*A letter to myself*
Dear Delta,
Stop worrying about whether you’re fat. You’re not fat. Or rather, you’re sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit? There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. For fuck’s sake, stop…
This cat is excited because it lives in cat heaven and apparently has learned how to decipher kitty calendars. *Look above the ergonomic scratch pad, to the left of the plasma kitty tron and just beyond the ferret fur carpet.
I rebloggified this from somebody that seems to be living in an alternate universe since all the creatures on her page are way beyond cute. They are like alien cute…like so cute you might cry and kinda shit yourself.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Here’s a song I decided to call ‘Empty Ledge’. Maybe because that’s where the vocals stand at this point or maybe it’s just where I should be standing. The first line is, “She smokes a pack of twenty, swallows a bottle for five…” The rest of the vocals are freestyle. The whole song was made on an iPad using an app called Garageband that costs $4.99 and an external Samson USB microphone ($100). Listen with better headphones if you can. Tell me what you think if you’ve got the time. Cheers!
He lives alone. He drew it on the wall. Is he explaining that to himself? Fat cats can’t draw. Besides, maybe this is five or ten years after he died from heart failure.
In one way or another I’ve always suffered. I didn’t know why exactly. But I do know that I’m not so scared of suffering now. I feel more than I’ve ever felt and I’ve found someone to feel with. To play with. To love in a way that feels right for me. I hope he knows that I can see that he suffers too. And that I want to love him.
-Lee, Secretary 2002
Maggie, please rapture my cock deep inside the wet walls of you. I want to feel your tongue and teeth clench my fingers while you grind your pussy lips and ass all over me. - Brooks, Secretary lover 2011
So, I have this little fantasy.
I want to suck on his balls and lick her pussy while he fucks her. I would love to taste her on him. To run my mouth up and down his shaft in unison with her pussy. I want to curl up next to him and whisper the nastiest things in his ear. I want to watch his face contort into grimaces of ecstasy as she grinds away on his rigid cock. I want my tongue to travel down and spear into his tight, tangy asshole. I want to watch him jump and fumble, desperately grasping for reality.
I want him to beg. Beg ME to let him cum.
I won’t.
Not with her, at least.
His cum belongs to me, and me alone.
I want to feel his balls tighten in my mouth. I want him moaning in agony as he tries to keep his promise…he will not cum in her…
One quick slap to her throbbing clit…I want her squealing.
“Off…” I’ll tell her. I want to watch her pout. Wriggle that bottom lip. She’ll soon learn her place, the bottom rung, solely here to pleasure him and therefore bring me the ultimate pleasure.
In a moment of boldness, I’ll grab her head and thrust it into my cunt.
“Lick.” I’ll command. I’ll arch my back and buckle my hips towards her. I’ll be lost in this sudden surge of power and devastating lust…
I’ll feel his hand on me and will suddenly snap back to my reality. I’ve forgotten my place! Have I angered him? Have I turned him on? Will I still be his precious princess? I’ll start to sit up, to stop her, but I’ll not succeed. His hand will clasp firmly around my throat and hold me down.
“Don’t stop.” He’ll tell her. I’ll wiggle and squirm against her mouth and he will continue to hold me firmly in place. He’ll pinch and twist my nipples. He’ll tell her to finger fuck the shit out of me.
And what will he tell me?
He’ll tell me not to cum.
Oh no, because this cum belongs to him.
He’ll smile and kiss away the blinding tears of pleasure and frustration sliding down my cheeks. He’ll take my mouth and kiss his moans into me as she slowly glides her hand up and down his cock.
And finally, as my sobs of desperation grow, he’ll rid us of her and fill me as only he can…hard, deep, completely…
*Ahem* So, I have this little fantasy…
The fine points of life.
There are very few escape pods left on this ship and I refuse to go down with it just because dad & mom decided to fuck one night. If you’re reading this, you won the race. You stupid fucks out there that love to proclaim that you’ve never won anything in your life right when you win something, well, you’re wrong. You were the little white fish that managed to swim faster than the millions of others and you won. You won a nine month vacation in a warm, wet cave, followed by an exit through one of the most mysterious doors in the world. Once you’ve made your way down the hall and out the door, some bigger white fish folks will start showing you what people like to call stuff or “shit”. You’ll probably wind up only learning about stuff at first and then about a week or a month later, after the whole we-just-had-a-baby-we-are-good-procreating-people thing has passed, you’ll be introduced to shit. There’s a lot of stuff that goes into making shit, so it can become confusing at times. But trust me, it’s all shit. As far as the eyes or the brown eye can see. Shit is what you will shovel for a very long time unless you are very lucky. So, congratulations on your winnings and keep up the good work. After all, there’s still a lot more shit that needs your hands in it. For the record, I wish I had been one of your comrades during that race you won; I would’ve been cheering you on all the way and I wouldn’t ever have had to learn about shit and you wouldn’t ever have had to read this stupid fucking shit.
