Archive for February, 2012

as dark as it is beautiful

My Own Private Universe

Here lies the warrior of dreams

Rotting away in this casket

Forgotten now – all roads once paved

As the flesh slips away from the bone.

Here stands the carrier of lies

Whispering to the wayward masses

Enchanting them so with disease

That they can’t even see they’re alone.

Here weep the children of shame

Not once – but a thousand times shunned

Sleeping in hovels of dirt

Whilst living in an age of charity.

Here kneels a man of the cloth

Praying to a god that’s gone deaf

Lost up in a cloud of confusion

Preaching to his flock about clarity.

Here steps the daughter of virtue

So chaste and so pure and naïve

Struck down by the hands of obsession

She then slits her wrists by the sea.

Here be humanity’s cancer

– An eternal, devouring beast –

Hunger that goes beyond need

Cold destruction that fights to…

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Harry had a little cock

harry had a little cock
it was as white as snow
and everywhere that harry went
the laughs were sure to follow

he got it out at work one day
which was against the rules
it made his colleagues laugh and play
to see his tiny tool

And so his boss she turned him out
but still he lingered near
and wandered aimlessly about
for women to appear


Trending now


You

You have not let me cum for two and a half years although

you have had numerous partners in that time and made me watch many of them fuck you.

You watched a lot of them fuck me.

You mount me and sink onto me, groaning.

You ask me if I understand the price I must pay,
you know I do, and I nod meekly.

You rise and fall, filling yourself with me, your head back, your magnificent breasts bouncing, your passion rising, hot and wet.

You find my jugular with one hand and take the small, silver craft knife with the other, and as
you feel me start to cum,
you push it swiftly, expertly into my throat, thrilling at the sensation of steel against flesh and artery.

You push the palm of your hand onto the incision, filling my throat with my blood.

You feel another gush of my orgasm squirt hotly into you and
you start to cum yourself, riding me harder and deeper. I try to say “I love you” but all that comes from my mouth is a plume of thick red bubbles.

You watch me bleed.

You kiss me, and feel my orgasm begin to peak, and
you cum harder than you have ever known as my life begins to ebb.

You reach down behind and under you and squeeze my balls, disgust and delight fill
you as you feel first one and then the other burst like cherry tomatoes under a car.

You make sure my final seconds are seconds of agony as
you watch the fire go out behind my eyes.

You do not climb off me until my body has stopped twitching.


Bare your sexual soul day

Gillian Colbert of Black Door Press has declared February 28th “Bare your sexual soul day”. So I thought I’d have a go. Before I start I want to recommend this post by lovesexandmarriage.com, which is part of that. Its red hot stuff.

I thought about writing about one of those sexual fantasies that I’m kinda ashamed of, like having the woman I love make me watch her get fucked by another, better endowed, man and then have her watch me get fucked by him, but then I thought “No. I can write up a dirty fantasy any day of the week. I can go deeper than that.” So, what better way to bare my sexual soul than to tell you all what a slut I am and then to tell you to all fuck off!

I have had to do a lot of thinking recently – its been horrid – I’ve hurt people over the last few months – but I’ll come back to that.

You meet a lot of people on the internet – I seem to meet a lot of women – I like to think that its because women like me and my words but it may be just that I like them.
I don’t know.
I looked through my Farcebook mates just now and over 70% of them are women. I thought about the people I know in meat-space, and wondered if it was the same. At first I thought ‘No. Most of my mates are men.’ I love my male friends, we seem to understand each other, the importance of video games and football, and we get to say stuff you can never say in front of women and it is fun and dear. Then I thought about who I talk to about the really important things in life and realised it was my girl friends.
So, I still don’t know.

I am a slut.

I never used to think that you could fall in love online, I thought people like that were nuts, but I was wrong, incredibly wrong, and the last 6 month have been a whirlwind of virtual sex and genuine emotion. My heart has been broken by a single facebook message, and crushed by being blocked. I have broken hearts too though. I have been as big an asshole online as I have been offline, maybe bigger.

I have made deep spiritual connections with a woman with beautiful eyes and shared filthy fantasies with another that has a giggle that sparkles like a mountain brook. I have been dominated by a truly gorgeous woman from far away and done some disgusting things as a result and loved every moment. I have fallen in and out of love. I’ve had fucking rows with women I’ve never even kissed. I’ve laughed and cried and Farcebooked and Skyped. I’ve met women from all over the world and from every time zone. I’ve been asleep when they’ve been awake and vice versa and had to invent the word ‘morvening’ just to describe this weird phenomenon.

As you can see, I’m a slut, emotionally rather than physically, although I can be that too – you only have to ask.

I have never sent unsolicited photos of my dick to anyone, I know women don’t like that but I have wanted to (although I have sent a few solicited ones and if you want one just say, I have some corkers). I understand why men do it. We are proud of our willies and want to show them off. Like a child with their favourite toy or a fanboy with his iPhone, we want to shout “Look what I’ve got!” First thing I did when I got a video camera was film myself cumming. I don’t know why, I just had to, it seemed like the obvious thing to do. I never sent it to anyone though (well OK, one person, shhh you). It looks best when viewed in slo-mo. I asked a female friend today if that was sick. she said it wasn’t sick, but it was a bit pathetic and rather silly. She also asked to see the video.

Someone said to me that you can’t be in love with more than one person at a time – but that is bollocks – I’m in love with all of you.

I’ve had incredible sexual experiences with women I’ve never actually touched and shared mind-blowing orgasms with them. Thank you Skype, thank you Farcebook. I’ve had better online sex than a lot of the sex I’ve had in the flesh and I have made real, deep, significant connections with women I think perhaps I will always love. I’ve made friends that I hope I have for life.

One thing that has to be said for internet relationships is that you can fart and no-one really cares.

Not sure if I should have written any of this.

I fall in love too easily which makes the internet a romantic death trap for me. So, if you care, stop following me, stop liking my posts, stop turning me on. If you are a woman, and attractive, then please, please fuck off.

PS: Wanted: single mum, must be creative, foreign and intelligent and must like being fucked around a lot.


Metaphorically speaking of course

I’m a writer darling,
You can’t trust anything I say,
Like a magician
But not as clever,
But with a bigger cock.


Is she?

is she fat or thin?
don’t care. is she beautiful?
Yes.
is she young or old?
don’t care. is she beautiful?
Yes.
is she black or white?
don’t care. is she beautiful?
Yes.
beautiful on the outside? because beautiful on the inside is what i want.
Dunno sir. its fifty bucks an hour, she can be as beautiful as you want.
Fuck you! she’s not here.


Men in skirts

At first, she is irritated by the idea: just a pointless photo shoot, with some dumbass military medics – but it will highlight the work she is trying to do, help promote her charity and let more of the world see how awful the suffering in these war zones actually is, so she goes along with it.

When she meets them, her mind sways a little, these guys have been through some tough times together and the bonds they have formed seem deep and real. They joke amongst themselves in a way that she has rarely seen before and she sees real familial ties between them.

They are all from a Scottish unit, and are dressed only in their kilts. She thinks this a bit cheap but they all have wonderful, battle hardened bodies, not what you would call muscle men at all, but well defined, well worked chests and arms and backs. They glisten slightly in the afternoon heat, and she finds herself staring at their sun bronzed torsos. These men have seen action and sadness, known love and fear and bravery and heartbreak.

They greet her with a series of grins. They lift her effortlessly into the air for some shots and call her Ma’am or Miss. They hug each other and laugh and punch each other playfully all the time and she senses a deep brotherhood.

During one shot she feels a little twitch behind her, tickling her buttocks and lower back and looks around, and down, the guy behind her is getting an erection. She glares at him angrily and he blushes through a delightfully cheeky smile, tries to whisper ‘sorry’. she glares even harder, shooting him a look of real scorn, but she stays where she is, feeling him swell against her, she even leans back gently into it at some points.

Something flickers in a corner of her vision and she glances its way, a sporran bounces playfully. “My God,” she thinks, “he’s getting one too!” She almost doesn’t dare look at any of the others but cannot help herself, and everywhere she looks she sees rising cloth and flickering sporrans. “Are they all getting stiff? she wonders excitedly as her eyes dart around her. They are. Apparently, they have all been on active duty and most of them haven’t even seen a woman for months. Little thrills run up and down her imagination and her body.

“Okay” shouts the one that seems to be in charge, “That’s it for today.” and then, “We need one or two volunteers to escort our young lady back to her quarters.” All of them thrust their hands eagerly into the air. “Er, up to you then ma’am?” says the boss and she turns round to the man behind her, the one with the cheeky grin. “Him.” she says with slightly less hesitation than she’d hoped. On the way to the jeep, she turns back, points again, “and maybe him too.”


I realise my stuff is just crude wank fantasy when I read beautiful, evocative stuff like this. Kudos.

My Own Private Universe

Abed; in darkness and in slumber;

I lay tangled in dreams…

dreams of life

dreams of death

dreams of rapture.

Through the inky blackness of night,

he silently steals…

to steal a moment

to steal an embrace

to steal a sigh and caress it into a groan.

I stir, but do not wake.

I inhale

I exhale

I moan.

I am stuck to the webs of illusion,

painted pretty by an unconscious mind.

Grinning wickedly with moistened lips,

he maps out a ravenous trail…

a trail of butterfly kisses

 a trail of prickling heat

a trail of building electricity.

With a serpentine tongue,

he entices and excites…

exciting the flesh

exciting the heartbeat

exciting the desire that has long been dormant.

I grope out, but find no purchase.

My body arches

it aches

it yearns.

He brushes in hues of pleasure

to awaken my appetite for passion.

With fingers far softer…

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Ok, now I’m warming to the ice cube theme.

it is hot – one of the hottest days of the year, if not the hottest, even the walls are sweating and we drip with it, but we have a bucket full of ice cubes.

we strip and start by cooling each others brows with the ice, it melts quickly, trickling down our faces in tiny, delicious, chills. we hold a cube between our mouths and let our lips melt it, kissing around it, biting at it.

i caress your neck with an ice cube in each hand, licking at the rivulets as they fall over your breasts. you run two, in long slow sweeps across my belly and smile as little shivers spread out across my body like ripples on a pond. then i take two fresh frozen cubes to your breasts, lingering on your nipples, the contrast between heat and cold is extreme and you gasp uncontrollably with it.

i place one in your belly button and hold you down until it melts; you make the most delightful noises. next, you hold one, fresh from the bucket, to the tip of my cock, which twitches uncontrollably with the sensation, so intense that it feels like electricity, like tiny lightning bolts shooting down its length. you rub it around in little circles and i struggle to keep still; it melts incredibly quickly. the next, you rub slowly up and down the length of my length, licking gently at the droplets of melt water, letting them cool your lips and tongue, listening to my moans of delight mingling with my squeals of shock.

my next starts on your belly button again, but now i slide it, ever so slowly, directly downwards, and you gulp in anticipation and squirm but you do not want me to stop, and i don’t. when the cold of the ice touches the heat of your clit there is almost a hissing sound, like a snowball being thrown into a bonfire, the contrast is so great and you scriggle (which is word i just made up and means ‘halfway between a scream and a giggle’). it melts almost instantly and i take another and pop it gently inside you and through your gasps you call me a bastard. i use my cock to slowly push it deeper into you. its cold wetness colliding with your hot wetness. it is almost unbearable and we both struggle to catch our breath as it goes deeper.

it is way too hot to fuck fast or furiously and our love making is slow and deep and when we cum we do it together in long close shudders and, like the ice cubes, we melt.