The Bitter Pill

[SoulWeaver]

Around 75 confirmed dead and possibly upto 300 people missing ...... thankfully, there are a few miraculous rescues occurring, incredible when looking at the huge twisted piles of debris they are being recovered from ...

 

[girlsmiley]

This made me Hope it works for you ay bro

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQTu1n89pBM

 

[SoulWeaver]

This made me Hope it works for you ay bro

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQTu1n89pBM

Hah .... Yeah thats a pretty typical response, and hell don't some of our accents sound bloody . . . ahhh . . . "broad" . . .

 

[girlsmiley]

Hah .... Yeah thats a pretty typical response, and hell don't some of our accents sound bloody . . . ahhh . . . "broad" . . .

Yeah the accent's sweet as ay lol. He does sound like Rhys Darby. Have you seen dinner for schmucks? Jemaine Clement is so funny

 

[SoulWeaver]

Yeah the accent's sweet as ay lol. He does sound like Rhys Darby. Have you seen dinner for schmucks? Jemaine Clement is so funny

Yeah, it's pretty cool to see he get some decent screentime.


Just a small note on the earthquake, pretty much seems that it's down to body recovery now, although hopefully there still might be one or two miracle survivals.

 

[SoulWeaver]

A little present ....... I wonder what it will unlock?

 

[NessaCary]

Looks down the counter both ways, it doesn't seem like anyone else is going to reach for it so I take the key. It's surprisingly warm and solid. There's really only one door in the Pill it could open...

 

[SoulWeaver]

Looks down the counter both ways, it doesn't seem like anyone else is going to reach for it so I take the key. It's surprisingly warm and solid. There's really only one door in the Pill it could open...

I see you have found your key ...... it suits you. When you're ready, it will take you where you want to go.

 

[SoulWeaver]

The Carpark

In tribute to the season of motorsport just beginning, although clearly not matching the delightful inspiration below.

 

[SoulWeaver]

Urban Dictionary

URBAN DICTIONARY Definition of the Day .......


Tease

A member of the opposite sex, usually a female (but not always) who entices you into thinking you have a chance. Almost always ends with you having blueballs (or an unscratched itch) and feelings of sorrow, resentment and bitterness.

Discussing a girl who works at a local pizza parlour ......
"Shit yo, that girl was mad down with me, like she was ready, oh shit, nm, shes got a man, fuck, what a tease."



.

 

[NessaCary]

Definitely not always...
Pointed look.

 

[SoulWeaver]

Definitely not always...
Pointed look.

 

[SoulWeaver]

Scribblings for fun ......

.
No Promises .... continued


His fingers slipped. Scrabbling touches, soft flutterings tracing down alabaster thighs, before finally . . . he let them fall away. She was trembling, slightly swaying with need and uncertain thoughts. He knew them. What was he going to do? What would he touch? And please . . . please don’t stop.

Finger tips landed, pressed resting at the base of her neck, his reward a stifled exhale. Another shake, another wriggle, begging. He could smell it on her. He bent, letting his lips kiss the small of her back, grazing teeth, placing a moist target. He drew his hands down her spine, not lifting, tracing over each bump, each delicate ridge. Drawing down, slowing further to a shivering crawl, his rough tips sank down the cleft of her arched bum, torturing smooth skin and finding wet fabric. Her stifled exhale became a soft mewling, the lower his fingers sank, the deeper her guttural moans.

He ignored her skittish escape. Later, she would learn when she could, and when not, to remain silent unless bid, drinking only from shuddering sensations. Her scent - the wet material, he knew her mind was torn between mild panic, the urge to run and the desperation of aroused flesh.

Kneeling behind her now. Close enough for his breath to wash her skin. Her hips rocked, seeking something, anything, his touch, his lips, anything. Fingers clutched at her hem, lifting slowly. Her dress rose, up over her arched back, tumbled over her head to collapse on the leather. Soft flesh now exposed to the surreal lighting, dark, almost black in the shadows, flash bulb white and awash with flickering colours elsewhere, as the city writhed through the glass.

He inched closer, impossibly close, not touching. Her skin flashed goosebumps, the torment of fresh air and his senses so close. He breathed in, deeply, deliberately, her arousal feeding his need, her timeless scent a begging scream to fuck. One finger. He touched her with one finger, pressing deeply into the centre of her gap, the flimsy wet thong no barrier except to tease, as it disappeared inside . . . . .




Previously .......

 

[SoulWeaver]

Motivational Posters

Topic of the day .... as a few here have recently pointed out, maybe I'm doing it alllllllllllllll wrong

 

[SoulWeaver]

Girls Girls Girls

Tasteful girls ..... aw heck, tasteful or not, who cares? Yummmm .....

 

[SoulWeaver]

Girls Girls Girls 2

 

[ObscureInsanity]

I. Enjoy. Long. Posts. Sorry.



She hesitates, nay, falters, before she walks in. While she would very much prefer being indoors, at the moment she feels very out of place. The slippery slate that she stands on is anything but ordinary in her own little neat and proper world; in fact, it's quite odd that she's even outdoors at all in this weather. The rain falls on and around her, like a muffled symphony of warning. She feels a twinge of fear reverberate through her body as she takes another cautious step towards the door.

"The Bitter Pill" is clearly etched on the glass; even through the streaming rain she knows that it is the twin of the emblem that resides on the small slip of paper she holds in her leathered hands. She looks down the street anxiously; a nervous twitch flares up at the left corner of her lips as she glances back down at the little piece of paper.

Inhaling deeply she takes her final stride, slowly grasping the handle of the establishment and forcing herself to walk in.

She is soaked from head to foot; her usually thick, curly brown hair is plastered to her neck and shoulders; her woven dark grey jumper dress is clinging to her. The water dripping off of her clothes and skin rolls in droplets down her spandex-laden black leggings and downward to the furry entrance of her black ugg boots. She adjusts her metallic thick-framed glasses and takes in the place.

Questions flash in her mind: Why am I here? Who wanted to meet me here? Why is it so dark? Where is everyone?

She makes her way shyly towards the bar, taking great care not to bump into any of the furniture as her small steps seems to make her awkward art portfolio swing erratically forward and backward past her gentle sloping frame. Glancing behind her one last time she sits on a barstool; next, she leans the portfolio against the leg of said barstool and adjusts her posture: shoulders back, chest up, and stomach in, before smoothing out the wrinkles on the skirt of her dress. She then spends a minute or two slowly pulling her leather gloves off and setting them down one after the other in her lap.

 

[SoulWeaver]

.
The air above stirs. His eyes roll unseen under closed lids, pursuing fading dreams of the lost and the fallen. His chest shudders, disturbing frigid air, the clouds of new breath silently glistening in the darkness. A visitor. How unexpected . . .

He looks out from the wizened Grady, watching as she settles on the stool, her correct and precise movements confirming things she buries deep and hopes others don’t see. He’s pleased. He wasn’t sure about this one. It wasn’t in his nature to play games but he had placed his crumbs and left it to fate . . . for once.

Grady stares, waiting. She finishes arranging her gloves and looks up, eyes wide, startled but covering it up quickly. “Miss.” He waits further, the pause thickening into the uncomfortable. “Do you have your invitation? We see you have your portfolio, would you like us to view it? Of course first . . . where are my manners, would you like a drink? Something to ease the burden of choice ……”

The wood massaged his back with a comforting familiarity. The teak was lifted from the deck of the Concord, soaked in blood and broken dreams and the agreements of the opportune. He watched the exchange play out from the shadows. The delightful possibilities of the unscripted challenge, bringing with it a thrill to a long jaded soul.



.

 

[SoulWeaver]

Movie Girls

Screen sirens . . .

 

[SoulWeaver]

Scribblings for fun ........

.
Leaning in closer, he let his fingers drift up along her thigh, under the hem of her sheer dress , her skin shimmering under the soft lighting of the bar. He knew the men down the end of the bar, including the one she had been stringing along, could see, and he didn’t care. In fact, he wanted them to see …

His fingers pressed higher . . . taking her hand and moving it. Moving them over the mound she’d just teased, slipping her middle finger down between her slick, puffy lips, his own finger above it, trapping, pressing, controlling.

He peered at her and she tilted her head under his gaze, exposing scented skin and a melodic, throbbing pulse. He leaned in and kissed, allowing his lips, his teeth, to graze the side of her neck. He moved his finger, pressing hers deeper.

“You know what I want . . .”

He continued, his voice thick, hot and wet, “Show them . . . what they’ll never have . . .”

The emotions danced and mimed across her face. Each time his-their-her finger grazed across her clit she shuddered slightly. Her eyes glazed deeper as she lost herself a more little each time. She started rocking on the stool, making slight adjustments, hips rolling, getting the angles just so. He loved her for that, her ability to go somewhere, drowning in sensation. The closed eyes, moist parted lips, tiny, imperceptible gasps, she could be at home, alone in the dark. But she was here, in the crowded bar … with him.

Her head was tilting back now and she was chewing hard on her bottom lip, trying to delay and yet to build her release. Her lids opened, eyes trying to focus on him, on only him, but he knew as she began to push down and pant, that she couldn’t really see anything. Just feel. His closeness, the heat coming from him, his scent, his need feeding hers.

Her throat flushed hot, a searing flash of impending explosion. He buried into her neck, holding her with his bite.

“Cum for me ………..”



.

 

[sallythescorpian]

Wandering into the bitter pill, I find the bar unattended, and it seems like the perfect opportunity to help myself to a pint of black russian!!

I grab a seat at the bar, and slowly down my drink, admiring the images that adorn the walls of this place!

I read a little script the owner SW had been working on.

"Hmmm, hot stuff!!"

 

[ObscureInsanity]

She was jumpy, that's for sure. She had her life set on routine, standards, and none of this was that, so it made her skin crawl. She smiled weakly at the barkeep, and quickly forced strands of hair behind her ear to make it seem that she was just a twitchy spaz and not at all startled by what seemed like an abrupt entrance on his part.

"Um," she began, her voice was small, soft, like a lullaby to a newborn and about just as pure as said newborn. "I... received this in the mail today, at the office." She quickly pulled the slip of paper out of a clutch purse that she had concealed until now. "I assume I'm here for an interview or... perhaps a contract? When I asked my boss about it he didn't seem to know what I was talking about, so I assume publicity may have set up an appointment with you without my knowledge?" She stopped talking then, she felt she was rambling and her head fell in a defeated sort of way, like when a child is being scolded by her parents.

"I'm under age." she added, which was true by her country's standards if not only by about 7 months; plus, if she was to be interviewed it wouldn't be appropriate to be even slightly inebriated, though sometimes it did cross her mind the amount of stress that she was under. It'd be quite easy to knock back several drinks until she felt numb, but she didn't want to be just like her father.

She raised her head slowly, readjusted her posture, and looked deep into the barkeeps eyes.

"Who sent for me?" she asked--this was bold, and it made her very uncomfortable to be so bold, but it was time for answers. If she was to be caught dead in a place like this, she needed a good excuse for her amazing reputation to go south in a matter of minutes from visiting such a seedy establishment.

 

[SoulWeaver]

Wandering into the bitter pill, I find the bar unattended, and it seems like the perfect opportunity to help myself to a pint of black russian!!

I grab a seat at the bar, and slowly down my drink, admiring the images that adorn the walls of this place!

I read a little script the owner SW had been working on.

"Hmmm, hot stuff!!"

A pint of black russian ....... Grady eyes the lady with the hidden sting as the pint disappears impossibly fast, her soft tongue licking the last drops from plump lips ...... "another one perhaps?"

 

[sallythescorpian]

MMmm, I think I could be tempted!

Another pint of BR, so, thank you Grady.......

Sally bites her lower lip. This stuff is mighty strong.... he's not trying to liquor me up, is he?

*eyes grady from beneath her lashes *

 

[SoulWeaver]

MMmm, I think I could be tempted!
Another pint of BR, so, thank you Grady.......
Sally bites her lower lip. This stuff is mighty strong.... he's not trying to liquor me up, is he?

*eyes grady from beneath her lashes *

"The motives of the owner are not for my comment miss," Grady relied softly, placing another drink in front of her. "Although I'm sure they are perfectly dishonourable . . ."