Friday, November 6, 2009

Campinas, Brazil - Day 54

It's raining. Humidity levels are approaching 100% saturation. In the grayness of the morning the red rooftops have taken on a flat hue. The balcony's in the building across from here weep dark gray tears against the concrete. My skin is clammy. My hair curls against my cheek and my forehead. The time between myself and The First can now be measured in hours. I am jittery with anxiety. My body ticks like a grandfather clock. Thoughts jump from room to room, bouncing off walls in the recessions of my mind. To hold her, to breathe in deeply her scent, to run my hands across her bare back, to caress her face, to kiss her lips, to squeeze her breasts until she gasps into my ear.

Monday, November 2, 2009

12 steps - 7. humble (bubbles)

Humbly ask to forgive my shortcomings.

I stood over her. Tufts of bubbles covered her like a blanket, white against her white skin. In the silence of the bathroom where candles made shadows sway, the bubbles crackled and  popped. Hot bath water lapped gently against her sides and  between her legs. My senses were assaulted by the scent of the bath, a rich aroma of lavender, heady and sweet. She curled her toes and stretched out one long slippery leg
"Yes?", she softly inquired. She fluffed up bubbles against her breasts. One pink nipple peeked out cheekily like a pixie amidst a wild English garden.
She stuck her tongue out at me. "Can I help you?"
So I pissed on her.
She squealed in dismay. But was there a note of lust that I detected? Hidden like a subliminal message in the sound of her alarm. Or was it delight. The warm stream poked jagged holes into the bubbles and splashed against her belly. Rivulets ran down her sides and snaked down the crack between her thighs. She moaned slightly. She fingered her cunt, rubbing my piss into the soft flesh. She squeezed a tit, pinching a nipple. She writhed and squirmed and the soiled water lapped at her glistening breasts. 
She sat up and water poured down her naked body. Bubbles slid off her almost in indignation at the rude assault. Her body glistened in the subdued light. She continued to finger her cunt as she brought her head close to my cock. A pink tongue playing peek-a-boo from between full lips....

Sunday, October 25, 2009

salacious sunday - the psalms

He asked life of you, you gave it to him,
even length of days forever and ever.

His glory is great in your salvation.
You lay honor and majesty on him.

For you make him most blessed forever.
You make him glad with joy in your presence.

~Psalm 21:4-6

Monday, October 12, 2009

yearning- Brazil day 29

touch of bare skin on skin
her scent, her smell
her taste
the wisps of her hair against my face
on the pillow
my cock nestled into her ass
in the morning
my cock hard inside her
her mouth
her hands
her lips

Sunday, September 27, 2009

salacious sunday - the psalms

21:3 For you meet him with the blessings of goodness.
You set a crown of fine gold on his head.
21:4 He asked life of you, you gave it to him,
even length of days forever and ever.
The Psalms~21:3-4

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

snatch & run

Engineers enlisted to protect Muff Road sign
10:43AM Friday Sep 11, 2009

Council engineers have been asked to come up with ways to ensure South Canterbury's Muff Road sign stays put.

The sign, in rural Orari north of Timaru, has in the past been a tempting target for thieves, and a local resident has campaigned to have the road name changed altogether.

But the Temuka and Geraldine community boards recently voted to keep the name, and Timaru district councillors backed that decision at a meeting yesterday, the Timaru Herald reported.

Engineers have been asked to come up with alternative signpost options to ensure the sign stays where it should,

Muff Rd was named after an early settler in the district Englishman Sam Muff and descendants who have retained the name have campaigned to ensure it remains.

Muff Rd resident Roger Payne has complained about the sign going missing all the time and said it made navigating the area difficult for visitors.

Monday, September 14, 2009

of parting

Parting is such sweet sorrow

As you read this, know that I am only far away from your reach. But I have left my heart and soul like a weight upon my pillow. The wound in my chest will never close until I am back within the comfort of your touch. The indent you see there is a result of the heaviness that has settled like sand along the bottom of an immense ocean. The pressure of 47 nights without your breath, your warmth, your scent, presses down oppressively.


me with this distance between us. Now my days will be ruled by the incessant beat of each minute until I hear your voice and see your face.

Through the static of 10,ooo miles, my ears will strain to catch every cadence of your voice. My eyes will stretch taut to extract every grainy portion of your beauty. My fingers will tingle with the loss of the silky smoothness of your skin. These lips will never know the softness of another kiss. My palm will ache like the memory of phantom scars, of each harsh stroke across your flesh.
Reflections like a sword will pierce my side with each breath I take. Vinegar & water I will partake to quench my insatiable thirst for your skin.

Bear those bruises with pride My Precious. For although they may fade in the unstoppable progress of time, my love for you will only grow.

I will return.

I will stay, forever

Your One

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

the ugly truth

Over sized sunglasses on ugly people are like 17" chromes on a Lada.

No matter the glitter, you just can't hide the faults

Sunday, September 6, 2009

12 steps - 6. defects of character

Self centred
(the soft spongy flesh betwixt thumb and forefinger)

(the soft moans of pleasure and pain)

(the flush of pink spread across her face)

(the softly whispered "I Love You" from between clenched teeth)

Saturday, August 29, 2009

that's bad cluck

August 29, 2009
SEAFORTH, ONT. — A Central Huron man has died in a farm accident near the town of Seaforth, Ont.

Provincial police say 56-year-old Jerry Platt was injured Friday when he apparently fell from a chicken barn.

Platt died a short time later at Seaforth Community Hospital.

Both police and the Ministry of Labour are investigating the accident.

Police say foul play is not suspected.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

12 steps - 5. admit

Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

salacious sunday - slave

Slaves, obey your earthly masters with deep respect and fear. Serve them sincerely as you would serve Christ.
~ Ephesians 6:5

Saturday, August 1, 2009

12 steps - 4. inventory

I made a searching and fearless inventory of myself. I like what I found. Along the shelves of my mind, I found random pieces of eccentricity alongside subtle notes of madness. Yellows and oranges nudged each other for prominence. The agnostic and the sceptic played a ragged tune while a mercurial temperament banged a drum whose skin was pulled taut with cynicism.

And over there by the entranceway, The First stood, candle in hand. Molten wax dripped down the long red stem, as slow as time. She's been standing for so long that her presence is a permanant fixture. The bright flame flickered and dark shadows danced upon her face. They undulated along the walls and stretched down long corridors. Corridors that led to even darker recesses the deeper one ventured.

On the outside, the lines and folds and ridges. The curves, the knobby buttresses. And the epidermal tissue that stretched across bone and muscle, all merged together to cast a profile acceptable among these mere mortals.

Yes, I do approve.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

salacious sunday - devotion

But Ruth replied, “Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.
Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if anything but death separates you and me.”

Ruth, 1:16-17

Saturday, May 30, 2009

random thoughts

If you think obesity is overrated, 2 million Americans weigh more than 550 lbs. You don’t need statistics or studies to prove this. Take a trip to your local Costco or Wal-Mart.

May was masturbation month. Did you know:
  • John Kellogg (yes that cereal guy) was against masturbation. He was among several Christian advocates that pushed for routine circumcision of males to deter masturbation.
  • In 1879, the Spermatorrhea bandage was invented. It kept the penis tightly bound making it impossible to have an erection.
  • In 1994, former Surgeon General Jocelyn Elder was dismissed by President Clinton after she stated that masturbation “is something that is part of human sexuality and its part of something that perhaps should be taught.”

Slogan on the back of a windshield repair company van - "I luv gravel trucks"

2 reason why Chrysler is in the state that it's in:
  1. Replacement alloy rim for 2001 Neon - $400
  2. Replacement rear brake flex line for 2001 Neon - $365

Why do we always blame the the Koreans & the Japanese.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

12 steps - 3. decision

I decided that one finger was not enough. Not enough to elicit the kind of reaction I was looking for. Her body writhed. She moaned. Her breasts rose and fell. Yet, as I probed within the liquid silkiness of her inside. As the tip of my finger rubbed against the little irregular bump each time I crooked it, it was not enough.

So I decided to insert a second. And a third. And finally a fourth. Her reaction was almost instantaneous. She bucked vigorously, driving my fist deeper into her. Molten liquid spilt from within her to drip from my wrist. Her moans turned from a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth into a wail of desire and pain. She pushed against my hand. I pushed back. Her cunt made soft suckling sounds like a baby at a mother's breast. I decided to allow her to cum.
"Would you like to cum My Precious"
"Yes!", was her anguished response.
"Then cum for me My Precious. Cum for me like the slut you are"
And she did. All over my hand like the biblical flood.

Afterwards as the waves subsided and the spasms ebbed, I held her and smirked within her hair.
It was a good decision.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

titillating tuesday - ode to breasts

by Charles Simic

I love breasts, hard
Full breasts, guarded
By a button.
They come in the night.
The bestiaries of the ancients
Which include the unicorn
Have kept them out.

Pearly, like the east
An hour before sunrise,
Two ovens of the only
Philosopher's stone
Worth bothering about.

They bring on their nipples
Beads of inaudible sighs,
Vowels of delicious clarity
For the little red schoolhouse of our mouths.

Elsewhere, solitude
Makes another gloomy entry
In its ledger, misery
Borrows another cup of rice.

They draw nearer: Animal
Presence. In the barn
The milk shivers in the pail.
I like to come up to them
From underneath, like a kid
Who climbs on a chair
To reach the forbidden jam.

Gently, with my lips,
Loosen the button.
Have them slip into my hands
Like two freshly poured beer-mugs.

I spit on fools who fail to include
Breasts in their metaphysics
Star-gazers who have not enumerated them
Among the moons of the earth ...

They give each finger
Its true shape, its joy:
Virgin soap, foam
On which our hands are cleansed.

And how the tongue honors
These two sour buns,
For the tongue is a feather
Dipped in egg-yolk.

I insist that a girl
Stripped to the waist
Is the first and last miracle,
That the old janitor on his deathbed
Who demands to see the breasts of his wife
For the one last time
Is the greatest poet who ever lived.

O my sweet, my wistful bagpipes.
Look, everyone is asleep on the earth.
Now, in the absolute immobility
Of time, drawing the waist
Of the one I love to mine,

I will tip each breast
Like a dark heavy grape
Into the hive
Of my drowsy mouth.

Monday, May 18, 2009

beaver tails & cats

The frail wooden door slammed open in the sudden gust of wind. It flapped helplessly on it's rickety hinges as tired as an old beggar worn threadbare by years of abuse and failure. 
It flapped again against the stone wall before I reached for it. I had to lift it up in order to close it so that it would not drag against the broken cement floor. 

Just before the latch snicked close, I noticed the large hole in the crumbling wall. It was not there before. No surprise really as this house was starting to decay, beaten down by endless rain, high humidity and neglect. I poked at the loose mortar curiously. A snake uncoiled silently. It had crawled into the hole to weather the encroaching storm. Black beady eyes and flickering tongue, we both shared an instance of shock and fear. I thought briefly for a moment of picking it up with a stick and tossing it out but decided against it. There were other pressing matters to attend to.

There was the parrot that the cat had tried to kill. It was only my high pitched yell that stopped him. The parrot was a riot of orange and yellow feathers with a tall plume that flopped from side to side each time it talked. It had a fascinating story to tell. Of mountains and forests and tribal warfare. It kept looking at the cat with disdain as it waxed ecstatic about it's exotic adventures in far away lands. Then there was the sullen garden gnome. The detailed features of it's face had all but washed away.

Later, after the rains had stopped, I walked around the side of the house. The grass was long and the blades soaked my jeans and shoes. Water had pooled in areas and I had to tread carefully so as to not sink into the mud. Cicadas make their sound deep inside their thorax where hollow cavities covered by a membrane act like vibrating drum heads. The sound buzzed like a crazed symphony that had lost it's tablature. And then I noticed the beavers. At first glance they appeared to be huddled together by the fence but as I got closer I realized that one of them was trying to pry loose the fence boards while the other two were giving it directions. They chittered away in high speed like a 33 LP on 78. They stopped as I approached and looked over at the fourth beaver as if searching for guidance. 
The fourth beaver was large. No. if he was huge. He looked more like a seal than a beaver. I estimated him to be about 8 feet long but I had missed seeing him against the house. He wore a coat of camouflage so deceiving that he blended into the shrubbery that lined the foundation of the house. I became frightened. The urge to urinate was strong. The three beavers by the fence had stood up and balancing smartly on their beaver tails, started walking towards me. They didn't look friendly. The fourth beaver rumbled something unintelligible. It sounded angry and sinister like distant thunder. As I stumbled backwards in fear I bumped into the scientist. He was carrying two steel briefcases. The kind that secret agents carry around high tech gadgetry for blowing things up with. I knew instantly that inside each briefcase contained something that was critically vital to the little garden gnome. He had commissioned the beavers to retrieve it. Maybe it was his face.

The beavers chittered and chirped in frenzy. Chittered and scraped. Chittered and scratched. And scraped. And scraped and scraped and scraped...

...and she moaned softly against my shoulder. I opened my eyes. Dawn was reaching through the crack in the blinds. The bloody cat was playing with the BZee Kitty in the basement and I had to pee. 


Sunday, May 17, 2009

salacious sunday - the psalms

More to be desired are they than gold, yes, than much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey and the extract of the honeycomb.

~The Psalms: 19:10

Thursday, May 14, 2009


She opened her mouth and gurgled. Her pink lips swollen and full. In the muted glow that bathed these walls, her eyes twinkled and danced. Her tongue flicked in and out. With one pink tipped delicate finger, she scooped the last few drops of my cum from the edge of her chin and smeared it across her glistening pink tongue. She swallowed. She giggled in that little girl manner. I bent down and bit her neck. It left a small pink welt. She cried out sharply against my ear and pulled me closer, tighter. 

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

titillating tuesday

Busts and bosoms have I known
Of various shapes and sizes
From grievous disappointments
To jubilant surprises.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

salacious sunday - the psalms

Then I beat them small as the dust before the wind.
I cast them out as the mire of the streets.
~Psalms 18:42

Thursday, April 30, 2009

12 steps - admission

I was wrong.
There was no excuse.
In a flash of a hundred splintered pieces
Was realization
that this could not be thrown away
Or dashed against a white wall.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

salacious sunday - my beloved

Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away!
For, lo, the winter is past.

The rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth.
The time of the singing of birds is come,
And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs.
The vines with the tender grape give a good smell.
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away!

~Song of Songs 2:10-13