the three of us are naked. you kneel on the bed, staring wide-eyed at us, in the middle of our bedroom, as our cocks begin to thicken and lengthen and twitch their way to fully and eagerly erect. you have, in your hand, a leather riding crop. you are not intending on using it, providing that is, that we both do exactly what we’re told. you remind us of this and tingle with pleasure to see us both get a little stiffer with your words.
exactly as you tell us, we step towards each other and kiss. tentatively at first but with growing passion, as we arouse to the sound of your soft moans and giggles of pleasure. i see, from the corner of my eye, your hand slip down between your legs as i press myself against him and feel the hot, throb of his cock against mine. you beckon for me to drop to my knees, his large, proud cock, bouncing less than an inch from my face. i know what you want me to do, even before you ask me, and i run my tongue, slowly and leisurely all the way up his magnificent, pulsing length, caressing the tip by lapping my tongue in tantalising circles around it, tasting his sweet, sticky pre-cum and embracing it with my open mouth and lips.
you have never done anything like this before and your voice trembles with excitement as i take him deeper into my mouth, my hands grasping his powerful ass cheeks and sliding up and down his thighs and back and sides. you moan with delight, and your fingers slip deep inside yourself as he places his hand on my head and, bit by bit, coaxes more and more of his steel-like length further into my mouth with each thrust of his hips. you slide your wet fingers over your taut nipples as you watch him come deep in my throat, ready for what is to happen next, moaning deeply with delight as his cum dribbles from my lips.
you lay back on the bed with us either side of you, two mouths and four hands gliding over every inch of your lightly quivering body, our hot pricks pressed and pulsating hard into your yielding flesh, tasting your glorious pussy as we lick at and suck your erect nipples. our fingers devour your soaking, wet delight, taking it in turns to either rub at your clit or slide in and out of you. your back arches with animal desire, your eyes closed in ecstasy and your mouth gaping, red and panting. you almost weep with pleasure when you feel both our fingers inside you anda raging, rock-like prick in each hand.
you can barely speak, for animal desire, when you tell me to fuck you, and as i climb onto you, thrusting your thighs fiercely apart, he positions himself behind me. i rub my bursting tip up and down the length of your begging pussy and he rubs his hot, sticky cock up and down my crack. as i position myself to enter you, he does the same, and in one primal, movement, i enter you and he enters me. the three of us writhe, a sea of thrusting members and deep red depths, limbs and hands everywhere, and in a frenzy of mouths and sweat and dirty words, we all come together in long, hard thrusts and fingers buried deep into flesh, filling you and me with hot, spurting juices.
afterwards we lay in a naked puddle of cum and giggles and kisses and satisfied smiles and he asks if he can deliver pizza to us again sometime.
So, I’m down this nice little boozer last night, down ‘oxton an’ that, an’ its proper posh, wiv decent grub an cheap lager an’a proper ‘ot fuckin’ barmaid an’ everyfin’, know what I mean?
I was ‘avin’ a right good night an’ that, except for this fuckin’ couple in the booth opposite us. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all in favour of love and romance. I Fuckin’ love all that shit: bash any cunt’s skull in for my missus, I would, even when she’s in the wrong. I mean, I buy ‘er fuckin’ underwear an’ blow an’ fags an’ all sorts’a shit. I don’ even feel gay when we do all that kissy-kissy, foreplay bullshit; that’s ‘ow much I love ‘er. But this couple in that booth, well, its enough to make you wanna puke, know what I mean?
They’re doin’ all this “I wuv you honey bunny!” shit, an’ me an the missus are makin’ eyes at each uvver, like ‘get a fuckin’ room ya cunts!’ Next fing you know is, these cunts are feedin’ each uvver each uvver’s fuckin’ food. ‘Now, if you wanted chicken, fuckin’ biriani ya cunt,’ I’m finkin’ ‘then fuckin’ order it!’ know what I mean?
It’s when they start leanin’ over an’ fuckin’ kissin’, that I get the arse. I mean, the cunt’s tie is danglin’ in ‘is fuckin’ beer, the fuckin’ dicksplash! I lean under the table an’ tell the missus to stop suckin’ my cock, “I’ve ‘ad enough”, I tell ‘er, “We’re fuckin’ leavin!” I mean, there’s a time and a place for everything, know what I mean?
I was recently nominated for The Booker Award by the delightful Maureen, author at Magnolia Beginnings, and although I never accept blogger award nominations – my ego being already over-inflated – this one had me thinking about all the wonderful books I have read over the years.
Here is a list of my top, all-time five:
- Catch 22 by Joseph Heller
- The Dangerous and Painful Masturbation Magic Pop-Up Book by Paul Bollokov
- Gormenghast (trilogy) by Mervyn Peake
- The Mechanism of Mind by Edward de Bono
- Narziss and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse
- 101 Recipes for Kittens by B B Q Feline
- Fermat’a Last Theorem by Simon Singh
- Catcher in the Rye J D Salinger
- Mark Twain by Huckleberry Finn
- Trainspotting by Irvin Welsh
- How to lose Friends and Irritate people byDale Carnage
- The Fractal Geometry of Nature by Benoit B Mandelbrot
- The Yoga Guide to Self-Felation by Ike A N Bendova
- Watchmen by Alan Moore
- How to Count to Five by Arthur Unknown
I’ve not followed Maureen for long but her blog is a must-follow and full of sweet, smart, well written observations and musings, and her avatar picture makes for fantastic masturbation material. Thank you Maureen.
Today I decided I would write a deadly computer virus and unleash it on you all.
It turns out that I lack the necessary programming skills, so if you wouldn’t mind sharing this message with all your followers and manually deleting all the important files from your hard drive, I’d be very grateful.
Thank you 🙂
A friend asked me if I could mind his four-year-old, Max, for an hour this morning. Now, I had to go to the supermarket, so I took Max with me. He’s a delightful kid, with a passion for fire-engines and cooking, and like most children his age, has his own ideas as to how the world should work.
I was stood by the grapes trying to discover the line between sampling and shoplifting – 23 apparently – and did not see the young mother by further down the aisle. Max had though and had decided, for reasons known only to him, to methodically remove some of the items from her trolley and replace them with others. Like I say, he has his own ideas. “Is that your child?” she asked me.
“Er, no.” I responded. She gave me a funny look and I knew I had to think quickly. “He came free with two bottles of wine.”
“That’s funny,” she responded, “in a way, so did mine.”
thanks to shappi for the idea
I said long ago, that I would no longer be accepting blogger awards, and it wasn’t because I thought that they were a pointless (but very imaginative and caring) form of chain letter, but because being nominated gives me such an almighty erection that, I would fear for my mortal safety, were I to be nominated more than once in quick succession. It is only thanks to the swift action, and early arrival, of my cleaning lady, Mrs Go’onanonanonagan (87 but with the tits of an 85 year old), that I was not later discovered drowned in a pool of my own semen, after having received three such awards within the space of a single afternoon.
As I lay here in my hospital bed, recovering from an ego overdose, I think it only fair that I respond to Rhonda from Help Me Rhonda (The Seven Things About Me Award), Maureen from Magnolia Beginnings (The Five Best Books Ever Award) and Mad Gay Man from Diary of a Mad Gay Man (Bitches Love Awards Award), for their flattering and honouring nominations.
As per my doctor’s orders, I will respond to each nomination with a post of its own and start with Rhonda’a ‘Seven Things About Me Award’.
The rules of this award require me to first thank the nominee, then to reveal seven embarrassing facts about myself and finally to nominate 463 other bloggers.
Thank you Rhonda:
Rhonda’s blog, Help Me Rhonda, is a witty, sweet and charming, daily dose of life-affirming wisdom and side-splitting humour, beautifully taken photographs and cleverly observed anecdotes. If you have not yet discovered her, then do so now, or I will have you cruelly murdered.
- I could read by the age of three. I kinda taught myself but was encouraged and helped by my family, who seemed to think I was possibly some kind of prodigy. Sadly it was my only trick, I simply had to learn “how to do words”, and after that I was, academically, something of a disappointment.
- I know 30 different ways to kiss – 31, if you include ‘on the mouth.’
- I think its wrong to use poetry or art to get into a woman’s head. It’s much better to use them to get into a woman’s pants.
- I once was a cartoonist, for a chain of pot-selling coffee shops in the Netherlands. I used to get paid in pot and only got the job because the previous incumbent had been tied to his push-bike, by the Dutch Mafia , and thrown into a canal. A very Dutch way to die, their bikes are very heavy.
- I had a girlfriend who ran off with my best friend, and I still miss him.
- I have a notepad and pen in every room in the house. It’s because I never know when I will have an idea. I even have a notepad in the lavatory. Once, after taking a large amount of magic mushrooms, I discovered the secret to life there and, obviously, wrote it down. The following morning, upon realising that I had run out of toilet paper, I had to use it to wipe my arse. Well? What would you have done?
- I have no idea what the pre-wash function on my washing machine is for.
Normally I claim to be unable to nominate anyone because I never bother reading any of the shite you all write. This is not actually true. I do, I avidly, read every word of all your blogs. The reason I can’t nominate anyone is because I am simply too lazy and way too busy masturbating over your gravatar images.
so anyway, i had unprotected sex with this prostitute the other week, and a few days later my cock turns purple. naturally, i go see my doctor and she tells me that it will have to be amputated. now, that seems a bit extreme to me, so i get myself a second opinion and go see this classy doctor on harley street. “my doctor says its gotta be amputated,” i tell him, “tell me that’s not true.”
“oh no.” he replies, “that’s totally unnecessary. give it two or three days and it’ll fall off all by itself.”
the food was awful,
i told her,
the service sucked,
the restroom was
a total disgrace,
and the parking was
i waited ages
for my meal,
the beer was warm,
the fish was cold,
and what she said
when i complained…
she said “sorry but
i don’t work here.”
“I need rescuing from an evil baron.”
“You want me to come on my white charger?”
“I don’t know how to ride a horse, will a bicycle do?”
“It’ll need to be a tandem.”
“Got it – are you being kept against your will in a high tower?”
“Its an eight bedroom luxury appartment, but yes.”
“How high is it? I need to know how much rope to buy.”
“Its a ground floor bungalow tower.”
“Not much rope then – will I get to fight dragons?”
“I hope so.”
“How big are these dragons?”
“Not as big as they think they are.”
“And how many?”
“Okay, I’m on my way – where are you?”
“In the next room, silly.”