The Scuttlebutt
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Posted:Oct 19, 2005 9:11 pm
Last Updated:Jul 2, 2006 7:25 am
8281 Views
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Ahh yes, the place in the work environment where most people congregate and shoot the shit. For Navy folks, the scuttlebutt is what they call the water fountain - and/or rumor. Pretty much for the same reason; men, for some odd reason like to loiter at the water cooler. They put one hand in their pocket, hold their water with the other - and fuckin gossip! The stupid ones who use their hands excessively when they talk, forget they have a cup of water in their hands and wind up spilling it. The females, they get into that shit too. They cross their arms across their chest and cradle the pointed paper cup ~ which u can never successfully pull off the bottom of the stack gracefully anyway ... always gotta dent it 'n shit ~ in the nook of the inside of their elbow. "What! .... are ya cold or something? Ahhh, hiding the ole' pointy war heads are ya?"
God I love cold office working environments - especially when you work with those women who don't care and freely show them off with their silky thin blouses, or the ones who have naturally large nipples that bulge out of their bras, shirts, and sometimes sweaters regardless of what the ambient room temperature is. That or they always want to borrow ur sweater or jacket - for the whole damn day! But it's so sweet when they return it, smelling all girly 'n shit. You sneak off to the bathroom and do a quick tug-job at the urinal on the scent alone. But I wonder how many of them would be bold and daring enough to wear one of them cut away bras that expose the nipples yet still provide support so she's not swishing all over the place. Boy, wouldn't I LOVE to be the supervisor of one of them wage slaves. Or how about when she wears them sexy, body hugging pants that beautifully displays her cheese cuttin panty lines on her ass and showcases that scrumptious camel toe pussy? And when you see her walk, you see those ass 'n thighs jiggling ever so gracefully - u just lick ur lips and think to yourself "Mmm mmm mmmmmm" Women dressed in corporate attire are just the ultimate! Pin-stripes suit on a woman wearing glasses is my fav.
But hey, imagine if they had THIS in the breakroom or hallway! An actual BEER cooler? Sigh - beer 'n tits. What more could a man ask for - at work even. Talk about effectively implementing and administering Six Sigma techniques to get employees to increase their productivity while increasing company profit margin and improving employee moral and camaraderie. It don't get any better than this!
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Damn Cold
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Posted:Oct 19, 2005 8:21 pm
Last Updated:Jul 2, 2006 7:26 am
8216 Views
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Well it's not one officially, but I'm doing my darndest to fight it off. With me, it always starts with a sore throat. Been taking Dayquil, Cepacol lozenges, and I'm about to buy some other shit my friend recommended. I'm really not a big fan of taking drugs.
Never had my tonsils removed, but I reckon it has a lot to do with why I get them as frequently as I do. Anyway, gonna do a warm salt-water gargle here shortly.
On a positive note, I finally got my lard-ass to the gym and signed a 2 year contract. They don't have a Bally's Total Fitness gym here in Jax like in Tampa so I'm pretty bummed about that. Anyway, also got an appointment to meet up with a highly recommended personal trainer who competed professionally in body building. I'm not saying I want to look like one of those steroid induced beefy muscle heads with puny cock 'n balls in speedos, but I definitely want to sport a six-pack, solid pecs, bulging arms and legs, and a VERY sexy bubble butt (have one already, but just need the toning).
Where I've always gone wrong before was putting too much emphasis on working out and not on nutrition. This guy will be perfect for telling me what foods to eat, what supplements to take, how often, and when - to get the desired results I'm looking for.
I know that getting the body I want is going to take a long time, however, I'm going to present to him the idea of a 12 week challenge. In almost all the books I've read about losing weight and embarking on a workout regimen, 12 weeks seems to be about the most common time frame to see some visual results, in some cases even stagerring results - in a realistic amount of time. So that's my challenge, that'll be my 30th Birthday gift to myself AND my New Year's resolution.
Once I've met the trainer and have my progrum set 'n ready to go, I'll post the initial info (measurements, weight, blah blah) and then update it weekly for 12 weeks. I'm psyched!
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The Invisible Man
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Posted:Oct 14, 2005 8:58 am
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2006 9:27 pm
8534 Views
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There have been fewer things I've ever fantasized about as a , and even now as an adult, than the ability to become invisible! Well, there was also being able to fly like Superman, but being invisible I thought, was a lot more fun.
Funny how the reasonings behind them change as I age. Back when I was an innocent minded, sweet (muhaha), oh I'd say it would have been cool to be invisible so I could play pranks on my friends and parents ... yunno, rattle some chains in the middle of the night 'n shit, skip school and cross guards and policeman couldn't ever spot me, and totally fuck with my pet dog's head. Now as an adult, my agenda's completely changed.
For example, let's say I found some magic genie in a bottle and he granted me my wish of being invisible, but the kind of invisibleness he can grant me is everlasting, meaning I can't switch it on and off. Once I go blank, I'll never go back! Think about the possibilities!
For one thing ... I'D QUIT MY DAMN JOB! Imagine a life without getting up every morning and HAVING to be somewhere so that money can be made to put a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and any other of life's requirements for why we need it. FORGET IT! You wouldn't need it, because the world's treasures are there for you to take ... without any repercussions. Didn't you use to say when you were younger "It's only cheating or stealing, IF you get caught?" I did!
So what would I do? The first thing I'd do is get my happy ass on a plane and tour the world - absofuckinglutely free. Just mosey on by the TSA's security check point at the airport, laugh your way right past metal detectors, and just plop right down into any available seat there is - preferrably First Class. Egypt, Mexico, Brazil, Hawaii, Europe, my goodness - just thinking about it makes my hair stand on end. I'd be a world class traveller, and whenever it came to eating or sleeping, I'd just help myself to whatever and wherever I'd like. Gimme that! Snatch a damn $6 muffin and $4 bottle of water from those expensive ass airport kiosks. Gimme that! Program a hotel key to a luxury suite in a 5 star hotel that I know won't be rented for the night. Move over rover! Take a seat in a partially occupied cab, bus, or train. I getz around.
Subsistence and a place to crash, what else would a human being need to survive? Nothing. So then comes the entertainment part of this incredible life. Besides the travelling, I'd need something else to keep my mind occupied. How about free seats to any concert, movie, play, circus,
or yunno, neat stuff like Cosmic Top Secret meetings at the Pentagon. Ahhh, that's right. With great power, comes great responsibility. I could literally walk into the President's office, FBI HQ, DEA, shoot, even KGB and have access to all their SECRETS they don't want you to know about. I could solve conflict and wars by crippling our adversaries by spying on them and reporting INTEL back to our country. I could even put an end to terrorism once and for all. I'd know who's who, who's where, and for God's sake use some fucking deoderant. I'd make millions trading secrets, and even more stealing them. I'd play the stock market, and win every time. But being alone at the top is boring. Amassing unbelievable wealth just won't cut it.
My demented mind would just continue to delve in what else I could get away with. Like Kevin Bacon in Hollow Man, I wouldn't have to worry about looking myself in the mirror. So fugit, I'd be the Ultimate perv! I'd be in public bathrooms, College girls locker and shower rooms, department store fitting rooms, bedrooms, ANYWHERE a fine female thinks she is in privacy. I'd then follow the bitch home .... shit, she'll even give me a ride herself. And when her man is knocked out sleeping on the couch, up late watching TV, or even out partying with the boys, I'd climb up into that bed and act like if I was her man and have my way with her. If she's a single woman, I'd undress her in her sleep. I'd suck on her titties, eat her pussy, and she'd just think it was a dream.
I'd sit in on porn flick sets, super model photo shoots, be the 'mystery' dick that's fucking you from behind in an orgy, I'd grab chicks asses, crotches, and tits in a crowded elevator, and NO ONE will ever know it's me. I'd look up at skirts on escalators, look down on opened shirts, witness an 18 year old getting her regular 'check up' at her Gynocologist's office, watch strippers and private dances for free, I'd walk right up to and gaze all I want at thonged asses and topless titties on the beach ... without getting sand kicked in my face. I'd witness countless cherries gettin popped, men taking it up the ass, lonely horny women playing with vibrators, and witness woman who go to the bathroom to frig their clit because of some hot blog they read while on the computer.
Yesiree friends, there's SO much things I would do if I were invisible. And yes, most of them would be sexual in nature. But you gotta admit, wouldn't it be really cool? 
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In A Slump
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Posted:Oct 13, 2005 8:45 pm
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2006 9:27 pm
8415 Views
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I don't know about you all, but I have a tough time sticking with anything for a long time, specifically ... a workout regimen.
I'm overweight, constantly tired, and not happy about how I look or feel. I go through a period where I'm motivated, I'll get on the right track, and then one of life's lemons hits me square on the head and throws me off whack and I wind up falling off the band wagon. That's when I go back to the chicharrones, soda, and whatever the fuck else I'm in the mood for.
Why does that happen? Even more troubling, why do I allow it?
It bothers me more because I know what the right answers are. I know that persistence overcomes resistance. I know that if you always do what you've always done ... you'll always get what you've always got. Well, leave it up to a good mentor friend of yours to make you realize ... "If you know something and don't do it - then you really don't know it". Guess I know what smokers go through in their head when they say "I can quit anytime I want to ... I just don't want to right now".
I feel like a slob. Yea yea, women tell me how sexy I am, how it's attractive for a man to have a muscular build with a soft 'n round mid-section - the Tony Soprano look, only with a full head of hair, and yunno ... bigger muscles . I suppose if that is who I always was, then I'd be destined for that look. But you see, I'm NOT like that. I know what I used to look like and weigh before, and I know that if I really ... REALLY commit myself, I CAN get there again. For if you really want something bad enough, you'll stop at nothing to achieve it. What the mind can conceive and believe ... it can achieve.
And yes, I understand the whole concept of aging, and slower metabolism, blah blah blah. Although true, I think they are excuses for people not to get up off their lazy asses and try to better themselves. I mean, it may sound narcissistic, but lets face it ... when you look good, you feel good. And when you feel good, you accomplish more and become a better overall person. And the byproduct? EXCELLENT HEALTH!
Let's face it, far as I'm concerned, we've only got one life to live. Do I want to spend it always being self-conscious about myself, running out of breath by going up a simple flight of stairs, having a hard time tying my shoelaces because of a pot belly? I'm not saying those things happen to me now, but if I don't smarten up, lickety split and do something about it soon, that future seems very promising.
So back to the lemons; losing a family member can do that to you. That's part of life. When you fall down, just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep on moving. With that said, in the next few days to come, I'm going to take action on getting my life back on track. There's a saying that goes "If you want to make changes in your life, you've got to make changes in your life".
Posting my intentions publicly here on this blog, may just be the driving force, that everlasting motivation I need to keep my butt in gear when I'm starting to slack off. Whether one person sees it, or 100, it's publicly posted for all to see ... especially myself. It'll be a reality check that would stare me back in the face, and not just something I could ignore and shrug off. I suppose that's why all the self-help books always tell you to write down your goals 'n shit, so you can't just "ooops" accidentally forget about them.
Well this is good, my attitude is positive, my spirits are high, and a kick-start motivation is in place to get this started. I'm going to sign up at a gym tomorrow, hire a personal trainer for exact and precise nutritional consumption for my desired goals, and I'm going to post ALL of my progress here. More to follow ...
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Support Wildlife ... Throw A Party!!!
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Posted:Oct 13, 2005 6:39 am
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2006 9:27 pm
8220 Views
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You know ... the last time I dressed up for Halloween, I was still in grade school. Ever since then, I guess I've been so busy with the responsibilities of life that I've never bothered to see the fun of dressing up in costume (now as an adult) and just having fun and going to a Halloween party or nite club.
I still don't know that I'll do it this year, but I'm wondering if any other people on this site actually go through with it ... year after year. I mean, I think that adult costumes are much more elaborate and expensive than the ones you used to get as a . Is it worth going out and paying lots of money for something you only wear once a year? If you've been to these kinds of parties before (where they almost ALWAYS have a best costume award), which are the kind of costumes that are always winning?
I think its a trip that people's professions are being used a lot more as costumes these days. I'm just flabbergasted that someone would dress their up as a Nurse, Doctor, Firefighter, Police Officer, yikes - even a French Maid! Unless you're an adult, leave those type of costumes alone - let be . Once they grow up, they'll have to be those things permanently. I mean, where'd all the creativity and imagination for go? Superman, Batman, Wonderwoman, ... Casper the friendly Ghost? I'm sure they still have those type of costumes around, but I tend to see them less and less. Even trick or treating isn't the same as it used to be. And whatever happened to egg throwing? That just disappear too?
Ahh, I'm going off on a tangent reminiscing about how it used to be in the good ole' days. I know that times change, people change, but you never expect it to be like this. Scary as it sounds, I'm now starting to realize the importance of the speech grandma and grandpa always used to tell us that started with "Back when I was your age, we used to ..."
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Last Night ... I Slept Like A Baby
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Posted:Oct 13, 2005 6:14 am
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2006 9:27 pm
8146 Views
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Yup, sure did. I had a chickenhead's nipple in my mouth all night. Alright, just kidding ... she wouldn't be a chickenhead if she slept ovah, right?
So I didn't have a woman sleep in my bed last night, but what I did sleep on was my King sized 4 inch Memory Foam Mattress Topper that arrived UPS to me yesterday. I purchased it online from the "O" place. A friend of mine told me about it, but I didn't believe that a topper could feel as good as the real Tempur-pedic stuff ... until I layed down on her bed ... among doing other things of course. It felt wonderful, and yes, just like they say on TV, it was like lying on a cloud.
So I went online, and ordered my very own, along with two of those Memory Foam pillows as well (it came as a set). The total price came out to $203.98 (w/ free shipping).
The premium 4-inch topper was $169.99
And the oversized memory foam contour pillows were $33.99.
$204 sound hefy to you? That depends on how much you value your sleep. Be cautioned, you might find similar products like this here and there ... WALMART, for cheaper, but remember that you always get what you pay for. One of the complaints I happened to see a lot of (from customers' reviews on that site) was that when they purchased the cheapie version of this topper, it didn't have the support as advertised, and it made you sweat ... like the material doesn't air out too well so you feel hot just lying on it.
So, my experience - forget having to get used to it in a few days. How about the VERY SAME NIGHT, I slept completely soundly and didn't wake up once. To top it off, I beat my alarm clock by about 5 minutes this morning too. The contoured pillows were great, no more having to use 2 pillows, or taking 1 pillow and folding it in half to give me the elevation and neck support I need to feel comfortable while sleeping.
Take if from me - if you don't sleep well at night, or if you have back, neck, shoulder, or leg pain, it could just really be you're sleeping on a jacked up mattress. Order this topper and you'll notice a difference immediately!
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Safety Tip For Today
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Posted:Oct 9, 2005 5:13 pm
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2006 9:27 pm
8172 Views
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If you have no clue where your food's been, eat safely by using a condiment.
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The Night I Lost My ... Road Rage
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Posted:Oct 9, 2005 3:10 pm
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2006 9:27 pm
8433 Views
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The city was Miami; Hialeah to be exact, the year - 1996. It was a cool, clear summer night in April and I had just left my house in my '91 Nissan Maxima - I was going to visit the old man down in Little Havana's Calle Ocho.
I could have taken LeJeune Road straight into Miami, but ahhhh, I didn't feel like dealing with all the stop-lights. So preferring to cruise on the highway instead of stopping and going down the street, I drove slightly out of my way to hop on the Palmetto Expressway and headed Southbound. The time was around 10pm, the traffic was very light, the windows and sunroof were open, cool breeze blowing in my hair, and I was jammin' to some of Miami's indigenous tunes from a local radio station.
In order to get to where I needed to go, I had to hop on an intersecting highway which would take me Eastbound, the Dolphin Expressway. So I did what I had to do, to get where I needed to be - like I've done literally ... a thousand times before.
So here I am driving 5 mph above the speed limit in the middle lane of a (then) 3 lane highway. I normally have a lead foot, but at that time of night, the po po's like to hide in the dark and surprise you with the blue light special from behind. Besides, there were no cars in front nor behind me for quite some distance. My modus operatus was simple; I was visiting my old man, and I was enjoying the weather - so I figured "what's the rush?", enjoy the commute too.
Miami International Airport was now to my left, mmmmmm, always a pleasing sight to see ... especially when one of those cross-continental super jumbo airliners land gracefully on the runway and you fixate your eyes on the moment of impact where the tires hit the ground and you see a small plume of smoke emit as a result of the union of those 2 forces - it always put a smile on my face to see that for some odd reason. But anyway, that was a moot point because it was at night and I couldn't have seen it anyway.
What I did see up ahead of me however, was a vehicle travelling on the on-ramp to merge onto the Eastbound Dolphin expressway; the same direction I was heading. When you're in a situation like that, your subconscious mind thinks, "well I'm in the middle lane, so I don't have to switch over to grant him the courtesy of merging successfully" (which is exactly why I chose to drive in the middle lane so I didn't have to switch lanes often for motorists entering and exiting the highway).
Now before I can make out the silhouette of the car (because of the darkness), I already knew it was a Mazda 626. Hehe you see, I like to play this game at night while driving. What I do is I look at the shape of the taillights up ahead before getting close enough to see the car and I try to guess the make and model. I'm about 99% accurate when I play. I then became acutely aware of his presence in my peripheral view as my constant speed quickly matched his accelerating speed.
So the moment came where he had built up enough speed in the right lane after having successfully merged onto the highway. I passed him slightly at my cruising speed, so he lagged a little behind. But I noticed he continued accelerating. Hey, no problem, people pass me all the time. But the problem was that there was a car travelling even slower than me in the right lane ... the lane HE was in.
So he punched it. I heard his engine rev louder and he started to overtake me so as to avoid having to slow down and then switch lanes behind me. Lol you know, I REALLY was enjoying my drive, but me being Mr. Man over here, 19 years old, living in Miami, and driving the "4 Door Sportscar" with 190 horsepower, V6 engine, 24 valve, Dual Overhead Cam ... whoopteedo!
But when you're that age, EVERY car is like a Formula-1 race car, and lets face it, your manhood is on the line. So my Sigmund Freud's Ego segment of the ID, Ego, & Super Ego of subconciousness kicked into full drive and I'm thinking ...
Oh HELLS nah you ain't about to cut ME off, punk!
So what does the testosterone driven little 19 year old do? Floors it too! My Maxima snaps out of it's peaceful cruise-control mode, I turn off the over-drive button AND down shift to Drive 2 .... screaching my tires as it downshifts and revs dangerously close to redlining. What's this idiota thinking? I've got this big 'n beefy Maxima and he's tinkering in his little 626.
At that point, it became blatently obvious I was going to give him a run for his money, so he punched his little 2-door car even harder. I was disappointed to say the least when I saw him actually pull the stunt off successfully. He switched lanes, cutting me off - bad, and avoided the car ahead of him that would have proven just how much of a wuss he was if he had only slowed down and switched lanes behind me.
But no way papa, you ain't gonna diss me like that - this was far from over. You see, my car WAS more powerful than his, but because of the 626 being so little and light, he was able to accelerate faster than me. So now I take the offensive (ya right, like I didn't decide to do that back when this whole mess started) and got on the left lane to try and overtake him.
Higher top speed, now in excess of 120mph, proved superior in my car because I finally overtook him, but damn it if he didn't keep up and tried his hardest. To return the gesture, as if I were going to be awarded some trophy at the end when this was all over, I decide "now I'm gonna cut YOU off maricon!" So I begin to, only ... damn, he seemed WAY too close to my rear bumper. I was afraid I was going to clip him. So I retreated from the cut off and yanked my steering wheel to get back into my lane.
You know, that night was the first time I felt g-forces usually experienced in a roller coaster, but without actually going to the theme park. You see, when I yanked that steering wheel, little inexperienced driver me didn't realize that at high-speeds, that's a big no no.
So round and round I went, where I'll stop, nobody knows. Now, don't get me wrong ... I didn't let go of the steering wheel and put my hands by my cheeks and scream out loud at the top of my lungs like some bitch! Heck no, I was grabbing onto that steering wheel, white knuckled, trying to make some sense out of how to counter steer and gain SOME sort of control while doing 360's down the highway at speeds in excess of 100mph. Screw the airplanes, now I was making my OWN smokin tires.
It wasn't until that evening where I realized HOW true that phrase is "your life flashes before your eyes", when you're in a life or death situation like that. So here I am I'm spinning and spinning, and in nanosecods, the mind is thinking: when will I flip over? When will I hit the center medium? When will I skid off the road and wind up in the ditch?
Luckily, heh, MIRACULOUSLY, none of the above happened. Instead, my Maxima stalled and came to a complete and safe stop right in the middle of the highway ... facing oncoming traffic!
Oh no, I've avoided all these pitfalls and now these other cars are gonna ram me at full speed. I flicker my high beams to alert them as if to say "hey, dumbass here facing the wrong way ... slow down please" and tried to reach the ignition to restart my car.
Nervous, shaken, confused, and disoriented, I was determined to get her purring again ... ole Maxi gal started right back up. I quickly turn her around as the now oncoming motorists stand on their brakes and come to an intermittengly screaching stop because of their anti-lock brakes.
I drive away, reach my destination, and that was the end of that.
Hand gestures, verbal attacks, vindictive agressive driving, you name it, I did it. I had Miami Road Rage. Being half Dominican & Cuban didn't help neither because my blood's boiling point was naturally low already.
But that night I was saved. Was it divine intervention? Hmmmm, part of me likes to think so. But why is it that whenever something good like that happens we're so quick to show faith "thank you God thank you God!" But yet, where the heck is He when airliners crash into sky scrapers and government buildings? Alright alright, so I won't get started on that, BUT, I still DO like to think that luck, some sort of a miracle, and a wee bit of my Mario Andretti driving skills saved me from completely obliterating myself into that concrete center barrier or a whole other myriad of really bad scenarios.
I walked away from it completely unscathed, and my Maxi gal? Prolly had her adrenaline rush and thought it was cool. But ever since then, I've abandoned my old ways and humbly respect the law of physics when it comes to speed, other crazy ass irate motorists, and that really hard, painful looking asphalt blacktop. I now voluntarily subject my Super Ego whenever I'm confronted with a potential Road Rage encounter ... and I just let it go.
^v^
P.S. - And the driver of the 626? I bet he peed his pants for laughing so much at me. Fucker!
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A Man For The Millennium
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Posted:Oct 9, 2005 2:52 am
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2006 9:27 pm
8395 Views
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George Carlin has got to be my absolute favorite vintage comedian of all time. Talk about someone passing the true test of time (since the 60's this guy!).
Anyway, I was cruising the net when I stumbled across an online public forum where I read someone's opinion about politics and government, lol, and then the retaliative replies from somebody else on the same subject matter. Geez some people really get into that politics stuff. So at that moment, I remembered Georgie, who LOVES to talk shit about religion and politics. Then I remembered the time I lived in Tampa and got to finally see him perform live on stage at the Ruth Eckerd Hall in Clearwater earlier this year.
He was his usually grumpy ole' self, always complaining about this 'n that. I have to admit, of all the tours he has done (and I have heard almost all of his stand up routines) I was REALLY getting bored at this one. Perhaps the ole' man is losing his touch?
Bah, he then busted out with the following skit and blew everyone's socks off. And recited it with mind-blowing speed .... I still don't know how that man memorizes SO much content and recites it in order so fast without messing up. And he's how old???
A Man For The Millennium
"I�m a modern man, a man for the millennium. Digital and smoke free. A diversified multi-cultural, post-modern deconstruction that is anatomically and ecologically incorrect. I�ve been up linked and downloaded, I�ve been inputted and outsourced, I know the upside of downsizing, I know the downside of upgrading. I�m a high-tech low-life. A cutting edge, state-of-the-art bi-coastal multi-tasker and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond!
I�m new wave, but I�m old school and my inner is outward bound. I�m a hot-wired, heat seeking, warm-hearted cool customer, voice activated and bio-degradable. I interface with my database, my database is in cyberspace, so I�m interactive, I�m hyperactive and from time to time I�m radioactive.
Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, ridin the wave, dodgin the bullet and pushin the envelope. I�m on-point, on-task, on-message and off drugs. I�ve got no need for coke and speed. I've got no urge to binge and purge. I�m in-the-moment, on-the-edge, over-the-top and under-the-radar. A high-concept, low-profile, medium-range ballistic missionary. A street-wise smart bomb. A top-gun bottom feeder. I wear power ties, I tell power lies, I take power naps and run victory laps. I�m a totally ongoing big-foot, slam-dunk, rainmaker with a pro-active outreach. A raging workaholic. A working rageaholic. Out of rehab and in denial!
I�ve got a personal trainer, a personal shopper, a personal assistant and a personal agenda. You can�t shut me up. You can�t dumb me down because I�m tireless and I�m wireless, I�m an alpha male on beta-blockers.
I�m a non-believer and an over-achiever, laid-back but fashion-forward. Up-front, down-home, low-rent, high-maintenance. Super-sized, long-lasting, high-definition, fast-acting, oven-ready and built-to-last! I�m a hands-on, foot-loose, knee-jerk head case pretty maturely post-traumatic and I�ve got a love- that sends me hate mail.
But, I�m feeling, I�m caring, I�m healing, I�m sharing-- a supportive, bonding, nurturing primary care-giver. My output is down, but my income is up. I took a short position on the long bond and my revenue stream has its own cash-flow. I read junk mail, I eat junk food, I buy junk bonds and I watch trash sports! I�m gender specific, capital intensive, user-friendly and lactose intolerant.
I like rough sex. I like tough love. I use the �F� word in my emails and the software on my hard-drive is hardcore--no soft porn.
I bought a microwave at a mini-mall; I bought a mini-van at a mega-store. I eat fast-food in the slow lane. I�m toll-free, bite-sized, ready-to-wear and I come in all sizes. A fully-equipped, factory-authorized, hospital-tested, clinically-proven, scientifically- formulated medical miracle. I�ve been pre-wash, pre-cooked, pre-heated, pre-screened, pre-approved, pre-packaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double-wrapped, vacuum-packed and, I have an unlimited broadband capacity.
I�m a rude dude, but I�m the real deal. Lean and mean! Cocked, locked and ready-to-rock. Rough, tough and hard to bluff. I take it slow, I go with the flow, I ride with the tide. I�ve got glide in my stride. Drivin and movin, sailin and spinin, jiving and groovin, wailin and winnin. I don�t snooze, so I don�t lose. I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road. I party hearty and lunch time is crunch time. I�m hangin in, there ain�t no doubt and I�m hangin tough, over and out!"
What a genius!
^v^
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The Ultimate Taboo
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Posted:Oct 8, 2005 10:49 pm
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2006 9:27 pm
9446 Views
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Taboo - 1 : a prohibition against touching, saying, or doing something for fear of immediate harm from a supernatural force. 2 a : banned on grounds of morality or taste.
There's a saying in Spanish that goes "Cada cabeza es un mundo", meaning everybody lives life according to their own interpretations of reality. Within the realms of those interpretations, whether instilled in them by nature or nurture, or both; people encompass, practice, and preach their own set of values, morals, and ethics ... and strictly adhere to their "no fly zones".
Being raised Catholic all my life, I was forced to believe that upon birth, I was instantly a sinner. That if I lived a life according to certain rules, customs, traditions, and believed in stories like mortal men parting an entire sea, I'd be accepted into The kingdom where lions cease to be carnivorous and actually sit and play alongside other animals like sheep and humans without scarfing them down in one fell swoop. Here, lemme grab a toothpick for ya there good buddy.
Forget about the fact that dinosaurs ever roamed the Earth at one point, nothing in the bible about that, so it can't be true. Oh oh, and there couldn't possibly be such a thing as an Origin of Life theory on how we possibly couldn't have just evolved into the sophisticated pathetic meaningless Earth destroying creatures that we are. Nah nah, that can't be possible because it is way too LOGICAL and we'd be damned if we believed anything that remotely makes sense ... kind of like coming to the realization that there's really no place to go to after we die - except of course, six feet under, where we check in like Hotel California and reside there permanently. In hindsight however, if you play naughty all your life, you then get to go to a place where there's fire, and evil, and you'll burn and live in agony forever and ever - BUT - HE still loves you!! Ah hah - I'm wit'cha so far! Oh and lest we not forget the gays 'n lesbians; an ever-so increasing percentage of our population who's only goal in life is to secure a genuine loving life-long partner and co-exist peacefully and equally without prejudice amidst the rest of us (ok, so most of them do anyways). Even so, they are the last people on this planet to be considered violent and destructive. But you must still rule them out from being on the guest list for Big Dawg's eternal house party because they too - the law abiding, commandment following, good Samaritan, meat popsicle sucking, dirt road travelling, fudge packin, carpet eating, muff diving, dildo fucking sons and daughters of God are still considered sinners because of their biologically born sexual preference! My friends, if you truly believe this rigamarole, I've got a bridge to sell ya.
So! getting back on track ... in addition to the sensory deprivation services I attended for ALL sorts of reasons which seemed to last eons, I attended Catholic school from 4th grade, all the way up to and completing high school. What? Did you think that Catholics were the biggest sex freaks for no reason at all?
How many priests have been caught with their hands in the cookie jar .... err, I mean, down some innocent 's pants???
Well, here's a thought provoking factoid - If it's really taboo; straight up to have sex with a close relative, how was it possible for Adam & Eve's , both siblings to each other, to have reproduced and ultimately be responsible for the creation of mankind as we now know it? See?, and here we ridicule and condemn West Virginians when in reality they've been doing it right all along. Go on with your bad self Mary Lou Retton!!
Ok, so as you ponder on that while chewing on a stick of cinnamon flavored Trident, also know this; I was an Altar Boy for many years. Those poor young souls are the ones responsible for assisting the priest in conducting his service ... well during mass at least. We used to fetch the Body and Blood of Christ, hold up the Holy Bible for him to read, ring the bell when it was dinner time, as well as do a lot of sitting, standing, and kneeling - hmmmmm ... come to think of it, I don't recall being allowed to sit; and pretty much just be there for decorations. Wait wait, hold up
Consume the Body and the Blood of Christ?
Doesn't that seem rather cannibalistic to you? "Alex Trebek, Taboo for $1000 please"
So besides the mandatory Altar Boy masses, I also went to church for regular Sunday masses, plus, holiday masses; (i.e., Christmas, Easter, Lent, etc.) plus special occassion masses; (i.e., weddings, funerals, baptisms, communions, and confirmations), AND had Religion as a subject in school as part of my academic curriculum. Looky here, I was eating, sleeping, and shitting religion. If anyone knew the inside of a church pretty well, it was me. Shit, after a while, I began realizing the best cooz to get were at weddings and funerals. I mean ...
Just take the first three letters in "funerals" and what do you have?
As a natural born Casanova, it's my relentless duty to scout promising sources of tail. I mean, let's face it, it is man's natural instinct to choose the path of least resistance, ay? So like I said, I began to include church as a place to hunt for T 'n A. Wowwie, there were some mighty fine señoritas attending mass too boy! It wasn't long after that where I actually started daydreaming and fantasizing about having sexual relations with chicks I scoped out who sat on pews in front of me as a means to zone out the entire sermon, eulogy, wedding vows ... whatever the fuck.
So to what do I owe the Catholic church - the Priests, the Brothers, the Sisters who smacked the shit out of my hand with a yard stick when I misbehaved, and the Holy Bible for the countless years of brainwashing that took place in my innocent young brain which they happened to do so manipulatively? Thank them for teaching me psychological warfare naturally, and return to my stomping grounds to share with them the fruits of their labor.
So the fantasy goes like this ...
I walk into a Catholic church on a fairly nippy, cloudy 'n breezy day in March. But I don't walk into just any church, its got to be one of those really old churches built by immigrants in the early 1900's like the ones Italians and Latinos built up North made out of concrete, stone, and mortar ... the kind with REAL architecture and no central A/C. Worn down squeaky and chipped pews, visibly aged stained glass windows, ancient looking organ pipes, you know the kind.
Anyway, in I walk with an equally minded sick fuck lady-bird friend of mine - lets say around 2pm on a weekday. The place is dark, cold, and empty, except for a few hunched over blue-haired ladies who are lighting white tea candles by the tabernacle, inserting their hard earned social security money into a box, and chanting their endless array of repetitous prayers to some statue skillfully chiseled out of stone, all the while having looks on their faces like they're hoping that statue will miraculously reveal that Saturday's Lotto numbers or something. C'mon ladies, apparitions like that only happen in places like Mexico and Central and South America ... get a grip! So, eerie nevertheless.
Off we go to a dark corner in the back and to the side of the church where we are fairly out of sight. Mind you, this lady-bird friend of mine is wearing a nun's outfit, wearing no underwear underneath at all except for her white stockings.
So she sits on the pew, spread eagle, and I'm in a kneeling position eating out her smoove shaved forbidden meat burger. At the same time, she recites 10 Our Fathers and Hail Mary's on her rosary beads.
We then progress to intercourse, where she kneels on the pew, facing the rear of the church, and I lift her skirt up to reveal a big fat shiny cock hungry ass, where I fuck her from behind and we commence confession. "Bless me Father for I have sinned. It's been ... shit, 17 years since my last confession .... and right here too! Yea, I believe Father John made me confess to you my "dirty habits" - masterbating my at-the-time five inch adoloscent penis. So here I am, currently fucking your spiritually appointed love up the ass, who solemnly vowed to poverty, obedience, and yes - even chastity in your name.
So we carry on, I grope and devour her voluptuous tits and pour hot candle wax on her nipples from a candle I swiped from one of the blue-haired ladies while she had her head down in deep prayer. Then she straddles me and rides me like I'm some Texan crusading cowboy as she taps her chest with her rosary bead carrying hand saying "por mi culpa, por mi culpa, por mi gran culpa". So we eventually go through several Kama-Sutra positions, including a 69 right on the pew, and finally when I'm about to cum, she gets back down into a kneeling position, and I blast her face with my now sacrificial cum.
After we're all done demonstrating how the not-so Virgin Mary really became preggo, we compose ourselves and proceed to head towards the exit. Right before passing through the door, we turn around and respectfully genuflect at the altar towards the head of the church, then proceed to the foyer area. With my cock still gooey from Sister Marie's forbidden cunt juice, I dip my cock 'n balls into the marble reservoir filled with holy water, and give my Peter and Gonads a good spiritual cleansing - sorta like the way you do in a motel bathroom sink after fucking a chickenhead before heading on home to monster wife. Lastly, we go outside and stand on the steps of the entrance while the still dripping cum drenched face of Sister Marie waives at passer-bys and yells "God Bless You".
......
we wait a few moments for a couple of thunderbolt strikes ...
...nothing, coast is clear.  So we high-five each other and plan the church we're gonna hit next.
Alright alright, so my fantasy doesn't really transpire like that. I mean, who can really concentrate that much to recite prayers while you're getting the life fucked out of you by a big fat juicy latino cock? I mean, isn't it bad enough we already use his name in vain when you feel a good O' coming on and all you keep yelling at the top of your lungs is "Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God - I'm gonna cum!" Lemme ask you something, what do God, .... and cumming .... have anything to do with each other?
Ahhhh, I suppose it goes back to that whole Adam 'n Eve theory again, I see. Well there goes a revelation! The church was right ALL this time when they considered us to be all brothers and sisters!!!
Alright, so to those religious types whom I've managed to offend and are revolted by now (heh, if you've even made it this far), lets take a look at this from a big picture perspective.
The truth is, more heinous crimes have been committed in the name of religion than all other acts of crimes combined. One only need take a quick trip down memory lane to September of 2001 to realize the severity of this grim reality.
So my logical reasoning? Make love, not war. And what better place to demonstrate that than in the house of God.  I'm not saying to stop believing and practicing your religion, I'm just saying .... if you happen to see us bumping uglies in your church one day, just pump your arm like Arsenio Hall used to do and give us a silent cheer.
Ohhhhhh wight, so perhaps I'm showing a bit of my cynicism, and twisted humor, but if push comes to shove, would I really be physically hurting anyone?  Nah, I'd just be giving the supernatural first dibbs, front row seats to a live porn flick. And how much more of a good Samaritan can you be than that? Helping them blue-haired ladies cross the street was never THIS much fun!
Ahhh, sex in a church. Yes siree compadres, in the infamous words of Billy Idol, "I'd rather laugh with the sinners, than cry with the Saints". 
^v^
--Footnote--
Believe it or not - Did you know that McDonald's REAL agenda for being in business is for acquiring real estate (land) and NOT food sales and distribution? As an entity, they own the most land throughout the world. So secondary to the golden arches, guess who owns the most land in this country? Churches - they're tax exempt!
Believe it or Not? - Believe it!
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Chuckee Cheese Boy!
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Posted:Oct 8, 2005 2:19 pm
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2006 9:27 pm
7844 Views
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Most men haven't got a clue! They're looking for ass in all the wrong places. You see, there are MORE married/attached/single moms looking for a roll in the hay and are more eager to give you their hot, juicy, I'm not getting it good at home snatch than the stuck-up tight lil teeny bopper and 20 something year olds you find in the clubs and martini bars. You see, whenever you see a mom pushing a stroller or walking around with a church of , one automatically assumes she's off limits. For the more daring, they'll even go as far as checking out the left ring finger as further evidence - but even that's still not a disqualifier these days.
I will tell you straight up, I have seen the FINEST mamasitas at supermarkets, soccer games, the gym, them Super Walmarts (gawd I love them Wally Marts) and like yesterday for example, at Chuckee Cheese. Fortunately for me, my friend has an adorable little 3 year old girl and invited me to go with her. Being that I care for the lil rugrat, I thought sure, no problem.
Fe fi fo fum, boy looky here there's some serious ass at Chuckee Cheese! Good lawd, talk about pussy Haven, from tight jean camel-toe showin, to skirts where you can see the jiggle in her ass cheeks from the freedom that thongs give her, to low cut shirts with major cleavage, and partly unbuttoned silk blouses showing lacey bras on underneath - and they were ALL scouting.
I thought nothing of the way I was dressed, blue jeans, black boots, and muscle fitting sleeveless Nike shirt. My big guns arms were sportin and the mami's were checking it out. Most were pretty conservative about it; I'd catch them sneaking a peek while pretending to be paying attention to their who was maniacally whacking away at illuminated buttons trying to win as many tickets from the machine as possible. While others pretended to adore the cute lil girl they 'thought' was mine, and sneaked in their peeks and caught a whiff of my masculine cologne that way. Either way, the message was clear. I was swimming in a sea of hungry man-eating lady sharks.
Now go figure, the joint is completely packed with jumping around, bouncing off walls, just going completely bonkers like cats who overdosed on cat-nip. The room was filled with blinky lights, bells, whistles, rides, and games with catchy tunes playing. It looked like a grown up's Casino, but for tots. Not too far behind, were the moms looking after them, keeping them from running into the acne-prone, braces wearing teenage servers delivering their one style of pizza to customers at tables. What I noticed however, was that there weren't too many dads around. Now it's almost impossible to tell how many were single moms, which were the ones that the dads just "don't do Chuckee Cheese" and which ones just have Baby Daddy's and are partially in the picture. Now add to the fact that the few dads who were there, were either 5' tall Mexicans, or fat balding rolly polly ones who just sat in one spot and that's all she wrote. One thing was for sure ... if there was eye candy in there, they were definitely enjoying the view.
You know ... this just solidifies my good friend's theory - the single/divorced/responsible dad look is a complete MOMMMY magnet. How about this dude went out and bought himself a station-wagon Volvo. In this Volvo, he purchased a car seat and stuck it in the back and leaves it there permanently ... along with some scattered toys too. According to him, he's gotten more pussy than another friend of his who drives a convertible Mustang. And he doesn't even have , intelligent prick!
Lo and behold, I didn't get any that night. Most likely because the ladies figured my friend and I were a couple, and the little girl was my . Well, now that I know where the fishing grounds are, I wonder if my friend would ever let me take her to Chuckee Cheese again by myself!
Now where's the Sunday paper .... I've got some Volvo's to check out!
^v^
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Body Canvas
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Posted:Oct 5, 2005 12:48 pm
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2006 9:27 pm
7777 Views
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Those who know me, (and for those of you who are observant enough and have realized on your own this manifesto) know that what we are exposed to ... well, sometimes influences us in some kind of way. Allow me to use an analogy ...
It is time for me to tell you an ageless story, my special one. It is a story retold many times and in many universes. It is a story as old as the mountains and as deep as the clear, blue ocean. It is a story told by the Aztec, the Apache, the Arapaho, and the Conquistador. It is a story told by the Celts, Gaels, Andulasians, and Hindu. Let me share this story with you.
While hunting in the mountains a man killed an eagle and was so astonished at the great bird's size and beauty that he kept one of the eggs from the eagle's nest.
He returned to his farm on the valley floor, so far beneath the dead eagles perch. Placing the egg under a sitting hen, he hoped to see it hatch. After a few weeks the egg did hatch. The farmer was busy with other work and did not notice the strange looking "chicken." This chicken soon learned from his foster mother and others in the farm yard how to grovel and peck for survival. He was initiated into the ways of the yard quickly learning that he was at the bottom of the pecking order. Soon he looked pretty scruffy as a result.
One day the now near full grown eagle but forced to be a chicken, looked up into the heavens and saw a huge bird soaring among the wondrous clouds. He marveled at the freedom and beauty of the great bird. He could not fail but notice the majesty of the regal bird as it surveyed it's kingdom from high above. Intently looking at this wonder he did not notice how the bird's shadow had caused all the farm animals to scatter and hide. The other hens clucked their warning to him but he was oblivious to their raucous, farm yard noise.
For what ever reason, he found his blood racing and his feathers beginning to unfurl and straighten. He shook himself and when he cried it was not the strangled croak that he used to make when trying to talk as chickens do. Instead, a full bodied roar sounded from his chest.
High above, the huge bird stopped it's circling and, looking down again into the farm yard, spied the "chicken." Somewhat mystified the golden bird swooped low over the yard hawking loudly back to the "chicken." The great bird came to rest on top of the highest point of the farmer's barn. Looking down at the "chicken" the great bird exclaimed. "Young eagle what are you doing pecking around in this farm yard?" The younger responded by saying that he was after all a chicken and this is where he belonged as a chicken. The great bird looked down in astonishment and said, "How can you be a chicken when you are an eagle!" The younger replied, "Oh no great one, I am really a chicken and here is where I belong with the rest of my clan."
Puzzled, the great bird swooped down and landed beside the younger one. "Come with me," stated the great bird, "and we will see." The "chicken" followed the great bird over to the farm pond where they both looked at their reflections in the water. "Are you a hen then?" queried the great bird. "Oh, yes I am," said the younger, "I have been told and showed that I am a chicken and a chicken I always will be." "Look again," said the great bird, "and this time compare yourself to me." The younger did so and was mightily startled at what he saw. For instead of a chicken he saw that he did indeed resemble this great bird.
Very confused he asked, "How can this be oh great bird?" The great bird, with gentleness and learning, responded that, "You, my young eagle, have been taught your limitations as a chicken and that your place in life is to scratch around the farm yard for ever. But your true calling is that of an eagle and an eagle you must become. It is high in the heavens where you belong where all the land is your domain. I will teach you how to fly and how to soar. I will teach you the mysteries of the mountains and where to find the warm currents that lifts us beyond any limitation. You will soar with me and experience the exuberance of all that our life has to offer. No man can harness you or rob you of your inherent dignity. You are after all an eagle, and an eagle you surely will be!"
~ So what does this have to do with Tattooing? ~
Nothing really, it's just merely an example to support my point. Ever since I've been watching Discovery Channel's "Miami Ink" and A&E's "Inked", I'm suddenly having the urge to get tattoed (the eagle tryin' to act like a chicken) Now chew on this: I spent 7 years in an environment where tattoos are prevalant and almost required for reasons of social acceptance among peers. It demonstrates who you are, where you've been, and how tough you were. No no, I didn't spend 7 years getting butt fucked in the shower in some federal state penitentiary - I'm talking about the U.S. Navy. (so what's the difference you're thinking, huh? - fucker)
I guess I wasn't influenced back then because all the tatts looked the same. Gold fouled anchor with USN beneath it, "Old Ironsides" wooden ship, Popeye, some sort of tatt showing you've crossed the equator at this time at this location, and on this vessel, or what rank you were - typically Chief and above, or even your rating ... Boatswain's Mates were famous for that one. BORINGGGGGG!
And also, being in the Navy among thousands of other peers, it kinda made you feel 'compelled' to do it. Screw that, I've never been one to follow the masses. So, it wasn't until I started viewing these shows on my own that I started to realize just how cool this could actually be. For most people, a tattoo is a reflection in a person's point in life they wish to capture and preserve forever. I don't know that's necessarily the case with me. I think for me it's more like getting something either on my arm, my back, or both, that when someone looks at it, they think "bad ass".
Well, the problem is that I just can't think of anything that uncommon and non-cheezy that I would want permanently brand on my body forever. If I get an eagle, then I'd be portrayed as a biker dude (and then chickens everywhere will scatter everytime I come near), any kind of webbing - I feel trapped, Dragons, Tigers, and Skulls - an ex con possibly ... Mommy 'n Daddy, Hearts, Religious symbols, they're just too ummm, como se dice ... eh, played out. The ones I really have lots of admiration for are memorials. But hey, I'm no one to judge the likings of others, I just know what I want or don't want on my body.
So it'd have to be something unique, but something that would also pass the test of time. I don't want to be like these fools who jump head in getting a tattoo because it was cool at the moment and didn't really take the time to think it over (like all those muscle heads who went and got those Tribal bands around their arm and is now out of style because a more modern design came out), or even those who would consider getting a tattoo while they're drunk or high and later on in life regret it immensely and spend big bucks and LOTS more pain trying to get it removed - dohhh! Nah, not "I" said the goose.
And it won't be a cheapy one either. It'd be something elaborate, taking lots of hours (and lotsa money). A real masterpiece. Ahh, who am I kidding, then it'd be overpowering, too gaudy. Perhaps I should just shut the fuck up and not get any tattoos done at all, and just continue to admire (or make ridicule) of those who do. Either way, the decision is mine to make and I'll take my time doing it. I'll update ya if I ever do.
^v^
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R U 1 2?
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Posted:Oct 4, 2005 3:05 pm
Last Updated:May 31, 2007 6:06 am
8404 Views
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At 30 years old, I figure I'm a little over having lived 1/3 of my life (according to the average life expectancy in the U.S.) Most of these years were spent learning about do's and don'ts, what's safe and what's not, dreaded math that you'll never again use in your life, getting on the right track to a [hopefully] successful career, and discovering higher complexities to the bird and the bees .... to name a few. If you're lucky, then you would have gotten hitched a couple of times, like your's truly did and learn even more about how viscious and vindictive women can be. Now, where exactly did I leave that machete?
Be it as it may be, I've amassed an incredible amount of knowledge and wisdom throughout the years. Yes I purposely distinguish one from the other because knowledge is information you acquire through experiencing it on your own .... you know, the school of hard knocks', whereas wisdom is information you gain by taking someone elses word on it, reading up on the subject matter, or just plain common sense that makes you think FUCK ALL THAT NOISE!
and then act out accordingly, hopefully keeping you out of jail.
So, I give credit to technology for allowing me to expand my sexual horizons. Ah yes, thanks to the existence of the internet, how on Earth could I have possibly witnessed BD/SM, Master/slave, Dominatrices and Fem Dommes, Chicks with Dicks, Midget fucking, Bodybuilding chicks that look like men, Pain and Torture, Golden Showers, Scatting, Bukakke, Gangbangs, 14" Mandigo dicks, Scale Bustin BBWs, Vouyerism, Exhibitionists, MILFs, Teeny Boppers, a myriad of chicks from various nationalities; Latino, Asian, Black, Russian, etc., and chicks fucking their Great Danes and Stallions .... all in one afternoon?
All at my fingertips!
No wonder folks from the ole' days just got married and stayed together forever like luggage. Most technology they had around the house was a rotary phone, an 8-track, and a quartz clock hanging up on the wall (besides the b/w TV of course).
Yes yes my dear comrades, technology has brought out the freaks in all of us - some in more ways than others. Like myeslf for example. A muscular six foot tall towering body of pure ecstasy (well yunno - as I'm told). All my life, I've always called the shots in bed. Not necessarily because I wanted to, it just always seemed to happen that way. Even women who are naturally dominant have melted at the mere gaze of my eyes, the touch of my kiss, and the warmth of my breath on her neck. But all that changed recently.
I was out on a date with this chick I had previously met at a bar. We got pretty tipsy, so naturally ... out the window went our inhibitions. Secrets started to unveil, and fantasies were expressed. So we're having fun, lines of communication are wide open, and the night is young. After more flirting and playing X-rated pic matching games on those convenient table top video games found at bars, we decided to head out.
Now since I'm a gentleman, I don't get any pleasure from taking advantage of an inebriated specimen of the opposite sex - a chickenhead. So I do the right thing and take her to one of those 24-hour breakfast joints. We eat, chit-chat, play footsies, giggle like little high school , and when we've had our fill, she invites me back to her cribbage. I figured 'nice', the night's going along just swell.
We get back to her place and she gives me a tour of her grand mansion of a 1 bedroom apt. Now, her pussy with 4 legs was no where to be found, which is good, since I'm really allergic to them .... she's afraid of company - so great, keep away so I can meet mommy's other pussy.
Lo and behold, almost by some strange and unknown force, electromagnetic forces drew us to her bed where we stumbled and fell on top of each other. Ok, so we were still tipsy even after eating, but double Grand Marnier shots and buckets of beer does that to you after having enough of them. So off comes my shirt, and all of her clothes. She lays on her back, opens her legs and starts rubbing her tulips and starts moaning. Now, I know most men don't need an instruction manual to figure out what this means ...
She's OBVIOUSLY so messed up from the booz that she is confused by rubbing her crotch instead of her aching head!
So being the good gentlemanly, chivalrous lad that I am, ... I offered her a helping hand. So now I'm massaging her pretty, hot, and very moist lips and feeling noble because I'm doing my good deed for the day. Next thing I know, she grabs my head and forces me down on her.
Well hot damn, sure you don't want to talk this over and let me con you into thinking why it doesn't matter that this is our first date?
So I'm sucking face with her 2nd pair of lips, and I'm having a ball. Now both her hands are on my head and like a skillful artist painting the next Mona Lisa, she's navigating my head up 'n down, and all around her kit-kat! So I'm thinkin' to myself, "wow, this is pretty freakin hot!"
Like a boy secretly stealing Holy bread and guzzling Sacrificial wine from the church his mom Tortured him by making him sit hours on end every Sunday when he could be playing with the other cool on the block who had the fire hydrant on full blast and was chanelling a huge wave of water across the street with an empty aluminum can of what used to have Pork 'n Beans, he wants to see what other greater challenges await him.
I can obviously tell by the puddle she's making on her bed and by the moans that she was emitting that she's having way too much fun. So evil little Johnny in me takes over and starts to pull away. Thats when she begins to plead, and beg, please don't stop, please don't stop. And for some crazy-ass reason, I said "don't ask me to continue eating your pussy ... TELL ME TO DO IT!!!"
For a split second she looked at me with a look of astonishment but then quickly figured out what I was up to - I wanted her to commandeer this thirsty, pussy ravaging, hungry, piece of shit, good for nothing, worthless spic ...
oh, ... sorry
So anyway, she did just that. She pulled on my hair harder, forced me into her pussy harder, and started talking to me with the filthiest mouth ever. I said, what if I want to stop? (with the saddest puppy eyes I could conjure) Hehe, she said, you'll stop when I say you can stop, and again, forced me back to a place of darkness I hated living in for 9 months out of my life.
After a while of this hangover remedy she seems to think will work, I pull away again, and said, you can't make me. What are you gonna do about it? She tried to force me back down but this time I resisted. Knowing she couldn't out power me, I gave her a bargaining chip, and ultimately introduced her to the next level of role-playing that was apparently unfolding for me for the very first time. I said, what? are you gonna slap me?
Hint, hint
Wouldn't you know, the mademoiselle starts slapping me like I'm a big Nelly sissy bitch from Greenwich Village, and just like McDonald's, ... I'm loving it! Each time I'd pull away, more slaps would follow, from the left, from the right, even simultaneously, and each time harder than the last. This obviously has excited her even more because next thing I knew, she gets up, PUSHES me flat on the bed and climbs .... yes, CLIMBS onto my face, and sits her ass smack on top of my mouth. She said, now Eat my ass ... BITCH!
Good lord a massive hardon with tighty whities and jeans on, hurts!
So now after having eaten her pie, I'm eating her crust, and boy it tastes great. I'm licking, probing ... practically tongue fucking her in the ass and she's loving it. At this point, naughty me figures, well, my face is covered, so she can't possibly slap me in the face now .... let's see what she'll come up with if I stop now.
My biggest fear is that she'd fart on me for being such a prick for teasin her the way I've been doing so far...
Thankfully, she did something more pleasant, she reached behind her and squeezed the shit out of my family jewels. Man is this girl batting a thousand or what! So she climbs back off, and back I go into the bat cave. I figured she's been treating me SO well that I just have to repay her. So in comes the 5 fingers of death - my right hand. I used a technique I learned by attending a previous Meet 'n Greet, I bent in my ring finger and put to use the remaining four. I inserted my pinky into her ass, my middle and index finger into the coochie, and tongue and thumb swirled around the clit. Now my other hand was above me, on her fun bags - squeezing, twirling, and massaging her tits and nipples.
Almost within no time, the girl came .... and came hard. Now, if I didn't know this about her before hand (she mentioned it during our we're gonna fuck later talk), I would have been insulted. But when she cums, she busts out giggling like she heard one of those jokes your best friend tells you that is SO stupid that's it's funny, and you can't stop chucking about it for a good 2 - 3 minutes ... yup, that was her. So I figured, damn, I hit the jackpot. Just as I'm about to stand up and take my jeans off, cuz yunno, they were like still on me, how about ole' girl starts getting emotional and begins to cry!
Turns out, she wasn't completely over her ex-boyfriend and the experience, and lets not forget the orgasm I gave her, in SOME twisted way reminded her of her ex whom she had just broken up with, and therefore could not continue any further.
Uhhh, squeeze me???
You waited until NOW after I've given you a mind blowing orgasm and swallowed I dunno how many buckets of cum to pull this little drama queen skit out of you? Oh just how convenient is that ...
So the story ends sadly in that I DID NOT get my rocks off, well, at least not by her anyway, but I have made a discovery within myself that I never would have imagined in a million years existed inside of me ... I FUCKING enjoyed being dominated by a woman! It's a feeling I couldn't explain, and still can't. The thought of a woman controlling me, abusing me, taking advantage, disrespecting, slapping, fucking, shoot, even spitting and completely humiliating me, is like the best roller coaster ride I've ever been on.
So does this mean I can no longer go back to being "grrrrrrr, moan, uugah woogah, pounding on chest" dominant me? Heck no, for I still LOVE to grab a bitch's hair, talk smack in her ear, forcefully fuck her and drive my cock DEEP into her nasty little cunt and sphincter orifice, choke the bitch till she begs for air, spank her ass till it's flaming red hot, and bite the shit out of her neck and tits, and then spew millions of my offspring onto her face and then make her lick it up - every last drop of it.
So this could only mean one thing .... I'm a Switch. Fortified by my dearest cutie pootootie slave friend of mine, I was correctly labeled that by her, and so ... such is life. And you know what? I'm pretty damn proud of it too! This just adds yet another level of excitement and fun to the joy of sex. It took spontaneity, and the right circumstances for this to have evolved and surfaced the right way.
A mind is like a parachute, both operate at its fullest capacity when completely open. I only hope that more of you can allow your inhibitions to be released from captivity of insecurity, low self-esteem, or traditional thinking for there's a plethora of fantasies waiting to be discovered and/or fulfilled in your sub-conscious mind. If you believe that nothing is too Taboo, ... well, just ask West Virginians, you too can discover greater ways of spicing up just plain ole' vanilla sex.
^v^
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