Sunday, July 27, 2008

salacious sunday

Yahweh, my God, I take refuge in you. Save me from all those who pursue me, and deliver me;
lest they tear apart my soul like a lion, ripping it in pieces, while there is none to deliver.

~Psalms 7, 1:2

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Friday, July 25, 2008

Owen Sound

She sucked my cock that night. On white sheets that smelt questionably of stale cigarettes and bleach. She slipped me into her mouth while I watched overly bubbly bare-breasted blondes bounce around within a cracked 19" television. It balanced precariously on a wobbly wooden structure, which at one point in it's life surely served a better purpose. The white paint had faded to a sad cream and it blended perfectly with it's surroundings. Faux-wood panels plastered the walls making the room appear more dreary than it should have been. Playboy had lost it's charm from the last time I remember watching it. Some 20 years have passed between a house nestled in the hills of Hollywood and a sleazy motel room in Owen Sound, Ontario. Yet watching the antics of the starlets, perky nipples placed like decorations on fake tits, squeaky voices and lips curled into perma-moues, I see that nothing has changed other than transparent surgical lines, shaved pussies and teeny-boppers simply 20 times more annoying
Walking into the hopelessly small motel room, the stained, weathered carpet disappeared under a bed upon which lay a bedraggled comforter with a lifetime of carnal experiences etched into it's mottled design. I had requested a non-smoking room. What we got was a room free of smoke in the last 24 hours. The air-conditioner gurgled and wheezed into life before settling down to a regular drone at a mind-numbing pitch. It spit out a moth from between it's vent almost as an offering, which promptly set about butting against the window seeking, freedom from the confines of the small room. I put it out if it's misery with a swift stroke of a towel. Killing the lone fly that buzzed between the heavy drapes proved a little more challenging but it soon tired in the heat and settled on the small table with cigarette holes burnt like moon craters into the formica. I swatted it with a brochure that shouted 'Welcome to Owen Sound, the Heart of the Bruce Peninsula' and it fell onto the carpet only to disappear amongst the dark patches and smudges that adorned the rug like an intricate design.

"Pick it up please", she implored. "I don't want to step on something crunchy"

"Oh god", she later cried. She was standing outside the so-called shower stall. A dark sinister cut-out with 30 year old taps and a modern water-saver shower head - the only clean object so far. The tiles on the floor glistened like sweat on a boxer, the pattern, at one time must have looked promising. Now cracked and faded, the black grout bleeding between the edges, it promised planters warts and perhaps some exotic disease.
I laughed at her as she scrunched her face and flushed the toilet. "Oh no, I think I broke it", she said as it ran and ran and ran. But it eventually stopped just before I got ready to report it to the receptionist.
The outside had looked decent as we pulled in. Decent enough for one night we said. There were already a couple of cars parked outside rooms. How bad can it be we asked each other before I went inside to inquire about rates and availability. The platinum blonde chick ran her fingers through her short bob and pouted, "$70 plus tax". The tiny labret winked from her bottom lip. Perhaps it was trying to warn me.

Later after dinner, she sucked my cock while I watched Playboy. She sucked it just like she's sucked me a hundred times before. Teasing me, swirling her lips over the sensitive head, grazing me with her teeth, stroking me with spit-soaked hands. And when I came, I exploded into her eager mouth, and long after the spasms had stopped she continued to softly suckle on my subsiding member, savouring every last drop of my cum.
"Thanks for taking me away", she whispered as she snuggled against my chest. "Let's try and find something a little more decent tomorrow at Tobermory. And I'll suck your cock again".

I clicked off the TV and darkness fell into the room as oppressive as the heat. The air-conditioner struggled in vain all night to bring comfort to our sticky bodies. We clung to each other all night as we tossed and turned on the lumpy mattress and the wafer thin pillows.

In the morning, as the fingers of sunlight tried to slip between the slip between the gap of the drapes, we awoke. I nuzzled deep into her back, cupping her breasts with one arm draped across, pressing me hard cock into the small of her back. She whimpered at my touch and shimmied back into me. "I love you", she whispered, barely audible above the cacophony of the air-conditioner. "I will go anywhere with you"

I smiled sleepily and breathed in her scent, my nose ticklish from the small hairs on the nape of her neck. I would go anywhere with her, do anything with her, take her anywhere she wants. As long as I can wake up next to her, snuggled against her warmth, I don't really care where these gypsy feet take me either. She is mine. My whore, my woman. My First.

"I love you too baby. Let's see what Tobermory has to offer."

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

how much would you pay for mine

If you watch as much porn as I do, then sooner or later the laws of probability will dictate that you will stumble on something with an ick factor of 11. You know how it say to yourself how bad can it be? but before you know it, you have your thumb on the FFWD button on the remote but your brain refuses to send that one last signal to make you depress it. Your mind is too busy trying to decide if you should keep watching or puke.
I experienced that moment of zen a little while ago. After the two stunt cocks had spurted into a crystal champagne glass, the starlet picked up a straw, swizzled the man-melange around and proceeded to..well, suck. Yes, that was my reaction too.
So as I sat there unable to tear my eyes away or hit the damn button, a frozen grimace contorting my face, I recalled a story I read with a similar theme.
If you want the full details click here. For the attention-span challenged like my self, here's the short form:

It turns out that a farmer in New Zealand sold his prize stag to a gaming estate, but it's testicles were part of a separate contractual agreement worth approximately $80,000. Unfortunately (and this is something know one could see, um...coming - it's a safari, what could go wrong?) the said stag was shot and killed during a safari hunt. The grieving farmer alleged that the testicles were subsequently removed and the semen extracted without his consent. Approximately 270 straws of buck juice was extracted, each straw worth between $500 to $600. So he sues the owners of the gaming sanctuary for some ridiculous amount.
OK so the first thing that went through my head at that time was...Holy Magdalene, how big were these fucking (pun intended) testicles? 270 straws?? are you kidding me?
And then the second thought scurried past, furiously on the heels of the first. Who exactly did the extracting/sucking? How did the chain of events play out on that fateful day?
Man pays safari owners to hunt on the gaming reserve. Payee enthusiastically shoots stud-size buck. Congratulations and high-fives all around until someone makes the startling discovery,
"Oh shit, Stan! you've shot the stud stag!!"
"Damn! that's a bummer"
"Whoa! Look at the size of his testicles. They look like they're going to explode"
"Do you think...?"
"Well...given that he's a prize stag an'all"
"Yeah the farmer, he ain't gonna be too pleased"
"I have an idea. Does anybody have any straws?"
"What!'re not actually going to...Jesus man, that's just,"
"Well the way I figure, if you don't actually swallow..."
"If you tell anyone, I mean anyone about this..."

I know what I'm going to do. I'm taking a straw to bed with me tonight. Whaat! it's only a tablespoon full.......

Sunday, July 13, 2008

salacious sunday

I am weary with my groaning.
Every night I flood my bed. I drench my couch with my tears. ~Psalms 6:6

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

dong work for yuda*

"He said Dong was Wong,
'N Wong was Kong
'N Dong work for Yuda,
'N John was wrong"
~Frank Zappa*

Every morning I wake up and scratch myself. I'm a man, deal with it. If I am in an especially playful mood, I might even sneak in a quick squeeze or two. It helps me wake up smiling. I like my penis. I have grown quite attached to it. I take good care of it. I take it out often for some fresh air and sunlight and play with it at least once a day. I do right unto it and it does right unto me. I've been told it fits just right in certain places and curves to the left in an oh-so-cute way. This makes me smile. But as much as I love my penis, there's a limit to my adoration and infatuation. For example, I would not pull it out in a public bus and try to introduce it to the nice lady in the window seat. That would just not be cricket. Nor will I attempt idle banter with it while, let's say, I'm examining fresh cucumbers in the local grocery store. See, common sense does prevail.
The Nazca people of South America carved giant animals in the desert a thousand years ago. There is still a mystery over the origins and even today scientists cannot agree how this primitive race managed to create these huge carvings with such precision. Popular theory is that it was an attempt to communicate with extra-terrestrials. I find it fascinating and stunningly impressive. I often wonder if we will ever find the answer in our lifetime.
Modern man however has less of an inclination to aspire to such great ambitions. Give a bunch of men too much to drink and the levels of creativity become directly inverted to the proportion of alcohol consumed. An Arizona man was notified by a news crew that he had a giant penis painted on his roof. Turns out it was the work of his drunken friends.

Now granted, had I been told that I had a giant penis painted on my roof, I would have been suitably surprised, but I certainly would not have equated it this way:
'It was like a hit of coffee or something in the face. A penis on the roof. I was like, huh? Are you serious?'
Are you serious? Is that the best you could do?
See, I could've come up with a much more illustrious explanation. For example, I would've clutched at my crotch and exclaimed, "so it wasn't a dream!". I would have then elaborated on how an alien ship had landed on my lawn one night and a group of bare-breasted ET's accosted me while I slept. How they dragged me on to the roof (doing it under the shadow of Orion and all that) and proceeded to have their way with me. Bodies and limbs and appendages merged in a frenzy of mad lust. Afterwards, as we basked in the after-glow and Ursa Major shone her light upon our naked glistening bodies, the bare-breasted aliens rolled me over and proceeded to chalk my member on to the cold hard roof.

"bxtsj tht whsgfh t orught y scl fflabzbn", they chanted as they worked, giggling and jostling each other as their breasts bounced merrily in the starlight. This loosely translated as, 'the fallacy of a flaccid phallus is as false as a fflabzbn'. A Fflabzbn being a mythological creature of their planet much akin to our loved and dearly missed Dodo.

It pays to never know when you'll need it.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008


Stretched out on the bed with my hands behind my head. I look down the length of my body as she works her mouth on my hard cock. Blood red lips, moistened with spit and inflamed by yearning slide up and down my shaft. Her pink tongue flicks like a cat o' nine tail along the tip, wrapping under the head before she slips me back into her warm mouth. Her eyes have not left my face. A subtle smile turns the corners of her mouth as she savours my taste. Slowly she releases my glistening member and it emerges like a proboscis. Her breasts rise and fall with each breath. Pink engorged nipples tease me like candy. Moving upwards, she hikes up her flowing black skirt until she is above my belly and straddles me. Her cunt is as warm and slippery as a sponge. Her thighs grip my sides hard as she begins to ride me. The wanton look of wickedness in her eyes is emphasized by a lecherous grin that has creased her cheeks.
She reaches behind and grasps my still twitching cock.
"Do you like that?"

A growl in response.

She rocks her head back, eyes closed, daydreams of salaciousness etched across her breasts in a flush of red.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

I growl again, deeper this time. She is toying with me not unlike a cat that pats a broken dying spider. "Or do you want me to suck your cock a little more?"
She giggles, the tinkling sound peeling off the drapes in a lilting melody.
My cock twitches in her hand and she giggles again. Slowly she slides down leaving a trail of stickiness and warmth across my abdomen. She is positioned directly above my stiff member, still captive in her hand. With deliberate slowness, she lowers herself and drags the tip across her wet clit first. She gasps, at first contact.

"Do you want more?", she whispers.
She drags a sharp breath between half-clenched teeth and strokes the tip of my cock back and forth across the swollen pink petals of her vulva. Sticky sinewy threads of her desire like fine woven lace entwine and wrap around the shaft, to drip down my balls. She continues to rub me against her, sighing contently. The flush of red across her chest deepens as her strokes increase. Her breathing is heavier. Her hips rocks back and forth, her long mane wrapping itself around her face like a gossamer veil. Faster and faster she rocks, faster and faster she strokes herself with my rock hard member. Shallow breathing morphs into short sharp breaths. Her back arches with mine as the sensation of my cock being stroked across her viscous pussy, dripping with sex and lust, sends electric currents trickling down my scrotum and up my spine. Her hands, my cock, her cunt, my balls, all blend together in a concert of sound, smell, touch and feel as her orgasm explodes in a shower of carnal lust and completion. An aphrodisiac of desire and thirst that envelopes us in a cloud of heady craving and intoxicating hunger.

She collapses on me, her heaving breasts pushing into my chest, her hair cascading across my face and arms like a waterfall of lace...