i want to thank my wonderful friend rhonda for writing this – it made me so very happy – thank you rhonda –
please read the other three parts –
its a wonderful, moving and heartwarming tale of hope and joy and new begininnings
another fantastic guest post from rose
you come to my place… we are acquainted, you and i. i’ve had a thing for you, but you never paid me any attention. i’m in the kitchen…. you come in for coffee, stand behind me at the sink but this time a little too close for me. i turn around … grab both your arms and throw you to the floor, (i’m stronger than i look). you are freaking out… have no clue what’s going on. i tell you to
“shut the fuck up!”
tell you to
“take your belt off!”
i take the belt and tie your feet together so you can’t run. i take off my top and undo your button and zipper, slide your pants down, then I slip out of my panties and lift my skirt, straddle you and run my hands up under your shirt. you looked scared, but you don’t say anything, i can feel what you are thinking tho, it’s growing under me. poor men…. can’t control their cocks… even when they are in dangerous positions. anyway…. i wiggle around a little, get a feel for you, teasing you… saying degrading things to you,
“you pathetic cunt!”
i lean over, my hands on the floor beside your head, my tits inches from your face. i ask you if you want to suck them, you don’t say a word. i ask you again, nothing. i slap you and you stammer
so i tell you to
“fucking do it!”
and i put my tits close to your mouth. i’m rocking on you…. but you are not in me, you are getting so hard. i tell you to
“take one of your hands and put it between me and your cock!”
i want to feel your hand grab yourself with me sitting on top of you.
“squeeze your cock you cunt!
make my clit move with it!
don’t you dare cum or i’ll bite you!”
i lift and tell you to find my hole and fill it. you fumble…. you want to shoot i can tell but you are afraid. you hold yourself straight up and i sit on you taking you in and start moving up and down, forward and back. you start to moan and i tell you to
“shut the fuck up! this is my game, not yours!”
i’m moving faster… so fucking wet… i’m gonna cum but you are not. i grind…just the way i like it, faster, faster, harder, harder. your head is moving side to side
“i’m there….fuck me i’m there….”
i let out in a guttural moan, pressing as close as i can.
then i lift…. fast, you are dying on the floor. i tell you to grab your cock and squeeze it as hard as you can…
“you better not fucking cum!
lay there until you can control it!”
i get up… put my top back on and watch you struggle. i smile and untie your feet and tell you to “get up!” tell you to
you pull up your pants, zip up, put on your belt, run your hands thru your hair and look at me like a small child wanting a cookie.
i tell you…
“now get the fuck out!”
thank you rose
into each others eyes
tasting our love
like a winter rose
my cock between your breasts
sliding up and down
you push them together
your head forward
your mouth open
your blue eyes gleaming
my cock spurting
You know what it says on my old man’s gravestone? It a Keats quote, well, part of one, it says, “There is nothing stable in the world; uproar’s your only music.” It was him all over.
I never met him. All I have is that quote from his grave and his writing, and I have quite a collection of that. Oh, and a half sister that I only discovered a few years ago. He wrote a lot, it was what he did, he was a writer. A lot of it was crap, a lot of angry rantings about not being black and a semi-decent novel that only got, and only deserved, one pressing. He wrote it when he was 25 and I never put pen to paper until I was in my forties, so I guess I shouldn’t be too harsh on him for that.
He was a fantastic bullshitter. As was his father and his father before him and as am I, I come from a long line of great bullshitters. He told everyone that his old man was the editor of the Gleaner (Jamaica’s biggest newspaper). I tell everybody that too – complete crap of course.
Even though I never met him, I can feel him in me, his genes, his personality, pump through my veins. A lot of people didn’t like my dad, and I don’t blame them. He could be a real dick and was a cunt to women at times.
I try to be liked and say things and do things that will make people like me. He didn’t. He didn’t give a flying fuck what people thought about him and I so envy him. I think about the freedom that must come with that, to say what you really feel and not care what anyone says or feels.
I only visited his grave once. It needed cleaning, so I did, and I said “I guess this is as close as we’ll ever get then?” Then I sprinkled some poppy seeds, not just on his grave but all over the cemetery and left.
today everyone looks beautiful
today everyone looks sad
today i got bad news
today i said “fuck it”
today i feel like i could love the world
and not care
if it broke my heart a million times.
i love this song, it was an ‘our song’ once, long ago, for a girl who’s name i don’t even remember.
that’s a lie, i remember.
hello floss, hope you are well and happy and surrounded by people who love you, i am, i learned that today.
tomorrow my life starts anew.
I used to go to the Stone Henge rock festival, before they closed it down. It was more of a drug festival really, everyone was just so totally trashed. It was wonderful. I once saw half of Motorhead play with half of Here And Now because the band members were so wasted they couldn’t find their way to the right stages. Alpha, beta, gamma, hubba-dubba.
I never took to Glastonbury: way too commercial. The Henge was free and wild. The police left us alone, the Hell’s Angels took it on themselves to do the security. I watched once as they repeatedly rode, bumpily over someone’s tent. “I hope there’s no one in there.” I said to the guy next to me.
“They think I am.” he told me.
I spent my 19th birthday in my birthday suit. I met this Welsh girl called Alex and she taught me how to do back flips and stand sideways on a lamp post and how to juggle. I can still do all those things today but not very well. We painted each other’s bodies, and she painted double yellow lines on my dick, to stop anyone double parking. We were in love all afternoon. She had the most amazing boobs.
There used to be a sign, at the entrance, it read:
“its never too late to have a happy childhood”
fuck me in the rain
i want to hear the thunder
feel the thunder between my legs
see the lightning in your eyes
i want to wash away with the rain
feel the ground sizzle under us
as lightning strikes close
feel the grass boil as we do
the air smouldering
the trees shaking
you are the storm
striking and hot and electric
rumbling in my belly
with each flash of lightning
each roar of thunder
your body is part of it
our bodies are
we scream louder
competing with mother nature
in time with nature
we are nature
we are natural
we are primal
our orgasms a storm
our love poundng the ground
like big heavy raindrops
break the levy
drown me in your eyes
fill me with them
i can feel your heart
beat with mine
until we erupt
like the swollen ocean
we are on the edge of life
by rose ♥
if you are not following this blog… why?
Another week, another status on facebook. A joke at the expense of some severely overweight person who ‘should just stop eating all the pies’, or something similar. There is such hatred, judgement and contempt aimed at people with weight issues.
A clarification, for the purposes of this post. When i refer to overweight people here, i am talking about severely overweight people, people who are suffering serious health problems because of their weight. I am not talking about slightly overweight people or people who could use loosing a few pounds.
These days, when people starve themselves to death, we understand it is an emotional condition, a mental illness, a sickness. We call it Anorexia Nervosa or Bulimia Nervosa. We don’t fully understand it yet, because the research is still in its infancy, but we do recognise it is a mental health problem and we try to help these people.
View original post 960 more words
we’re gonna have to close it down.
planet earth – it makes sense – the place is just not viable any more.
yeah – if earth were a business, it would be in liquidation right now – everyone is in debt, the environment’s a mess, there are too many people, not enough resources – its a loss making planet.
but close it down?
sure. armageddon makes good economic sense – debt would be wiped out, unemployment would become a thing of the past, manchester would look better – we have the nukes – do the math.
We have become good friends since you moved in next door. You come round after long days at work and I massage your feet and we watch crap on the TV. You find my foot rubs a real turn on, and are developing quite a crush on me. You don’t realise that I am getting one on you too.
You tell me your back hurts and I offer to give it a rub. You smile shyly in agreement, and I sit back on the couch and beckon you to sit between my legs. You take off your top and I unfasten your bra and slip the straps off your shoulders. I pour lotion onto my hands and work it gently and slowly into your back and shoulders.
You relax and melt slightly under my touch and I tell you that you are beautiful and you giggle and tell me to stop it, that you used to be when you were young, and I say that I’ve seen pictures and think you are far more beautiful now, that you have a real woman’s body with shapes and curves and that your body has character, not like these young girls who all look like they’ve been pressed from exactly the same plastic mould, that you are gorgeous.
I slide my fingers up your neck and caress the base of your skull and you tell me that it turns you on and I say that its doing the same for me. You don’t believe me and just think I’m being nice, so I pull you back so you are resting against me. I am only wearing a long t-shirt and you shiver with excitement as you feel my erection pressing into your back.
I kiss the back of your neck and the sweet rose tattoo on your shoulder and dribble the thick white lotion over your belly, and you purr with pleasure as slowly rub it in to your soft flesh. Then I slip my thumb under your bra and gently remove it completely, your breath deepening as I pour lotion over your breasts and work it in with the tips of my fingers, teasing your erect nipples smothering your breast with wet, gentle strokes, drinking in your sighs of pleasure.
I pop open the button on your skirt and unzip it, and tell you to stand for a moment. Your skirt falls to the floor and I place a line of little kisses down your spine and run my hands up and and over your thighs and slowly remove your silken panties. As you sit back down, you see my t-shirt on the floor and realise that I too am naked, and you press yourself back into me thrilling at the feel and heat of my cock against your skin.
I run my hands and more lotion all over your body, teasing you by stopping each time I get close to your glowing pussy, your body rocking slightly with anticipation of what is to come. My hands roll up the insides of your thighs and stop again only a hair’s breadth from your dark inferno. You want to grab one of my hands and pull it onto you but you restrain yourself and wait.
You gasp when I finally run a finger down over your clit and lips and wet it inside you, and you moan as I moisten and stroke your clit, causing you to thrust your hips, gasp and grip the couch tightly. You get hotter and faster, your breathing deepens, you murmur and writhe feeling my pleasure rising with yours as my fingers flick and rub your , bringing you slowly to the boil, kissing your neck as your orgasm rises up through you setting you ablaze with great shudders and screams.
Afterwards, you slide off me and sit next to me and we kiss and hold each other, you still shaking, like an autumn tree in a light breeze. You smile at my twitching member as it bounces on my belly, throbbing with desire for you. Part of you wants to grab it and make me come and part of you just wants to savour how much I want you.
contributed by a mystery, guest blogger – thank you
a thought for you to go to sleep with….you,
naked, in bed, take yourself in your hands, gently,
think of me, smile, and if you must…then do…
with my blessings. for me though, not for you….
say my name as you splatter your dreams…i will hear you
the bullet holes
chest and face.
the game away.
like this cunt.”
is a cunt,
of the corpse
He is a dick,
we all agree,
High on a cold, stark, mountain top, lies a snow beaten research centre. It is so remote, that it can only be reached by helicopter. Inside instruments whirr and click, dials spin and needles dance. Its only two inhabitants, a professor and a research assistant grab hold of each other and kiss deeply and powerfully. They have both wanted this for a very long time and their long suppressed passions rise up in them. They tear at each others clothes madly almost devouring each other with their wet, hungry mouths.
Behind them, needles scratch zig-zag patterns across scrolling graph paper and around cylinders, but right now their work does not matter to them, they are consumed with each other.
Deep beneath them, miles below ground, a magma flow courses through the earth.
He lifts her onto a bench and, jerking her skirt upwards, he pushes against her, feeling the heat between her legs with his hardness, ripping open her top and kissing her neck greedily, as though he had only moments to live. With the desire of a starving tiger, she tugs at his belt and trousers until she has him freed. He shoves her further back and she pushes instruments and beakers, and piles of documents, roughly out of the way. Paper flutters around them and glass shatters on the floor, chemicals hiss and steam. She raises her hips to help him, as he lifts her skirt and pulls down her already sodden panties.
Behind them needles twitch in their dials, climbing jerkily upwards towards red, screens flashing with urgent data.
Below them the volcano is becoming aroused. Little jets of steam gasp and sigh from its surface. and boiling lava gushes through its veins.
A pen on a graph starts drawing faster, more frantic zigs and zags.
He pushes her over onto her back, sending more paper flying and a computer monitor crashing to floor as he bends forward and kisses her glistening pussy. “Oh yes!” she she half moans, half whispers; it has been so long since a man had done that to her. He continues; little kisses at first and tiny little tickles with the tip of his tongue but he is so crazy for her, and so wants to pleasure her that he is soon flicking hard and fast at her clit, responding to her every gasp and sigh, his engorged cock brushing against the cold hard steel of the bench, sending shivers up and down its length. He revels in her, filling his mouth with her erotic tastes and his nostrils with her inflaming smells. ‘Now!’ she shudders, “Fuck me now! Before I come! Fuck me!”
Sulphur spits from the volcano’s sweating flank and huge clouds burst in gasps from its gaping mouth. the ground trembles and a flock of birds take to the air.
Climbing onto the bench, he kisses her belly and breasts as he rises up her, until they are face to face, eye to eye, and his shaft hovering over her pussy, tickling it. She tastes herself as they kiss and she guides him into her. He fucks her fiercely and deeply, pulling back each time until he is almost out of her before plunging back into her with a strength that shakes her whole body, filling her, taking her breath away and drawing light screams of joy from her. The bench rocks under their frenzy and she digs her fingers deep into his buttocks pulling him as deep into her as she can.
The Magma rises faster now, deep below them, flowing thickly through the body of the mountain. Until it can take no more. Until it must find its release.
He rears up as he comes and bursts into her and she clings to him, their bodies in unison with his eruption, their orgasms shooting through every muscle in their bodies, their bodies pulsating in time with each other’s.
The molten lava rises and bursts from the volcano, shooting high into the air, a thick gushing hot liquid. It splatters the landscape around, in steaming great pools and it flows in great rivulets down the mountain’s sides. Over and over the volcano erupts in hot sticky squirts, covering everything before it, seemingly never ending.
After a long while, the professor gets up off the bench and looks around her, something is not quite right. She looks at a screen. “Fuck!”, she screams. her assistant looks at her,
“What?”, he asks. She looks back at the screen and his eyes follow hers “Oh holy fuck!” he murmurs. They both turn round, to the window and are just in time to see the pyrocastic flow before it engulfs them and turns them into dust.
i am deeply superficial
i get low when i am high
i am a devout atheist
and i giggle when i cry
i am a cowardly warrior
i feel caged in when i fly
i am a gentle hooligan
and i will live after i die
i am pretty ugly
i am honestly quite sly
i’m obesely skinny
and i wish that i knew why
Who let the cat out of the bag?
Well who bloody put it there?
You shouldn’t put cats in bags
In the first place,
That’s just not nice.
“the main things which seem to me important on their own account, and not merely as means to other things, are knowledge, art, instinctive happiness, and relations of friendship or affection”
~ bertrand russell
“the effort to understand the universe is one of the very few things that lifts human life above the level of farce, and gives it some of the grace of tragedy”
~ steven weinberg
“be free my friends. one for all and all for me, and me for you, and three for five, and six for a quarter”
~ groucho marx
“all human beings should try to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why”
~ james thurber
“do not go gentle into that goodnight. rage, rage against the dying of the light”
~ dylan wassisname
“it is only the great men who are truly obscene. if they had not dared to be obscene, they could never have dared to be great”
~ henry ellis
“eat, fuck kill, its all the same, right?”
~ pfc trombley
“it is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers”
~ james thurber
“come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off ”
~ malcolm tucker
“god loves you, except when you’re a cunt”
~ tourettes hero
“i said a glass of juice, not gas the jews”
~ adolf hitler
“never trust a fucking hippie”
~ johnny rotten
my guitar tonight
what its for
its not that i’m any
good at it
but i play
til my fingers are raw
it lets me express myself
and sing and
dance and roar
i don’t just want
someone to sleep with,
someone to wake to.
i don’t just want
to eat you out,
to eat out with you.
i don’t just want
you to suck my dick,
oh, hang on,
yes i do.
We go to Costa Brava every year, know what I mean? Me ‘n’ Micky ‘n’ the girls and the kids. Fuckin’ love it, we do. The food is fuckin’ out of this world. ‘cept for this one place we tried once, the Montón de Mierda or some shit. Anyway, it was a fuckin’ disgrace, I mean you couldn’t call that pile of shit a fuckin’ restaurant. Any’ow Mickey decides its time to complain. “Whatchya mean there ain’t no fuckin’ chips?” ‘e says to the waiter, “I come ‘ere on a fuckin’ plane ya cunt!” ‘e goes, “I got fuckin’ kids ‘ere! What am I supposed to do with this tomato fucking bollocks?”
So, Mickey gets up like, an’ I grab ‘is beer, so’s not to spill none, in case it kicks off, and ‘e takes this pan of tomato shit and shoves it in this cunt’s face. Its like somethin’ out of Laurel and fuckin’ ‘ardy, except its scaldin’ ‘ot and this cunt is rollin’ round on the floor, clutchin’ at ‘is face an’ screamin’ like ‘e’d just shat a ton of fucking pineapples. Its hilarious, and me and the kids are pissin’ ourselves. The girls don’t even notice, they’re doin’ some shit on their iPhones, know what I mean?
Any’ow, we decide we’ve ‘ad enough of this shit and decide to go to our favourite caff, the El Inglés Son Gilipollas, they fuckin’ love us there, an’ get some proper grub. On the way out I pay the bill, an’ leave a tip. I mean, we ain’t rude, and we don’t wanna give us English a bad name or nuffin’. Know what I mean?
She was my best Faecbook buddy. We’d chat for hours and play silly games, like pick a music genre and then pop off to You Tube and smother our own and each other’s walls with music. Sometimes we’d find some banal or bigotted discussion thread and just bombard it with surreal comments.
When she had her internet cut off, I was lost. I didn’t know what to do, so I dug out some envelopes, stamps and a pad of paper and posted her a letter. I didn’t know what to say, so I wrote “Kyle poked you.”
its officially blow my own trumpet day today lol
are shy and pull the sheet up around your neck, but I can see where your other hand is, see it moving, see what you are doing to yourself.
am not shy and kneel naked and erect between your thighs stroking the length of my thrashing cock, watching you watch me. You rub at yourself a little faster and smile and moan lightly, gripping me with your thighs.
slide the sheet down to just above your nipples, your hips beginning to rock up and down, and I can hear the gentle lapping of your fingers washing over your dark, hot pussy.
tell you what I want you to do and you oblige, slipping your hand out from under the sheet and brushing your sweet, wet fingers over my waiting lips.
let go of the sheet and take hold of my shaft, squeezing it sweetly, with your painted, dark fingers, feeling it throb and twitch in your grasp.
pull at the sheet and you let go and grab it, shaking your head, cheekily.
know what I want to do and don’t even have to ask.
know what you want me to do and I nod and smile in agreement.
let go and grab hold of me again, letting the soft cotton glide down over your breast and belly, letting me see how hard you are touching yourself, letting me drink in your pleasure.
reach down between your legs and start to stroke at your wetness, slipping my fingers into you and over you and round you, feeling your orgasm rise from deep inside you, your back arching, your mouth open, your eyes half closed in ecstasy, loud, animal moans and my name on your lips.
stroke me faster feeling my cock throb and pulsate and my body shudder as my orgasm breaks over me like an ocean wave.
come in long thick physical gasps, my cum splashing softly onto your breast, my body shaking, your name escaping from me in between my trembling gasps.
come and scream and watch as I lick my cum from your soft, quivering breasts.
I was blown away last night and this morning when I read the responses to my little poem. I wrote it in seconds, on the bus on my way home alone from a depressing evening in an even more depressing meat market. I never gave it a second thought and never expected such a heart-warming response.
I never realised just how many wonderful friends I have here. Thank you all for being so sweet and making me feel so wanted. You were all exactly what I needed. Thanks especially to the wonderful Kat of SnarkySnatch who said this, melting my heart and making my day.
“Get it out baby. Get out your pain in your glorious prose but don’t ever give up on sharing your heart. I would give my left tit to be able to have a man that loves as passionately as you do. Fuck anyone that doesn’t see your hearts grace. Yeah. I said it. FUCK ANYONE. You have supported me from the very beginning when there wasn’t even a reason to. You believed in my silly ass and snatch. Your motivational words propelled me forward during many a dark time. I remember one amazing email you sent me inspiring me to continue blogging when I didn’t think I had a voice to. I did continue. This is power you have to a fellow blogger, what the hell kind of empowerment do you give to someone you love? You are a vaginal elixir. You are talented. You are witty and funny. You are loyal. You are thousand gazillion things worth writing about but you greatest gift is that you love with an open heart. How many of us can say we do the same? I am very honored to call you a friend Kyle luv.
I have said before don’t fall in love…fall off a bridge. It will hurt less. I get it. I know. I’ve been there done that. Got the t-shirt and watched the movie on Lifetime but it still doesn’t take away the sting of hurting to say I feel you sweets. At the end of the day Kyle, people are flawed and sometimes selfish. It is an ugly part of humanity. Does it make them evil to hurt us? No. But they sure as shit could show some compassion when they exit. I am sorry you are hurting luv. I truly am. I adore you tons you silly wank biscuit. Hugs and mayhem.”