A lot of people are asking me, should they go see Avatar. No, they ask me, whether they will like it.
The answer? I don’t know! I don’t know whether you will like the movie or not. I’m not you!
Watched Avatar for the third time in 3D this week. Also just found out that Avatar will not open in Japan and China until a week or two from now.
If possible, I will watch every week until this thing closes, and I’m buying the original DVD.
Love it, love it, love it!
Is it the best movie ever made? No. But it kicks ass.
There are some detractors, for sure. For various reasons. Some people just didn’t like it. They didn’t like the 3D, the CGI or the storyline. Some just hate James Cameron. I am indifferent to the guy, but hats off anyway.
Which is fine. I mean, the only important opinion for me, is my own. And I love it.
I hate people talking in cinemas as a principle, and this has nothing to do with Avatar. I will get pissed off even if it’s say, Bad Boys or Ninja.
I had half a mind to go creep behind them and whisper, “I see you.”
Anyway, all this attention and love for Avatar will give rise to an opposite reaction. Hate. I just have to post this.
There will be SOME people who will proclaim loudly how they hate the movie not because they hate the movie, but because they want to be cool. Want to be different. Wannabes!
Since when is watching movies a fashion statement? Ah, yes, nevermind. That’s very pathetic, though.
Well, fortunately, Avatar has not developed a cult like Twilight. End of the day, it’s a movie. Nothing more, nothing less. And I love it. I’m going to watch it over and over again. I hope Cameron does a trilogy. I hope it makes a billion dollars.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is an excerpt containing adult language and sexual situations. If you are under the age of eighteen-LEAVE NOW!
Nikki Cummings was sprawled across the bed, innocent of clothing other than her corset, stockings, and low boots. Beneath her body were ruby colored silk sheets with a distinct, yet tasteful paisley pattern. Her long blonde hair was fanned out around her head like the halo of an angel. Her tanned skin shone from the effects of natural sunlight.
Her large breasts strained against the tight black and pink corset that pressed her them together, creating a deep ravine of cleavage. The cups of the undergarment fell shy of containing the full bounty of her bosom. Her breasts were thrust upward to spill out over the top, exposing twin firm mounds crowned with light pink finials. Just below the hemline of the corset her flat abdomen lay like a smooth meadow. Following the slight indentation of her belly button, that fertile plain narrowed towards the delta of her loins. Like ferns growing beside a river her golden pubic hair curled. Those small tangles of hair, like neatly manicured hedges under the expert watch of a patient and caring gardener, framed her exposed womanhood.
“Oh yes… Richard,” she moaned with pleasure as her long legs rustled over the scarlet satin sheets. The man sitting beside her on the bed was wearing a lacy poet’s shirt, snug black tights, and similarly shaded knee-high, shiny riding boots. His curly black hair fell to his shoulders and glistened in the bright candlelight of the boudoir. One hand ran across her glorious flesh as the other clenched a riding crop. He tapped the flexible leather tip of the crop against the side of his boot as he rolled Nikki’s right nipple around his index finger and thumb.
“Ah, Nikki, you’re such a naughty girl,” he whispered to her as she thrashed upon his bed. “To come to a man’s bedchamber so willingly is not proper for a woman.”
“Ah but Richard,” she cooed playing, along with him. “You aren’t a proper gentleman, to bring such a foul, crude device to our bed.” She pointed with one dainty finger at the leather crop in his hand. He looked at it and laughed as he took her point. He leaned down and covered his mouth with hers and they drank kisses from one another. His free hand roamed over her mountainous globes, down the smooth, taut skin of her tummy, and twirled the curls surrounding her dew-moistened labia.
“Ah!” she cried out as he ran a finger down the length of the tiny wet cleft. Her hips rolled deliciously as she reacted to his touch. He slowly parted the tender folds and pushed a single digit into her musky warmth, drawing a gasp of joy from her pink painted lips. A slow but steady blush of deepening red crept over her cheeks as he grew bolder with his hand.
“So willing, so ready,” he murmured softly as he eased a pair of fingers into her.
“Yes! Oh Richard, yes!” she sobbed out as her hips bucked in an effort to deepen his penetration. He watched as her breasts lolled around the cups of the corset. He felt her hand fall from the bed and land in his lap. Without prompting she began to knead the ever-growing hardness that was springing from his loins. He removed his sodden fingers and placed them into his mouth, savoring her salty sweet flavor. He felt her hands dance around the outline of his erection as he kicked off one boot and then the other. Placing the crop just beside her, he stood up, pulled his white shirt off and tossed it over his shoulder carelessly. She rolled over and pulled his tights down around his knees with trembling fingers. His penis fell out boldly and twitched as it dangled in the cool air of the bedroom. He saw her move forward and place a reverent kiss upon the purpled head.
“Aaah,” he moaned as she took greater liberties with his member. Soon he was enveloped by her satiny lips and pulled deeply into the warm, wet confines of her mouth. She rolled her tongue around his girth and ran her full lips down his quivering shaft. Richard’s mouth fell open as the sensations overpowered him. His fingers fluttered around her spread thighs and he finally managed to generate enough thought to slide back in the fingers he had so recently removed. Nikki moaned around the fullness in her mouth, sending shockwaves of pure delight through Richard’s body. He pumped his hips with the same rhythm he used to stroke her pussy.
“Wait,” he gasped and moved backwards, tugging his cock from her lips. He pulled off his tights with some difficulty and moved onto the bed with her. Placing his knees on either side of her head he leaned forward until his face was inches from her swollen cunt. He nuzzled the hood that surrounded her clitoris, sending her into throes of passionate squirming. He plunged his tongue deep within her tender, wet folds and lapped at the nectar that moistened it. He felt her tentative lips touch his pulsing organ again and cried out loudly as she took him back into her mouth. Her hands encircled his ass and pulled his hips downward until he was embedded so deeply that she gagged slightly. He licked and kissed her pussy; they both drank at each other’s loins.
“No… I must have more,” he hoarsely stated and pulled himself away from her body and from the depths of her mouth.
“Take it all,” she breathed, with her breasts heaving over the corset. “Take all of me!”
He rolled her over and pushed her thighs apart with his legs. She fell to her hands and knees and looked over her shoulder with her face flushed with desire. He quickly untied the knotted strings holding the corset together and it fell onto the bed just beneath her. Richard pressed the tip of his shaft into her heated cleft, spreading her labia around the very end.
“No! Don’t tease, Richard,” she cried out. “Fuck me! I want you to fuck me!”
Without a word he plunged into her, slapping his hips against her ass. He grabbed onto her hips and used that leverage to thrust harder into her quivering, hot hole. Her face fell to the sheets as she screamed with delight. Her breasts swayed back and forth with each deep, rough invasion of his thick, hard cock.
“Take it! Take me all!” he roared as he grabbed hastily at the riding crop still lying beside her on the bed. Taking it in his right hand he leaned back and began to smack her upturned cheeks. Red marks began to grace the tan hue of her backside as Richard welted her buttocks with each stroke of his organ.
“Yes! I’m a naughty girl! Punish me! Beat me, Richard!” she cried out. Her pearl white teeth captured her lower lip as both pleasure and pain coursed through her body. The blows began to fall upon her shoulders and the small of her back. The snapping of the crop accompanied the sounds of his lusty groans and her occasional yelps of torment. He dropped the crop and leaned forward. Nikki pulled her head up from the mattress and drank his lips over her right shoulder. Richard’s hips never ceased their movements as he bludgeoned her convulsing opening with his firm shaft.
“I’m going to cum,” he moaned as their kiss broke off. His hips quivered, making his bare ass dance in a jerky motion.
“Do it on my face!” she commanded him. Richard pulled from her hot cunt and tried to stand upon the still moving bed. He fell upon her and ejaculated all over her red striped back painting her flesh with his hot, thick seed.
“S-shit!” he stuttered as the weakening jets of sperm pooled on her.
“Cut! Cut!” a man’s voice rang out angrily. “What the fuck happened to the money shot, Dick?!”
“Sorry Bob; I lost my footing,” the man apologized over his shoulder, as Nikki erupted into gales of laughter.
“And you call yourself a professional,” the man standing beside the camera scolded the porn actor.
“Ease off, man,” Dick Rodman replied as a gaffer tossed him a white hand towel. “I didn’t pace myself right… we’ll get it in the next take.”
As the man cleaned off his trembling member the gaffer tossed another towel to Nikki Cummings. She caught it and began to mop up the warm sticky deposit that her co-star had left on her.
“I guess we can print that one,” Bob Ziegler groaned. “We can use some of the footage during the editing phase.”
“And how was my performance?” Nikki coyly asked the adult film’s director.
“Fabulous babe, absolutely fantastic,” he told her. He turned around as she squealed with delight and rolled his eyes skyward.
“God I’m still horny,” she complained like a spoiled child as she stood up from the tangled sheets.
“Reign in your hungers, babe,” Bob told her as he took a cup of coffee from the Best Boy. “If you get sated it will show up on film. I don’t want a lackluster performance like we just had from Dick.”
“I don’t know,” Nikki giggled. “Dick wasn’t bad.”
“Thanks, Nikki,” the male lead replied. “Give me a second and I’ll see if I can rise to the occasion.”
This sentence evoked a collective groan out of the cast and crew. Even in the porn industry it was a lame joke, unworthy of a man of Dick’s stature.
Want the rest of the story? Click on the link below and buy “Get Into the Spirit, Baby” from Dark Roast Press:
We, at The LOPG, don’t give a shit about volleyball or women’s “athletics” in general. However, when Penn State’s volleyball team won their 102nd consecutive match and 3rd straight National Championship – it did get our attention. That is impressive!
What’s more impressive is volleyball shorts. Enjoy!
My Best Blow Job has been from girls that were on the over weight side, and let me explain…
The myth is that big girls tend to love food, and savor it more; so when they get a dick in there mouth they really know
how to work it! the feeling is warm, soft, delicate, passionate, sloppy and wet! and if you get the right one they will lick your balls, your taint, and your ass.
For all of you guy that sit there and go ewwwww. fat girl… send them to me! I Love it!
Now I’m not saying that skinny girls don’t know how to suck cock… but the best ones are the ones that were fat and lost the weight!
Click here to be forwarded to the video outside the blog.
This is for over 18’s only or whatever your country says or doesn’t. It’s very NSFW, unless you work in the porn industry or somewhere that’s very liberal they don’t vilify sex and actually appreciate it, like the Loft965.com office. This is a scene from his new movie called Before I Self Destruct. At any rate, enjoy!
This is your Captain speaking……………….welcome aboard fuckers.
Isn’t it convenient how women like to brag about how they don’t need a man, especially when it comes to the raising of a child (although they sure do need the man’s money). We often hear about a woman’s right to choose. A woman can get an abortion without consulting the father, even if she is married to the father. Parental fraud is perfectly in this country and if a woman sabotages the condoms or “forgets” to take her pill or switch her patch, or just plain lies……….it’s all perfectly legal and considered to be a woman’s “right”. Now I am not anti-abortion, I am very pro-abortion! Hell, I say find a random pregnant chick and talk her into one!
So since Miss Independent can choose to get pregnant and keep or (not keep the baby) against a man’s wishes, then the man should have the option to an abortion of his own. He should be able to “abort” all rights and obligations to the child and the bitch that is trying to get her paws into his wallet.
Some would say that this unfairly shifts responsibility to the woman, but yet women have no problem with this responsibility during a divorce and she can use the children to hurt the man both emotionally and financially. Women fight for custody so that she can hold control of the children over the man. So I say give her this responsibility right off the start……..at conception. After all, they choose who gets them pregnant, the reason you hear about so many deadbeat dads is because women keep spreading their legs for deadbeats.
If the woman knew that she couldn’t trap a man or his wallet then I bet there would be less “forgetting” to take the birth control pills. I also would bet that there would be a lot less allergies to latex and suddenly women would magically make use of the 11 forms of birth control that’s available to them.
Take the financial incentive out of these bitches cranking out kids, it’d probably even help the crime rate since most of the gang-bangers and car-jackers are products of single mothers. Its a win-win situation.
At the very least, there should not be a limitation on the time allowed to take a paternity test, in many states a husband is responsible for whatever flies out of his wife’s hole. A man could come home to find her riding the pool boy and then she poops out the kid from the pool boy and divorce the husband. Then to top it off she can divorce the hubby, move in with the pool boy and the now ex-husband would have to pay her child support for 18 years for a kid that isn’t his and the courts don’t give a damn. Hell, if they were married long enough, he’d also have to pay the bitch alimony too. How’s that for justice?
Give the men the same choice that the women have, after ladies…….don’t you want to be equal?
You’re now free to play pocket pool about the cabin.
Your final Miss November is Playboy’s November 1991 Playmate of the Month, the lovely and talented Tonja Christensen. She is last because, next to Monica Tidwell and Bebe Buell, I think she is the prettiest of the girls of November. Someday I will examine my feminine beauty ideals, but not today because I’m busy. Anyway, I am afraid that, though I saved her for last because I thought she was beautiful, it is a mixed blessing; she bears the brunt of my boredom and busy-ness, because I’ve not got time nor inclination to say much about her. Going to let the interview with her do most of the talking.
Photographs by Stephen Wayda Blonde, blue-eyed and gutsy Tonja Marie Christensen, who just turned 20, has come a long way in the past two years — 5800 miles, to be exact, the distance from West Valley City, Utah, a sleepy suburb of Salt Lake City, to cosmopolitan Barcelona, Spain’s second largest city. There, while the Catalan capital gears up for the 1992 Olympics, she’s diligently pursuing a dual career in modeling and acting. (“A Blonde in Barcelona,*” Playboy, November 1991)
Dang, I forgot there even was a Summer Olympics in Barcelona. There are new ones coming up, you know. Everyone hurry and get jingoistic about sports! Also, buy Doritos!!
*Gracious, that is just a damned ridiculous title. Barcelona is from where many a blonde Spaniard hails. Everyone knows that there are tons of hot (and not) fair people in Spain. With over 3 million people living in the city at the time of Tonja’s residency, I sincerely doubt she stood out because of her hair color in any way, shape, or form. You may just as well have said, “A two-legged person,” or even “A person from another country who lives” … “in Barcelona.” Jesus. What a stupid, Americanized view of what Spanish people look like to advance. Shame on you, Playboy: I expect you to be more international and dashing and man-of-foreign-knowledgey than that.
Our Miss November was one of nine children, an example she doesn’t plan to follow. “I believe families should be three or four children at most,” she says.
An intriguing viewpoint for a girl from Utah. Goodness knows, I know the playmates do not like it when assumptions are made about their religion (see last entry for a brave girl who was not embarassed to be of an identifiable faith and culture) … but … come on. Hint, hint, ya know?
Two things weird me out totally about the above shot.
Her arm hair has, like, its own set of dewy crystalline eye lights shining in it.
Her pubic hair has been either dyed or cell-painted to match her fake (though lovely!) head-hair color. In the previous shots it is dark.
See, I have a couple rules of thumb for gentlemen who want to imagine ladies sans clothing — I know you are few and far between because that is like, so gross, what with our widely-documented girl cooties and all, but bear with me for the sake of those perverse and unhappy freaks among you who actually picture women naked — and I am happy to share them. First, a lady’s pubic hair is nearly always the same shade as the coarse hair of her brows. So lay the drapes aside altogether, discard their color completely, and, unless you are pretty sure the gal you are gawking at has bleached or somehow cosmetically altered them, her eyebrows are your best bet as to the color of the carpet.
Similarly, the color of her lips without the aid of gloss, lipstick, rouge, permanent surgical lining assistance, or any other type of makeup is your leading predictor of the color of her nipples. Finally, a few shades darker but in the same family of hues as the lips and “nips” follow the labia (those can get rosier/darker brown depending on her arousal level and whether she is Northern European or has stronger Sapphardic Jew DNA — Caucus mountains and Eastern/Southern Europe are less pink and more browny-purple, and obviously your ladies from Africa and its subcontinent follow suit in deeper shades as well). Take those tips to the bank, y’all. You’re welcome!
Wow, I did not even realize there was a time when LaToya Jackson did not look like a total freak made of 90% post-consumer recyclable parts. She looks comparably human here. You’d think one of her psychic friends would have warned her of the Madamism syndrome of too much plastic surgery! Better luck in your next life, LaToya.
After making all the previous pictures available by ‘accident’ Simon started his own public community and started taking requests from anyone who joined. These are the pictures he posted there.
This is your Captain speaking……..welcome aboard fuckers!
Back in my day…………………ok don’t panic this isn’t going to be a rose colored glasses trip down memory lane, but it will be a comparison to demonstrate how our standards on the whole as men has gone straight down the shitter.
Back in the 80’s and 90’s if I said “Porn Star”, it actually meant something.
You would have gotten a clear picture of what a porn star looked like. Regardless of the race if a chick was a porn star, there were certain qualities that you could count on, the main one was of course was a kick ass body. Nice face, perfect ass, great tits (whether natural or aftermarket bolt-ons), and no muffin tops!
Now don’t get me wrong, I fucking love the internet, it provides a forum for everyone, whether through a blog such as this or through a site like YouTube or even the adult version of “tube” sites. Now, anyone can porn star.
There has been an explosion of homemade porn stars, many with less than desirable bodies. Now I understand the appeal of seeing a “regular” chick, one like the attractive, but not necessarily smoking chick that lives a couple doors down. However the latest wave of BBW and over-sized ass porn is proof of how American men have lowered their standards as to what “hot” is.
Its one thing for a flick with a girl next door type, but not if the girl next door has mounds of cellulite all over her ass and thighs, that’s just being desperate, remember porn is suppose to be about fantasy. Fat chicks are a dime a dozen, lazy bitches are everywhere!
What’s worse is that I see guys fawn all over out of shape, overweight chicks all the time. We have collectively lowered the bar and with women being the laziest creatures on the fucking planet, they will only do the bare minimum to get by.
The other sad part is a lot of these overweight porn queens would actually be pretty hot if they could just get the fucking fork out of their mouth and find a treadmill. But then again, we see this in everyday life, a muffin top who has potential, but because she’s already getting attention from a bunch of thirsty, desperate guys, she does nothing to improve or take it to the next level.
Gentlemen……..fuckers………….we need to cut this bullshit out. We need to raise our standards and our level of game. Yes we all have our slump-busters that we aren’t proud of; I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about all this fat bitch worship. If you have ever put the words “beautiful” and “BBW” in the same sentence, then please do us all a favor and fucking kill yourself.
This one case where I have to agree with the Expats, foreign women get it, they know that the game is never over, it’s a lesson that’s been long forgotten by the jizz-traps over here in the States.
My name is PerformerX, an unusual kind of performer – because I can speak a perfect English, perfect French and some Spanish, my own language and body language I am 23 years old (even though you will all know I’m 20 if you ever meet me online), I have long brown to blond natural hair, brown eyes, I sometimes wear glasses, but when online contact lenses. I am slim and my special members tell me I have a great smile, beautiful eyes and besides that killer ass, legs, tits and pussy.
I had to have this blog, because I bet no other performer has made such a thing and I believe it is necessary for people to really know what girls think of this “job” (if I can call it that)…
I know that there are many men all over the world that visit video chat websites. Some of these guys are there just for the fun of it, others are there to find a wife, others to make friends. But I guess nobody really plans on falling in love. Most are lonely people, who need affection and search for it online.
I was thinking about having this blog to… put it all out! Tell the world about my experience being on different video chat websites and make some of those guys that make accounts on video chat websites realize what’s on our minds. No performer will ever be able to tell it to your face, because you’d probably run away and search for another girls – who knows more about pretty lies.
I am having this blog to be able to be honest to the world, for none of my friends or family or members know all about me. Every single one knows pieces of me, but not the entire “me”. And I need to do this for myself. At least know that somehow I don’t keep all these things to myself and the world knows. I don’t wanna die like a stranger to the world, no!
Yes, It’s unfair, but we need to lie to you. And you want us to tell you lies and make promises… Admit it
This will be more like a book, so stay posted… I have sooo many things to share…
PerformerX
P.S.: I am not sure you’ll ever get to see me for real, but on the beggining of my post, there’s a photo of my eye You’ll get some more that are not explicit.
Have you ever eaten something so spicy that you’d suck a cock just to get something to drink? The chili that’s been sitting in my refrigerator was like that. Basically, my husband emptied about seven jars of cayenne into a stockpot and added crushed mice to taste. Oh, and mushrooms. We like mushrooms in our chili. In cases like this, we end up with enough food to fill a cheerleader’s well-greased asshole, and we eat it for days. I tend to pull the pot out, set it on the counter, and leave it there while I eat a bowl of sulfur and tiny bones, just in case I want seconds. My husband is convinced that I’m going to get food poisoning.
But I won’t, and neither will you. Food that has been out of the fridge for a while is not lethal. Neither is carpet grit, dust mites or tap water. You all have this idea that “impurities” and “toxins” and “free-radicals” are some kind of microscopic army of ninjas just waiting to deplete your body’s whatever-the-fuck. Half the bacteria you douse your hands in alcohol to kill don’t give a shit about you and your neuroses.
The advent of the vacuum cleaner began the process of shrinking mankind’s collective balls. All of a sudden, it isn’t enough to take the rugs out and hit them with a stick until they look less gray. Now you’ve got to get rid of all the “dirt you can’t see.” We used to give dishes a few swipes with cold water and lye soap and call it good. Now we’re in a state of complete panic if we see “water spots” on a glass. Our nuts are now so small that they’ve migrated into the pelvis, allowing the sack to hang in folds and form the wrinkled twat that has replaced our once virile danglers.
Human beings are animals, and animals are built to live in filth. You know what we’d be doing in the wild? Sleeping in the dirt, motherfucker! With ants! We’d be eating raw meat with hair on it and drinking from green, gelatinous pools. (Think your sister’s panties with less stagnant trucker cum.) A wild human would shit on the ground and let his hair grow into actual dreads and never wash his hands or pits. Basically the most disgusting homeless guy ever + the Canadian wilderness. But you know what? One swing of his healthy, red-blooded crotch conkers and a rabid bear with a 30-foot conjoined shark wouldn’t stand a chance.
If you want huge balls, you’ve got to start eating everything off the floor. And no 5-second rule bullshit. It needs to sit there until it’s stuck in the carpet fibers. Refuse all vaccines and sit directly on every toilet seat you can find. When someone sneezes, run over immediately and rub your face all over him. And if he’s already thrown the coveted mucous out in a tissue, retrieve it and lick up the manliness. You’ll need that hearty immune system when you’re trolling for gutter whores with your enormous bag hanging out the back window.
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Based on our favorite part of a woman poll, you tell us that a lady’s ass is what turns you on most. So here you go, the biggest and fattest asses we could find online. We aren’t kidding, these are the biggest asses in the universe and best of all you can watch them get stuffed all day long.
If you have never been with a girl with an ass this big and round, let us tell you (lying) it’s amazing! The way it bounces and jiggles (have no idea) when they take it from behind, you have to go out and get some (so do we)!!
Nasty Old Grumpy Fart Larry King Pisses Carrie Prejean Off (Yeeeah) Awesome!! The Japanese Invent the Putting Green Bra (Barstool Sports) Damn Carrie Underwood is HOT (Grumpiest) Uh Oh. 3 Tennesse Volunteer Football Players Arrested for Armed Robbery (Sports by Brooks) The 10 Funniest Moments in Sports Fan History (Manofest) 9 Really Disgusting Every Day Facts (I am bored) 15 of the Hottest Chicks on MySpace (The Chive) The 10 Best “Now Hiring” Signs (College Humor) Kim Kardashian and a Popsicle (Celebslam) Come on Man! Mike Tyson Headed to Jail……. Again (Theybf) Sarah Jean Underwood, Playboy, and Yoga (Brahsome) Emmanuelle Chriqui Looking HOT as Usual (Moondog) The Weekly Pic of Rihanna’s Tits in a See Thru (Speed Monkey) Mischa Barton and the Hand Bra (Dirty Rotten Whore) Katie Holmes in Lingerie (INO) Did We Forget What a Babe Eve Is ? (Trendmill) Aubrey O’Day Sluts it up in Maxim (Drunken Stepfather) Eva Amurri is Always HOT (Beer Goggler) 10 Tattoos Chicks Should Never Get (Uncoached) The REAL Reasons the Chiefs Cut Larry Johnson (Unathletic) Katherine McPhee Still Lookin HOT (Mademan)
Hello Everyone!! I am Aria Giovanni!! I am sooooo pleased to meet you xx I want to show you what a BAD GIRL I am xx. My friends and I, Eva Angelina, Asia Carrera and Carmella Bing are all DRIPPING WET waiting for you xx We are sooooo Horny we want to be FUCKED hard by you and I am dying to gag my throat with your COCK !! That’s if you want to cum on my face and I could lick your cum mmmmmmmmmm I love that xx If you want to see my friends and I get down and Dirty NOW IS YOUR CHANCE. XX
Hi There xxx!!! There is nothing more than I love then to have a very stiff HARD COCK in my mouthxxx I am soooo horny and the biggest COCK SUCKING SLUT that you will meet. The thing is though hehehehe I just don’t like one COCK in my mouth I LLLOOOOOOOVVVVVEEEE to suck as many cocks as I can x. It could be yours ????? x My friends and I also like to have two of us suck one cock now that is very nice x and I think you would like it to x DO YOU WANT TO SEE ???? X
I want to tell you a SECRET xxx I have had the horniest hottest sex with my partners best friend. I love it when he comes over because we start to mess around playing a game and then we get dressed up. I always were my nurses outfit commando xxx. I will pretend to look after him first by stroking his cock until it gets nice and hard. Then I start to lick it an suck it until he starts to moan. Then I make him fuck me hard and just when he is about to cum I put his fat hard cock in my mouth and swallow it all xxx
Do ya want to see ?? xxx
I do have a confession to make!!! Don’t get me wrong!! I love to suck and fuck!! Sometimes though xxx I just love to take control and grab my snap on and fuck my bitch and my guy. Shhhhh don’t tell everybody!!! If you want to see me fucking my girl real hard in her pussy and her ass and then she likes to lick my strap on clean.
Well Go Ahead THEN Click my picture and you will love to see me in Action
Objective 1, convince your wife to have sex with you. Objective 2, get your wife to have sex with you on video. Objective 3, get your wife to agree to put your little video sex tape online for perverted porn monkeys like us to watch.
What do you get for completing your mission, besides the sex part? YouGet paid! Uh huh, thats right, up to $1,000.00 for your raunchy little homemade sex tape. Too bad you’ll have to hand over all the sex tape money for that stupid gucci handbag you can’t afford to buy her.
The See My Wife website has all kinds of hot amateur housweife sex action. So, if you can’t convince your wife to go along with the plan, watch your neighbors wife!
check out see my wife
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Oh and we will be happy to donate our videos of your wife having sex, just ask!
From one of the coolest guys in porn…. Jules Jordan, comes this amazing all anal site. The hottest porn stars like Jenna Haze and Brianna Love are featured in hot ass scenes. If you are into super smoking babes doing what you have begging your girl to do for years, check out the site.
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I have a hard time keeping up with all of the new words that seem to pop up in daily use nowadays. Ordinarily I can figure out the meaning of new words by the way in which they’re used. I heard a new word recently and I thought that I knew what it meant. It was used in reference to me by someone who obviously doesn’t appreciate my humor so I just figured it was something bad. And since it was used by someone who only knows me online, I knew it had to be because of something that I said or did on this blog.
A while back I wrote a post about my odd feet. I didn’t know that they were odd until people started pointing that fact out to me. I have very long fingers, legs and toes and my second toe is so long it’s actually longer than my great toe. I posted this picture of my malformed foot to go along with the post regarding people who suffer the same ailment:
My freak toe doesn’t bother me, and as far as I know, I’ve never suffered any discrimination because of it. But, I know how people frozen with 8th grade emotions think and most of them would seize the opportunity to make fun of me and my toe. That’s OK, I’m not stuck in 8th grade so I couldn’t care less what some nit wit says about me or my abhorrently long second toes.
Having met more than my share of feeble bullies, I can sort of see the effete attacks before they come. So, after publishing that picture of my malformed toe, I wasn’t surprised to hear that there was a name for that deformity and some childish man-wannabes were using the derogatory term in reference to me. When I became aware of the sad little attempts to annoy me with the toe jokes, I brushed them off and never really thought about it again.
Then, this morning my daughter said that one of her toes was hurting her. That made me think of my toes and the freaks who made fun of them. My daughter seems to be rather hip about things so I decided to get her opinion and see if my toes qualified for the nasty little moniker given to them by some computer troll.
As my daughter walked into the kitchen where I was sitting at the table, I took the sock off of my right foot, stuck my foot up in the air so that it was pointing at my kid and asked her, “Do I have a camel-toe?”
Well, she knew what it meant. First she looked at my face and then she asked, “Are you kidding?” Of course, I was NOT kidding and she could see that. It caused her to laugh for a very long time. She laughed so hard that she couldn’t tell me why it was funny. Eventually she did calm down enough to say, “Look it up on the computer…search images so you can see one.”
I did. Apparently camel-toes have absolutely nothing to do with feet, or toes for that matter. Even after she stopped laughing, my daughter couldn’t quite explain what an actual camel-toe was, but she was able to say that I did have one in this picture of my backside:
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, it seems as though the camel reference has something to do with two humps.
You know, if I had met someone with a really long second toe, I very well might have called them “Camel-toe”. Knowing me, I would have said it right to their face and with my luck, they would have known exactly what a camel-toe was.
I’m glad that the issue came up with my grown daughter, I could have asked ANYONE had the thought had popped into my head at a different time. Even so, it was slightly embarrassing. I’ve asked a few stupid questions in my life…here are some of the more asinine queries that I’ve made:
1. I took a letter to the Bensenville post office so I could send it to my cousin who lived about 10 miles away. I asked the man if they could send it air mail. He responded, “You could if there were any planes flying from Bensenville to Roselle.”
2. After a night of making love I asked the father of my kids what the fishy smell was. He laughed so hard he had an anxiety attack.
3. I asked my father the name of the song that goes, “Bingo, bango, bongo” over and over again. He didn’t even laugh, he just shook his head and walked away.
4. I walked into Auto Zone and asked for the “small funnel”. I needed one that would help me get the oil in the little hole. Instead, the guy showed me the BIG hole that said OIL.
5. I walked around the Dollar Store looking for someone to tell me how much the sponge in my hand was. Luckily I realized where I was before I actually asked for the price check.
6. My ex had a woman calling our house, I found someone else’s make-up in our car, he stopped calling me from work and he treated me like shit. Then I asked, “Is there somebody else?” That may be the single dumbest question that I, or any other woman, has ever asked a man.
I tried to come up with 10 stupid things that I’ve asked people but I only came up with 6. Do NOT let that lead you to believe that those are the ONLY dumb questions I’ve ever asked. They’re the only 6 that I can come up with right now. I may remember more and if I do, I’ll be back to let you know about them.
For now, I have to take my dog for a walk. He LOVES Los Angeles but they do have a law that ALL dogs (except breeding dogs) have to be de-sexed. That poor dog is a virgin and now he has to lose his testicles without ever having a chance to use them. How sad.
You know what I miss about seeing a movie in theatres? The previews. I, unlike many people, like seeing snippets of movies I’ll never pay money to see. It also helps me make up my own story for when the movie I actually came to see sucks. So when I got bored with “Paranormal Activity,” (about ten minutes in) I finally came up with the plot that it was the evil crazy ninja person come back from the dead to suck the blood of the living. And everything is blue. Trust me, my made-up summary makes more sense than the real thing.
But you want a real summary? Fine. A couple of obnoxious people live in an overly-nice house and film themselves sleeping because the girlfriend is paranoid. Because, this is a first-person movie, everyone dies. Trust me, I didn’t spoil a thing as anyone with a brain could see this coming. That also explains why the people in the theatre with me found it scary. Go go America.
Oh, yes. It’s a first-person movie. First-person movies, from what I’ve heard, are notoriously bad. This has brought me to the conclusion that the people who made this particular movie made a list of things that were bad about other first-person movies. Only, they used the wrong list. Characters need deepening? We’ll make one a complete ass! Cameraman is never seen? We’ll have two camerapeople, both of whom are ugly, as well as an obscene number of sleeping scenes! The monster is never seen? Well, we’ll just make ours ! Take that, sucky movies! Of course, this also leads to the fact that everyone is utterly dislikable, and rather than not knowing who to root for, I know exactly who to root for – the crazy ninja guy in the ceiling vent.
I think what left me sad about the movie was not that it was particularly bad, but rather that I went in expecting one thing and ended up with another. I think what I like most about first-person movies is that they don’t show the scary thing, but rather the reaction to the scary thing. This focused instead on the scary thing, and I think that’s what bothered me most. Horror is a good genre – when it’s psychological. Beyond that, I don’t want to see slasher, guts, or monster of the week.
In short, you would find more entertainment watching a dog or a frog or even a random inanimate object than you would by watching this movie. So go out, roll in the grass, make a friend. Live a little instead of letting an hour and a half die watching this.
This is your Captain speaking………welcome aboard fuckers.
The subject of class reunions came up with a friend of mine. He was looking forward to his, much like a used car dealer looks forward to going to the auto auction to buy up a bunch of clunkers. I can understand his game, these formerly hot chicks are the ones who were too stuck up to date guys their own age when they were in high school. Now these chicks are old hags with stretch marks, fat rolls and kids from different men.
I guess it would be a bit of revenge to bang these former hotties, but that’s a game I’ll have to sit out on. Not because I’m too good, but to be honest I now have enough money to be able to afford these women’s 18yr old daughters.
The last thing I want is a woman my own age! If that’s what I liked, I’d stay married!
Old hags like these are for broke guys!
As men get older we have more of what women want, as women get older they have LESS of what men want.
This is your Captain speaking………..welcome aboard fuckers.
Tonight I came across a bowl full of crap in the form of a blog from “Brown Sugar”, its a blog that gives so-called advice to black women and in this rant she tries to explain why women with advanced degrees can’t find any men in their income bracket. Total shit sandwich.
So often I hear from black women who have advanced or professional degrees that dating is hard out here for an educated black girl.
It seems there are many men who don’t find a super accomplished woman appealing. Or to be blunt about it, they’re just scared of a woman who may be smarter, more accomplished and (gasp) make more money they do.
So often however, when this topic comes up the men and their female apologists are quick to holler at the top of their lungs: THAT”S NOT THE CASE!!!!!!! No they say, it’s the women who are the problem. These over educated sistas beleive their degrees should qualify them for wife status. They are leading with their degrees instead of being nice and flirty and smiling – ’cause of course we know that a woman needs to smile to get a man to say hello to her.
Actually women ARE the fucking problem. Most of them are HUGE, plus-sized problems.
The truth is there are PLENTY of men who are intimidated by an intelligent, accomplished, successful woman. Many men want to feel like the King in their relationship an that can be difficult when their Quenn is better educated and making more dough than the King. There’s a reason why you see many successful, well off men with less accomplished women. The hot shot man cheating with his secretary, the nanny or his Argentinian mistress on his equally yoked wife is such a common occurrence we’re not even surprised by it anymore.
“Less accomplished” or hot? I believe the word this cunt was looking for was hot. That’s what successful men want and that’s the kind of women success brings, why would we settle for something less?
So yes, I think may black women are finding themselves at a disadvantage in the dating world when the step out in all of their educated, successful career glory. However I would ask if the guy who has a problem with ambitious, accomplished women is the guy you really want? I mean think about it: this guy feels so threatened by a woman who has her own that he would avoid them at all costs., why are you upset that he’s not talking to you? Is this the type of guy you really want?
Ambitious? About what? Using up all their sick time by the end of January?
Just as there are plenty of men who find the idea of dating a woman as accomplished than they are repugnant there are plenty who see that as a requirement in any woman they date. The intelligent ambitious gal is the one they want. They want a woman who can match their own fire and see that as an asset not a liability. These are they type of me you want to date, this is where you want to focus your energy. And if you feel you’re always meeting the guys who have problems with your level of education and success, you need to find other places to hang out.
Ok enough of this overweight cunt, the bottom line is that women with advanced degrees are usually just plain fucking ugly. Let’s be honest, I didn’t see a lot of hot chicks in my MBA classes, usually average or way, way below fucking average. Ugly women have more time to study because they aren’t being bothered by guys to go out on dates. They have the extra time to hit the books!
If they think that we want to have sex with their overbearing, overweight asses, then to borrow a line from Judas Priest “You’ve got another thing comming”
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Weekends (at least during this time of year) are for one thing other than mad, wild, uninhibited sex. FOOTBALL!! So with that being said, I have made a bigger list than usual.
Saturday is for OU and Sunday is for New York Giants!!
I hope this list will hold you through until Monday! I have linked some pictures to the respective sites. Be sure you click! Have a great weekend!
Freezing
Nice View
Circle of Trust
Stripes
Choices
B&W Mounds
Underneath
From Above
R.T. anyone?
Smooth
Janine Lindemulder - I ADORE YOU!!! Click to go to her site
Overload (Vitamin D) [A First Person Perspective of a Portrait Subject]
I am the obese man. I am 47 years old. Every day, I live through the same shit; the only difference is the date on the calendar in my tiny cubicle; my tiny cubicle only fits my desk and chair; I lift the embarrassment that is called my stomach in my hands and shove myself in my tiny cubicle. In my youth, my schoolmates would call me names: “Hey, Fatso!” “Hey, Blimp!” “Hey, Whale!” “Hey, Lard Ass!” I’d slowly walk home with my head hung low as the other children pelted me with the desserts left over from their lunch boxes. When I’d get home, my divorcee mother would lock herself in her room, sobbing. I’d eat away our tears. Nothing has changed since then, besides the name calling. The names are now stares. The only thing I want to do when I get home is stand in the shower — naked, exposed. HOW MUCH OF ME DO YOU REALLY SEE?
Forgive me, Janet,
but it happened during a conversation
about whether you had your breasts
enlarged or your stomach flattened
or your ass tightened (or all three
or any two of the three).
That’s when I realized
how closely revising a poem
could resemble (or “seam/seem like”) plastic surgery, and how those of us who have them
(poems or plastic surgeries)
try to keep things to ourselves. And so
not only is this poem for you, but it is you,
because, after all, don’t you get sick of being critiqued?
A poem (yes, a poem, not a poet)
once taught me how good it feels
not to have any eyes with you. Scratch “with you.”
I meant “on you.”
I’m sure you can relate,
as you spend your not-so-free time
hoping your personal life
isn’t ferreted out of the album notes,
interpreted from the lilt of your voice,
or treated as if you’re nothing more
than an image in a 60 year long music video. Like Tina. By the way,
I was the dude in that nasty car eatin’ that nasty food
jammin’ to your nasty groove.
And I dig your hair frizzy.
Likewise, I dig my poems raw,
which is just my exaggerated way
of saying I dig poems with rough edges. And people too.
Did I mention I didn’t offer an opinion
about your ass, stomach, or cup size?
But if you ask me,
I think you should edit that mole.
Exactly why did you put it in there anyway? Scratch that.
I meant “on there.”
I’m actually serious (do you realize that?)
when I say I’d do anything for the satisfaction
of writing a poem that could move like you. Dance like you.
Sing(e) like a moth to a flame.
That’s
the
way
poems go, I guess.
Give them your thoughts, get back a penny.
The American singer doesn’t seem bothered at all by the malicious comments he hears almost every day about her weight. Kelly said she’s proud of her curves and that the part she admire the most is her ass. “I know I have a generous bust, but I can take pride in my ass too. I’m my ass’s biggest fan! If more and more girls do silicone implant to have larger breasts, a few can take pride with an ass like mine” said the artist.
“I like that I can fill a pair of jeans” added Kelly.
I’d just given Gavin a blow job with a finger insertion into his asshole that I know he didn’t expect. Now, here I was straddling him, my cunt juices dripping all over his legs and I had his cock in my mouth again.
I’m so lucky.
“Fuck Delaynee, you’re so sexy,” he said as he tried to grasp my tits.
I sucked his soft cock into my mouth. I loved the way it felt on my tongue. It got me really excited and I knew Gavin could smell the scent of my pussy in the air.
“Mmmmm.”
I licked his balls one at a time and massaged his thighs as his prick started to stiffen.
“Damn girl.”
I loved the fact that he called me girl when I was 13 years older than him.
I sat up, still in the straddle position and played with my tits, giving his cock a little break.
I squeezed my right breast and cupped it into my hand. I sucked my nipple into my mouth and then released it.
Gavin tried again to reach between my legs and touch my dripping pussy, but I managed to wiggle out of his reach. I knew I was weak and if he touched my clit, I’d cum and squirt my juices everywhere. I also knew I was being a little selfish wanting to suck on his juicy prick again.
“You think you’re going to suck me again without letting me lick your kitty Delaynee?”
And it was over, in one fast move Gavin had lifted me off him and pinned me on the bed and was now straddling me.
I was pissed.
“No, don’t . . .” I protested.
But it was too late. Gavin was already nose deep beneath my legs and it felt amazing. I hadn’t had a man in my pussy in years.
He was taking long licks with his tongue pressed flat from my asshole to the hood of my clit.
“Oh shit,” I said.
“Oh shit is so right baby,” Gavin said. “Your pussy is so wet.”
I knew it was wet, I knew my body made extra cunt juices and I knew what was about to happen.”
I tried to push his face away, fighting him off, and squirming under my touch.
He slid up to my face and started kissing me in gentle kisses.
I turned my face from him and he kissed me down my neck.
“I’ve read your books,” Gavin said. “No one is that strong all the time.”
He slipped his fingers between my slit and started finger fucking me.
“Even the Goddess is vulnerable,” Gavin said kissing my lips more passionately now.
He pulled back for a moment and looked into my eyes.
“Let me love you babe,” Gavin said. “Cum to me.”
His words relaxed me and I let my legs drop open. I no longer felt like I had to please him first a couple of times to guarantee that he would take the time to make me cum.
I always was an overachiever, and there was no room for over-thinking the way he was stroking my clitty.
“I trust you.”
I have never felt so vulnerable, yet I was ready for him to take me as he pleased.
I wanted him.
Gavin kissed his way down my body, stopping for a moment to nibble on my hip. I had both of my hands on the back of his head. I was ready.
Gavin nestled in between my legs again, placing his tongue on my shaven cunt lips.
“Aaaa,” I gasped letting small breaths escape from my parted lips.
Gavin slowly massaged my clit with his fingers, watching my reaction as I arched my back and swiveled my slender hips under his touch.
He focused on my clit with his thumb, and then slid his index and middle fingers inside my pussy, massaging it.
My whole pussy was aching, contracting, wanting to cum. The build-up was intense.
“Ga… gav…”
My turn to be speechless.
He smiled. He liked pleasing me and I couldn’t wait to fuck him.
“Don’t stop,” I begged as I lunged at his tongue that was now flicking and sucking my clit as he was finger fucking me with two fingers.
I grabbed the back of his head as I started to orgasm.
My cunt juices gushed out and Gavin lapped at them as I came. His face was covered in my pussy cream.
“Oh my God,” he said. “Delaynee that was amazing. You’re amazing.”
Reality check.
I turned my face away from him, the reality of my letting loose sinking in. I was mixed with pleasure and shame. I didn’t understand it.
Gavin knew something was wrong and he climbed up beside me and held me.
“Don’t do that Delaynee,” he said as though he knew what I was thinking. “I’m here with you, don’t leave me.”
“I don’t know why, the rush of my orgasm, makes me feel like this.”
“It’s beautiful,” Gavin said. “You’re amazing. You have a gift. You’re special.”
I wanted to feel special, but I wasn’t used to it and Gavin knew it.
He pulled the sheet across our nude bodies and wrapped his arms around me and just held me.
So every once in a while I enjoy a nice cigar. I haven’t in a while but tonight after my bands show I had some time to kill and we smoked some in the parking lot.
It was hot, unfulfilling, and it took forever. I no longer get the “cigar sickness” associated with cigars (not a total newb anymore). But I’m done with em.
There. I said it. Blah.
On a side note, I’m writing this from Twin Peaks with my band. And we managed to get the least attractive waitress. This is a common trend in my life. Stay tuned for more on that topic.
Black men love ass. Therefore, its to be expected that there are ass growth pills.
I guess if white women can have boob booster pills, why not? Right? I mean, it only stands to reason that if you can pump up one area, you can do the same in another.
The best part? The gallery of asses. The before and after bootays that weren’t created by squats or an abundance of greens w/ fatback. No sireee.
The best part!! Or maybe not.
Anywhoo. I’m going to continue humming My Umi. Until next time….
Read after, “Seduction in the Park Makes My Pussy Very Wet.”
Gavin and I were giggling like crazy by the time we reached the top of the steps to my apartment. We hadn’t been drinking, but it was obvious we were intoxicated on love… or lust.
We burst in through my door and Gavin took me into his arms and pressed me against it.
When our lips connected sparks flew through my body. I’d heard of electric kisses before, but now I was experiencing one.
Our tongues darted and flicked out of each other’s mouth. I have an oral fixation so I spent a little extra time licking Gavin’s lips, and gliding my tongue across his polished teeth.
My pussy was dripping like crazy making my panties wet and sticky. I knew he smelt my scent, but if he’d really read my books, he must have known what was coming next.
I wanted to run my tongue and lips across his beautiful prick.
I took Gavin by the hand and led him back to my bedroom. I purposely placed him at the end of my bed and our eyes met as did our lips for another heated kiss.
I couldn’t restrain myself though and unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts. They dropped to the floor and as he stepped out of them, he kicked off his sandals.
His boxer briefs drew tightly across his stiff cock. A wet spot formed across the straining material at the tip.
Pre-cum, yummy.
“Wait,” he said as I started to tug down his underwear and release his dick from it’s captivity. “I want to smell your scent from your panties.”
I teasingly lifted my simple skirt revealing their pink lace.
He tugged them off, but I backed away from his seeking lips just as he tried to graze my clit with them.
“Nu, uh, uh…” I said. “Not until you cum to me, twice.”
I stepped out of the silky material. He took them and inhaled their sexy scent.
His cock twitched.
“Mmmmm.”
I knelt before his erection still contained inside his briefs. I felt like it was Christmas morning and a nice thick juicy cock was on my wish list and I was about to get everything I’d ever asked for.
I slowly peeled off his underwear and as I did, his cock sprung to attention as it flopped out before my salivating mouth.
“Mouthwatering,” I said pushing him back on my bed in a seated position.
“You’re so damn sexy,” he said.
“Thank you.”
I responded as I started bobbing my mouth up and down onto his delicious prick.
Being shy is so overrated.
I took my left hand and stretched the skin of his shaft down toward his balls, and in a twisting motion I used my right hand to stroke his perfect prick as I devoured his bulbous head with my tongue and lips.
His cock filled my mouth full and I loved how every once in awhile he’d push my head down onto it.
You’ve got the Goddess giving you a blow job now baby.
After several minutes of stroking and twisting, licking and sucking he looked like he was about to cum.
I pulled off him and started to take off my shirt.
Gavin helped me and as he did he pulled off my matching lace bra.
My big tits flopped out, bouncing with joy upon their release. He immediately took them into his hands and started playing with them. He still had my sticky panties in his hand and I could smell my scent.
“When you cum Gav, I want you to shoot your jizz all over my big titties.”
He nodded.
I continued to give him a blow job. I sucked his balls into my mouth one at a time and licked the shaft of his prick getting it super wet.
My spit ran down his shaft of his cock, soaking it and my fingers. I continued to suck on his dick and jack him off with one hand as I slipped my index finger, ever so gently into his asshole.
“Oh fuck,” he said.
He shouldn’t have been surprised. That was a Goddess trademark skill.
He started spewing strands of cum into the back of my throat, then pulled out leaving it stringing onto my lips, chin and finally splashing down across my big titties.
“Fuck ya Gavin, you’re so sexy baby.”
“De, d, d….”
He stuttered as I slipped my finger a little further inside his asshole and continued to jack his cock dry.
Speechless.
When Gavin was finished shooting his hot load I pulled my finger out, and dropped my skirt.
He layed back on my bed, breathless.
I climbed on top of him and straddled his muscular thighs, being careful not to let my pussy touch him in any way or get too close to his dick yet.
Our eyes met and he raised an eyebrow, wondering what I was about to do.
That’s when I went back down on his soft cock to get him hard again, and suck him until orgasm one more time before we fucked.
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REENIÄ HORO REENIÄ MUTTA KUKA VITTU TOSTA NY MAXAAA????????? HERÄÄNNY!!!
HEY DUDE WHERES MY DUDE, DUDE????
MIKÄ ILMASTONMUUTOS??,,,KANANMUNAN PAISTOO AURINGOSSA,,,KYÄKATO HELPPOO VITTU NYKYÄÄ,,,SITTEKU RÖÖKI SYTTYY ITESTÄÄ AURINGONPAISTEESSA SILLON ON JO VITUN KIIRE SINNE VITUN MARSSIIN,,,,
There are some specific items that every man must have in his closet. One of the top priorities is the classic trench coat. There is no man that doesn’t look good in one and its so versatile that can be matched even with jeans for a more casual look. If you don’t want to look like a 20’s police agent be sure to avoid big fedora hats and remember to keep the accessories to a minimum. BLING OFF! The coat alone makes the statement!
So if your SL closet doesn’t include one…go and buy one NOW!
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This is the first posting in the new blog series “The Sexy Stud for Hire.” Read each posting that follows after this date to read the story in order. ~ Thanks, Delaynee Sinclair
It was late one night, and I was nestled in front of my computer getting ready to write my next sexual love story. I wished it were my own. I knew it could be, if only I’d take a chance. Just as I started to type, my manager telephoned me. .
“Delaynee, someone has contacted me about writing a companion book to ‘The Goddess.’ I think you should go for it.”
I bit my bottom lip, and powered off my computer.
“I’m not sure if ‘The Goddess’ is ready for a companion. My books are best-sellers. A companion may drag them down.”
My manager tried to advise me, but I can be pretty stubborn.
“You’ve cranked out three erotic books in as many years, and would it be so bad if you had a companion?”
I sat in the darkness licking my wounds.
“Delaynee, I know you’ve remained strong since your break-up. You’ve pushed through your pain, and made your life successful without him. You should be happy about that, but maybe it’s time you created with someone else for awhile.”
I cracked my window a little, letting the cool night air blow in.
“I’ll take it into consideration,” I whispered as I hung up the phone.
I crawled under my covers, alone. I wanted to numb myself with sleep, but I was restless. I was afraid if I opened myself up, I’d become vulnerable again.
If I write with someone else, they’ll want to do public relations stuff and I want to remain anonymous. That’s why I like my pen name.
I was restless falling asleep. My mind was racing with thoughts of how I just wanted to blend in with my surroundings.
I’m just the woman that owns the book/coffee shop.
The summer night air blew across my skin. My eyes finally grew heavy and I fell asleep.
The next day at work I was back in the stockroom. I overheard a man questioning one of my employees.
Is he asking about my book?
I could hear my employee tell him they were sold out, and they’d be restocked in a couple of days.
I knew I had several cases upstairs in my apartment over the bookstore, but I couldn’t let my employee’s know that I was the writer.
They’d laugh me out of business if they knew their boss was sucking cock on paper.
I moved closer to the door and tried to get a glimpse of the man with the sexy voice.
“I’d love to meet the woman who writes those books,” he said. “I’d get down on one knee, and propose marriage.”
“Is it about the sex?” The employee asked.
“No, it’s, about the connection I feel to her words,” he said. “I feel like she’s written them just for me.”
My curiosity got the best of me and I walked back into my store. I made my way around the shelving unit to get a better look at my secret admirer, but it was too late. He was leaving.
Nice ass.
“Did you see that guy?” the young female employee questioned. “Wow! Someone should tell that writer she has an admirer!”
I froze in my tracks.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be.”
Days pass and I was closing up shop one evening. All of my employees had gone, and I wished that I had someone to talk to.
I unclipped my hair, letting it fall down past my shoulders. I heard the bells on the door jingle, and turned around to see a handsome man standing before me.
“Is it too late?”
Good God.
I was taken aback by his angelic face. His eyes are as brown as fudge, and his smile could light up the night sky. I felt myself blushing at my hesitation, but finally responded.
“It’s never too late.”
I re-clipped my hair and a few pieces fell out of place, gently framing my face.
“How about a tall cup of whatever your roast of the day is?”
I poured him his coffee.
“Do you mind if I just grab a book real quick?”
“Not at all,” I said. “Purchasing books at my store keeps me in business.”
I winked, he smiled.
Drip, drip, drip. My pussy is loving this guy.
He heads straight to the romance section and comes back to the counter with my book, “The Goddess.”
It’s a good thing I restocked that.
“Good choice,” I replied knowing my secret was safe.
“Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee”
He asked while paying for his purchases.
“Ya, sure, why not?”
Holy shit this guy is so sexy.
I poured myself an espresso and took a seat across from my extremely hot, late night customer
He took a drink of the warm soothing brew, and our eyes met.
“My name is Gavin, and I am a mechanic/book critic.”
I raised my eyebrow.
“I’m Delaynee, and I’m speechless.”
He smiled at me and we laughed, breaking the tension.
“I was working on someone’s car one day and she had the first book of this series in her seat,” he said. “I was curious and read it in two hours.”
I smiled.
“Did you charge her for the labor during those two hours?”
“No, but I thanked her.”
“What is it that you like about the stories?” I asked. “I mean, you’re a guy, and these stories are meant for women.”
“Well, love is a universal language,” he said. “So I wouldn’t think the stories would exclude men, but to try to answer your question, the author, it’s as though, she writes her hearts desires, letting the Goddess represent her. Her characters are so lifelike. I can feel their vulnerabilities. I just want to call them on the phone, and send them my love. You probably think I’m crazy…”
His voice trailed off, and he blushed.
“No, I think it’s lovely that I’ve been able to evoke such emotion out of such a big, strong guy.”
“I’ve?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean A. Starling?”
Holy shit. How could I have made such a stupid slip of the lip?
“I am A. Starling, the woman who penned that book.” I said feeling a flush of relief run through my body as I continued. “I’ve always wanted someone to write something like that for me, but instead I’ve written them for others.”
I think Gavin almost fell off his chair and was genuinely floored by my admission.
“You wrote these books?” He said. “Your husband is a lucky man.”
“Oh, I’m alone.”
His eyes lit up.
“Go out with me, tomorrow night,” he said. “I’ll pick you up here and…”
“I am not ready to date.”
I lowered my eyes hoping he couldn’t see the sorrow I was hiding.
“Then I’ll be here for you, until you are.”
I raised my eyes as I sipped my coffee. I couldn’t help but stare at his determined face, and bulging biceps.
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That was the last chapter of “The New York City Bad Boy.” It was such a sexy story, filled with sexual fantasy, romance and even love – yes love. Keep the sexy thoughts pulsing through your throbbing loins because tomorrow my writer will post the new erotic blog novella, “The Sexy Stud for Hire.” Where there will be just as much cock sucking, cum drinking, fucking, pussy licking, and new ways to fuck and in new places. My big tits will be bouncing and my clit will be jiggling with the “The Sexy Stud for Hire.” My pussy wants to gush a creamy orgasm just thinking about how sexciting it’s going to be. I’m one lucky fictional character! ~ Delaynee
The man who writes my subjects is not lying. This IS epic. This was Sunday, April 19th. It was karaoke at The Drawing Room. It was a night just filled with stuff. I think I cloud easily do these pages as individual posts but I think that part of what makes them great is that they all happened on one night. So here we go. 9 pages.
The first two pages set the scene with some fine-assed ladies. In the lower left is the bartender from the Drawing Room. She is so very hot. AND she gave me her email address. I sent her some pictures from this night. I don’t think she ever wrote me back. But still. Email address. That’s a victory in itself. And the next time I went to Karaoke at the Drawing Room she introduced me to her mom while I was stealing a 10′x20′ area rug. So it’s like I’m part of the family!
Pages 3 and 4 are a verbatim (more or less) transcript of a conversation I had with this particular fine-assed lady. I think she was drunk. I think she might have also been stupid. It is also possible that she was sober and a genius. Actually if she was sober she had to be a genius because that was some of the best acting I’ve ever seen. Shit. I bet she’s a sober genius. She didn’t want to be my girlfriend. She just wanted to make fun of me. I bet she was made to feel small by the power of my performance. Man, what a bitch.
The third set of pages is the only evidence of who I was at the Drawing Room with this night. I wouldn’t have remembered if I didn’t have these pictures. Thanks to the strong-assed drinks made by the fine-assed bartender most Drawing Room nights run together in my mind. On this particular night though, I was there with Natalie and Diane. Diane always hates pictures of herself. I have a tough time not making that personal. Natalie got her butt grabbed by a girl. At least that’s what she claimed. She exaggerates sometimes. After the alleged ass incident, Natalie asked me if she looked like a lesbian. I explained that it is only in very extreme cases of lesbianism that you can tell someone is a lesbian by looking. Most lesbians just look like female humans. Yeah. I’m a champion of gay rights. An Ally if you will.
Pages 7 and 8 are two more fine-assed ladies, one who’s ass was slightly finer than the other. I like my reasons for not taking a picture of her ass. Read them.
And the 9th and final page is me. Being sad about all the fine-assed ladies. I can’t explain it exactly. It is like I live in a world where there are all these ice cream cones floating around. And I really want an ice cream cone. But, I’m too afraid to take the ice cream cones so I go without. So every time I see a particularly delicious looking ice cream cone, like a vanilla soft serve in a cake cone, or a banana strawberry in a sugar cone, or a pralines and cream in a waffle cone, I get a little sad. But of course when ever someone offers me an ice cream cone I slap it out of their hand onto the sidewalk below and go home and watch Mythbusters. So why do I still get sad? I obviously don’t want any damn ice cream cone. Oh my stupid brain. I swear it’s gonna kill me one of these days.
I am 23 years old (even though you will all know I’m 20 if you ever meet me online), I have long brown to blond natural hair, brown eyes, I sometimes wear glasses, but when online contact lenses. I am slim and my special members tell me I have a great smile, beautiful eyes and besides that killer ass, legs, tits and pussy.