrong in hugging and kissing her son and this brought her much relief. (eXbii, 2009)
Miss November 1985 was the lovely and talented Pamela Saunders. Despite claiming to hate public speaking when she was younger, the Texan bartender spilled a lot of personal refried beans to Playboy during her disarmingly candid and rueful, charming interview.
Photographed by Kerry Morris
“I love men to death,” she declares. “But, you know, they aggravate me. I let men get to me, and I’ve got a nervous stomach. I don’t think I want to get married.” (“Dealing With Dallas,” Playboy, November 1985)
“I guess working in a bar ruined me — you know, watching the way some of these married men act.” Pam medicates her nervous stomach with a steady diet of beer and junk food.
That is totally the way to do it! See, what did I tell you?? Funyuns and Newcastle and a gypsy curse — it’s a three-step weight loss program and it could be right for you!
“I suppose [men] think girls, especially blondes, are stupid. Well, you know,” she says, laughing, “I’m not a true blonde. … I am a klutz. I fall down stairs, spill things. I have to watch myself out on a date.”
This picture is adorable. And finally, in addition to being a klutz who likes beer and junk food, Ms. Saunders doesn’t give a shit about your social niceties when it comes to spic-n-span eat-off-the-kitchen-floor nest-feathering either: “No, I’m a klutz; a slob, too.”
It’s love. Call me!
Final thought — Seth Godin was interviewed in this issue, just after the MENSA spread, about his work with then-employers Spinnaker Software, though he is better known now as the co-founder of Yoyodyne and for coining business terms like Purple Cows and permission marketing. You should check Playboy out, because that old saw about the articles being really good is actually the god’s own truth, y’all.
The most recent addition to the family of lovely and talented Miss Novembers is 2009’s Playboy Playmate of the Month, Kelley Brooke Thompson.
Photographed by Arny Freytag
Miss D and I were talking about the television program “The Girls Next Door” a little while back and I commented, “Don’t even talk to me about Holly Madison right now; I am so mad at her. I would’ve credited her with more brains than this. I’m so disappointed in her.”
This was in reference to the I-once-thought-shrewd Ms. Madison having lost her mind, broken up with Hugh Hefner, and moved out of the mansion to be with that filthy hobo illusionist Criss Angel, who has, on top of that, now broken up with her. Both Miss D and I were completely familiar with the details of all this: I don’t have cable but Miss D keeps me up to speed on the choice, juicier details of reality television, and naturally I keep my own eye on goings-on in the Playboy empire. We are not the only ones, it seems! Ms. Thompson credits “The Girls Next Door,” E!’s reality show about the life of the playmates at Hef’s mansion in Holmby Hills, as the inspiration for her decision to become a nude model.
Kelley has wanted to be a Playmate ever since she became a fan of “The Girls Next Door” four years ago. “I immediately fell in love with Hef and the girls on that show, and I was, like, ‘Wow, it would be really awesome to experience something like that. It’d be like a dream.’” (“Lone Star,” Playboy, November 2009)
You keep on chasing the dream, kiddo! I think Ms. Thompson looks pretty sweet and natural. No hate from this corner.
In keeping with the modern age of her appearance in the magazine, you can hit Ms. Thompson up on the myspace (her current mood is “giggly”!) or the twitter any ol’ time, although her myspace profile is set to private, so you will need an account and an accepted friend request from her to view her pictures. Her most recent tweet is: “Don’t twitter and drink lol”. Words to live by.
She also has a personal website and blog.
Kelley has the mixed bag of blessings of being the Playmate of the Month in the issue of Playboy featuring Marge Simpson on its cover. All hail the gimmicks brought about by the impending death of print media! I say it’s a mixed blessing because, while it means this issue is going to sell bunches more copies than normal, Ms. Thompson may find her pictorial and interview overshadowed by the Simpson shenanigans as far as what is being paid attention to within the pages of the issue. Good luck, kiddo! Time will tell!
So. I’m back from my little trip. It went much better than I thought it would. It was so nice to sit around and talk and enjoy each others company.
I did pretty well at keeping my goal of keeping my legs closed. I only opened them once the whole weekend and that was the first night. Now granted we didn’t have sex persay like I really would have liked to, but I must admit I’m glad we didn’t. The only sexual thing we did consisted of me taking his beautiful cock into my mouth and pleasing him until he couldn’t take it anymore. He says I give the most pleasurable and longest lasting blowjobs that he has ever had. Of course thats a huge compliment and I am flattered. As I taste his warm, kind of sweet cum, my pussy starts to drip of course. At least I didn’t get left in the dark. LOL. I was led to the bedroom where he ate my pussy so good. And than I felt his fingers slide into my nice dripping wet pussy and a finger in my ass. o.O What an amazing feeling. He was busy for about 20 minutes until I exploded and came all over his face..mmhmm.
So. Thats all that happened sexually the whole weekend. I’m kind of disappointed that I let anything happen, but I know everytime I see him, I can’t resist touching and sucking him. I really try so hard to be good when I am around him, but I can’t figure out how.
It’s going to be quite awhile before I see him again, so I’m glad I at least got to see him.
I must admit though…While I was there I had another man on my mind. Someone I’m seeing very soon and someone I feel very connected with. Him and I have become quite close over the past year. He’s quite a big older than me, but man…He makes me feel so wonderful…I look forward to seeing him very soon. I plan on getting into trouble with him. He’s good at making me squirm. LOL..
Ok so this blog was kind of lame. But needed to post one..More thoughts coming later.
Oh sweet Jesus. I’m rubbing my eyes over and over but she’s still right there. How the hell can I get out of this. I’m wondering what a kidney stone feel like, cause I’m convinced I’m passing one right now through the baby-maker. If not, how do I fake it — do I scream like I’m in horrific pain or just double over and act deaf & paralyzed? Hell, it’s not like she would know the difference anyway. Better yet, I bet there’s an app that will let me stare at my phone and make it ring. Seriously, how is nobody calling me right now? That mother rings 47 times a day, but suddenly all is right in the world right now? I pretend I didn’t hear her, but given she’s only 18 God damn inches away now and staring at me with that mixed “please make me feel better” and “I want to smash your face in with a car battery right now” look; I know I’m very, very screwed.
The problem is there are zero good answers you can give to the “do I look fat?” question. Only degrees of less horrible answers. Good chance that each word that comes out of your mouth is equal to 1 week of no sex. Even though you say something sweet and honest like, “no way babe!” — all your wife can think in her head is “CHEATER! I’M GOING TO CUT YOUR BALLS OFF AND FEED THEM TO THE DOG. HAHAHAHA” But you know what, given the circumstances you did okay with that response. It’s only a 3 week death sentence. Now, if you were to actually say something indifferent like “umm no, I guess not”, well enjoy the hand party you just signed up for idiot. And if you actually said something like “well hon, it does look like you have about 6 pairs of jeans on right now” then no doubt you pretty much just turned your bed into a murder scene.
But wait a minute. What in the hell is wrong with you chicks? I absolutely applaud you for wanting to look good and stay skinny. You should. One Kirstey Alley grazing the US is one too many. But a message to all you single digit sizes: unless you’re 4′2″, you’re probably doing okay, so chill the fuck out on “the jiggle.”
I’ll let you gals in on a few secrets. Please memorize them, laminate them on a card, write them in lipstick on the mirror you’re punching right now, or put them on flashcards. Take a minute to decide.
Secret #1: Get ready for this. Here goes — guys do not like the 89lb look. It’s creepy and feels illegal. No guy (that’s not on the Megan’s Law site) wants to feel like he’s with a 14 year old Kenyan boy.
Secret #2: We look at your face and think “son of a bitch she’s sexy.” You look at your own face wondering how you caught the Down Syndrome. You look at your own ass and see jiggle. Your guy looks at your ass and sees a “Vacancy” sign. No joke. Again, your view of things is totally fucked up.
Secret #3: Here’s one that none of you mirror-starved nutjobs seem to get. If you’re in your 20’s or 30’s, and your reasonably thin, taking care of yourself, and somewhat active, then enjoy the fact that you look damn good and your husband/boyfriend honestly thinks you’re hot. So do the Mexican gardeners raking leaves at the bank, and as we’re all aware they gotta be the toughest graders on the planet. So enjoy the hell out of it, because you rarely hear dudes gabbing about how hot a 54 year old is. You’re in hottie prime, please enjoy it before it’s gone. That last sentence goes on the flashcard.
Secret #4: Rate yourself right now on a hottie scale of 1-10. Now add +2 to your number. That’s what your husband/boyfriend and most guys see you as. If you gave yourself a 6, you’re probably an 8. [Now, if you gave yourself a 2, then it does mean you're still only a 4 -- and let's be honest if you're a 4 then there's a good amount of work to do right now. There's no pause button on the calendar honey, you and I both know you should be knee deep in sweat and vomit on a treadmill right about now. You can finish reading this at the gym.]
Secret #5: Be more stripper-like. I don’t mean change your name to Jade and start smelling like strawberries. But, guys like strippers because strippers are confident in their bodies. She has some jiggle or other imperfections, but the stripper knows she’s hot (or pretends to) and radiates that confidence. The stripper is not a size 0 and you do not need to be either. Get your flashcard out at write the following: size zero bad, acting like a stripper good. No stripper has ever been hanging upside down on a pole and asked if her G-string makes her ass look big. [I actually just changed my mind on the strawberries. While you're messing around with $100 perfumes and expensive lotions, I guarantee you the retard on the other side of the bed is 100% aroused by the $3.99 "Strawberry Daiquiri" lotion in the clearance bin over at CVS. Just go get it.]
So, hopefully I gave you some useful tools and advice to consider the next time you’re wrestling the mirror to the ground. You don’t look fat. Just enjoy how ridiculous you look because there will absolutely come a day when you wish you had the body you have now (see #3). I assure you, if you were a dude you would want to do you. 40,000 Mexican landscapers can’t be wrong.
Not many of you know this, but I am actually a secret ninja stalker by night. I make a decent, honest effort to know everything there is to know about you, your friends, your family and your mum, and for the details that I am unsure of, I am confident that I can guess them during the course of the inevitable ‘Who the fuck are you, and why are you outside my bedroom window?’ I am sure that I have the ability to, using the myriad of information available about you on the internet and through published press, that I can construct an almost believable lie, leading you towards my innocence.
Of course, not all of what I have come to learn about you has come from the internet. Believe it or not, I hear about snippets of your life from little known members of yor expansive network of friends and acquantinces, a network that I am dismally failing to penetrate.
What I don’t hear though, I overhear. But I try not to trust that. I don’t want to believe it, because so much of it is so bad, and I refuse to believe it.
As they were walking away, they were talking about something. QED.
When I was a kid, I always wondered why you never saw the actors go to the bathroom. I remember seeing FUN WITH DICK AND JANE starring Jane Fonda and George Segal – I just imdb’d it, so I was about 9 years old – and in that film, Jane Fonda, while talking to George Segal, her husband, casually sits on the toilet, pees and wipes. It was a revelation to me, because I had always wondered why you never saw this. After all, my mother would talk to me while she was peeing. But the other thing I remember was that people in the theater applauded. Now, looking back on it, I’m pretty sure it was just women applauding and they were cheering on Jane for breaking another feminine taboo, jumping one more boundary in the cause of women’s equality. (People did that in the 70’s, didn’t they? Who knew that peeing could be such a political act!) But it was a strange thing to see in what was otherwise an average, Hollywood comedy because they suddenly added this little touch of reality. It was a nice thing to see.
I’ve grown to realize why they don’t show people going to the bathroom in films very often. The simple reason is that nothing very interesting happens in there (and what does is gross!). But I’ve never lost the idea that there are plenty of things that we never see in a film that there is really no good reason not to.
I was watching a trailer of some upcoming film and it had a shot of some beautiful girl’s ass. Of course, she had the kind of perfect ass that only a 26 year old actress who works out four hours a day and is powdered up to perfection could have. It’s a wonderful thing to see, but isn’t that what we see in every movie where we see that ass shot? Think about this: when was the last time you saw a stretch mark on an ass shot in a film? I’m not talking about the superfat ass shot of a girl in a bikini who everybody is making a joke about. I’m talking about a real girl’s ass, with a little bit of sag and a stretch mark or two. It’s not an unattractive thing to see. I remember walking up the stairs behind a girl I had a crush on and seeing a few stretch marks under her ass and thinking it was totally sexy. She must have been about 25 and was by no means fat.
Even films in the 70’s, back when things were more natural and shaving everything was considered weird, if at all, the women were pretty near perfectly beautiful. Jane Fonda wouldn’t have peed on that toilet if her ass was going to hang over the edge of the seat. Jane Fonda, to this day, hasn’t had a sag on her. Obviously, the problem here is as much to do with an actresses vanity as it is with the reality that you and I live in. A shot of cellulite on an actress could kill her career, so why shouldn’t she demand perfection.
But this is just one thing that you don’t see. The interesting stuff always happens behind that door and you shouldn’t always be comfortable with what you see when you go in there. It’s not that there is a price to pay for our voyeurism when we go to a movie, but if you want to look into the life of a character in a film, don’t you want the whole picture? Isn’t that going to mean more to you than the glossed over look of a world so beautiful that it is completely absent of humans?
i have never really given it a good long thought… but really, am i a tits girl or an ass girl? really… you hear guys all the time… legs… tits… ass… but do i even know what my top priority is?! well right now i am feeling conflicted… i just went for my lunch break (on which i tanned, got my boots fixed and shopped… nothing lunchy about it…) and while buzzing around downtown i caught myself staring at asses! big ones, small ones, dressy ones, lulu ones, designer jean bums and hobo bums. ha ha nix that last one… i wasnt staring at hobo bums ; ) lol
I have always thought myself to be boobs boobs boobs… but more and more i have been butt concious… hmm… a change? Perhaps because i have been focused on that area at the gym? but could i really be “over” the legendary rack…? (that, btw… is becoming less and less legendary as i slim down… *fuming*) LOL.
Its hard to say… i cant really choose! I read some magazine that did a poll and the majority of men chose A over T! … i wonder what the majority of women are… probably all about the titties i would say…
For now I am a botty girl… especially in these tight black jeans… maybe my focus will shift back once i get back into a push up bra. ; )
Well, let’s just suffice it to say that I had to spray a lot of perfume on this morning. There was no time to shower, much less mascara my eyelashes. This game was just too dang early…
I’m not happy to admit this, and so I am not formally admitting this… but my husband informs me that I may not be a “morning person.”
Huh?
What does he know?
He is off riding the mountainsides in Utah right now.
He may or may not be right. I don’t have the freaking patience to find out at this early hour, but I did have a hard time waking up this morning.
Go figure.
My only incentives being:
A. To see my son play
B. To see my son play well
C. To see my son play well against ”dickhead.”
Now, I am not one to hold any grudges.
Like, I have almost forgiven that little bitch in high school… almost.
I don’t use the voodoo doll on her anymore… well, only semi-annually.
Heck, I have other things to do than live in the past.
And, that neighbor that I used to have living near me, emphasis on used to (and no, nothing mysterious happened to her… much to my regret. She just moved… how common, right?)
Let’s just say that when the book came out, The Devil Wears Prada, I thought it was about my neighbor.
Bee-atch, with a small ass and rock-hard boobs.
Yikes. I remember the first time she hugged me. I was bruised for a week from her plastic surgery stone tits.
Well, I am still in therapy over all of that neighborhood nonsense stuff.
No one here misses her dropping her garbage into other people’s cans.
Yeah baby, you can keep your dirty diapers to yourself.
Schtinky.
My dog misses them though. Evidently, there is something attractive with the scent of toddler diarrhea rolled in a Pampers disposables…
Eeeeeeuuuuw.
So, like I said I’m not one to keep grudges. So the fact that we are facing up Dick head and his team this morning is double-edged.
First off, I had to drive all the way back to my house because I forgot my chair.
I knew this was not going to be a good sign.
My sweet little sugar-coated ass would melt on the beauty of the morning dew if I were to sit on the ground. We can’t be having any of that wet dew sinking into my “down there” now can we?
Right.
So, I drove back to get my chair.
Gosh.
Secondly, I can’t help it that I express myself verbally.
Calling a kid dickhead seemed and still seems appropriate, and if the conditions arise again… and I feel the need to express myself in these and other matters, then I am bound by the “Mother Bear” Codes of Conduct to protect my little cub.
Regardless.
And… I am going to disregard the coaches messages left on my cell phone informing me of various muzzle supply shops.
A muzzle?
For who?
Dickhead?
That might be a little extreme for a 15-year-old, but I picked one up for him just in case.
I do understand the mouths of these babes, because I live with two teenagers and I could see how it could come in handy.
Like… everyday.
So, I bought him an extra-large.
Because he has an extra-large dickhead.
Du-u-uh.
I learned that from my kids… that “duh” thing.
Doesn’t it just make you feel good all over?
….
Well, right now… we are knee-deep in the second half and the score is one-to-one.
The kids are dripping with sweated competitiveness. Licking their teenaged chops for this victory that is due them. The tension hovers over the parents around me.
And me… well, I am in a catatonic stare… they are all navy colored enemies against our white shirted boys, and now those 15-year-old little penile wannabes threaten our good Saturday.
They have kicked two of our guys in the balls.
Hard.
On of their players received a red card.
And if that is not enough, they have tackled my son to the point where he was lying on the ground for literally two minutes.
Just lying there.
Unmoving.
And, I was not allowed to go on the field.
Mama bear does not like this part.
And, I’m going to tell you that two minutes is a very long time when your son is in pain, on the ground and not moving.
….
I would like to say that we won the game, but we did not.
We played a hard fight, but a clean one.
I left my comments until after the three tweets of the whistles were heard, signaling the end of the game.
Then I let a few “explicatives” fly…
A tough loss for all…
For us…
For other dickheads across the world…
And… for the world…
I don’t think that I am over exaggerating here, when I say that this IS a tough loss for the entire world…
Tragic.
And then of course, we all went to CoCo’s for breakfast.
Be well,
Belle
S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog! and Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
We told ya’ Hank Moody was eventually gonna hit that shit didn’t we!! Well lo and behold, young Ms. Eva has another nude scene from Californication again this week!!
Have a barrel of fun! Even wider than the Big Man In A Barrel, the Fat Man is perfect for people who want a bit more thickness in their toys! The Fat Man in a Barrel is a bit shorter, but quite a bit thicker than its predecessor. It will give you a very full feeling!
Total Length – 7.5 Inches
Insertable Length – 5.75 Inches
Minimum Thickness – 3.25 Inches
Minimum Circumference – 10.25 Inches
Maximum Thickness – 3.75 Inches
Maximum Circumference – 11.75 Inches
13 October 2009 A human X-ray machine that produces “naked” images of passengers has started a trial at Manchester Airport.
The authorities say it will speed up security checks by quickly revealing any concealed weapons or explosives.
But the full body scans will also show up breast enlargements, body piercings and a clear black-and-white outline of passengers’ genitals.
The airport has stressed that the images are not pornographic and will be destroyed straight away.
Sarah Barrett, head of customer experience at the airport, said most passengers did not like the traditional “pat down” search.
At Manchester Airport’s Terminal 2, where the machine has been introduced, passengers will no longer have to remove their coats, shoes and belts as they go through security checks.
Ms Barrett said: “This scanner completely takes away the hassle of needing to undress.
Ms Barrett said the black and white image would only be seen by one officer in a remote location before it is deleted.
She said: “The images are not erotic or pornographic and they cannot be stored or captured in any way.”
Passengers can refuse to be scanned, she said.
The scanners cost £80,000 each. They work by beaming electromagnetic waves on to passengers while they stand in a booth. A virtual three-dimensional image is then created from the reflected energy.
Ms Barrett said the radiation levels were “super safe”.
She said: “Passengers can go through this machine 5,000 times a year each without worrying. The amount of radiation transmitted is tiny.”
The Department for Transport will decide whether to install them permanently in about a year’s time.
The scanners, made by RapiScan Systems, have already been tried out in New York, Los Angeles and Heathrow Airport, in 2004.
Plot: The call girl Betty sends her housewife client Tiffany to Florence Nightingale, a radio show host who lets listeners of all genders have anal and oral sex with her right in front of her live audience. Tiffany later peeps on her husband’s own cheating.
Surprise! I’m not even near a computer and I got this HNT up (so to speak). It’s a pic I took last week and scheduled for this week – ain’t technology great?
Nuthin’ but a bum…that needs to be a little redder (but maybe not as red as the couch…owww)….
Happy HNT everyone! For more half nekkid peoples see the almighty O’s site (and don’t forget The Other HNT):
That darn Netflix. It recommends movies based on other movies youve rented or rated. Ok so now that ive already assumed you don’t know how Netflix works (pretty much called you a dumbass), let me say this:
It recommended a movie that turns out I didn’t really like but felt compelled to watch anyway.
I hate when you’re not sure if you like a movie and by time you realize you don’t, you are way to far involved. It’s not like I’m wasting money by not watching the movie, but wouldn’t it be a shame if I turned out liking the movie? No? Well…one more point (scroll down for the next paragraph)
Side note: David Schwimmer really could’ve been a more successful movie actor if he had not done “FRIENDS”. He acts goofy but is a good actor and director. Also, he has a real GQ look about him (in a total hetero man crush sorta way).
There’s a reason why I was looking forward to the new Queen’s Blade season more than almost every single other new show (save one). It’s shear ridiculousness and utter blatancy with it’s porn fanservice is something the whole family can enjoy. Let’s get it on!
Right off the bat we are greeted with Nanael's ass getting a scrub.
How I had missed this absolute blatant fanservice, which is weird, because I hate blatant fanservice. Well let me tell you. There is a line, a line which Queen’s Blade has crossed, where fanservice stops being annoyng, and starts being funny. Anyway, this episode actually wasn’t bad and had some elements of plot.
Who didn't see this coming from a mile away?
It turns out that the head angel (or whoever that huge angel is) has decided that Naneal will participate in Queen’s Blade. Of course, Nanael has no chance, because I’m still not even sure on how her name is spelled. Anyway, this first episode pretty much started off by re-introducing all of the main characters. I’m’ going to mainly use screen-shots in this post, because without screen shots, a review of Queen’s Blade is pretty much pointless.
This is the best character in Queen's Blade. This is a fact.
Allean is definitely the coolest looking character in Queen’s Blade (just look at that sick hat! She looks like a Scotsman.) and also the overall best character. This is a fact because I said it. She of course, has to deal with Nowa, who is kind of like a daughter to her (they’ll probably have sex or something close).
Yea you probably should have
Let me touch on Nowa for a bit. No, I don’t mean that I want to literally touch on Nowa (she’s clearly underage), but I want to talk about her. I of course do not approve of underage girls without pants, however, given the ridiculousness of Queen’s Blade, it’s okay for anyone to not wear pants at anytime. Basically, Queen’s Blade is allowed to do anything and I won’t get mad. I mean, let’s face it, no one takes this show seriously, and if you do, then you should be given some kind of award, or be placed in a mental hospital. Well, then, now that we’ve talked about the best character in Queen’s Blade (Allean), I think it’s time to talk about the worst. Of course I am referring to Reina:
I'm surprised Reina didn't fall from here.
Reina sucks. I wish she would die, but she’s obviously the main character, and in a show like this, where the plot is simple as can be, I think that it’s fairly obvious that she’s going to somehow win Queen’s Blade. She’s easily the worst main character ever, and maybe one of the worst characters ever, if not for her huge rack and huge ass (I seriously think that they increased the size of her ass for this season). Anyway, the only interest I have in Reina is how many cliffs she’s going to fall off of this season.
With their forces combined, they'd have an average set of boobs (well, they'd still be huge).
Okay, so here’s an odd pairing: The character with the biggest tits in the show (Cattleya) and the smallest non-existant tits (Ymir).
Because you are a child you child!
So now I’d like to take some time to point out some of the more “family oriented” portions of the episode. And by family oriented, I mean boobs and tentacle rape.
First breast fondling of the new season, just thought I'd add it. By the way, the girl whose breast is being fondled (Irma I think). She is a pretty sick character.
Umm....a picture says 1000 words I guess.
This poor girl was just passing by the breast fondling session, when suddenly her weapon (or something) just rapes the shit out of her. It was the most random rape ever and I actually laughed quite hard.
The smartest characters in Queen's Blade.
Basically, the three “bad apples” are kind of hangin’ out, and then Melona (because she’s an idiot) decides to go and try to kill the Queen by herself (because she’s an idiot). Before I get into this, let me flashback to the first episode of Queen’s Blade.
I recall Melona getting riled up and fighting Reina, and losing in the first battle of that season. Now here we are, first episode of this season, and what do you think will happen?
Melona gets riled up and begins fighting the Queen Aldra, and then loses and the result is such:
Yet again, Melona essentially dies in the first episode.
Donkey
Burro
Ass
What the heck
We don’t have Rush
And we don’t have Beck
We never had Cheney
And we didn’t like Bush
Take ‘em all to a cliff
And then holler
Push
They hate Obama
They loathe Al Gore
They’re mad hell
And what’s more
They’d rather see you sick
or worse,
while they tighten
the drawstrings
on their purse
Carry their guns
Spread some lies
While we keep
winning the Nobel Prize.
Angry, nasty, always railin’
I think they caught something
from Sarah Palin.
I love to lift heaps of cellulite and squeeze them well
(clip from Amazing Pear XXX movie by MercedesBBW.com)
Ieri notte, altra scopata da fine del mondo con la mia grassa moglie. Lei sopra a dominarmi usando il mio pene come più le garbava, io sotto a godere delle sue forme prosperose.
Era a gattoni sopra di me, con la gamba destra protesa in avanti. Verso di me. Si sorreggeva con il piede destro e il ginocchio sinistro e io avevo la possibilita’ di palpare la carne della sua coscia. Sembrava quasi mi volesse invitare a soppesare i mucchi di cellulite che in gran copia riempiono le sue meravigliose cosce. Mentre lei si massaggiava il clitoride, io sollevavo le pesanti sacche di carne appese alle sue cosce e le massaggiavo l’interno della vagina con il mio pene. Era talmente irrigidito di fronte a tanto lardo che sembrava dovesse esplodere da un momento all’altro. Strofinavo, spingevo e palpavo. Con l’altra mano le afferravo una mammella e me la mettevo in bocca a mo’ di borraccia, succhiando dentro la carne e leccando come un assetato. Oppure le palpavo l’altro lato dei suoi fianchi. Oppure mi aggrappavo al suo culo per spingermi ancora piu’ dentro di lei. Godevo del suo grasso.
Sono venuto così, con la testa sommersa da una sua tetta (una basta e avanza per coprirmi la faccia) e il mio corpo circondato dal suo grasso.
So I texted Jason the other night and he thrilled me by replying, “Hanging out at my place with friends, come by if you want.”
I was so nervous when I walked through his door, seeing three young guys with Jason, enjoying some beverages. He patted the couch next to me and said, “Come sit down, Cassie.” I sat next to him and he casually put his arm around me. “These are my buddies, Alan, Brandon, and Caleb. I’ve been telling them how amazing you are.”
I blushed and said hello to the boys, all young and attractive of course. Jason surprised me by grabbing my hair and pulling my lips to his. His erection, as always, was unmistakable and my pussy responded in kind, despite the audience. There was some coughing and chuckling in the room from the other men. Jason’s hand unabashedly clutched my breast, squeezing hard until I moaned in pain, forgetting anything except my desire to please him.
He pulled my head back by my hair again and this time threw me to the ground. Startled, I cried out as his bare foot came down gently on my face. “You like that don’t you?” A stifled cry escaped my throat and he said, “Speak up. Do you need me to hurt you? Even though my friends are here?”
“Yes, Sir, if it pleases you,” I said, regaining my senses a bit.
Removing his foot from my face he ordered me to my feet. “Take off your clothes.” I looked only into his eyes as I obeyed. I felt his friends moving closer to me and began to tremble. “You’re my object, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then I can use you as I see fit. And I would like to share you with my friends, just like I share my apartment, my books, or my food.”
“Yes, Sir,” I gulped, trying not to smile, still feeling a bit self-conscious being naked in front of these strangers.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
I complied, feeling the adrenaline already coursing through me from this unexpected situation. Jason left the room and his friends circled around me. When he returned he dropped a handful of condoms in front of me. “I don’t think we’ll be needing the ropes today,” he said. “You are going to be completely cooperative.”
My breathing quickened but I didn’t reply. He pulled my head up to meet his eyes again and my body relaxed automatically. He moved around behind me and began to spank, his friends still making comments that I couldn’t really make out. They took turns, each with a different stroke. Jason came around and put his hand on my neck, squeezing slightly while Caleb continued the spanking. “Look at her pussy, you can tell how wet it’s getting already,” Jason said.
Alan’s hand shot between my legs and I moaned and squirmed as he nonchalantly stroked my clit. “Very nice,” he murmered, removing his hand and smelling it.
“Who wants to be the first to try my slut’s mouth?” Jason asked, his hand still on my neck. “You can’t wait, can you, Cassie?”
“If it pleases you, Sir,” I said.
“Oh geez, Jason, you are a lucky man,” Brandon said. “I will definitely try that slut’s mouth.” Jason pulled me up to meet Brandon’s cock, it was thick and shorter than Jason’s with lots of hair around the balls.
Jason forcefully pulled my hands behind my back and Brandon grabbed my head. “Go ahead and lick it,” Jason said, his voice kept me steady. My tongue flicked out and Brandon moaned. “Isn’t that stud nice?”
“Oh yeah, it feels amazing.” I knew Brandon meant it because I could already taste the pre-come on my tongue. He pressed his cock into my mouth and I sucked hard. Part of me wanted to see how quickly I could make him come so I could move on to the next one.
Meanwhile I felt Alan’s hands begin to explore my breasts. “Pinch them, twist them, she really likes that,” Jason said. Alan complied and I squeaked, my pussy contracting. I could feel Jason’s cock pushing on my neck from behind, and Alan and Caleb stood on either side of me with their cocks in their hands. Any inhibitions I may have had faded away as I enjoyed being responsible for the desire of four men. None of them could compare to Jason’s gorgeous manhood but all of the lust in the room made me crazy. I never felt so much like an object…and never dreamed I would enjoy it so much.
There are some specific items that every man must have in his closet. One of the top priorities is the classic trench coat. There is no man that doesn’t look good in one and its so versatile that can be matched even with jeans for a more casual look. If you don’t want to look like a 20’s police agent be sure to avoid big fedora hats and remember to keep the accessories to a minimum. BLING OFF! The coat alone makes the statement!
So if your SL closet doesn’t include one…go and buy one NOW!
Being of a sophisticated and inquisitive manner, I decided today to Google search for “Butt.” As I finished the word the typical list of suggestions appeared:
But then, when I hit the spacebar, they all vanished. I tried again. And again, the same thing. No-space gave me butterfly tattoos and buttons. Space gave me bupkis. I wondered, “Is Google trying to tell me something?” I was no longer seeking mere search results; I was seeking answers. So I did what anyone would do. I typed in “Ass.”
Same thing. No-space, 10 recommendations. Space, zilch. As soon as it was clear I wasn’t looking for the Associated Press or a health provider, my query was deemed undeniably dirty, and I got the shaft.
Abandoning synonyms I went for “Boobs.” Nothing at all. (Nor for the singular.) And “penis”? Shot down once again.
I contacted Google to ask if there was a policy preventing search suggestions for inappropriate words. And there is:
We try to filter out suggestions that include pornographic terms, dirty words, and hate and violence terms.
In essence Google is taking a step back, so as not to endorse the smut you’re looking for, a spokesperson confirmed. (Of course, the search engine will still go get it for you, as long as you’re specific.) I asked if they’d provide a list of no-no words. They said, “no.”
But if what I’m looking for could be part of a harmless word — like the “ass” in assault rifles, for example — I’ll at least come up with something. Which makes it particularly interesting that you get the following from “vagi”…
…but as soon as you put an “n” on there, the suggestion list goes blank. According to Google: Vagi = A-OK; Vagin = Nish Nish. Ladies, looks like you’ll have to go straight to WebMD for that vaginal itching.
Oh, and don’t even bother looking up “Dick.” All you get are Dicks Vitale, Blick, Tracy, Clark and Cheney.
I think the lesson here is that freedom of speech — including its manifestations in a digital world, call it freedom of search — is sacred. More so is our collective right to publicly disavow our perverted or antisocial inclinations. It’s all out there, and someone else is thinking it, too. Like Google, we’ll just pretend we don’t know that.
Lily Allen was performing the other day and these pictures were taken that prove that home girl has a phat old ass. We here at InternetPopular have been cool with Lily every since she busted in on the music scene with Alright, Still. Now though she has gotten really comfortable with the performance aspect of music and is showing off her bum bum like it’s no ones business.
There are times we do things for charity, like working with a local foodbank accepting cans in exchange for a discount. There was an older man who spoke no English, and I have a rule–never visit a country if you can’t speak any of the language. If you do, bring someone that can speak for you.
So he comes up and hands me a pile of clothes and puts a flier on top–which announces the charitable event–canned goods for discount. I ring up his purchace, because he has no canned goods, so I act as if he’s just resting it on the counter. And he sees the total and shakes the paper at me.
“It says you get discount if you bring in canned food.”
He stares at me.
“Canned food. Cans. Vegetables. Food.”
He still stares at me and points at it.
“Charity? Fundraising? Homeless? Starving?”
He still stares at me, so I go to the donation box and show him a can of vegetables. And he shakes his head. Then says, “I give, I get can?”
“No, the cans are for charity. For the poor. For people that have no home.”
He shakes his head angrily, wanting the discount. And I point at the box again. He yells, “No can!” while pointing at himself–he doesn’t want any cans, and I doubt he’s homeless.
In the end, he just slams down the flier and says, “No buy,” and walks away. Now there is a man, if he knew what an ass he made of himself–in front of a line of customers–would be ashamed of himself.
I don’t understand it. Whatever this bitch does, it’s considered “art”. Right, you get a Japanese dude to put your busted face on camera, squeeze your tits together with electrical tape and and splash paint everywhere and call it art? I’ve taken shits that make me think more than these stupid photos do.
