Desultory and Impulsive

[Corbal]

Heard it.

Rung too true.

Sent me to the gym to forget it all.


Thanks for the reminder

Haven't been to the gym for quite some time now.

What can I say; I'm motivational. You're welcome, in the form of an ass-kick.

 

[y=mx+b]

What can I say; I'm motivational. You're welcome, in the form of an ass-kick.

Whatever.

All I know is that I owe you a solid hard fuck of some kind for bringing an end to the last page.

Jesus that was painfully lame on my part.

 

[Corbal]

Whatever.

All I know is that I owe you a solid hard fuck of some kind for bringing an end to the last page.

Jesus that was painfully lame on my part.

Lucky you, I'm also forgiving.

Keep writing and I'll keep my size 11 boot warm.

 

[y=mx+b]

Lucky you, I'm also forgiving.

Keep writing and I'll keep my size 11 boot warm.

Give me a topic.

 

[y=mx+b]

Time's up!

Here's a picture of our cat tucked in for the night.

 

[y=mx+b]

And a picture of....

something I may have already posted?

No matter.

This is a pic of an idea that turned out to become the first thing I have ever written that I absolutely love. The finished draft can be found God knows where on my first ampic thread.

I actually revised it a bit since I posted it.
Who knows where that draft is.

 

[y=mx+b]

And then there's this pic...

 

[jezzilee]

This is the first time I have wandered into this thread... I think I will peruse some earlier posts...

 

[y=mx+b]

And sometimes I draw...

(another picture I feel as though I had posted before. But whatever.)

 

[jezzilee]

I am loving your photos. Up to page four...

 

[y=mx+b]

I am loving your photos. Up to page four...

Thank you.

 

[jezzilee]

Thank you.

Heh...nope. Thank You.

 

[y=mx+b]

Heh...nope. Thank You.

My thread
My fucking rules woman.

Thank you! Goddammit

 

[y=mx+b]

See now...

much better.

 

[jezzilee]

My thread
My fucking rules woman.

Thank you! Goddammit

*acquiesces*

You're welcome.

 

[y=mx+b]

*acquiesces*

You're welcome.

Cool. You made the cut.
Welcome to the team.

Shower's on the right, sauna's to your left.

Up ahead you'll find the mini-bar.

There's not much in it at the moment because SOMEONE saw fit hold their twice monthly allotted free-for-all on back-to-back days.

However I do recall seeing a couple miniature bottles of buttershots and a bacardi limon rolling around the cupboard behind the half-eaten package of water crackers of which nobody recalls buying. Or eating. Or seeing anyone else ever eating. No matter. It's all yours for the taking.

 

[jezzilee]

Cool. You made the cut.
Welcome to the team.

Shower's on the right, sauna's to your left.

Up ahead you'll find the mini-bar.

There's not much in it at the moment because SOMEONE saw fit hold their twice monthly allotted free-for-all on back-to-back days.

However I do recall seeing a couple miniature bottles of buttershots and a bacardi limon rolling around the cupboard behind the half-eaten package of water crackers of which nobody recalls buying. Or eating. Or seeing anyone else ever eating. No matter. It's all yours for the taking.

What?!? No kinky? This place may have to become a BYOB...thanks for the invite I will subscribe to stick around.

 

[Corbal]

Give me a topic.

There are two powerful lines in a tune that I love;

'.....so kiss him again, just to me prove that you can, and I will stand here and burn in my skin. Yes I will stand here and burn in my skin.'

Shall I sharpen that pencil for you?

 

[Mrgl720]

something I may have already posted?

No matter.

This is a pic of an idea that turned out to become the first thing I have ever written that I absolutely love. The finished draft can be found God knows where on my first ampic thread.

I actually revised it a bit since I posted it.
Who knows where that draft is.

love your handwriting.

 

[y=mx+b]

There are two powerful lines in a tune that I love;

'.....so kiss him again, just to me prove that you can, and I will stand here and burn in my skin. Yes I will stand here and burn in my skin.'

Shall I sharpen that pencil for you?

How is it to hurt?
To watch her like I watch her?

Wishing to hold her
Instead of hearing how she's held?

How am I to escape
Such a decrepit building
Of a love
That the ripped-up hands
Of my heart had built?

Him with her sensuality.

My emotions burn with such a thought.


And her
--giving in

Giving into the depths of wealth
His emotionless oceans have to offer

With water so clear
The forever sun of her lust
Reaches so unchallenged
The sterile white sand of an abyss
That has ended long ago

Blown away
Like the leaves of autumn
Before the eyes of children
Get a chance to marvel

I see all this
Cuffed behind
A wish to hold her

--how she knows I could

Deep against a crushing suffocation
Of this blind
Dark forest
Beastfuck of mine

Rope
Loop-wrapped
Around my wrist

I watch him
Kiss her like he can

Fighting back a rage
That wants him to watch me
Rape rake the burning coals of Hell
With her bare breasted

Broken orgasm.


If only I could love her
More than like a sister I never had

Hurting her safely
In front of everyone

Far away from anyone

Holding each other how we wanted
Making it known only to ourselves

Groping each other
Hard and wet

Not hating this thought
Of her and I

But loving it

Because it would be
As it should be


All without him.

 

[y=mx+b]

God I want to fuck her body

I want to use every part of it to jerk myself off with

I want to plumb the thick spit deep in her throat with my cock
And smear it all across her face so that my balls don't catch on her nose
When I have her tonguefuck my asshole.

I want to pull her head back and fill her throat with my fingers
While she clutches my balls so painful I have to slap her hard across the face
I want to send her across the floor with it
I want to hear it echo off the walls throughout the whole goddamn house
I want to see the doubt of it all being what she wanted flash behind her eyes

I want to feel my fingers catch her labia as I rip her panties off her crotch

I want the reality of her inept ability of keeling me from doing so fill her so full of rage that she begins to cry

I want to feel her fill with even more rage with my telling of how she's such a little girl.
A powerless weak little girl
A pink little girl that shouldn't be allowed to drive or order her own meals
A little girl who will never know how to do anything correctly except snort my cum off the floor

And I'm going to make her do just that
And I'm going to laugh at her
Right in her worthless fucking cumdump choke coughing crying face
Before I kick her over and pissfuck her asshole all the while telling her how she better not shit any of it out until I get her back into her kennel.

 

[y=mx+b]

Done.

 

[y=mx+b]

Have I ever told you about the time I fucked a blond woman?

No?

That's because I never have. True Story. Never fucked a blond woman. Had one suck my dick though. Pretty sure I told that story somewhere. But not recently.

The specifics aren't fascinating.

What is--at least to me--is the fact that her tongue was pierced.

Is that still a thing? It's amazingly true that the further you get into your thirties the more out of touch you become with what everyone and their sister thought was cool in the teens and twenties.

And for as far as what everyone thinks is cool and kinky and avant-garde at the very real moment that is--now--forget about it. From about thirty-five onward you'll never know and the thought of even trying will make you look like a desperate ass trying to remain relevant and becoming less-so in the process.

I digress.

Blowjob. Me. Getting one...

So the woman was a friend and not the one I may or may not have pretended to have for the sake of telling you a good story the post prior to this one. And I knew her tongue was pierced. Up until I forgot.

So she sucked my dick and when all was said and done an hour or less later we all were talking and I happened to be reminded she had a pierced tongue by a glint of light as she spoke.

I had a moment.

All up until then everyone and their sister were raving on about how "the other night [they] were with this really hot chick and she like... had her tongue pierced and HOLY FUCK WOW MAN!" and all these hot chicks were getting their tongues pierced and sucking everyone's dick except for mine and fuck my life... the moment right before they got to me I'd be on the phone with them being their forever shoulder comfortable enough to cry on they'd be all like:

"...and so I took my tongue piercing out because... I don't know... I'm just so over it. Do you think... umm... is it okay if I... I mean... would you like to come over here? Or if you'd like to come over there I could... come...ov... er... *fuck*."

And there I'd be. pissed the fuck off for always ALWAYS being left out up until I wasn't... after the fucking fact. But by golly! I was still winning for losing!

Fucking seriously
Whatever. Sure I will still take your stupid blowjob. Whatever it takes to help you get through the difficult transition of being just so over it sweetheart.

Then during/afterwards it was always: "omg... it's been... so long... since the last...time I... sucked... cock... unob... structed.... Fuck I... LOVE... THIS!..."

And I'd be the pouty little princess-boy that I get to being every time I feel left out and be all like: "yep." "awesome."


But as it turns out! I didn't miss out on shit!!!

Having forgotten that my friend had a pierced tongue until after the fact preserved the frame of reference I had for receiving blow jobs! It was fucking AWESOME!

I seriously loved it and damn near made a scene in front of everyone by jumping out of my seat, pointing at her mouth wildly stating "YOUR BLOW JOBS FEEL NO DIFFERENT THAN ANYONE ELSE!"

 

[jezzilee]

So the woman was a friend and not the one I may or may not have pretended to have for the sake of telling you a good story the post prior to this one.

I felt those words. It was way too good to merely be a story. Well, up until a point

ETA; and maybe that is exactly why I feel it is a memory, an admission, and not a figment of your brilliant imagination. IF it were merely musings the end would have only been the beginning.

 

[Wife of Bath]

She loved him. But he didn’t know how to love.
He could talk about love. He could see love and feel love. But he couldn’t give love.
He could make love. But he couldn’t make promises.
She had desperately wanted his promises.
She wanted his heart, knew she couldn’t have it so she took what she could get.
Temporary bliss. Passionate highs and lows. Withdrawal and manipulation.
He only stayed long enough to take what he needed and keep moving.
If he stopped moving, he would self-destruct.
If he stopped wandering, he would have to face himself.
He chose to stay in the dark where he couldn’t see.
If he exposed himself and the sun came out, he’d see his shadow.
He was deathly afraid of his shadow.
She saw his shadow, loved it, understood it. Saw potential in it.
She thought her love would change him.
He pushed and he pulled, tested boundaries, thinking she would never leave.
He knew he was hurting her, but didn’t know how to share anything but pain.
He was only comfortable in chaos. Claiming souls before they could claim him.
Her love, her body, she had given to him and he’d taken with such feigned sincerity, absorbing every drop of her.
His dark heart concealed.
She’d let him enter her spirit and stroke her soul where everything is love and sensation and surrender.
Wide open, exposed to deception.
It had never occurred to her that this desire was not love.
It was blinding the way she wanted him.
She couldn’t see what was really happening, only what she wanted to happen.
She suspected that he would always seek to minimize the risk of being split open, his secrets revealed.
He valued his soul’s privacy far more than he valued the intimacy of sincere connection so he kept his distance at any and all costs.
Intimacy would lead to his undoing—in his mind, an irrational and indulgent mistake.
When she discovered his indiscretions, she threw love in his face and beat him with it.
Somewhere deep down, in her labyrinth, her intricacy, the darkest part of her soul, she relished the mayhem.
She felt a sense of privilege for having such passion in her life.
He stirred her core.
The place she dared not enter.
The place she could not stir for herself.
But something wasn’t right.
His eyes were cold and dark.
His energy, unaffected.
He laughed at her and her antics, told her she was a mess.
Frantic, she looked for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, in his stance, and she found nothing but disdain.
And her heart stopped.

G.G. Hill