Sunday, August 31, 2008

salacious sunday - the psalms

I will give thanks to Yahweh with my whole heart.
I will tell of all your marvelous works.
I will be glad and rejoice in you.
I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.
When my enemies turn back,
they stumble and perish in your presence.
For you have maintained my just cause.
You sit on the throne judging righteously.
~The Psalms 9: 1-4

Friday, August 22, 2008

what do you sprinkle on it when I'm not looking?

"May I have my toy please?"
How could I say no. Just moments before, I had exploded inside her mouth, sloshing over her tongue, filling her cheeks. She sucked me as I slowly grew softer and smaller, licking every drop, careful not spill any nor let any remnants dribble down the corners of her mouth. While I moaned and groaned, rigid in my climax, my stomach muscles and thighs contracting so hard they almost hurt.
She slipped my flaccid cock out of her mouth finally and it flopped cold and wet onto my belly. She curled up against me and ever so softly made her request.
I reached for the drawer in the bedside table and felt around for the familiar cool metal. It was in exactly the same place as it was before. She knows better than to place it anywhere else. I must be able to find it in the dark if necessary. I hand it to her. "Of course you can". She settles her head down on my shoulder so that my crooked arm reaches her breasts. The soft burr of the vibrator runs through her body and into my side. I pinch one of her nipples and her body arcs. A sharp intake of breath and I start to drowse...

Monday, August 18, 2008

oh what a stud

Can you guess what it is? receiving station for extra-terrestrial transmissions or mystical wand.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

salacious sunday - Calisto

"Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
Were laid spread out before me as her body once did.
All five horizons revolved around her soul
As the earth to the sun
Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn"
~Pearl Jam (Black)

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

how not to mistake buffing for boffing

The price is right

So according to this story, an Ohio man has been charged with having sex with his picnic table. Apparently a friendly neighbour witnessed Mr. Price fucking the flowery furniture on four different occasions!

Don't you just hate these nosy neighbours? What is this world coming to if one cannot enjoy a simple act of coitus with an oh-so-inviting chair. Or a table. Just look at that hole in the middle of the table. The one with the pole inserted right through. Are we that inflexible that it should serve just one purpose? Look at the possibilities. Lying across the table, the hard wood flat against your hard wood as you inch your way slowly towards that inviting hollow circle. Your breathing gets heavier with anticipation. Perhaps today a sliver will prick your prick, sliding into your soft skin with delicious ease. You place your face against the cool surface and slip your solid snake into the very soul of the table, your mouth shaped into a silent aah as the course edge scratches against your scrotum.

And then you start to fuck. Rocking your hips back and forth, the powerful sensations rocket through you as you plunge your winky, willy-nilly in and out, up and down, maybe side to side for added pleasure. You feel your balls tighten, your mind starts to fog, your thighs go rigid, your toes curl, and then...then...

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

You look up into the face of your neighbour. There she is again, peering over the fence, her face frozen in shock at the scene before her. Even her curlers are about to stumble in aghast from her still wet hair.

"You naughty man. You naughty, naughty man. I am calling the authorities".

You roll off the table, falling to the ground with a whump!, your breath rushing out of you, the pain from your near-climax bringing tears to your eyes. You curl yourself into a ball, clutching desperately at your crotch, and in that moment of absurdness and utter unadulterated humiliation you realize that that online hooker, with a crow's nest for pubic hair who was willing to wear a cardboard cut-out for $40 bucks would have been a much safer solution.

See, sometimes, if the price is right, Mr. Price, the price is right.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

things I never thank her for

  • washing and filling my bottle with fresh water.
  • making my lunch, every morning.
  • replacing the empty bottle of shampoo.
  • dinner.
  • sleepy head on demand (s.h.o.d)
  • laughter.
  • laundry.
  • her tits.

Monday, August 11, 2008

gratuitous gratitude

Ah! a trip down memory (mammary?)lane. This scene is from one of the very first Seymore Butts movies I watched. On VHS - remember those?!! Yes, I still have my porn collection on VHS and an old VCR that groans and whines each time a tape is, umm...inserted. But it still works. Like an aging hooker, if you keep tweaking the tracking like tweaking her elongated nipples, it will give hours of masturbatory pleasure.


Sunday, August 10, 2008

salacious sunday - the psalms

When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have ordained;

what is man, that you think of him?
What is the son of man, that you care for him?

~Psalms 8, 3:4

Friday, August 8, 2008

just right

The Committee for Refrigerator Ethics (CoRE) has decided that once the surface of jello has taken on a wrinkled appearance, much like grandpa's foreskin, it can be safely removed and discarded. A shame really, it was fascinating to look at every time I opened the fridge. It jiggled seductively with every movement. It gave me pause as I pondered the possibility of consuming the blue experiment.

But common sense prevailed. It had to go. Sigh. There will be others just like it I am sure, following valiantly along in its unsteady footsteps.

Watching the lunar eclipse a little while ago, she kept slipping me from her mouth to comment on it's progress. It was a stunning display of nature, regal in it's beauty, sublime in it's powerful serenity.

"Would you like me to move over?"

"No I'm fine thank you" she manages to reply from between pursed lips glistening wet in the darkened room. "I can see it quite well from here. But if you let go of my hair, I could move my head better"

So I grabbed a nipple instead. A man needs something to hold on. It's only just...right

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

a night at the talkies

HER HEAD SNAPPED BACK SHARPLY and she stiffened against the seat. In the pulsating glow of the dark theatre, I could sense more than see that she had clamped her lips together tightly to prevent a gasp from escaping. Slowly her thighs began to part before my fingers. She wore no panties. Like exploring into a warm damp cave, my hand scrabbled upwards pushing her skirt with it until I came in touch with the soft moist lips of her cunt.

I turned towards her at the same time she turned to look at me. Her eyes feline bright and just as round radiated both shock and lust simultaneously. I stroked her wetness, slipping one finger inside her. Her body reacted again as a soft groan spilled from between her lips, the sound buried within the polyphonic resonance of mind-crushing decibels emanating from the speakers around us.

Hellboy II was a riot. Trippy in an acid-high sort of way. Vivid colours and images melding together in an euphoric cacophony reminiscent of my drug-laced days when music ran in colours down the walls and peoples faces melted into waxen effigies. I loved the soundtrack, even recognized the Eels (whatever became of them?). I played with her pussy while I watched. While the 5 men in the seat in front of us ate their popcorn and drank their Coke and whispered amongst themselves. I dipped my fingers in to her hot essence, not only because she wanted me to, but mainly because I can.

Monday, August 4, 2008

public service announcement #71

"If there's one thing you can say about mankind, there's nothing kind about man"
~Tom Waits

Rules for evening wear down on the boardwalk, for a Thursday evening:

Ladies, short-shorts and 3" spikes just don't work. No matter how long and bronzed your legs are. You look like a stripper missing a pole. Or a bronzed giraffe. Take your pick.

Men, if you're belly obstructs the view of your feet, check with someone before you venture out. White socks and sandals are a no-no. You should see it from my point of view. Jesus would be ashamed.

Friday, August 1, 2008

storms & colours

"It's like somebody's taking pictures with a really big flash"

She has this extraordinary ability to describe even the simplest of things with an elaborate flair. A mixture of her creative character and a natural child-like propensity in seeing beyond the ordinary. Seeing past the routine, run-of-the-mill colours of real life. She sees the world through bright green crystals that throw prisms of colours across her world.

We're standing on the front porch looking up as yet another summer storm hastens across the night sky. The low frequency sound of thunder grumbles and rumbles, interrupted by sheet lightning that throws blue sheets behind dark ominous clouds. The air is electric sharp and heavy with moisture. The leaves of the large oak tree start to ripple and shake violently as the wind picks up and runs it hands through the boughs. It sounds like a giant rain stick. The first large rain drops begin to fall, splashing onto the warm cement floor, shattering apart on the driveway.

I love watching the rain fall. I love summer storms. I never cease to be amazed at the contradiction of danger and violence that can wreck havoc and destruction, yet provide the basis sustenance to support life. A paradigm of life and death bundled together in swirl of clouds, wind and rain. She slips her hand into mind and we stand there, the spray of the rain sprinkling our bare feet and face like a cooling mist.
There is no one else I'd rather watch storms with. She is the essence of my life. A mad concert of colour, light and sound that swirls around me like a never ending summer storm. Don't ever change My Precious. I enjoy every drop of you.