Faith schools in the UK have been in the news lately, with a new bill introduced that will allow them to teach sex education in the way that reflects their religious views. The irony, of course, is that while Schools Secretary Ed Balls said that the bill aimed to promote equality, encourage acceptance of diversity and emphasise the importance of rights and responsibilities etc, it could potentially do the exact opposite. In particular, Catholic schools will be able to teach students that the use of condoms and premarital sex are morally wrong, while preaching the “benefits” of abstinence – a policy supported by the Pope during his last visit to Africa. Both Muslim and Catholic schools will also be able to teach students that homosexuality is a heinous sin, despite the government’s line that homosexuality is natural – a line largely supported by the British public, according to polls.
While teenage pregnancy and inadequate sexual education are major problems in the UK, concessions to faith schools about the teaching of sexual education is a serious problem, especially concerning the issue of homosexuality – given the UK’s comparatively liberal stance on gay rights. Meanwhile, the Catholic Education Service of England and Wales have proudly announced that it was their lobbying that won them the most recent concessions, following the granting of the right to discriminate on grounds of parental employment and admissions policies over the past decade or so.
The government has issued a blustering response , replying to criticism from Accord that “all schools would have to teach SRE “in line with the principles outlined in the bill including promoting equality and encouraging acceptance of diversity – which contradicts their own bill, given Islam expressly forbids homosexuality and Catholicism the use of contraceptives. In particular, Ed Balls stated that faith schools had to make clear that their views were not the only ones, and that “the bottom line was that all young people must by law receive accurate and balanced information so that they could make informed, positive choices”. But how can teaching about the moral turpitude of homosexuality and the use of condoms be considered accurate and balanced? This entire affair reminds me of the Board of Education in the State of Alabama, where state school teachers are made to grant equal weight to the “theory” of creationism as they do evolution, while biology textbooks must carry a disclaimer to the same effect.
Mind you, what I do find quite amusing about this new bill is, as Sandi Toksvig pointed out on the news quiz, that while religious homophobes may find it far easier to exercise their views, secular homophobes have been left in the cold. Surely that’s also a form of discrimination. Oh dear.
“Crossing Hennessy,” the first film starring Chinese actress Tang Wei since she was reportedly blacklisted by officials in China following her graphic sex scenes in “Lust Caution,” has been selected as the opening night film for the 34th Hong Kong International Film Festival on March 21.
Associated Press
“Crossing Hennessy,” a romantic comedy, is unlikely to receive the kind of controversy that “Lust Caution” generated. Tang’s co-star is actor-singer Jacky Cheung, one of Hong Kong’s most-popular entertainers. As the movie went into production last year, Tang seemed ready to take on different roles.
And it now appears that Chinese authorities are softening their view of Tang, who won critical praise for her role in director Ang Lee’s controversial espionage drama. This week, Hong Kong-based Edko Films, which is distributing “Crossing Hennessy,” said the movie received approval from mainland censors. Lorna Tee, general manager of Hong Kong-based Irresistible Films, which produced “Crossing Hennessy,” said: “We don’t know the release date for China, but it will be soon.”
In “Lust Caution,” Tang played a young student who helps set up an assassination plot against a treasonous Chinese official during the war-time Japanese occupation of Shanghai. Tang’s sexually explicit scenes with actor Tony Leung Chiu-wai drew a huge amount of attention in China and elsewhere when it was released in 2007. The movie’s more graphic sex scenes were edited for its distribution in China, although it was assumed that many movie fans in the country found access to unedited pirated DVDs.
[picture: Tang Wei is poised for her return to the big screen]
Media reports at the time said that China’s State Administration of Radio, Film and Television slapped a ban on broadcasts featuring Tang because of the movie’s supposedly unpatriotic elements.
Ivy Ho, the writer-director of “Crossing Hennessy,” told The Wall Street Journal Thursday that the movie was made primarily for the Hong Kong market, but “of course we want to see it play everywhere.” Ho said the movie will open for general release in Hong Kong on April 1, and “Shortly after that, it will be shown in a dozen major cities in China.” She is making preparations for a promotional tour of China.
I recently came across the colorful and clever photography of Agnes Kunz Vigil. Sexual connotations captured through everyday mediums such as food. Check it out!
I can tell by the conversations I’m having this morning that today is going to be an interesting day…
Qlike and I were talking about sex this morning, specifically, the option of saying “no”. He told me that one thing he learned in his 20’s, being a man that didn’t think with his sex drive (unlike most of his contemporaries) if he turned down his then-girlfriend for sex, she would become very angry. I’ve heard of that before, and it made me wonder what the deal was. Is that normal? I don’t sleep with men, and in my f/f relationships it has yet to be an issue.
Shane says it’s a lovers thing, not just a m/f thing. It’s not woman per say, but when a couple has sex is determined by the partner with the lesser sex drive, because they’re the one saying “no”. We all know that “no means no” and that’s the end of the story. She offers up the point that a person is permitted to be angry about “no” if the other partner is using it as a weapon in order to get something they want (gifts, dinners, favours, etc). Qlike says that he doesn’t even get mad when sex is attempted to be used as a weapon, because that’s what one’s overactive imagination is for.
And what about partnering with someone who has a sex drive that’s not as high as yours? It’s not like that comes up on a first date. And the first little bit of a relationship generally is ruled by copious amounts of sex…so once you settle in with someone, and you realize they only like sex once a week (or less) and you like it once a day, what’s a person to do? Does that work? That must lead to a lot of frustration. I knew a couple, who had fairly steady sex, then it began to dwindle because he was stressed out at work. She dealt with this, was understanding. Frustrated, but understanding. Then, she found out that he was taking care of his needs without her and she was pissed (note: he wasn’t cheating). It brought an end to their several year relationship. Should she have continued to be more understanding? I don’t know. I think there’s only so much a person can do.
Should a person who doesn’t want sex cave to the needs of their partner?
I’m just wondering where this idea that women get to be in charge? Is it because it’s an empowering thing? Is it because it’s “our body” and we decide? And if so, why is it that so many women get upset when men don’t want to have sex? If it’s their body, should the same rules not apply? I’ve got a few girlfriends who get upset if their man says “no” to sex, and then in turn deny him the next time he’s in the mood. That hardly seems right.
Personally, I don’t think anyone should be upset or angry (unless there’s an underlying continued issue – talk it out). And no one should be “in charge” of sex. If you both want to have sex, great. If one of you doesn’t, then don’t. I really don’t like the idea of someone sleeping with me because I want it and they don’t. I think that would make me feel worse than just being turned down.
“According to a Men’s Health survey on a guy and his money, 40% of men would allow another man to sleep with their girlfriend or wife for money.” This just in…40% of men are douchebags. (I wish I could say that on the air!) I wonder how many of those men would admit that to their girlfriend or wife? I think that number would change. I wonder how many women would let someone sleep with their spouse for money?
“So flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, along with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart.”
I believe it was April of 2005, I was sitting at Starbucks on Mill Ave. listening to music and journaling when suddenly I had the brilliant idea that I wanted to get tattooed. So, I called my good friend Bobby Hess, asked him to meet me at SB and away we went. Rather than researching a shop or going somewhere that had a good reputation, I disregarded both of those and went to the shop that was walking distance. On the way to Living Canvas Tattoo, Bobby asked what I was going to get and I told him, “222″.
There it is… In all of its glory. The guy who did this tattoo had just moved here from somewhere else and had been tattooing for like six years. My guess is that six years really meant six months… He used a single liner, probably a 5 round to do the entire tattoo! The middle “2″ felt like nothing I had ever felt before, I was unaware that there are so many nerves in that part of your wrist. Getting this tattoo was more than just getting a tattoo that night, it was my dedication to expressing myself through the art!
Why this? Well, it is my pursuit. Sexual sin has been my down fall way before I would have classified my actions as sin. Although the verse that inspires this is pretty intense it is so beautiful because it commands that you do not fight the fight of lust and sexual sin as a loner. Flee & Pursue! Flee youthful passion & Pursue righteousness, along with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart.
I think I’ve resolved the in call issue, although in my mind it’s far from perfect. There were always another two options for where to work from. The first is my parents’ home where I currently live. Both of them are out from at least 8-4 on weekdays. However, my mum working only across the road does make random visits back to the house some days at various times. This would make it a very stressful location for me to take in calls.
So the other option is my grandparents’ house, which is currently uninhabited. It is in the middle of renovation, but the master bedroom and bathroom are both still usable. I will have to sneak a key from my mum (or procure one from her with an innocent excuse) but then it seems a perfect, discreet location. It is not visited by anyone as the work on it is being carried out by my family at weekends, so during the week it is there to use whenever I choose.
I do feel a little nervous about using my grandparents’ house. I’d need to make sure I am very careful not to leave any clues lying around and will have to put everything back in its place each time before I leave. But other than that it seems a great way for me and Holden to begin bringing in a bit more money again. Most men seem to prefer in calls because it is easier to just pay a girl than to pay for a hotel room too. Also, a suburban location means there’s less chance of anyone being caught out, be it a client or myself. So, all in all, in calls are go!
From the author of the quirky and outright bizarre Zanesville comes a new novel that takes the classic noir detective story and boils it down . . . then bakes it . . . then deep fries it; and throws in a bunch of sex and kinky stuff. The resulting recipe is Saknussemm’s Private Midnight.
Saknussemm harnesses the voice and feel of a classic, noir detective novel from the very first page. Detective Birch Ritter has everything a detective of his type needs: a crummy, tough job that takes up all his time, he seems to never sleep, and has a sordid and dark past filled with tragedy and bad choices that constantly come back to haunt him and the reader. Private Midnight has two stories going on: one is the case that Ritter needs to solve, and the horrifically mangled bodies keep turning up; the other is a strange introduction to a type of therapist who uses elaborate mind-games combined with dominatrix-style sex acts, all with the apparent goal of getting Ritter to pour out his heart and his past, and move on with his used up life.
Whether you’re looking for a gritty detective story or something with some sexual spiciness to it (or perhaps both), you’ll thoroughly enjoy Private Midnight, with its unique voice and complex story that will leave you turning the page just to find out what’s going to happen next.
If you liked this review and are interested in purchasing this book, click here.
Today, we had an office weekend picnic. Friends and families of employees were also invited. In between the younger crowd the discussion quite often drifts to romance and affair.
I witnessed this healthy discussion about the physical needs of boys versus girls. The girls were arguing that guys often need girls only for their physical needs. The boys had their share of beliefs.
There is one opinion that really caught my attention. A guy mentioned the following:
“I need physical as well as emotional love. Girls are so manipulative that it is impossible to trust them. Today she is with me and tomorrow she will be with someone else. We enter into any human alliance because we want to gain something. Emotional aspects of a human association mean more to me, but those can be proven only over a period of time. Girls are either fickle minded or they have a tendency to keep switching partners, hence I concentrate on physical aspects in the beginning of a relationship.
Emotional aspects materialize only over a period of time. Girls are usually not stable. A relationship costs time, money, emotions and I do not wish to be taken for a ride for several months without gaining anything out of it.”
Most people weren’t very pleased with this attitude, but them most of the world is feminist – who pamper women.
Burlesque tonight. I was sure I’d seen the go-go dancer before. She wore her wig in pig tails, had very large breasts that we never got to see but I got to lick through a dollar bill as I stuffed it in her bra with my mouth. A nose ring, like a bull. I know, it’s called a septum. I was mesmerized by the way the cellulite on her butt and back of thighs disappeared and reappeared as she made quick swivel motions with her hips. I’m usually bored with go-go dancers, but something about this one held my eye. I recently heard “A burlesque dancer performs for the crowd, a stripper dances for just one person.” It was if this go-go had the perfect combination, dancing for the crowd and each individual all at once.
Another dancer pulled a string of rosary beads from her vagina, and there’s nothing that can top that.
Later, I went to an art fag event with a friend i met through a man i saw a few times, and not at all to my surprise, the man was there. Wearing the same brown vintage suit as when I met him, and indication he’s dying to impress. He could have been an aristocratic lady who lunches when he saw me: “Oh, I”m so glad you’re here!” With utter schmaltz and fakeness and a quick exit after he found the bathroom. The best part about sex with this man had been that he liked it doggy style, so I didn’t have to look at him while we did it. Not that he’s unattractive, more that he’s so detached from everything, that eye contact and genital contact at the same time would probably make him explode. My friend went off the fulfill his oral sex karma and I promptly left after exploring the “art installations” that included shower curtains, fantasy stories, and a giant pot of soup. sometimes a bathroom rug is just a rug.
Back to this idea of oral sex karma. I find it interesting. During train ride from burlesque to party, my friend explained the situation between himself and a girl who lived at house of party. They’d hooked up a couple of times, the first time wasn’t great, the second time still not a deal breaker one way or the other, and the third time he received a full on rub and tug spa treatment, worth at least $400 in any proper brothel. She gave him a long sensual massage, and capped it with an awesome blow job. He is now 100% sure he’s not interested, but instead of telling her right away, he feels the need to fulfill his obligation, pay back the oral sex karma. I say the girl probably has feelings and should know he doesn’t before engaging in any further sex. Not that I think he should get out of the debt, not at all. I think he should draw up an official certificate: “IOU one hour of the best lip smacking, face numbing, tounge thrusting cunnilingus I can muster, and if you don’t like that, then at least a good foot rub. Terms and conditions: I am in no way interested in a meaningful romantic relationship, a falsified romantic relationship, or a fuck buddys situation. After coupon is redeemed, status converts immediately to sexless friendship.” Then let her make the call.
Sheila the Stripper Queen didn’t know when the tall, dark man walked into her club that he was Prince Frederico, Decency Overlord for the Council Against Public Obscenity and Naughtiness, but she took him home anyway. After a frantic night spent in the back of Frederico’s SUV, Sheila knew she was a lost woman.
“But Frederico,” she murmured as their sweat-glistening bodies tangled together, “Our clans are at war.”
“‘Twill be alright, my little pasty of love,” Frederico sighed, “I am also a pretty good bouncer.”
THE SCENT OF LILITH
BLACK MOON LILITH FOR MEN
(the scent)
combine…
3 drops amy winehouse tears
1 vial liquidized mugwort
2 drops go-go dancer pit sweat
1 teaspoon blood Uranus’s severed testicles,
(bloody mary mix will do in a pinch).
Fry lovingly under the New Moon
with the shavings of a giant mustache
that you time-travelled to the 80’s for.
That should do it
formula courtesy of Marina/ Funk Astrology
Romance in the home is different from foreplay which shall be discussed in detail under another chapter in this book. It is important to know that romance is not foreplay. Romance covers the day to day activities, behaviour and feeling both partners share towards each other.
Romance is both a conscious and unconscious statements partners makes to each other through several means, even eye contact speaks a lot. The unconscious statements or actions of romance are instinctive in nature and cannot be readily controlled, but all depends on the settings. Romantic settings include:
Mind Setting
Environment Setting
Body Setting
1. Mind Setting
You must understand that romance in necessary. Without it your affection for each other will never develop. You must believe that your partner is your prime source of joy and happiness in the whole world and you are willing to let your partner know through the romance. Mind setting includes:
As far as birthday presents and so forth go, you can make the gift personal by carefully considering your beloved’s interests and choosing a gift uniquely suited to her personality.
‘For this cause I left thee in Crete, that thou should set in order the things that are wanting…’ (1 Titus 1:5)
This is setting the things around you in order. Romance in the home is different from foreplay. The three elements to enhance when creating a romantic home are comfort, nature and the past. These three can be explained as:
Comfort: Satisfy the senses with soothing colours for the eyes; fresh scents of herbs and flowers for the nose; delightful, mellow tactile experiences for touch.
Nature: Let the natural lights in and keep window treatments to a minimum. Bring nature in through natural elements like flowers, vegetables, fruits, dried grasses and flowers, shells, bird nests, etc.
The Past: Find charming antique objects like old wine bottles for use every day. An old kettle makes a delightful container for a fruit and flower arrangement.
The rule is simple. Small things are cute. If you see a food product in the supermarket that comes in a smaller package than usual, get it, because there’s a very good chance it’s cute. The same goes for travel size shampoo, toothpaste, and so on.
Some things are inherently romantic, like hearts. This is very useful, because you can pile things upon the object of your affections and win romance points without expending any additional effort or thought. The trick is to figure out what is romantic and what is not. There is a basic rule of thumb to follow: if it’s cool, it’s not romantic.
Combine low light sources, and it stands to reason that the air of romance will be so thick, your beloved will be blind to anything else but the radiance of her shimmering knight in armour. Open the curtains on a sunset and light some candles, and you might even be able to get away with watching a football game during dinner.
So you do not want to be wrong. Get her red or pink roses, red or pink ribbons, red or pink balloons, red or pink teddy bears, red or pink dresses and jewels and she’ll fall hopelessly under your spell.
Even when a woman comes homes late and she is not able to cook that evening, she can buy some kenkey from town. But to make that supper romantic, she needs to add her personal touch. She must add sliced tomatoes and onions which she does herself.
This is thorough cleanliness of the body which entails shaving, brushing, bathing, use of good perfume and deodorant to make your body attractive and pleasant. Cleanliness must cover the:
In these modern times, beauty does not just lie in the eyes of the beholder, but it appreciates or depreciates with time and familiarity in the eyes of the beholder.
Complete beauty consists of both inner and outer beauty. Whilst the inner beauty is innate and evolves from the hidden personality of the woman, outer beauty can be bought. Every woman must look attractive and sexy. Use the best of make-up if necessary including new hair styles, manicure, pedicures and the best of body creams.
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Ladies and Gentleman of the net, today is yet another Singles Awareness Day! It’s a solemn holiday that can be filled with joys for those with a cynical sense of humor, but not necessarily a cynical outlook on life.
See back in high school I would have called this Valentine’s Day. That’s because I was forced to see every couple in the world making out by their forest green lockers as if tomorrow the world would end and they would never see each other again. As if the male was going off to fight the Germans or something as dramatic. They would buy each other roses and candies.
Occasionally there would be a few people that would buy candies and cards for various people in their classes. These people were social outcasts looking to be thrust into a world they knew nothing about. They would offer these things as if the students were Native Americans and he was just a new world explorer. All he has to trade with are these heart-shaped candies that say “I love you” and “snuggle!” and cards with Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck holding hands as if today is the day all wars stop and everyone comes together in some glorious, harmonious peaceful embrace. The Native Americans hopefully accept these gifts and give the explorer a daughter to be with for the night in a magnificently built Teepee, or they don’t accept them and he gets pieces of his body cut off. I don’t really know how they would react, since I have never actually met (nor seen) a Native American. I have seen a Puerto Rican guy dressed up as a Native American in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade a few times though…Come to think of it college isn’t much different. You just catch people having sex in the place you live a lot more frequently…
However, as the years of single life pile on for me (four years running!) I began to mourn for myself. I would look back at high school days and think, “Wow, I used to have someone I cared about back then.” Then I remember they cheated on me (on VALENTINE’S DAY) and I don’t feel as bad. These events just made me realize how ridiculous Valentine’s Day is and how much better Singles Awareness Day could be! Think about this for a minute. Most of the time, couples hate each other. I mean HATE. Are there ones that are happy? Of course there are, but we don’t have an exorbitantly high rate of divorce in this country for nothing. Statistically, it is really hard to find someone who doesn’t make you want to rip your eyeballs out and feed them to a stray dog (or what you think is a stray dog since you lost the ability to see because you ripped your eyeballs out. Dumbass…)
Singles Awareness Day is a way for us single people to ban together and look at how many people actually screwed with our emotions so bad that our very souls are jaded. A day to look back and go, “I actually slept with that person? Really? They look like a dog ate their face was I really that desperate?” And you really were that desperate, don’t lie. Then you can laugh about it. Laugh at yourself.
How does one celebrate Singles Awareness Day, or SAD? For men and women it is the same, don’t be miserable. Embrace your singleness! You get to be with WHOEVER YOU WANT (or whoever you can get…). You have the freedom to do absolutely nothing that anyone else wants you to do. Look, ladies, if you’re reading this what’s better? Going out with the girls and having fun doing what you want, or going somewhere your guy wants you to go that you have no interest in and knowing he’s only doing it so you do stuff in the bedroom you don’t “normally do” because it’s a holiday? Oh I’m sorry did I destroy your preconceived notions of Valentine’s Day in one sentence? Good! You’re already celebrating SAD, even if you smiled a little.
Guys what would you rather do? Play video games or go to some stuffy restaurant where jeans aren’t considered pants? Eat chinese food or eat fau grau (fra grau is a french dish that is Goose or Duck Liver Patte. They force feed the geese or duck to be super fat so they have an extremely fatty liver that is easier to butcher. Mmm that gag reflex was worth it wasn’t it? Especially the 50 odd dollars it cost to eat it before you vomitted it all up)?
We can sit back and relax today. Don’t go out and about and watch couple being “happy.” Go out and find couples that are miserable and arguing. Sit with a cup of coffee or tea (personally I prefer tea) and watch the sparks fly. Not from chemistry, but from the woman trying to set the gifts the guy gave her on fire. “Pour some more gasoline on there honey!” she will agree with your advice and you both can watch them burn. It’s a bonding experience really. Like the start of a really screwed up dark indie romantic comedy. You know, the one with the guy and girl with emotional problems? You know the one I’m talking about, every indie romantic comedy ever made that’s what I’m talking about!
If you’re in a couple and you’re reading this, I applaud you sir or madam. You were able to get away from your significant other long enough to have some alone time on a day like today when they are probably bugging the living hell out of you. Maybe a single friend sent you this link so you could see how they feel and for that I thank them. The more people read this kind of crap that I write the more encouraged I am to continue to produce said crap till it is no longer a practical art form for me to express myself. Oh I’m sorry my self-esteem issues are showing…
In the end, it’s all about attitude. Do NOT go on facebook and stalk former lovers. Do NOT look at their pictures and cry! You are better than that my friends. There are better things out there for people like you and me. The suffers of elongated dry spells and bad dates. However, those bad dates can be fairly entertaining stories for the friends. Trust me.
What is the allure with car sex? Of course, if you’re dating in high school, it might be one of the few ways you can get some nookie without the parents finding out. But for adults? It’s just uncomfortable! And yet… one middle-aged single dad keeps meeting women who want to get it on in the back seat. I guess it’s a rush for some. Remember the movie Crash? Some car crash victims use the raw sexual energy and adrenaline of driving out of control to fix their sex lives. Or something like that.
Ugh. One of the annoying things of this week that occurred was noticing- via Facebook- that a previous involvement of mine barely says hi to me, and is actually zeroing in on a former coworker and a friend of mine.
Now, this ex and I haven’t been casually involved in a year or so, but we were intermittently involved in each other’s lives for close to four years. Our last conversation was in late 2008, where I told him to shit or get off the pot when it came to his feelings about me.
Where I get sensitive is that at one point, I knew I was in love. I’m pretty sure he loved me back, but he was never willing to tell me so, and always treated me as a back-and-forth thing. I stuck around because I have my own commitment-phobic issues, ones that (in hindsight) I knew were there in my own soul, and I thought this was all I wanted.
Though we never did work ourselves out into a place of being committed, I have always accorded him the respect that I give to former boyfriends, especially because I’ve always sensed that in spite of our dysfunctions, we loved one another. We came, we saw, we loved, we fucked up, we’re friends.
It’s that “friend” definition that gets a little funky.
If this situation were reversed- if I were to say hi to any of his friends without maintaining touch with him, or forge a whole new bond with them- I know that he would be all up in five kinds of knots. And, I am also the kind of person so that if I ever noticed an attraction to one of his friends, I would actually ask him if he minded me going out with him. I never like incurring emotional wrath or bad karma; if I can prevent it, I don’t want to step on toes. (He also knows this to be true of me, especially after a confusing aftermath from a barbecue.)
So, what do I do here?
Bringing this up to him is fairly useless. Though I’ve reached out a few times to say hi and greeted on holidays, I don’t seem to have the same respect in his book. The last time he said hi to me was very cursory- on the basis of an errand- and it really hurt my feelings, especially when compared to the attention he showers on my friend.
As far as she goes… well, she’s young, in fact 11 years younger than me, and 10 years younger than him. She’s always enjoyed flirting with him, partially on the basis of knowing we were involved and not really giving a flying fuck on that note. She’s the kind who will soak up attention like a sponge if you give it to her and you’re male; I attribute that to the fact that she is quite charming in person.
And as far as he goes… sheesh. Hello, can we say instance of the pecker being attracted?
It doesn’t bother me terribly if they actually date, because I know both of them fairly well, and just as I can see how they are attracted to one another, I can predict how they would eventually set each other off. Their World War III is inevitable. (At this point, my belief is that it’s more him than her, because she is quite marvelous at handling multiple flirtations, and he’s a sucker for pursuit. Dumbass.)
What bothers me is being treated like I’m invisible. Like I’m an old shoe, and simply like I don’t have any respect. She doesn’t bother me as much as he does; she and exchange a few quips here and there, but he never bothers saying hello. Maybe it’s a sign of a shitty conscience that he doesn’t, or further proof of a person who has always been so self-tuned around his own foggy la-la-land of an emotional landscape that he’s never had any empathy for mine. As much as I cared about him, it’s knowing this that has always made me hesitate in expressing just what I felt. Once again, he’s failed me, and I feel it.
I guess this is just one of those instances where people present inevitable evidence of why there’s dislike. And rather than invest energy into trying to make them better people in my life, I’d rather not fight it out and just move on. I am worth treating well and remembering with a graceful accord; for fuck’s sake, “hello, how are you, is life treating you all right?” isn’t difficult. Especially via Facebook.
Ah, well. I have no idea what he’s doing for this Valentine’s Day, and honestly, I have no desire for him to be my box of chocolate in any way. We are an involvement that ran its course, and to idolize us with any symbolic nostalgia is unnecessary. I don’t long for our past back.
What makes me sad is noticing that he does not look at me with any respect. And perhaps it was time for me to notice this- especially at this sober point in my life- that he’s never really looked at me with the respect I’ve sought. At the ripe old age of 34, I am not going to go beating down his door over this. I guess it’s simply time for me to really let go of this ghost, and to stop looking at him with any nostalgic kindness. Be Gone.
I’ve been up half the night… thinking about Daddy. He was supposed to come over today, but well that didn’t work out. I really miss the way he makes me feel honestly. The way he slaps me, wraps his strong hand around my neck and chokes me, the way he pounds into me… making me scream in a painful pleasure. I really miss the way he spanks me and pulls my hair so my whole body comes back against his…
I’m laying here naked now thinking about him… about when he’ll be able to come… the next few days are a toss up honestly… I just hope he gets to be here, fucking my brains and everything else out… I just want to show Daddy how good of a slut I can be for him… Daddy’s little whore
A nine-year-old Chinese girl has given birth to a healthy baby boy. The child gave birth to the 6-pound boy by Cesarean section.
Local police in the northeast city of Songyuan are still trying to discover who the father is. In the province, it is illegal to have sex with a child under the age of 14, bringing an automatic rape conviction and long jail sentence for the adult.
Though it’s illegal, that doesn’t mean child rape is not happening. According to a Shanghai hospital, 30% of the abortions it performs are done so on school-aged girls.
Latest China Pregnancy & Child Health news – http://www.einnews.com/china/newsfeed-china-pregnancy-child-health
Latest China Abortion news – http://www.einnews.com/china/newsfeed-china-abortion
John Mayer is known to most as a fabulous musician that rocks out on the guitar and comes close to (in my opinion) the like of Clapton and Hendrix as some of the best guitar players in history. He’s also known for his sarcastic comments and dry sense of humor (especially if you’re a follower of his on Twitter @johncmayer). In case you missed it today, he was quoted in Playboy for comments he made using the n-word, referring to sex with his ex, Jessica Simpson, as euphoric, she was like cocaine to him. These comments caused a stir on Twitter and every entertainment Web site, television show and magazine. Frankly, I feel like this is being taken ridiculously far. Fans of John Mayer understand his dry sense of humor, even at times like this, when he makes asshole comments, that he’s saying things to get a rise out of people… clearly, it’s working, making him look smarter than all of us.
I’m pretty pumped to go to his concert in Detroit on Friday. I’ll bet my $80 floor seat tickets that he’ll have some remarks to be made from this situation and I can’t wait to hear what they are. Updates to come Saturday!
I’ve been thinking about starting a new series of blog posts entitled one or more of the following: Over-Looked, Over-Played, Over-Rated, Under Appreciated, among others.
In regards to this chain of posts I invite and encourage you to write your opinion about what you read. If you do not, I will continue to write nonsense that might seem bias, one-sided, or completely incorrect. If you feel different, tell me. And don’t just say, “You’re wrong, Shelby.” Tell me why I’m wrong, give me examples, etc. etc. Like a book report. If you feel the same, fantastic. Help improve our newfound friendship and my blog by again, posting examples, etc. etc.
What should you expect to read about?
Hmmm….
Over-Looked: The Taint (Per the suggestion of Corey)
Over-Played: Owl City “Fireflies”
Over-Rated: Adam Lambert (Sorry Mom)
Under Appreciated: Being 25 and living with your parents
I can come up with a 100 more of these easily, so just stay tuned.
I am a member of BookMooch, where I can give away books I no longer want in exchange for books I do want. You never know what books will be available, so sometimes, I like to select random books recommended for me through whatever algorithm the site employs.
Unleashing Feminism: Critiquing Lesbian Sadomasochism in Gay 90’s, a collection of radical feminist writings was one such book.
The key words drew me in. Feminism, check. Lesbian, Sadomasochism, check and check.
I tend to mark books when I love them. I underline quotations. I dog-ear the pages containing meaningful passages. While this books iS as destroyed as many of my favorites, it is for the exact opposite reason. Few books have made me so angry.
One reviewer on Library Thing wrote, “I have read many books in my day, feminist and otherwise. The arguments are poorly contructed at best and downright offensive at worst.” I couldn’t agree more.
The central argument of this book is that lesbian S&M is inseparable from Nazi genocide or American slavery. As a solution, all true lesbian/feminists must separate themselves from the S&M culture of mainstream queers, preferably through lesbian separatism. (Now this book was written in 1993, but I’m pretty sure that most people had realized by then that lesbian separatism was not a feasible solution.)
Though this book contains brief discussion on consent, the radial feminist authors continually question a woman’s ability to give consent and claim her desires. No woman can possibly genuinely want to explore S&M. She’s stuck under Nazi rule. She’s stifled by continued racial inequality. She’s used to police brutality. Rape is part of her daily life. This is what angered me the most.
Mr. Sexsmith explored the idea of consent and agency in the post “Reconciling the Identities of Feminist & Butch Top”, in which he discusses coming to terms with being masculine, queer, butch, sadistic, a top, and a feminist.
‘I didn’t realize how little trust I had in others until I started playing deeper with BDSM. Because I would tell myself, it’s okay, she wants to do it, but then I would think, does she really? Maybe she wants to because I want to. Maybe she wants to because society tells her she should want to. Maybe she wants to for fucked-up reasons, like she thinks it’s okay for her to feel humiliated and less than me because of her own internal misogyny … but that was me not trusting that what she said was true…”
He goes on.
‘This was an issue of agency, in feminist terms – my not trusting my lover to communicate with me what she wanted, to explain to me how far I could go, and my not trusting that she would let me know if I was going too far or too hard, either with her physical communication or her words or both, was me not trusting in the agency of my lover. I have to trust that she will tell me, she will let me know, if I am going too far…”
This is a fabulously worded example of how feminism, at its best, recognizes the agency inherent in each women. An empowered woman can claim whatever she wants and needs, sexually and otherwise. This is the essential point that the authors of Unleashing Feminism missed.
That doesn’t mean that everyone should explore S&M. You can be 100% vanilla and be entirely happy, and this is entirely fine. However, to me, feminism means acknowledging women’s agency. This is the very core of my feminist beliefs, and the reason the close-minded nature of the book irked me so.
The book did contain some good points. Surely, there is too much violence in our culture. It is a fact, the Nazis employed sexual sadism to dehumanize their victims and establish “power over.” The service sector is disproportionately populated by women, the sex industry included. Women are raped. S&M can be traumatizing for abuse survivors.
However, the Holocaust did not happen because of sexual sadism. Men also participate in the sex industry and boys- like girls0 can be victimized. Not all men are evil. Some are genuinely loving, caring, and respecting. Some people have never experienced abuse, rape, or violence (myself included), and may choose to explore S&M with few or no personal hangups.
For a book presenting itself as academic writing, the examples presented throughout the text are poorly sourced and often entirely fabricated.
In short: Don’t read this book. And if you do read it, expect some total crap.
Released 2/5/10. Starring Lexi Love, Riley Evans, Holly West, Carolyn Reese, Demi Delia, Brynn Tyler, Bridgette B., Elli Foxx and Shayne Rider.
Has your marriage become stale? She never wants to fuck you on top? Maybe it’s time for a swap, a wife swap! Buy Here
This post, nay missive, is about John, and how I keep screwing up with him. And screwing him. In the fucking sense. You’re read about him before, but I feel I should give you, dear reader, a perspective on the man I now refer to as My Biggest Mistake. This is the story of the night I Really Fucked Up.
I don’t particularly like John. I mean, he’s a nice guy and all, we get along nice enough, and if I can keep him from bringing up his deadbeat father or jailbait siblings, the conversation is mostly enjoyable. He has a limited amount of schooling and it shows, as common things you or I could chat about easily I had to explain to him, things like science or literature. He’s unemployed. He’s not incredibly or even mildly attractive. He smokes too much pot and has a stupid laugh.
But hot damn, when we get naked, it’s like I’m the best cello in the world he knows exactly how to play me.
I’m getting ahead of my self.
This past weekend, John called and invited me up for dinner last night. I didn’t really want to go, as it’s a long-ass drive to the middle of nowhere and, well, I don’t really like John all that much. But even though I dickeled around on which night I was available, he wasn’t getting the hint and I didn’t really see how I was going to get out of it without being directly rude.
I chose that night for two reasons: 1) I had work the next morning, so if things really sucked, I could play the work card and come home. 2) There was a meteor shower and I really did want a good place to watch it.
Well, I get there, late, and he has dinner mostly ready. I get a tour of the house, meet the roommates. Ron, a black man in his late 30’s who likes to fish and spent the night in his room watching action movies at high volume and laughing his ass off. Jose, a Mexican man, early 30’s, works at a vineyard and is apparently frightened of me, as I saw him once when he walked in, didn’t make eye contact, and then never saw him again. And, of course, Brian, who I totally forgot about him living with John until he strolled in and said a very quiet hello. Awkward, at least on my end, but I truly think I managed to be very smooth about it. (For you see, the night before I first slept with John, I slept with Brian. And John knew about it. Probably overheard it. Even commented on how glad he was his friend was getting some. Like I said, the whole thing is pretty fucked up.)
Dinner was good, made from his mother’s recipe book, which he showed me. I had brought dessert in the form of date-nut bread. All good so far.
We play some pool (that’s all his front room has in it, a pool table, stick holder thingy, and ashtrays…men) with Brian, which it turns out I win a few games (hurray them scratching on the 8-ball) and wasn’t at all as nerve-wracking as it should have been. I feel this is largely due to me not being awkward and Brian and John possibly not caring. Brian left, as quietly as he came.
Time for stargazing. We try a few different uncomfortable positions in the plastic chairs out on his balcony, which, I mention a few times, is facing the wrong direction. After about half an hour of hemming and hawing, John produces two twin mattresses from Lord Knows Where and we pile under blankets on the front lawn and watch the stars fall.
What the fuck was I thinking, watching a meteor shower with a guy a barely like?
Of course we’re doing the cuddle cuddle. It’s ass cold and I hate the cold. He takes my hand. We have heavy hand petting. We see about ten or eleven little one, three really good ones, and one Really Awesome One that streaks completely across the sky and causes us both to ooh.
About this time, I can no longer take the cold, wussie I have become (as I write this, a space heater is literally a foot from my legs and still I want more) and can’t stop shivering. John makes the brilliant observation that we could be doing this inside and naked. I agree. So, we gather up everything, throw it on the porch, and go up to his room.
Have I told you about the house? It was built in 1833, has a wraparound porch and awesome fireplaces. Everything is wood, save the appliances, and everything creaks like a motherfucker. There is no sneaking in this house. None.
We settle in. John turns on his TV and puts in a BBC comedy about a book store with the prick boyfriend from Shawn of the Dead and that wierd guy with the long hair who tells the awesome pub joke, mostly to cover up any potential noises. I turn up his space heater, then proceed to have incredible sex with him. On a bed. And mostly sober. Check those off.
(Actually, check them off three times.)
We finally gave up the ghost around four AM, having ignored an entire DVD of what looks like a really awesome TV show that I’ll have to watch some time. I don’t even remember sleeping and suddenly it was 7:45 and I had to go to work.
I got up, did the oh-so-stereotypical bed sheet wrap, and tiptoed across the freezing hardwood floors to peek out the window. I had arrived in the dark last night and was curious to know what the land around the house looked like.
The sun was just rising, turning all of the dried grape vine leaves golden and bronze. In the west, heavy storm clouds were rolling in over green and verdant mountains. A small barn lay off in the distance, cattle close by. It was such a beautiful, peaceful place. I wanted to stay there and watch the sun climb higher, warm in the arms of an excellent lover.
I had a moment of clarity, dear reader, one that frightened and excited me all at once.
Standing at that window, I saw a future I could have. I could wake each day with such a sight, watch the vines grown and die season after season, live in an old house with chickens roosting in the eaves, chasing blonde, blue-eyed, chubby children around the porch, cooking food I grew myself, having a helpmate who worshipped and adored me.
I turned from the window and saw him looking at me, like I was a goddess to touch. It shook me hard, cause I honestly believe he was thinking the same thing.
Grabbing for my clothes, I dressed with furtive movements, like I was back in middle school gym. I left an hour early, citing the need to avoid traffic on the highway.
I scared the shit out of myself with all that thinking of home and family. It surprised the hell out of myself to know I wanted all of those things, and I wanted them bad.
Wow I’m actually trying to blog again when I’m like running out of time. Well lately blogging to me has become like a diary. It’s the only way in which I can organise my thoughts in a logical progression and hope to make sense of things.
I think my biggest problem is my communication. Like when I say something to someone, it never comes out the right way and then they misinterpret things and once a person’s mood is off you can never really have a proper conversation with them. It’s like pure lockdown.
I feel as though my boyfriend loves me but he does not care for me. I know it’s not true – logically. But somehow I feel like my heart needs some sort of proof. It’s a very female thing. Like this week for example, I thought I was doing something good. I made a new friend who seemed to care for me (and probably still does), but unfortunately he liked me and I did not in any way promote that.
So a few days pass until the guy eventually decides to stick his hand up my skirt as a sort of greeting hug. Um?
I was quite upset about it because I felt as though it was my fault. Like my boyfriend was right when he said this guy likes you and I instead thought to myself no he doesn’t. I was really hurt about it and there came a point last night when I said to my boyfriend that the only reason why a guy cares for me, or pretends to care about my personal problems is because of the way I look or because he wants something from me. My boyfriend did not catch the drift…
Then today came along and my boyfriend goes off on this tour and I didn’t really mind after he told me that there’s nothing bad etc. It’s just I was a little upset since he stayed up with me until 3am and then told me back then that he wasn’t going. Then in the morning he didn’t tell me that he was going until I logged onto facebook and saw his status. I mean keep me updated? Or at least tell me the truth so you can sleep earlier and be less grumpy with me the next day because you’re demented (victim of dementia ).
I really don’t get why I’m the one in the relationship that cares about the wellbeing of the other. I know this isn’t true, but I feel that way. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl and I get attached? I still don’t see that as a fit enough reason for my boyfriend to start laughing over the phone when I tell him that my new friend that I trusted touched my ass! As if that’s so funny?
It’s not funny because:
I trusted that person to be there for me when my boyfriend wasn’t (as per my boyfriend’s wishes).
I feel as though I’m nothing more than an object.
I feel as though my boyfriend treats me as a placeholder.
I just want someone that’s honest with me about their real feelings and not always make me out to be the bad guy.
I just need someone that will stand up for me, that’ll get annoyed that I’m hurt and that’ll just forever care for me.
I actually like being dominated by a man – I know I said I wasn’t a feminist. Maybe this person doesn’t exist? I should actually write a blog about how promoting your daughters to read fairy tales as children rouses in them false expectations and illusions of grandeur in the face of love.
Love is an illusion as Dorian Gray once said. I’m just the sucker that fell for it.
PS> Less than 10 minutes. Wow. I’m getting the hang of this.
Released 1/26/10. Starring Kristina Rose, Lexi Love, Ashli Orion, Faye Runaway, Kiera King, Morgan Layne, Jessica Miller and Jay Sinn.
Lil’ lesbian stars Ashli and Kristina Rose sparkle as they play with their sweet buttholes. Two cute Russian teens drop some bomb-ass gapes. Kiera King and bad girl Faye Runaway show you how lil’ young girls can play with big toys! Sexy Lexi Love can’t get enough of innocent Morgan’s massive winking butthole! European perfect teens Sasha and Pamela love to lick and spread their big gapes for each other.
The new philosophy that men are not the sole provider of women is in the media now. Statements that women earn more and that they are the sole bread winners have shaped young men and women into thinking that the price of their soul is less than what their ancestor paid. Biblical times state that men bought women from their families by trading cattle and resources that made both parties more influential in their classes. The price that men paid for the availability of the vagina that was thought to be exclusively theirs or pure was more than any thing on Earth. Kingdoms were made and destroyed on the female’s birth canal.
Today women have decreased their nobility to the standards of music videos or the knowledge of their inordinate counter partners. Women are the sole source of creation. When they separate their legs, the source of life decides if it will come through, which is not under their control. They are under the control of a source that is beyond their control, but they risk their birth canal to any one with the right ingredients for the moment.
Women have shape the universe for centuries. They are the source of their creations but they risk it all for vanity and acceptance on a lower level. Their being is measured on more than just the scale that their male counter parts weigh. The male’s scale is based majority on their 20 second evaluation which leads only to penetration.
The female evaluation of their off springs is more a part of what societies brings and it’s short falls. The lies that they perceive as the standards of quick , if any orgasm, is based on the males requirements. Females serve as the light and when darkness approaches the seed they are required by nature to intersect as fowl and steer it towards the light.
The dilution of birth and the sexual act has separated itself. The female must continue to influence their seed for greatness and not just the heat of the moment conceptions. The media can lead to the act of conception as a statistic event when the God of whatever being has brought life through.
Know they self
Conceive only greatness for power
The womb creates and destroys
‘No’ I am not interested is a requirement as well as a choice
So I got a lot to update here and now sure how much I am going to get through. But here goes:
T4.0 is still around. He showed up in Mexico and we had a great time, but lately I feel like he is holding on to me and I just want to be free. Yes, I fell for him. Yes, we have great sex. Yes, we have a great time when we are together, but shit, man, we aren’t together right now and we do not necessarily know when we will be. So let me be! But then again, we discussed that when applying for my internships, many of them, if not most, will be in DC. And if by chance I do not find any other internships at all, I will be going to DC anyway. But, with such due diligence, I have applied to San Francisco, DC, Boston, NYC, Chicago and Rhode Island. I have a better chance of getting into RI then anywhere else since there aren’t any planning schools there, but we will see. He might come into town on the 19th for the weekend.
Gucci is still around, but I am a little bored of him. He is just weird and not really what I want in a relationship. One of the things that bugs me is that he kinda acts gay sometimes. And he has told me, that while he has never had a situation where he has been with a guy or near another guy’s dick, he isn’t oppose to it either. Kinda weird, but modern day women generally do not want to see their guys emasculated, right. I was just gonna let it take its course and fall through the cracks, but then I realized I have a gold mine here! So I proposed we have some threesomes. We’ll start off with a girl or two, get him comfortable, then fid a dude that wouldn’t mind necessarily if Gucci touched his cock. Its a win win for both of us; I get to fuck girls, AND when we bring a dude in, I get both. He gets to fuck 2 girls at once, and when we bring a dude in, he can see how he feels. If it freaks him out and he chooses not to go that route, then cool. And if he likes it and wants to meet up with the guy later, doubly cool. And I was thinking to myself that what better situation to do this then with someone that you are not emotionally attached too, right? FIELD DAY! Now, the problem is implementation.
Which brings me to my third update. I started on again with OKC. I just like it better then match.com. I created a profile that says I am bi, but looking for friends only. Everyone who has been on the site knows that is just a casual way of addressing that you are looking, but not being out and out, so that douchebag guys aren’t going after the bi-girl looking for sex. I am not sure what I really want right now anyway, so this is a way for me to meet, date, and shag, whoever I want, without it being serious. Chill.
He walked back around me and stood so close I could feel his heat. Putting one of his feet between mine, he kicked sideways at each one until I was forced to spread my legs for him. Then nothing for a moment or two, I felt that I was being inspected. Then a slap from his hand landed keenly on my pussy lips through my knickers. I actually yelped and wriggled. I felt my pussy juices break the seal of my lips and soak the cotton of my pants. His fingers stroked where they had slapped and then slowly and deliberately moved inside the cloth, stroking some more. I found myself pushing back against his fingers. He laughed.
“Are you sorry yet Leila?” “If I say I am sorry Sir, will you let me go home now?” I chanced the question, thinking I knew the answer. “You can leave now if you want to” he said, infuriatingly. I didn’t move. He laughed again “Slut”. I was furious and put my hands behind me to pull my skirt down as I moved to stand. He grabbed my hands holding them together against my back in one of his hands and the movement forced me back down against the desk. I struggled, honestly I did, but he was too strong for me. “You want it Leila, you want it bad and we’re going to keep playing this game until you beg me for more”.
I heard him undo his belt buckle and began to shake, heard the leather slide from the belt loops, the buckle hanging loose and jangling. I thought he might beat me with it, but no, he wrapped the belt around my wrists, tightly securing them, leaving both his hands free.
Then, with no warning, he pushed one of his fingers deep into my cunt. I cried out in shock and as he moved the finger in and out slowly, I felt more shame steal over me, knowing he knew how wet I was and how my body was aching for him. He pulled the finger out, replacing it with two fingers, working my sopping wet cunt and now another finger moved to my clit, circling it, teasing me as he drove in and out of me. I found myself riding back onto his hand, an orgasm fast approaching, hips and ass bucking in time with his invasion and as suddenly as he’d started, he withdrew his hand.
I flopped back against the desk, disappointment flooding through me. He slapped my ass again, harder this time, the crack echoing through the classroom. “You haven’t earned your orgasm yet” he walked back around the desk to my flushed face. “Watch me” he said quietly. He undid the top button on his jeans, my face inches from him as he did. The remaining buttons popped tantalisingly slowly, revealing his tight cotton shorts and the defined outline of his cock. He rubbed over the area with one hand and then he pulled down the front of his shorts, releasing his cock. It was the biggest cock I’d seen, although I admit to not having seen many and never this close to before. His balls followed and were huge and heavy with cum. He ran his hand up and down his shaft, slowly wanking it in front of my face, I could see his precum glistening on the smooth pink head and I involuntarily licked my lips.
He reached out to me and almost tenderly gathered my plaits at the base of my neck and then pulled back hard until my head raised up, my chin back and my mouth forced open and then moved forwards until the head of his cock was wiping gently against my lips. I licked again, my tongue tasting him for the first time and he pushed gently slowly forward until the head of his cock was between my lips. I sucked, it was instinctive and he moaned a little, sliding another inch or so along my tongue. He was big enough to fill my mouth, the edges of his shaft grazing lightly against my teeth. His grip on my hair tightened and he drove in again, deeper this time and I found myself taking almost all of it into my mouth.
As soon as I began to get used to the pace and invasion, he drove harder, hitting the back of my throat hard and causing me to gag against it spasmodically. When tears were pouring down my face, for no other reason than the amount of times I’d gagged, he withdrew and walked behind me once more.
The now customary stinging slaps began across my asscheeks, thighs and on my pussy too. I started and felt my legs go weak. Then deliberately slowly he began to stroke the end of his hard penis from my clit past my sopping wet cunt and up to my ass, spreading the juices as he went. The feeling was so intense I heard myself moaning before I realised I was doing it.
“You want me to fuck you Leila?” “Yes” I whispered. “Speak up and call me Sir” he chided, laughing at me again. I put away my pride and answered him “Yes Sir, I want you to fuck me”. His response was immediate and he pushed his hard leaking cock gradually but surely all the way up to his balls into my tight unused cunt. The short lived pain of losing my virginity was nothing compared to the feeling of being filled by him and as he withdrew for his second thrust, I found myself already pushing back to take him. His strokes were measured, controlled and rhythmic and his hands reached forward, pulling me by the plaits back onto him. I could feel his bollocks swinging, hitting my clit with each stroke as he increased pace and then, to my horror, he let go of one plait and began massaging my asshole.
“What the hell are you doing? Stop that” I cried, “Trust me” he said “give yourself to me Leila, freely, or I swear I’ll take it anyway. It will be so much better for you if you go with it”. He hadn’t stopped his ministrations and I felt the pressure increase, he was using my own juices to ease his way and as I began to enjoy the sensation of being fucked and having my ass touched, he slid the end of one finger inside my hot tight ass. It didn’t hurt, although it felt a little strange and he began to move his finger in and out, to the same rhythm as his cock. I couldn’t help pushing back onto his cock and soon I felt that there was much more than a fingertip invading my ass too. He must have replaced one finger with two, as he had with my pussy earlier. As he worked my ass harder, I felt my orgasm building, much stronger than anything I had felt before and he must have felt it through the tension in my body because suddenly, I was bereft again. He had withdrawn his cock and his fingers from me and left me lying there, exposed and no longer ashamed. I was pure frustration.
He yanked me to my feet by pulling the belted together arms back and simply walked with me over to his chair behind his desk. It was a big comfortable chair, without arms and he slid his jeans off now, along with his pants. He really did have a beautifully toned body. I surveyed him and his turgid cock for the first time almost.
“You are going to fuck my cock with your tight little virgin ass” “I don’t know how” I said, frightened and interested. “You’re going to sit on my knee, like the dirty little schoolgirl you are, only you’re going to have my cock in your ass when you do it”. He pulled me towards him, pausing to open my shirt, one button at a time with his usual measured patience and slid it until it rested on my cuffed hands. He sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, his hand roughly massaging the other and I felt renewed wetness between my legs. He bit down on my nipple and then stopped, smiling, when I moaned and pushed towards him. “You really are the dirtiest bitch Leila, I only wish we had more time to get to know each other”.
His hands moved to my hips and he turned me around, my back to him and parted my asscheeks with his hands. “Sit slowly Leila. I can’t lie to you, this will hurt some, but you will cum so very, very hard”. As I sat, I felt him position the head of his cock against my ass, blindly pushing its way into the tiny opening, I felt a sudden hot pain as I opened for him and the swollen head of his cock, wet with my cunt juice and his precum entered my anus. I yelled out and tried to rise, but he held me firm by my arms, waiting for me to relax and as the pain subsided, he pulled me closer to his lap. I was gradually taking that huge cock, inch by inch, into my ass. He worked it very slowly and gradually, tiny in and out motions that loosened me and yet made me wild for more.
Finally he was able to pull me all the way back and I sat on his lap, his whole cock jammed up my ass. He let go of my arms then, and sat back. I wondered what to do for a second or two and then my instincts kicked in. I began to ride the cock, tentatively at first and then with increased enthusiasm until I was bouncing on it, he put one hand around the front of me and began slapping my clit lightly with his hand as I ground down onto him and with the other he pinched and held onto one of my nipples.
Electric shocks of feeling were shooting up and down my body, from my tits to my cunt and my ass and I felt my stomach tighten in response. “Oh Sir, I’m going to cum… I’m going to cum on your cock Mr Emerson” and I gave myself over to the waves of explosive pleasure wracking my body, my hips working hard against him and my tits bouncing. I felt him surge upwards and he shouted an exclamation as he shot his load deep inside me.
I collapsed, panting, head down, still speared on his cock and stayed that way for a short while. Finally I felt his cock soften a little and I looked around enquiringly for further instruction. He undid the belt around my wrists and I rubbed them ruefully. “Good girl, get dressed now” he said. I obeyed him, feeling a little hurt.
When I gathered my clothes up and put them on, I turned to see him sitting, fully dressed, looking as he did at the beginning of each lesson, calm and in control and I couldn’t help myself. I said “Is that it?” “Leila, I’m old and you’re young. You’re leaving school in a few days, I’m a teacher. You know there is nothing more.”
I stuck out my bottom lip; feeling used, and looked at the floor. “Leila, sweetheart, there is nothing to be sad about. You have your whole life ahead of you. I’m honoured to have been able to set you off on a path of great adventures, I hope”
I realised that he was right. It had been great and intense and not the horrible fumblings my friends talked about. And I vowed there and then to actively seek pleasure, and occasionally, a little pain.
As I walked home that night, my body aching from the experience, I felt his cum leak from my ass and smiled. Mr Emerson’s last lesson had indeed been an education.
We had to read this book for school, so I decided to do a quick review of it. It’s not very long. 116 pages I think. It took me ages to get through. Like… a week of study halls (where I alternated between reading and texting, so I got maybe 40 minutes of reading in every day).
I was a bit nervous about reading it, since a girl in my study hall mentioned that it was a really bad book and I think she’s smart… but really, it wasn’t that bad. I mean, ok I didn’t like it and I probably wouldn’t recommend it. It’s very bland. Nothing about it stands out really. Some chick in New Orleans cheats on her husband who ends up disappearing 3/4ths of the way through the book and is never mentioned again. Woot. It wasn’t really torture to read either though. Just kind of like… oh yay a book, I wonder what we’re doing next period?
The characters are all fairly realistic. Honestly, if you’re just starting to get interested in that time period (hell if I know which one it is… I’m sorry! Maybe it’s on the site that the picture links to… ^_^), you would probably enjoy the book. If you’re just looking for a random short book to read, sure. If you’re looking for something nice and solid to read, stay away from this. As far as modern literature goes, it’s a disappointment. Especially in our action/romance/horror-craving society.
…Yeah that’s basically it. Though the book did really make me wish it was summer.
Associated Press
There it is… In all of its glory. The guy who did this tattoo had just moved here from somewhere else and had been tattooing for like six years. My guess is that six years really meant six months… He used a single liner, probably a 5 round to do the entire tattoo! The middle “2″ felt like nothing I had ever felt before, I was unaware that there are so many nerves in that part of your wrist. Getting this tattoo was more than just getting a tattoo that night, it was my dedication to expressing myself through the art!
Romance in the home is different from foreplay which shall be discussed in detail under another chapter in this book. It is important to know that romance is not foreplay. Romance covers the day to day activities, behaviour and feeling both partners share towards each other.
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Released 1/26/10. Starring Kristina Rose, Lexi Love, Ashli Orion, Faye Runaway, Kiera King, Morgan Layne, Jessica Miller and Jay Sinn.
The new philosophy that men are not the sole provider of women is in the media now. Statements that women earn more and that they are the sole bread winners have shaped young men and women into thinking that the price of their soul is less than what their ancestor paid. Biblical times state that men bought women from their families by trading cattle and resources that made both parties more influential in their classes. The price that men paid for the availability of the vagina that was thought to be exclusively theirs or pure was more than any thing on Earth. Kingdoms were made and destroyed on the female’s birth canal.
We had to read this book for school, so I decided to do a quick review of it. It’s not very long. 116 pages I think. It took me ages to get through. Like… a week of study halls (where I alternated between reading and texting, so I got maybe 40 minutes of reading in every day).