Archive for April, 2012

Weird bitch

No one could understand why she had done it. She had seemed so happy. She hadn’t always been like that, she had always been rather a melancholy girl, but six months ago she had met a man online and from that point onwards her whole personality had changed. She’d seemed lighter somehow and would smile nearly all the time, she started taking an interest in her appearance and had even dropped 12 pounds.

She talked about nothing else, and we all kinda found it a little boring but we were just so glad to see her happy, that we listened. We got every gory little detail, the poems he wrote her, his confessions of undying love for her, word for word accounts of every IM he had ever sent and far more than we wanted to know about what they got up to on Skype.

We had been a little wary for her, after all this was some guy, thousands of miles away, that she had never actually met, but they sounded so well matched, they shared the same hobbies, liked the same movies and music and TV. Generally, we were all just delighted for her.

So why today? Why would she do something like that on the very day that he was going to fly in and they were going to finally meet?

As the paramedics took down her body, I noticed that her laptop was still on. I navigated my way to her Facebook page and found their thread, just to see what had happened to make her do something like that. My blood froze. There it was, six months of chat. Except it wasn’t, it was just her. There was nothing from him. Tens of thousands of remarks and LOLs and <3s but all from her, just one side of the conversation. I scrolled up and up until my fingers ached, just hoping for some sign of him, tears streaming down my face. It was all there, the poems she’d written him, her responses to comments he’d never made, answers to questions he’d never asked, an acceptance of a proposal he’d never offered. My spine chilled at the recollection of that day, when she’d bounced into work, bubbling with love, telling us all that he had proposed.

I kept scrolling up until I found it. The only comment he had ever made to her, right at the top, six months ago. “Who the fuck are you? You weird bitch!!!”


Thank you

I’m not going to be around as much for the next few months. I have found a new book deal, and as a ‘so called writer’ I have to go with it. Its a dull technical tome on how to program smart-phones, much like my last book. It will contain no erections or wet pussies or orgasms (although I will try to sneak one or two past my editors) and will be as dry as hell to write, but it will mean that I can still continue to put food on my table using the words in my head. There is a certain irony to this deal – ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that I can barely operate my own smart-phone, and I am the world’s worst ever DrawSomething player.

“Writing is about the only profession where nobody is surprised that you make absolutely no money”

Someone.

I would much rather be here, banging away at the keyboard with one hand, and my cock with the other, and I will still try to post at least daily. I have had a wonderful few months here and have enjoyed your company more than I can say.

I am currently in the process of knocking out the book outline and negotiating a contract that won’t leave me poorer than when I started, so I should be around for a bit.

Thank you everybody who has commented and liked and followed or just even read my ramblings. I love you all and have jacked off to every one of your comments and gravatar pics – although I’m not certain that that is a good definition of love.

yours

~ k )


Sweeter than Ben and Jerry

vibrant
vi·brant /ˈvībrənt/
Adjective:

1. Full of energy and enthusiasm.
2. Quivering; pulsating: “She was vibrant with lust”.
3. Pulsing or throbbing with energy or activity
4. Vigorous, lively, and vital

I’ll be damned if this isn’t the sexiest video I’ve ever seen. Now, I don’t mean sexy, as in it gives me a hard-on (although it always seems to coax a semi out of me), I mean sexy as in how it has my jaw dropping and my tongue lolling out.

I know it might not be politically correct, that its just a lot of bare female flesh being cavorted in front of the camera, that maybe it objectifies women, but I disagree with that, and I’ve never been one to give a flying fuck what the politically correct brigade think anyway. I just think this gorgeous video celebrates womanhood.

Let’s face it, we all know, that in our species, women are the sexy ones. Men know it and women know it. You know it and I know it. In a lot of other species it is different, Peacocks are sexier than Peahens for example, and with lots of other animals, its the male that does most of the sexual flaunting. Just not so with us, and I celebrate and adore that fact. Look at the women in this video, they are enjoying being sexy, half of them can’t stop smiling, and they all look like they understand the power that their beauty holds. Listen to the lyrics too, this is a love song and as good a celebration of femininity as I’ve ever heard.

I look on the rhythmic swaying of all that thigh and belly and cleavage, not so much with lust but, in the way I might gaze upon a beautiful sunset or waterfall: with awe, as I behold one of nature’s most beautiful works.

And let’s face it, he’s pretty hot too.


The big oak desk

your desk at work is a big, old fashioned oak affair, covered on three sides and facing the door. i am not supposed to visit you at work, so when we hear someone approaching down the corridor outside, you tell me to hide, under the desk.

as i crouch there, listening to your conversation with some man, i slip my hand up inside your short, green, cotton skirt and gently tickle the inside of your thigh. your voice goes up a notch briefly before you bring it under control.  you gesture to me to stop with a hand under the desk, which i grab and kiss and you pull it away, but i know you are suppressing a smile up there.

when he has gone, you tell me to come out but i don’t, i slide my hands further up your legs to the top of your thighs and pull your panties to one side and plant a gentle kiss on your pussy, feeling how warm it is getting. you tell me to ‘stop it’, but i can tell from the hidden giggle in your voice that you don’t mean it. i kiss you again, longer and harder and feel you getting wet as i flick softly at your clit with my tongue. i push your legs wide open and run my tongue up the length of your silky treasure, loving your taste and the way your hips are now rocking lightly back and forth with the rhythm of your pleasure as i lick harder and faster at your throbbing, hard clit.

i feel your orgasm begin to rise in you, a distant carnal rumbling, making your legs tremble. you have to grip the edge of the desk hard to prevent yourself from moaning. then i hear another voice, a man’s, he is asking you lots of questions. you try to push my head away and close your legs but i don’t let you and lick harder and faster and feel you quake as your orgasm rises up through you. you try to answer his questions with ‘yes’ and ‘okay’, but he is asking complicated difficult things and i hear you squeak ‘er, can i get back to you on that?’ he asks if you’re all-right   and i can feel you nod your head ‘es thanks.’ you gasp as your orgasm explodes through your body.

when he is gone and you are completed, you drag me from under the big oak desk and glare at me crossly and then plant a big kiss on my still wet lips and flash me your biggest smile.


I want to be a woman – part II

Thank you everyone for leaving such sweet comments on my post ‘I want to be a woman‘ However I have been properly put in my place today by some things that I have been made to think, and I decided a more realistic version was in order.

Just for a day,
Or maybe a weekend,
I want to be a woman.

I want to know
What it feels like to give birth,
To spend hours, or days
In pain and feel my softest parts tear open.

I want to know how it feels for my nipples
To dry and crack
And bleed
At the mouth of a hungry infant.

I want to know how it feels
To have a period,
Expereince cramps
And have my hormones
Fuck with me
Every bloody month.

I want to know
What it feels like to have breasts,
Have men stare at them
And talk to them,
Rather than my face.

I want to know
What it feels like to get fucked
By some guy who has no idea
What he is doing.
Have him come in my face,
Make me feel inferior,
And never call me again.

I want to know what
Thousands of years of abuse
And being treated as inferior
Feels like,
How it feels to have to be paid less
For working just as hard.

Just for a day,
Or maybe a week,
I want to be a woman.

I didn’t write this really. Thanks to those who did. Seriously, thank you. I have been humbled today.


Broken

I want to be owned by you
And broken by you,
Give myself to you
And be destroyed by you.

Slowly,
Desperately,
Painfully,
Gleefully.

Eat me up and spit me out,
Throw away the key
Do whatever you want with me,
but never set me free

Slowly,
Desperately,
Painfully,
Gleefully.

Make me yours,
And make me pay.
My pain, your pleasure
My loss, your treasure

Slowly,
Desperately,
Painfully,
Gleefully.


Paedo’

“Awright! Awright!” I shout, “Its a doorbell, not a fuckin’ juke box!” Some cunt’s in trouble, disturbin’ me when I’m on the Wii, know what I mean? But its Mickey an’ ‘e’s seevvin’ abaht sumffin’.
“Some fuckin’ paedo’ ‘as only just moved in down the the fuckin’ street!” ‘e tells me.
“Who?” I ask, already lookin’ for me Stanley knife.
“That posh cunt at 23.” ‘e says, an’ I’m not surprised, a right snotty cunt ‘e is. Any’ow this can’t be allowed to stand, can’t ‘ave the kiddies round ‘ere put at any risk from some nonce, it ain’t right, so we tool up and pay the cunt a little visit, know what I mean?

Any’ow Mickey’s kickin’ this cunt’s ‘ead around is livin’ room like its a fuckin’ football and ‘e’s David fuckin’ Beckham, an’ ‘is wife’s all like screaming “No! No! He’s a paediatrician! He’s a paediatrician!”
“Well, we fuckin’ know that, you daft bitch.” I tell ‘er, “Why do you fink we’re ‘ere.?”

More in this series


I want to be a woman

Just for a day,
Or maybe a weekend,
I want to be woman.

I want to know
What it feels like to have breasts.
I want to lift up my t-shirt
And flash them at a stranger
Just to enjoy the look on his face.

I wanna know what it feels like
To have a clit,
to play with it.

What does it feels like
For a woman to orgasm?
Is it the same?
Is It better?

I want to know
What it feels like to get fucked,
To spread my legs
And wrap them round you,
Pulling you into me,
Throbbing, Happy,
Fulfilled,
Feeling you empty your soul
And your nuts
Inside me.

I wanna stand up to the bullies,
Meet some guy that treats me like an object
And kick him so hard in the nuts
That he’ll never walk the same again.

Just for a day,
Or maybe a week,
I want to be woman.

liked this? See what you think of the sequel.


Less than three

It amazes me
That two little characters
Can make me so happy
Yesterday
I felt a little misery
Then my phone went beep
A text for me
Just two little characters
Less than and three


The truth about Barbie

A recent study brought to light some interesting facts about Barbie:

If a real woman were to have the same proportions as a Barbie doll, her small feet and large breasts would mean that she would be constantly falling over and would have to crawl around on all fours. She would also need to have someone hold her head up as her neck would be twice as long as the average woman. Her waistline would be so thin that she would only have room for half a liver and a few inches of intestine, causing her to suffer from constant diarrhoea and with a BMI of 10, she would be classed as anorexic and be unable to menstruate or bear children but, lacking any genitalia, that would probably be a good thing. What a wonderful role model that doll is.

In 1994 Barbie was banned in Saudi Arabia, which is strange, because the swimsuit version comes with an easily detachable head.