Everyone looks beautiful.
I am in love with the whole world
I want to fuck and fight,
love and hate
And laugh and cry.
I want to make a million women come
And a million men weep.
I want to make things
And break things.
I want to stand on a mountain top,
Stark bollock naked,
As stiff as the wind,
In the driving rain
And beat my chest and roar.
YOUR giggle makes me stiff
makes me throb
makes me twitch
YOUR smile makes me shiver
makes me dribble
makes me quiver
YOUR laughter makes me hum
makes me drool
makes me come
Everybody is beautiful today.
Everything just shines.
A candy wrapper
With a condom in the gutter.
I thought it was a sweet idea at first, a way to reduce the thousands of miles that separated us, a way to bring us closer. You wanted me to promise not to touch myself until you said so, and I did. At first I thought you would just make me wait until the end of that day or maybe into the next, but you really liked the power, enjoyed the feel of my burning desire.
It was a full week before I first begged. You giggled as you shook your head, aroused by how my longing grew stronger each day, thrilled by how easily you could get me erect. You teased me mercilessly, taunting me with pictures of you wearing nearly nothing and calling me day and night, moaning and panting into the mouthpiece, telling me what you were doing to yourself, letting me hear you come, knowing exactly how wild you were driving me and loving every tantalising second of it.
Eventually you told me how long you intended to keep me waiting, saying something about a birthday treat. I grinned from ear to ear, my birthday was only days away. “Not your birthday, silly,” you giggled wickedly, “mine.”
Let me kneel before you in prayer
and worship at the gates of your celestial city.
Let me taste your divine sacrament
and feel your sacred eucharist wet against my lips.
My hymns will be your moans,
your carnal rapture my liturgy,
in praise of our holy communion.
and let me sacrifice myself
on the alter of your glistening, trembling thighs
and anoint you with my hallowed seed.
How would you like your tea?
With milk, or lemon?
Earl Grey perhaps?
Or Darjeeling maybe?
In a big mug?
With a biscuit to dunk?
How would you like you tea?
I’d like my tea with you?
I don’t do the blogger award thing as a rule, I worry about the exponential growth inherent in such systems. Do the math; if every blogger given an award nominates seven other bloggers, and they each nominate seven more and so on, then within two weeks, every WordPress blogger on the planet will have received that award (there are over 72 million WordPress blogs). Within a month, we will have all been nominated over a 100 times.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love being nominated, I love having my ego stroked, (although I prefer to have it sucked,) and I get so flattered that I have to jack off every time I get a nomination, and that’s the problem, too many awards and my ego would just collapse under the weight of all that love and I would most likely be discovered dead by my cleaning lady, having drowned in my own semen. Not a pleasant clean up job for anybody, as I’m sure you can imagine.
However, today I am making an exception and not because I think I am worthy of the award but because of who has nominated me: the wonderful Gypsy, author of the outstanding Through my eyes: Adventures in Borderline land. Her blog truly is outstanding, unlike my trivial and masturbatory attempts at entertaining you, her blog is a powerful, poignant, heartfelt and heart-warming journal of her struggles and victories over Borderline Personality Disorder.
Gypsy nominated me for the “Outstanding Blogger Award”, the rules are as follows:
- Thank the nominee.
- Share something important about yourself.
- Nominate other bloggers.
Thank you Gypsy: your blog is just awesome. It is straightforward and honest and bursting with emotion and you have helped far more people than you realise by documenting your life so bravely. Thank you.
Thank you also for encouraging me to write this next bit. Its about something I’ve never written about before (well not publicly) and if it weren’t for you, I may never have.
Something important: I was an addict. For years, I threw a large chunk of my adult life down a big dark hole. I have never written about it before because I still carry a lot of shame for having wasted so much of a life who’s every second should be savoured and not squandered.
Addiction nearly killed me, it turned me into a liar and a thief and a cheat and a rascal. I lied and stole mostly to and from the people that loved me the most, well, who tried to love me anyway, its not easy to love someone when they hate themselves. In the end I drove everyone away with my snivelling self-pity and misdirected anger.
Every day I would wake and promise myself, ‘no more’ and every day, before noon, I would have failed. The failure sapped me dry Every day, month after month, year after year, failure after failure. I lost all faith in myself. My soul nearly disappeared, I nearly extinguished my own humanity. In the end there was just this tiny, flickering spark of it left, cowering deep inside me.
One day, I decided to face my demons head on. It was that or die. seriously. I tossed a coin: heads, I go seek help (again), tails, I end it all. You can guess how it landed, and I re-entered that mill of detox and rehab and therapy and those fucking rooms. Somehow it clicked, and is still clicking five years down the road. Maybe it was because I had driven everyone away and had to do it on my own. Maybe it was because I knew the alternative was to die, but actually I think it was because I discovered the true nature of my demons. They were not the fearsome devils of my nightmares. They were not powerful angry, ugly monsters. They were me, me when I was young, and hurt and sad, the neglected me and the scared me. They were little me and they hurt. They didn’t need battling, they needed loving and accepting.
I didn’t really change, and I’m still a complete shit-bag – just ask any woman I’ve ever dated – I just learned to accept me and enjoy being me, love me even. Life hasn’t really changed that much either, there is still as much sadness and pain as there ever was, but there is laughter and love too.
Nominate other bloggers: I’m not going to nominate anyone else for this award, and its not because I don’t want to, its just that I don’t know who to nominate, because I never actually bother to read any of the shit you all write.
Thanks again to Gypsy for the honour. Everyone please visit, like, comment and follow her wonderful blog, or I will have you brutally killed and your corpse fed to your pets in front of your children.
facebook goes bleep
my heart skips
i look up
my finger clicks
my trousers twitch
Grief: all the things i wish i’d said
Love: all the things i hope i’ll say
Grief: even after all these years, you are the first thing i think about when i wake
Love: even after all these years, you are the last thing i think about before i sleep
Grief: i miss you more every day
Love: i love you more every day
Grief: i wish this feeling would go away – i know it won’t
Love: i hope this feeling never goes away – i know it won’t
Grief: losing you changed me forever
Love: finding you changed me forever
Grief: you’re all i ever think about
Love: you’re all i ever think about
- One large cup-full of experience
- One or two generous spoonfuls of sadness, according to taste
- A large sprinkling of humour
- An ounce of wholemeal wisdom
- A fresh sprig of organic pain
- Several free range smiles
- Two eggs
- An open mind
- Some freshly picked humility (bottled is ok, if you can’t find fresh)
- One open heart
- Half a can of sheer guts, or baked beans, depending on the season
Mix the above ingredients in a large bowl and bake on the top shelf of a hot oven for a decade or two. Season with plenty of sex, laughter and fun, a few tears and some grated cheese. Garnish with cherry tomatoes and parsley.
For maximum pleasure, eat with someone else.
swoon late 13c., swogene, probably from O.E. geswogen “in a faint,” pp. of a lost verb, perhaps *swogan, as in aswogan “to choke,” of uncertain origin. Cf. Low Ger. swogen “to sigh.”
i wanna make you swoon
i wanna make you come
i wanna make you
come so hard
that you scream
and then pass out
i wanna make you
feel so loved
that you can
no longer think
i wanna fuck you
into a coma
i wanna lick you
’til you feint
Hot red lips,
In the shade
Of the orange grove,
The yellow glow
of the burning sun,
Our bodies tremble,
Like the green leaves
In the blue of your eyes,
The indigo sky
And our violet lust.
our first kiss.
our eyes meet.
our breath hot,
To kiss your lips,
hot and red,
to stroke them
with my fingertips.
To see your mouth,
open an wet,
dripping with my cum.
To kiss your breasts,
soft and warm,
to stroke them
with my prick.
To see your tits,
open and wet,
dripping with my cum.
To kiss your clit,
throbbing and hard,
to stroke it
with my tongue.
To see your pussy,
open and wet,
dripping with his cum.
2:11:29 AM you: … does that make you want come?
2:11:31 AM me: holy fuck yeah!!! wow!!!
2:11:49 AM you: Tell me how much.
Tell me how much you want to come.
2:12:00 AM me: i dont want to come – i NEED to come
more than i need to breathe
more than need to eat
more than i need to see the sun
how much i need to come
more than i need shelter
more than i need clothes
over any fun
how much i need to come
2:13:13 AM you: Wow!
2:13:15 AM me: can i?
2:27:48 AM you: No!
I lay back and you mount me, rising and falling, my hands on your breasts, your sides your hips. You moan and gasp, your breath quickening and you slip your fingers between your legs and start to rub at your clit as my cock pushes deep into you. You brush my lips with your sweet wet fingers, letting me taste you, slipping them in and out of my mouth in time to the increasing rhythm of your pumping hips and then back to your steaming pussy.
You shudder with delight as your orgasm begins to bubble up volcanically from deep inside you and I shake and pant as you stop rising and falling and sink down onto me, the full length of my cock inside you. You tell me not to move, not an inch and not to come, just to watch as you do, as you pin me there and rub harder and more luxuriously at your gleaming, hot pussy. I feel your orgasm crash through you, your pussy contacting around my pulsating cock with each body-rocking spasm of pleasure, my cock feeling every wave of your climax, watching your open mouth and half closed eyes locked onto mine, listening to your blissful cries.
I lie still, trembling with desire, desperate to come as you climb off me and tell me to bring myself as close to orgasm as I can then stop. I do. You ask how close I am and I tell you “Just seconds away.”
“Closer,” you say, “much closer, get so close that all it would take to make you come would be my fingers stroking your chest, so close that all I would have to do would be whisper your name or kiss you and you would come.” I stroke gently, teasing myself towards orgasm until I can feel it deep inside about to rush through my soul like a swollen dam and I stop, let go of myself and lie there a shaking mess, my breath fast and hot.
You whisper my name and plant your lips on mine and as we kiss, I come, my cock bouncing free on my belly, jets of thick white cum painting us as my orgasm bursts through me and over me in deep carnal quakes, leaving me spent and happy and with you in my arms.
i hold your hand
you hold my cock
i kiss your lips
you kiss me back
i hold you close
you hold me fast
i kiss your clit
you kiss my shaft
i hold your heart
and you hold mine
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
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
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”
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.