With my laptop gone
I’ll get no posts done
But I’ve still got my phone
And its a smart one
So I could write a poem
And sit in the sun
But I can’t be fucked
Tell me what you want to read and I will oblige…
so you really don’t read any other blogs?
sure i do!!
a few others
isn’t that kinda arrogant?
my friend sally calls me ‘lofty’
haha – why?
its a nickname
i get that you dumb cunt – why?
she says i’m aloof
you are boring me now – bye
wonderful – inspired me to write this next piece
I am honoured and delighted to have nominated myself for ‘The Total Dick Award’
The rules are simple:
- Thank the nominee and tell them why you think they deserve The Total Dick Award.
- Share ten things about yourself that demonstrate what a Total Dick you are.
- Nominate other Total Dicks.
Thank you Kyle:
You deserve this award as much as I do, and I could never have done it without you. It is your ridiculously over-inflated ego, that has, so justifiably, earned you this award. The way that, when you make love to a beautiful woman, you close your eyes and imagine you are masturbating, the way you award yourself awards, it all adds up to make you the perfect recipient of The Total Dick Award. Congratulations!
- I get a semi every time I get a new follower. Once I got four new followers in five minutes and almost came.
- I once had sext with two women at once, without either of them knowing about the other. I’d given them both the same nicknames so I could cut and paste a lot of what I wrote. We all came at the same time and it was pretty cool, but its not something I guess I should be proud of.
- When I was in the army, I went out with this barmaid called Pamela. She had one leg longer than the other (although it might have been that one leg was shorter, I can’t remember). It didn’t bother me one bit, but all my mates laughed and took the piss and I finished with her because I was too weak to take the peer pressure – I feel bad about that, to this day.
- I was an internet sex slave. For two weeks. To this incredible woman from Florida or Virginia or one of those states. She had me write her sado-masochistic tales like this one and this one and one about castration that was too frightful to ever publish. She also had me take photo’s of me doing painful and humiliating things to myself. It was all a lot of fun but two weeks in I got bored, met someone nice and decided to end it.
- I’m not actually ashamed of that last one. I am, however, ashamed that I am not ashamed of it.
- I once wrote some erotica for a fellow blogger to post on her blog as her own, and she repaid me by sending me some really naughty pictures of herself. Not ashamed of that one either, if I’m honest.
- I once sucked someone’s cock for a gram of coke.
- I volunteer at a homeless shelter for one week a year. People say that its because I’m a nice guy but that’s bullshit. The fact is that there are three times as many female volunteers as there are male volunteers. I might enjoy volunteering and I might think it worthwhile, but I do it primarily to meet pussy.
- I once accepted money to pretend to be someone’s boyfriend.
- When I was about 17, I let this girl bully me. I didn’t have to, but she was hot and being beaten up by her turned me on.
- I am a terrible liar, and two of these things are not true.
I’m not going to nominate anyone for this award, I don’t think any of you deserve it. If anyone wants to nominate themselves though, I’d love to see that…
She sat in the tub with him. He wrapped his arms around her. Made her feel safe. Made her feel wanted. She grabbed the camera. Took a photo. Of this moment. Their moment. Their time together. They knew it was fleeting. That they couldn’t stay. That real life waited for them outside of that tub. That cocoon. That warmth. They held each other. Whispered sweet, dirty things as the steam rose up from the water and their warm skin. She leaned harder into his chest. He held her tighter. Kissed her neck. She whispered she loved him. Loved this. This moment. He put his hands in her hair. She caressed his legs. Felt their safety. Felt his longing for her in her back. She turned around. The water moved with her. Splashed everywhere. She didn’t care. She looked into his eyes. Told him she wasn’t leaving him. That she was…
View original post 28 more words
“Okay, I think you should begin by logging out of Facebook.” my therapist explains.
“Oh, I do.” I say, “Every time I go out, or have to work or have friends round, I log out.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” she says, knowing what pain her next words will cause me, “I want you to log out of Facebook permanently. You need to deactivate your account.”
“But why?” I stammer. She looks up from her notes, straight at me.
“You need to wean yourself off the internet, Kyle. We discussed this in your last session.”
“All of it?” I implore, knowing the answer before I hear it.
“Yes Kyle. All of it.”
“Especially WordPress Kyle.” she smiles, “We discussed this. You agreed it was for the best.” My head drops, in meek acknowledgement. “You see that?” she asks, gesturing, with a nod, towards the large glass pane to my right.
“The window?” I ask.
“Through that.” she urges
“Yes, Kyle. Outside.”
In the background I hear a choir singing. The tune is Desmond Dekker’s Israelites, the words are:
Me wek up in da mornin,
wantin me ganja,
me got me rocket
but me not got me rizla
Then I realise what’s going on… and wake up.