Thursday, March 27, 2008

yesterday (today)

...was it only yesterday that I smelled myself on your lips? that acrid sweet scent of lust and sex filling my head. It was only moments before that I knelt over you, over your eager mouth as I stroked myself to a shuddering climax. Was it only yesterday that I felt the hard flesh of your nipples compress between my thumb and forefinger. I remember well the sound of your soft gasp and the way you kissed my neck as I pinched harder. The feel of your soft breasts pushing themselves into the hard of my back. Your fingers tickling the hairs on my chest.

The hushed whispers into my ear.

Or will it be today that I gather you in my arms once again. Gaze deep into your emerald green eyes that will glow once more. Kiss you, my tongue probing between your soft lips to seek out your tongue. Will it be today that I kneel between your legs and slide my cock into your fervid cunt, coating it with your longing and desire. Will it be today that your breasts will be marred once again by the prints of my fingers, my teeth.

For you are mine and I am yours and will forever be.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

salacious sunday

"I wish I were the unguent, O woman,

that I could annoint you.
And the band around your breasts,
and the beads around your neck"
~from an ancient Egyptian papyrus

Saturday, March 22, 2008

snare - Chapter 4, Part III

The story so far...
Walking home from a late night out with her friends, Rebecca made the decision to cross the local cemetery. Both as a shortcut and to satisfy a hidden dark desire that had haunted her ever since she lived across from it. Halfway across, she bumped into a figure and against all common-sense responded to his greetings. It was a moment, she was to soon find out, that would have a profound effect on her life and change her forever. She would never really know what kink in the thread of time that caused her to invite this mysterious man with dark fathomless eyes into her house. Would she regret this decision. Would he open doors that had been firmly sealed for many years, or would he tear her soul apart...


REBECCA STOOD UP SLOWLY TAKING HER TIME TO AFFORD HIM A LONG LOOK AT HER FIGURE. She was proud of her body, her slender neck, her full breasts, the way her hips accentuated the deep curve of her waist. She was tall for a woman, and once she slipped her feet into her high-heeled boots, she tended to intimidate most of those she encountered-especially the average woman. With deliberate slowness she smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt, the material sighing underneath her hands. She realized that she was stalling but she needed the time to gather herself and her thoughts. What was it about this man that pulled her out of her element? First, she found herself engaging in conversation with a stranger that had just finished pissing against a tree for god's sake and now here he was seated in her living room drinking tea. And she had kissed him too!
Her heart pulsed steadily along the vein in her neck. Her head hurt with the myriad of thoughts that clashed within. Her thighs tingled with longing and desire. The lips of her pussy prickled deliciously, moistening her with raw lust.

He was looking at her, no make that staring at her with those unfathomable deep dark eyes. She felt almost trapped like a bird inside a net fluttering helplessly against the nylon webbing. She tended to freeze every time he locked his gaze at her. Just like now. Her feet felt like steel, magnetized to the floor. A chill ran down her arms, prickling the fine hairs to attention. Suddenly, the wind outside shifted, rattling the windows and she started, a small gasp escaping her lips.
Dirk smiled at her, flashing those perfect ivory teeth. Rebecca blinked. Were those fangs along the corners of his mouth or was her imagination getting the better of her. It had been a long day and even longer evening. She was tired. She was beginning to see things.

"Do I make you nervous, Rebecca?". Her name rolled from his tongue like velvet on skin making her shiver.
"Considering the events of the evening, I would have to say yes.
What is it exactly you want from me?"
"Why do you say that?"
Rebecca smirked. "You certainly didn't follow me home for my tea"
"You didn't stop me"
"Look, that moment against the tree...that was...was impulsive on my part". She touched her lips as the memory flashed behind her eyes, "and stupidly reckless".
He leaned forward onto his knees, his sincerity almost genuine. "That would apply to myself too".
"I'll accept that as a form of apology"

She turned away before he could answer, heading towards the kitchen. "Would you like something to eat?"

Tell me you didn't just say that! She liked to call the little voice of her conscience Common-sense Susan. And many a-times good ol' Susan had saved her from some rather precarious situations. Standing by the sink, Rebecca stopped to think. What the fuck was that? do you want something to eat? you hardly know this man. First you kiss him, then you invite him home and now you want him to stay! He could be a serial killer or...shit! it might even be that rapist that's been all over the news lately. Fuck! what was his description again...I really should've paid attention...too late now isn't it? Now your rambling...

Her skin tingled as the fine hairs along the back of her neck slowly arose. She spun around. Dirk was standing in the doorway. How did he get there without the floor boards creaking? She leaned back against the counter unable to move-trapped once again by his eyes as he walked towards her.

©two bucks, inc.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

why is Henry smiling?

In the news the other day was a story about a contractor that was caught flagrante delicato with a vacuum cleaner.

I say bad Henry!

He was caught naked and kneeling in front of Henry Hoover and claimed that he was vacuuming his trousers when a security guard stumbled on the amorous encounter. Now the thing that gets me is that how did it get to this point. Did the contractor see Henry’s smiling face and that oh-so-long-and-irresistible-proboscis and think naughty thoughts?

According to the manual, Henry Hoover is "famous for its looks, but under its fascia lies a powerful, reliable vacuum cleaner ready to go time and time again." See, there's the problem. Every day this contractor would hold onto Henry's vibrating throbbing hose and it would make suggestive sucking noises as he worked the floor. It's easy to see how one could get distracted into feelings of romantic intent. Henry would suck and swallow anything in it's path. No complaints, no spitting, no chocking. No requests for bling-bling. Time and time again. Just one smiling sucking machine.

If I was the judge, I would've absolved the contractor of all charges.

"Mutual nasal copulation, grounds for exoneration!"

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Thursday, March 13, 2008

voyeuristic pean

you slide the hem of your skirt
the caress of fabric
against your fevered skin
fingers probing within
breath ragged
as the wind
that blows through the open door.
I scrape my nails
across your naked thighs
of fervent passion.
I watch. You like being watched.
We match.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

monkey see monkey do

A little while ago I read about a study done in Thailand that suggested male macaque monkeys paid for sex by grooming females. It was found that after a male grooms a female, the likelihood that she will engage in sexual activity with the male was about three times more than if the grooming had not occurred. This was the result after a 20 month observation of 50 long-tailed macaque monkeys in a reserve in Indonesia.

You can read all the details here: spank the monkey

I know what you're thinking. It's exactly the same thing that crossed my mind as I read it - how does one apply this most delectable piece of research in real life? Isn't that what science is all about? practical application of knowledge? Remember Norm Larsen? he was attempting to concoct a formula to prevent corrosion by displacing water. After 39 failed attempts he was finally successful. It was at this point that evidence that all scientists have the imaginative qualities of slate, was finally revealed. Flush from his success he named his formula WD-40, or in very scientific terms, Water Displacement 40th attempt. But imagine then, if at that very moment he yelled "Eureka!" or "Boo-ya!" or whatever term of excitement seemed fit (I wasn't really there) his wife poked her head around the lab door and exclaimed, "but Norm, how would that help clean the ring around the bathtub dear?"
You see, practical application of scientific knowledge. Very important indeed.

Come along with me on a visual journey. Dark glasses are optional. A darkened street along the Mekong. The pavement slick from the same monsoon rains that have muddied and boiled the river as it surges past. She's standing alone a little removed from the others. Coy eyes downcast as she toes a puddle, drops of rain rippling outwards, glinting in the light. You approach, heart thudding in your chest so loud it nearly drowns out the sound of rain drumming along the awnings. Steam rises from your soaked shirt in the heavy saturated air.

"Lookin' for a good time?" Her accent is cute, lilting.
"Umm, yeah. How much?"
"30 lice for fucky. 15 sucky only"

Nope. Absolutely no practical application. Better get back to just spanking the monkey. I think I'll use WD-40 for lubrication.

Sunday, March 9, 2008

snow job

It's been snowing for more than 24 hours now. Drifts outside the window are almost three feet high. Snow flakes at times the size of small leaves, at other times as fine as dandruff has blanketed the ground reducing my world to monotone colour. White ground, grey skies & brown trees bereft of leaves - spindly arms moving to the wind song in some ethereal dance. Even the evergreens are looking forlorn and defeated after 5 months of winter.

I ventured out briefly this morning for bread, milk and coffee. The tires thrummed eerily along the tracks in the road. Snow is an insulator and for the un-initiated the muffled sounds of silence can seem uncanny. You probably wouldn't hear a bus if you were ten feet from it - just the crunch of it's tires as they crush into the ice.

It is both peaceful and ominous. Driving is a challenge to say the least. The key to success is a feather touch. Like cutting a diamond, every action - steering, braking, accelerating is carried out with precision and smoothness. Not unlike fingering her on those days when she's extra sensitive. Always aware of the constant shifts and motions and each subtle movement. I still love winter. 20 years has not lost it's appeal, it's allure or it's enchantment. This winter there is a world of difference. This winter there is colour and sound. This year I have someone to share with me my childish enthusiasm over the falling snow and the falling temperatures. Press your bare breasts against the window again babe it's only -5C outside. It's your squeal that I miss.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

the results are in...

It's been awhile. After a brief self-imposed hiatus to clear the looming piles of information, trivia and general nonsense that have been gathering around, I am pleased to announce the results.

I have gathered all the data, dusted them off with my Swiffer duster (it tickled), run them through the para-strombolyc filters (trippy), sorted them by colour (tedious), processed them through the Green Light Phase-Shifter Modular Stack to ensure accuracy and arranged them so that the shiny sides faced out. So without any further ah-do...

  • 2% of you have admitted that flossing alone will not remove hair caught between your teeth.

  • 4% have indicated that touching your toes during sex is considered a gift.

  • 16% would like to touch 'something' during sex.

  • 23% have said that a beaver is a symbol of freedom from a male dominated society.

  • 27% did not understand the question, indicating they have eaten beaver and do not know what all the fuss is about.

  • 48% are afraid that they might miss the Second Coming while watching American Idol.

  • 69% of the respondents would like a cure for virginity

  • 99% of the polled would like me to update this thing.

Note: as always, a +/- 2% accuracy must be taken into consideration.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

colour of my [her] heart

IT WAS FOR SIMPLE PLEASURE AT FIRST. It's red handle ridged....

“...for added stimulation!”, she squealed.

I smirked as I ran my hands over the shaft, feeling the round bumps. The leather-paddled end was in a shape of a heart. How cute, she said. It flexed easily between my thumb and forefinger. It swished seductively in the air as I brought it down against my leg. “Yes, this will do nicely”, I smiled at the woman behind the counter.

“That's one of our more popular models”

The first time it made contact with her soft skin, the sound crashed about the room like cannonball. Her squeal was louder. The red welt rose up from the surface of her milky white flesh like a flower in bloom. Heart-shaped, it grew darker, redder as she buried her face into the teddy bear gripped in her hands. The second time, it struck, she cried, tears soaking into the white felt. The little bears fixed smile and black eyes absorbed her pain as a sponge.

Redness, like sea anemones crawled across her with every stroke. Her body thrashed and heaved. Her sobs grew louder. There were no longer any hearts on her buttocks. Just when I thought that the red could not, would not, get any deeper, the colour changed chameleon-like, to prick out in an angry pin cushion spread of glory.

And the white bear continued to stare from between the tangled weaves of her hair, as I slowly pushed the ridged handle into her...