The Wolfman’s Daughter

There’s a lovely two legged dear
with long flowing hair
that sparkles like a waterfall by day
whose bright smile
lights up the world just like the sun
whose curvaceous body
turns on the boys, makes en wild
with the forbidden desire
to get inside her pants and blouse
yet they know better
than to dare to touch the maiden
lure her behind a bush
much less trap her on the backseat
of their road machine
too scared to ask her out on a date
cause she’s the only
lovely daughter of the Wolf Man
who’ll rip off their head
break em all in half in a heartbeat
eat their liver for lunch
if they dare to touch his daughter
yep its for the best
to leave the sexy doe eyed maiden
alone unless you’ve got
a death wish best to let her pass by
admire the charms
of her curvaceous body from afar
cause it ya dare
to offend her dad by touching her
the Wolf Man is gonna
catch ya unawares one dark night
make ya wish you were
dead as he rips out your pharynx
beneath the stars
in the soft glow of the full moon

El hombre fragmentado: Richard Fleischer, Tony Curtis, El estrangulador de Boston

Obra maestra tanto en la forma como en el fondo. Mirada a los abismos de la mente y documental de una investigación policial. Contraposición entre sociedad e individuo con forma de “thriller” persecutorio. Afilada disección de la América de la época  a través de la naciente mitología del “serial-killer”. Retrato sórdido de la neurosis ciudadana y la hipocresía cotidiana… Una película inagotable, tanto en su propuesta formal como en su capacidad de penetración psicológica (y cuya sombra pude verse con claridad en ese monumental fresco que es el “Zodiac” de David Fincher o en la nada despreciable y muy agobiante “Summer of Sam” de Sipike Lee), que se sigue con interés creciente gracias a una narración vertiginosa, que no desdeña ni el humor  ni los detalles truculentos. Muy bien interpretada además, con un Curtis demoliendo su imagen de galán; un rostro pétreo, una máscara de humanidad y la mirada del que ya no está aquí, e inolvidable toda la película en su conjunto.

Fleischer y Curtis junto a RIchard H. Klein, autor del sobebio trabajo fotográfico

Filmada por un Richard Fleischer en plenas facultades, no solo es un film rotundo que se inscribe con abrumadora personalidad en la nueva corriente hiperrealista del gran “thriller” policiaco de su época sino que deja más que cristalino el asombroso magisterio de un genuino artesano y director de raza cuya aportación y carrera aun están pendientes de una verdadera reivindicación y eso pese a contar con títulos de justa celebridad como “Los Vikingos” (1958), “Soylent Green”(1973), “ 20.000 mil leguas de viaje submarino”(1954), o menos conocidas (o recordadas)  pero no menos jugosas, léase ( solo una representación): la extraña epopeya bíblica a contrapelo “Barrabás”(1962), la desoladora (y rodada en España) “Fuga sin fin”(1971), la más influyente de lo que parece “Terror ciego”(1971), un par de perlas como “Sábado trágico”(1955) o la hermosa “La muchacha del trapecio rojo”(1955) y desde luego su otro estrangulador, un film de una aspereza y crueldad en el límite de lo soportable; “El estrangulador de Rillington Place”(1971) en el que un viscoso y estremecedor Richard Attenborough personificaba al nefando John Reginald Christie en el demolido (literal y metafóricamente) Londres de la post-guerra.

Dividido en tres partes, aunque casi podrían considerarse dos partes y un prólogo que abarcaría hasta la aparición de De Salvo (y Curtis, claro) en pantalla, un hecho que no sucede hasta el minuto cuarenta, un alarde de confianza y un perfecto ejemplo de uso de los mecanismos del “thriller” por parte de Fleischer que es capaz de sacar de cuadro al protagonista (y a la estrella) de la película durante un cuarto de la misma, jugando tanto con la creación del clima como con las expectativas de espectador. Este prólogo se centrará en reproducir con minuciosidad las pesquisas policiales para cazar al estrangulador, de quien solo vemos los resultados no las maneras. La policía comandada por el firme personaje de Fonda (muy bien escudad por el siempre eficiente George Kennedy como poli duro), un humanista enfrentado brutalmente a lo peor del hombre que no se verá satisfecho por atrapar sino que querrá saber, ¿por qué? Una pregunta sin respuesta o peor, una respuesta demasiado aterradora.

Fleischer pone aquí en juego un “primer” estilo (de los tres que se emplearán, uno por cada parte de la película), abrazando el “police procedural” con afán documental pero voluntad estilizadora, es decir narrando con vértigo, deslizando no poco humor y proponiendo un acertado retrato de ambientes con la audacia de presentar realidades como los clubes homosexuales (también en otro excelente policiaco de finales de los 60 como “El Detective” que Gordon Douglas dirigió para un amargo Sinatra). Aparecerán mentalistas, criminales sexuales torturados, vecinos acusicas…todo un tratado sobre paranoia, maledicencia y aburrimiento.

En la segunda parte (o primera tras la larga introducción) hace su entrada Albert De Salvo, el asesino y acompañándolo el celebérrimo recurso de la “split screen” como reflejo de su mente. No es exactamente una pantalla partida sino un plano múltiple, viñeteado, a veces una misma acción desde diferentes puntos de vista, otras diferentes hechos en el tiempo confluyendo en el mismo espacio cinematográfico y otras más como visiones de una mente alterada. Casi cubismo aplicado al cine, a la vez técnica narrativa rompedora, alarde estético aun hoy sorprendente, experimentación sensorial y plasmación subjetiva de una percepción esquizoide.

La primera aparición del “killer” no puede ser más significativa, en casa con su familia y viendo por la televisión el entierro de Kennedy, el momento aceptado en el imaginario americano como “la pérdida de la inocencia”. Cariñoso y al parecer conmovido, la manera de encuadra toda la escena no deja lugar a duda, algo no funciona. La compulsión empujará a De Salvo a matar, el padre de familia es la bestia.

Fleischer no se anda con chiquitas ala hora de mostrar el “modus operandi” (asaltos a mujeres solitaria con la excusa de arreglar algún problema de fontanería), los ataques son resueltos con contundencia (justamente mítico el momento en el que Curtis rasga la camisa de una de sus víctimas mientras le tapa la boca agarrándola por detrás y la expresión erotizada del actor) y velocidad. Una elección que además de rechazar la espectacularización de la violencia introduce una serie de lecturas psicoanalíticas y sexuales que apuntan a la impotencia (no en vano una las muertas aparece con el palo de una escoba en la vagina). Una de las víctimas, una joven Sally Kellerman salvajemente golpeada, sobrevivirá precipitando la caza.

El recurso al la “split screen” desaparece en el tercer bloque con la captura de De Salvo al no ser ya necesario ni narrativa ni dramáticamente, dando paso a una poderosísima abstracción visual que supone otro de los puntos de mayor audacia formal de la película, un nuevo requiebro estético de prefecta coherencia interna. Forzado por el fiscal al que interpreta Fonda y su necesidad de conocimiento, De Salvo comenzará una batalla contra si mismo, entre la lucidez intermitente y el mantenimiento de la máscara, pero al verse obligado a enfrentar su auténtica naturaleza se encerrará en si mismo y con el la imagen, hará lo mismo hasta la conversión del decorado en un abisal fondo blanco.  Rematado con un estremecedor final proyectado hacia atrás con un efecto de extrañamiento alucinatorio. Obra maestra.

split mind

 

El estrangulador de Boston (The Boston strangler)

Director: Richard Fleischer

Año: 1968

País: Estados Unidos

120 min.

Fotografía: Richard H. Klein

Música: Lionel Newman

Guión: Edward Anhalt

Reparto: Tony Curtis, Henry Fonda, George Kennedy, Murray Hamilton, Hurd Hatfield

 

Mengatasi Ejakulasi Dini bagi Pria dan Mempercepat Orgasme bagi Wanita

1. Jika letak masalahnya adalah gangguan hormonal, maka cara penyelesaian adalah meningkatkan produk hormon anda. Jangan sekali-kali memakai obat-obat kimia tanpa ‘ijin’ dari dokter. Berkonsultasilah dengan dokter ahli seksologi. Anda bisa juga mengkonsumsi minyak telor yang kami produk. Minyak ini kami produk dari telor ayam kampung tanpa bahan kimia.

2. Jika masalah anda karena metabolisme tubuh yang tidak normal, misalnya karena kencing manis atau gangguan organ yang lain, maka penyakit tsb harus disembuhkan. Untuk mengatasi hal ini anda bisa mengkonsumsi Ramuan Herbal Jamu Asy-Syifa’ produk kami.
3. Masalah psikis dan tehnik rangsangan.
Ini bisa dilatih dengan cara demikian. Ketika anda akan bersetubuh dengan pasangan anda, usahakan anda tidak terlalu bernafsu yaitu dg cara anda sibuk memikirkan hal lain, misalnya anda alihkan pikiran anda ke hal lain. Kemudian usahakan for-paly yang agak lama, namun jangan boleh pasangan anda memegang kemaluan anda atau merangsang anda. Justru anda yang harus merangsang istri anda dengan cara membelainya, menghisap puting susunya dan memegang kelentitnya, bahkan
bila perlu memainkan kelentitnya dengan lidah.
Nah pada saat sudah bersetubuh, lebih bagus memakai posisi woman on top [WOT]. Karena dengan posisi ini maka memperlambat ejakulasi pria namun mampu mempercepat orgasme wanita.
Bisa juga dengan posisi biasa, namun usahakan jari tangan anda tetap bisa merangsang kelentit pasangan anda. Gunanya adalah supaya terjadi keseimbangan rangsangan antara anda dengan istri dan sekaligus supaya penis anda tidak terlalu dalam masuknya keliang fagina karena ada
ganjalan tangan anda tadi. Dengan demikian anda tidak terlalu terangsang sebaliknya terjadi rangsangan yang hebat pada istri anda.
Bisa juga dengan posisi demikian. Istri tetap telentang, anda menghadap istri, anda tembak dari arah samping dengan satu kaki istri menumpang di tubuh anda. Pada posisi ini jari tangan anda bisa lebih leluasa meraba dan memainkan klitoris / kelentitnya, dia akan rasa nikmat sekali dan cepat mencapai puncak, namun sebaliknya anda akan mampu bertahan lama.

Sekian semoga bermanfaat.

Fun With Plastics

It was December, one week before my seventh birthday, and my father, his girlfriend, Callie, and I were on our way to the movies.
“Kimberly, Sweetie, what is it you’d like for your birthday this year?” Callie asked.
“I know what you shouldn’t get her,” Pop interjected, his eyes fixated on the highway ahead. “Another Barbie doll. All she ever does with them is take off their clothes.”

Having a doll

“Dad!” I shrieked from the backseat of our Chrysler minivan. “I just like to alternate their outfits, okay? Geez!”

There was a reason I was so defensive that day. Looking back then, I realize now that my Barbies were, in fact, my very first sex toy.
An outsider might argue that I was much too young to recognize the entire context of my playtimes. But even though a child, I knew exactly what I was up to. Because every time one of my parents, siblings, or nannies would open my door, I would at once turn bright red and try to shove beneath my armoire the giant mound of naked dolls on top of one another in the middle of my bedroom floor.
When my mother bought me my first dolls from Mattel, she thought she was doing me a favor by giving me Barbie, her two younger sisters, and all of their same-sex friends. But it was Ken I enjoyed playing with the most. Whether it be a business suit, floral swim trunks, or scrubs and a stethoscope, every article of clothing and each accessory Ken ever owned would promptly come off, and he’d run around beside me in the buff, leaping from my bed to my bookshelves with extraordinary agility or, on the weekends, riding my hamster bareback while carrying a sword.
I only had the one male doll, and his steady use had led him to see better days. Over time, every strand of poor Kenneth’s hair had been cut clean, and I bite off his nose once, having seen Danny DeVito’s Penguin character do the same to a co-worker in Batman Returns. The shortage of males in my doll population was initially concerning, but I remember waking up one morning and wondering what was so wrong about Barbie and Barbie’s closest female friends
“doing it?” From that day forward, my dolls were full-blown bisexuals.

***

For going a complete week without “pulling a Kimmie”, my mother came home from her office one afternoon carrying a present: a Barbie doll limousine, complete with working hot tub. (And by working, I mean it could blow bubbles out of a hole in its side). The small gesture of the gift represented something substantial to my upbringing; and after receiving it, my childhood was never the same. When not in school, every minute was spent upstairs in my bedroom, positioning carefully each of my dolls in their glorious cherry-colored limo. And with regards to my constant attention towards it over the years, that little Jacuzzi probably saw more action than any other featured on a VH1 reality show. Especially when Baywatch Barbie came to town.
My older sister owned the dolls as well, but hers were collector’s items, and not to be touched. So as expected, I did everything I could to get my hands all over them. Because Jordan was in the third grade and a year above me, she would remain in class almost an hour later. Thus, the minute my nanny came to pick me up from elementary school, I would rush home to enter the forbidden pink walls of my big sister’s bedroom, and take out from their cases Sun ‘N Surf Skipper, Peacock Teresa, and Judy Garland Barbie (who, at the end, was just a big mess). The nanny, who only spoke Polish and never quite understood what was happening around her most times, had dubbed me her “kochanie,” and always preferred me to my sister. She never told Jordan about the hour I would spend each day in her room, turning her Barbies to whores.
Jordan’s coltish limbs could not assemble the strength to hurt someone by hitting them, but she could, (and still can), verbally abuse like no other I’ve known. When she walked into her bedroom one day and saw me “bumping” together Mommie Dearest Barbie and Football Captain Ken, all hell broke loose and still to this day, my self-esteem has yet to make a full recovery. Terrified, I ran into the protective arms of my nanny, vowing through heavy sobs to never again touch my sister’s dolls. (Or let them touch eachother).

***

I was fourteen and several months shy of entering my first year of high school when my mother told me that, due to my age, I was no longer allowed to play with dolls. The decision was heartbreaking, and for months I cursed aloud those god-awful children of the Salvation Army for stealing my precious toys. (Though I will admit, the subsequent gift of a neon-green iPod somewhat cushioned the blow).
While I missed my dolls for the sexual experience and knowledge that their presence had allowed for, I also felt a void over the loss of my friends. It wasn’t just a decade-long orgy that I had encountered with my Barbies. It was companionship. And though Mom promised I would get over them eventually, I found myself missing them most at a high school party almost a year after their abrupt dismissal.
Christopher Dunn was the crush of Danielle, and I went along with her to his Valentine’s Day party so that she might spend more time with him. His entire house was vibrating from the bass blasting through towering speakers, and everywhere I looked, a teenager in braces was shot-gunning a beer. Where the hell were this kid’s nannies? I immediately turned back towards my bicycle but was rebuked by Danielle, who was insistent on seeing her Christopher.
Perhaps because it was February 14th that every person there was especially horny that evening. Christopher had gathered us all up in his living room and demanded we play Seven Minutes in Heaven, a game in which two individuals must go into a dark closet together for seven minutes. Everybody appeared delighted at the idea, but I opted instead to go into the den and see what was on the Weather Channel. Apparently my volunteering to leave meant to everyone else that I must not only play the game, but that I should go first. With cold, reluctant hands, I spun a bottle placed in the middle of the room that landed on…Christopher. He leapt up and opened the door of a nearby coat closet. “Ladies first,” he smiled. I look to Danielle for help, whose only assistance was whispering in my ear that if Christopher and I have sex, I “better be effing grateful.”
If Christopher and I had sex? He and I had only exchanged words once- that being my “bless you” after a particularly violent sneeze he had made in our European history class. Dreading what came next, I walked slowly to the closet and sat down inside of it, my knees to my chest as Christopher closed the door behind us. I couldn’t see him or anything else in the darkness, but the space was small and I knew he was only inches away.
“Kimberly?”
“Uh huh?”
“Do you want to kiss?”
“No thank you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t get pregnant right now.” Duh.
A long silence. I began to hope he had fallen asleep.
“You can only get pregnant if you have sex.”
I was confused. “But isn’t kissing a part of sex?”
A strange noise broke through the darkness and I realized he was laughing. “Not for me.”
I didn’t understand and I began feeling for the light button on my Timex wristwatch.
Christopher’s hands found mine and he steadied them in his lap. “You won’t get pregnant. Lie down.”
His voice was hypnotic and, confused and scared, I listened to him. My eyes were closed, even though already I couldn’t see. I thought back to Barbie and her friends—for them, sex was only pleasurable. There were no repercussions, no regrets. They were consistently intimate and their smiles were unwavering throughout it all. Surely it would be the same for me.
“Okay.” I blurted out. “We can have sex, but only if we keep our clothes on.”
Christopher was on top of me in an instant, and I was sure he could feel my heart pound through my shivering skin. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so they stayed to my side, palms face down on the hardwood floor. I was fifteen years old, and already no longer a virgin.
Minutes later, the door flung open and the artificial lights from the living room flooded our closet. Christopher and I got up; his lips were smeared in gloss while my hair stuck out all over my head. Danielle’s eyes paced from his to mine like an animal in captivity.
“Well?” She asked us both. “Did you do it?”
I smiled, proud of myself for such an accomplishment. “Yes!” I shouted. “I did it! I just had sex!”
Christopher stood beside me, astounded. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“About what?” I looked up at him in innocence.
“Kimberly, that was not sex. That was lying down.”
The room erupted in laughter. I couldn’t pretend that I had been kidding; the absence of color in my face had given me away. Mortified, I spent the remainder of the party with my eyes glued to tomorrow’s forecast.
School proved no better. Word got around that I was both a prude and an idiot, and for weeks since that infamous Valentine’s Day, blatant stares and snickering followed me everywhere. My sister got wind of what had happened and put an end to the bullying after threatening to (vocally) beat the absolute crap out of anyone who called me names, no matter their accuracy. Still, I knew what they were thinking. And for years afterward, the only sexual activity I would ever come close to consisted of my reading various Henry Miller novels and biographies on JFK.

For that, and for it all, I blame the dolls.

My Aesthete Self

I popped out with my best friend Dean at the weekend when we passed a woman walking along the street; and without hesitation, his neck craned as we drove past her and the only words he could muster up were “I’d love to fuck that!” swiftly followed by “I bet her pussy tastes like sweets!”

Now I don’t think like that.  That’s where we differ.  See, although I’m going through a seriously strong and sexual transitional stage, I still don’t feel I have that chauvinistic/dirty old pervert sense of perspective.  I do not look at women simply as sex objects.  Unlike Dean, who, for the rest of the journey, could only talk about tits and ass, as well as numerous other derogatory comments that shall not be repeated here.  Me, however, I’m very much an aesthete.

For me personally, a woman does not have to be naked to be sexy.  I see them more as art, so I keep saying.  You can do so much with more with the female form; from a tight pair of jeans to a flowery summer dress, hot pants to PJs, pretty pedicured feet and manicures, uniforms, stockings, suspenders, short skirts and a pair of high heels, right down to some lacy underwear, to name just a few,  The list is endless.  Nevertheless, they are all the ultimate in femininity and the epitome of sexy.  Like I said, sexy doesn’t have to be naked.  Seeing a lady all prettied up is a sight to behold.  It truly is.  You can shove your Edvard Munch!  I’ll take Lara-the-girl-next-door over La Gioconda (that’s the Monda Lisa to me and you) any day of the week.

Trust me, I think I have women envy.  And by that, I don’t mean the lucky little bastards who get to unwrap one each and every night.  I mean I’d love to be one in my next life, I really would.  The way in which I view women nowadays is pretty much like my outlook on life; some deep spiritual shit I can’t quite put my finger on.  The way I love women, I simply can’t explain.  It’s like they’re there in my blood circulating through my veins.  The love, respect and admiration I have for them is something else.

I don’t know.  I really don’t.  Just once do I wish I could come up with one line of profound shit, like previous genius writers who manage to articulate everything into one short, concise sentence.  Something that will be remembered forever.

Everything about a woman is truly invigorating.  I’m fascinated.  From the voice.  The silky-soft hair.  The warm, soft, smooth skin.  Their touch.  Their neck, shoulders, beautifully formed breasts, bum, legs, thighs, calves and ankles, right down to the feet.  I love them from head to toe.  Literally.  But most importantly, I love their power. It’s the way they can make fully-grown men feel like a brave cave man one minute and a puppy dog the next.

Birthday Sex

My cake from this weekend "Happy 23rd 'whatevah I do what I want' Birthday Jas"

Today (October 27) marks my 23rd 21st birthday again.. I plan to celebrate this birthday bittersweetly.. I am back at home.. and pretty much jobless.. but I have another year and will be around some pretty cool people!

I was thinking about what I want for my birthday (money, duh).. and one of those things is male companionship.. why?! Just cause.. I’ve never had one of those romantic birthdays.. I always spend them surrounded with friends (even when in a relationship).. but this year.. I want a some hot steamy break your back sex date.. I want to go somewhere with a fine ass attractive member of the male species and have lots of sex a good time..

But alas my friends, I won’t be doing that as there is no fine ass man in my life that I can tolerate want to go out with..

And that is where I cut the bull.. I just want birthday sex.. is that too much to ask for!?

Thank you Jeremih for the new notion

Signing off,

m. lauren —  THE MUTHAFK’N BIRTHDAY GIRL!

The Heavenly Experiment -- Realizing Our New DNA

I can completely understand the temptation to spend the majority of our Christian lives in the epistles. They are straight to the point, we have little in the way of cultural barriers, and we can go easily to application. Since I am teaching Prison Epistles this semester, I am immersed in some the greatest doctrine of the Early Church. I am also immersed in the most challenging practices.

The current challenge is Colossians 3. The call is to get our eyes up. We are to fix our gaze on what is above. It’s not about being “heavenly minded” in a way where we dream of gold streets. It’s being heavenly minded in that we get our eyes on the One who sits on the throne.

To have our gaze fixed on the Beautiful One, we need our eyes OFF of what we have normally looked at in our old lives. This is the challenge. There is a need for a “spiritual divorce.” Paul puts it more plainly: “Kill the old self.” It’s like a call for spiritual suicide.

We MUST starve the old life and learn about our new spiritual DNA. The old life is summed up in this thought: “I want what I want.”

Why do we have such intense battles over abortion and homosexual marriage? It’s not about “rights.” That’s the false argument. The underlying principle is serving the god of sex. Even more base is this: “I want what I want, when I want it, in any manner I want it.”

Any kind of sex in any manner in any form and in any way I choose to describe it. We worship at this altar in America.

This is so embedded in us it’s become part of our DNA.

Through Christ, we have a new DNA. THIS is what we put on now. THIS is the great challenge.

In a world that is all about violence and vulgarity, we are called to PUT ON these ridiculous traits:

Compassion, humility, kindness, meekness, patience, love, forgiveness…

How crazy is that? When we can tear down character, insult people publicly, act like idiots on TV and get instant fame, why on earth would we want to do anything else? How silly.

Well, if we want to insist on living as we want, we need to hand over the name “Christian.” It’s not our DNA. If we insist on “I want what I want,” our DNA isn’t about Christ, and we need to cease calling ourselves Christian. Our life is different in Christ. It’s his. Paul said it best in Galatians: “The life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

My DNA is supposed to be different. I need to know how to speak the truth in love. I need to learn how to forgive. Patience must become my hallmark. His word must dwell richly in me.

If I were new to this country and wanted to become a citizen, I would give myself to studying for this citizenship. My citizenship is heaven. I need to study the culture of my new “country.” I must take on that DNA.

Christ is my life.

You've got to be kidding me!

The other night, I was talking to the SU and the conversation was about talking to BFFs about their sex life. According to her, there is no way that she would discuss her sex life with her friends and vice-versa. According to her, it is something that would rather happen between men  and I say it is BS, that it would happen more often between girls than between men. I know it was a common thing between men when it was not a serious relationship, but once we would go steady, we would not talk about anything like that anymore.

So, who is right? Is the SU serious when she says girls do not talk about sex with their partners or am I right by saying she is wrong and girls do talk about the nasty between them?

Till then…

Milf Next Door At It's Best

Milf Next Door At It’s Best

We spent a whole day at the office complex trying to find a milfand we were ready to give up until we saw jasmine. she was coming down the skyway in thisamazing business suit that was showing off her cleavage. you could even see a little of thered bra that was holding back those tasty melons. she was on the way to get some lunchwhen we came along.…Join here!

www.onepeek.wordpress.com

Drunkest Ever Guy Goes For Beer

This guy gives new meaning to the word “paralytic” drunk and that’s for sure. The Drunkest Guy Ever has already gathered millions of YouTube views and you can see why – it’s horribly riveting to watch him scuttle around on his back like a crippled beetle, trying to right itself.

And you can bet his problems in “getting up” will extend far beyond standing on his two legs.

His girl friend – if this loser has a woman in his life which would be surprising – will have already discovered that excess alcohol consumption produces budding “super-studs” who end up being “all talk and no action!”

Alcohol Abuse Causes Impotence

Case studies have shown that long-term alcohol abuse causes alcohol impotence in men even when they are sober.

The bottom line is that at best excess alcohol leads to chronic sexual under-performance and at worst chronic alcohol impotence.

Yet other recent research shows women with any brains don’t stick around for men who drink and smoke excessively. Sorry buddy, failing to get more beer is the least of your problems!

Herbal Help

Herbal alternatives can help with erectile dysfunction, but if you’re drinking as heavily as our friend here is, there’s nothing going to save you from a life of bummed out sexual disappointments.  For the rest of the men in more control of their lives, there’s Herbal Ignite.

Oj, oj, oj...

… Netscape! Du har ingen aning om vad som händer i min hjärna nu efter att ha läst din kommentar! hahaha Men Dejten kommer att ha fullt upp i helgen…

Har funderat en massa idag. Över min vän M, ni vet hon som jag funderar på att “göra slut med”. Vi har inte pratat på ett ganska bra tag nu och jag är övertygad över att hon är skitsur för det. Men grejen är att hon börjat umgås med en tidigare nära vän till mig, A , som jag faktiskt gjorde slut med. Nu umgås alltså dessa två och eftersom jag är så obekväm i tidigare vännen A:s närvaro så har jag ingen lust att umgås med vännen M heller. Herregud! Är det någon som fattar vad jag menar!?! Det är svårt när man inte kan skriva ut namn… Min vän får helt enkelt kallas för M och min före detta vän för A.(lägger till det i texten ovan med)

M och A träffades iaf genom mig, när jag fortfarande var vän med A. De är otroligt lika och jag förstod snabbt att det skulle barka åt helsike med de två. Och mycket riktigt. De blev ovänner, gick och skrek h**a, f***a och andra vackra ord till varandra när de träffades ute på fyllan. När de var nyktra och möttes så ignorerade dom helt enkelt varandra och gick med näsan i vädret. Otrooooligt moget va!?! Men nu har dom helt plötsligt, som genom ett trollslag blivit vänner igen, bara för att båda råkade flytta till hus samtidigt och bor nästan bredvid varandra.

Och som sagt. Jag känner mig obekväm i A:s sällskap och därför umgås jag heller inte med M just nu. Om jag vill umgås med M så får jag liksom A på köpet… och det har jag ingen lust med. Det är inte så att jag är arg på henne, hatar henne eller på något annat sätt föraktar henne, men jag är helt enkelt obekväm i hennes sällskap. Punkt!

M har nog förmodligen inte en tanke på detta om jag känner henne rätt. Hon är helt enkelt bara förbannad över att jag inte hört av mig. Jag känner att jag borde kanske hanterat denna situationen annorlunda, men just då var det för mycket annat som pågick i mitt liv och jag behövde den energin jag hade helt enkelt.  Men nu känner jag att det är dags att ta tag i saken. Jag ska ringa till M, säga som det är och sen se vad reaktionen blir. Utifrån hennes reaktion kommer jag att fatta mitt beslut om vad jag ska säga därefter. Hon får på något sätt själv chansen att gottgöra lite av det hon ställt till med senaste tiden och långt innan det.

Jaha… och hur mår jag idag då? Feberfri, men ont i halsen som fasiken och mör i kroppen. Jag funderar seriöst på att gå och jobba i morgon, för jag är så galet uttråkad just nu! Jag hatar att var sjuk!

Nu ska jag iaf få något vettigt i magen. Att äta när halsen känns som ett rivjärn är sådär kan jag säga…

Puss på er och ha en trevlig kväll!

Monster Curves 6

Title Monster Curves 6 Genres All Sex,Anal, Big Boobs, Big Butt, Gonzo, Threesome Actors Ahryan Astin, Adrianna Nicole, Alexis Silver, Alexis Texas, Corina Jayden, Dylan Ryder, Sarah Vandela Studio Reality Kings Review Are you a fan of women with coke bottle shapes? When you see that round thing in your face do you get sprung? If this sounds like you, then this is the movie for you. We have here a collection of breasts and thighs that would give the Colonel a heart attack, and rumps so big and juicy you’ll want to break out your fork!

news on hwy 290

I think putting things on here about whats

going on is best.  O once i went to the woodlands

to meet this lady well, this recker driver towl me

the directions.  I got to this place where this

lady was and , i almost left in a hurry.  Came

to the door looked like a walrus.  But i went in.

Was kinda nervous at first.  Then sitting on the

couch kissin .  She was way to big.  The only thing

that was was a head job.  Well i just had to put

my hand between her legs.   It was all jucy .

I wash my hands off good.  A few times i put my

pecker in there i just had to  get all the cum out.

Then i could not get hard cause of the fat.

The last adventrue of gettin the wick wet was i

think  with some one from new orleans .

No it was from near Lufkin that spider lady.

I have not had too many wick wets. U know what

that means ? Means intercourse.  But with the

right person its probabley different ,hell if i

know.  That choke in the chicken ant no good.

It hurts after wards.  But still u get the urge to

have sex.  I think thats in born or some thing.

Hell sure idd like to to it with a black lady but

i prefer mex anglos.  Those colored winches

reeally like white meat.

A Moment of Bliss.

Just a quick, but maybe steamy poem for that sexy red head who holds my heart and soul.

A Moment of Bliss.

It is the taste of your skin,

a nectar divine.

As body heat mingles,

Yours and mine.

It is with those lips,

and those sacred hips,

love meets fruition

and souls entwine.

It is the way you move,

inside I quiver.

Joined together,

an ecstasy glows and shines,

and sparkles and shimmers.

When will YOUR ship come in?

Come work for me, have a blast, get great pay, work as little or as much as you want. Most people will pay in cash or checks, so you will actually be paid DAY OF PARTY. You will be paying me my commission, not the other way around. Whats to lose? Items have a 100% markup, you will make 70% of profit, I will make 30%. Example. You sell a vibrator for $70.00, profit is $35.00. Your commission will be $24.50. That is ONE VIBRATOR…..a $500.00 party is very easy, and not unusual. your income from that one party will be $175.00!!! Not bad pay for one party. IF there are credit card payments, then I will pay the fees associated. You will have NO OVERHEAD unless you wish to have stock (which is a good idea, which I will sell to you at COST) otherwise you can do catalog parties.
Of course if you wish to become a rep on your own, that is a very feasible with the kits being slashed in price right now.
So many options….we can build a team coast to coast and take this to a whole new level.
contact me direct @ barri@glicktruck.com or phone me at 914-799-1969
Lets get your future and finances moving FORWARD!!!!
Bringing Joy back into your bedroom and bank account-
Barri
www.lilatoy.com

P.S if you know someone who would like to get involved in a recession proof FUN business, please forward them my info. For every person who you send me, that either starts to work for me, or becomes a rep under me, you will get a $20.00 gift certificate to www.lilatoy.com

My new favorite book for sexy reading funtime!

This is my new favorite book for sexy reading funtime!

It is so very mysterious and a true story about an art forger. He makes pictures to look like Vermeer and is involved also with Nazis. It is soooo well written! I think the author is inside my head and speaks only to me. It is most sexiful feeling!

The author is very handsome! Ellie and Christine want him for sexy funtime in the bedroom! We would make him very happy!

I find this description of the book on the web. It is soooo true!

My advice: Get a copy of Jonathan Lopez’s terrific new book, “The Man Who Made Vermeers.” It’s so jam-packed and nicely written that you’ll burn right through it.

The yearning for Vermeer is central to Lopez’s story, which chronicles how Han van Meegeren was able to successfully produce numerous forgeries of works claimed to be by the painter from Delft. Look at some of those fakes today, and they seem so obviously wrong as to leave one puzzled as to how they could have been accepted by some of the 20th century’s best museum curators, art dealers and private collectors. We must be way smarter than them.

Well, no. Lopez astutely points out: “[A] fake doesn’t necessarily succeed or fail according to the fidelity with which it replicates the distant past but on the basis of its power to sway the contemporary mind. Although the best forgeries may mimic the style of a long-dead artist, they tend to reflect the tastes and attitudes of their own period.” Lopez shows how Van Meegeren split that critical difference.

Since the “tastes and attitudes” of Van Meegeren’s own period included the horrific rise of Nazism in Europe, Lopez’s fresh interpretation of events is very provocative — not to mention convincing. Two important things he brings to his four-year revisionist study: The writer is himself a painter, so he understands art materials in a hands-on way; and, he’s fluent in Dutch, which made interviews and original document research possible.

It would be hard to improve on Lopez’s gem of a tale.

Orduda grup seks skandalı

Çok önemli görevdeki bir askerin sekreteri grup seks partilerine katılmış…

İngiltere’de nükleer denizaltıların üretiminden sorumlu Tuğamiral Stephen Lloyd’un özel sekreterinin, tanımadığı kişilerle grup seks partilerine katıldığı ortaya çıktı. 48 yaşındaki Julia Sinclair adlı kadının gizli seks hayatı, partnerlerinden bazılarının arkadaşlarına gönderdiği fotoğraflarla ifşa oldu. Güvenlik danışmanı Chris Dobson, nükleer silahlara ilişkin gizli bilgilere ulaşabilme yetkisine sahip olan Sinclair’in tanımadığı kişilerle ilişkiye girerek, şantaja açık bir kapı bıraktığını, bu durumun da yabancı gizli servisler için bulunmaz bir fırsat olduğunu söyledi.

En dildo ser lite läskig ut...

Rammstein slår till med en ny “porrskandal”. Man släpper en box med sex dildos, handbojor och glidmedel, men försäljningen stoppas i Sverige. “En dildo ser lite läskig ut”, säger Charlie Åberg på Universal. “Vi har en tydlig policy angående vapen, våld och porr”, säger Pär Björkänge, en av de ansvariga på Åhléns city i Stockholm. (Expressen)

Associerar man sexhjälpmedel enbart med porr och tycker att dildos är en anledning till försäljningsstopp vill jag inte ens tänka på hur deras sexliv ser ut, men det lär ju inte slå några lågor i deras sängar i alla fall!
“Moralpanik”, sa Bill, “störtlöjligt” var ordet, sa Bull.
Länkar till andra bloggar om: musik, underhållning, rock, hårdrock, Rammstein, porr, dildo, sex, sexhjälpmedel,

Beautiful

“On the way back,” I shot at him with a smile as I hurried past his little table with its collection bucket and rushed to the bank.  I saw him again about half an hour later, this time laden with a few arbitrary purchases, and I remembered my promise.  I stopped, dug in my handbag and hauled out a euro coin.  “There, see, I didn’t forget.”

He looked up at me, quite a handsome chap.  “I just have to say this.  You’re a really beautiful woman.”

My smile widened.  “Thanks!” I said, and went on my way.

This is me:

Nothing special, nothing to write home about.  What could have inspired this sweet guy to say I’m beautiful?

He couldn’t have been hoping to move me to give to his cause, as I had already popped my coin into the bucket.  There was no sense of this being a chat-up line, and you’ll have to take my word for it because I was there.  It was merely an observation, without any expectation of it leading to anything.  Also, it wasn’t the first time I’d been told I’m beautiful.

Guys started reacting to me in this way when I was around twenty.  I had come through the most difficult years of my life, and emerged on the other side of a bout of self-harm, near suicide and the loss of all my dreams shaken and stripped of self-confidence.  I had nothing left, both spiritually and physically.  At that point, I stopped giving a shit.

Now very often, people who say they don’t give a shit actually do give a shit.  Not giving a shit is a carefully cultivated part of their image.  What I mean when I say I stopped giving a shit is that I looked at myself and truly believed I could never be attractive to another human being beyond the superficial level.  There’s stuff I know about myself which makes this statement heartfelt, a genuine sentiment which I still hold.  I am a horrendous piece of work on the inside, and I have done unspeakable harm to those around me.

Accepting this fact about myself brought about a kind of freedom.  I stopped wearing clothes to try and look good, and started dressing to feel good.  I’m not talking worn-out track suits in which I was comfortable but looked like shit.  I’m talking dungarees and tee shirts, hiking boots and sandals.  Comfortable but not looking yucky (you might disagree, but the important thing was how it made me feel).  I stopped wearing make-up.  I stopped thinking about my hairstyle as something to make me look good to others, and started wearing my hair in a way that looked okay to me and was comfortable and practical.  I stopped trying to present myself to the world as anything but what I was: a failure.  And I started living my life to enjoy it as much as was possible while trying not to harm anyone else.

As I mentioned, the effect was puzzling.  The more honest I tried to be about who and what I was, the more I found guys taking an interest in me.  Of course, the most important guy who took an interest in me also married me, and gave me a life I could only have dreamed of before he came along.

I’m not stupid or ignorant (I think), I noticed what was happening.  Men being interested in me was a change in the status quo – I’d been a lonely, boyfriend-less teen – so I couldn’t help but notice.  And I did wonder what on earth was going on.  I’m not one of these women who hate what they look like, but I’m also under no illusions that I’m a beauty queen. I’m not fat, but I’m not thin either.  If I cared to make myself all depressed I could make a very long list of physical flaws here right now.

A guy friend I trusted told me some things which left me quite touched (and a bit stunned, but that’s another story altogether).  He said: “I find you one of the most attractive women I’ve ever met.  There’s a quiet self-confidence and a deep friendliness about you that makes me weak at the knees.”

No, he was not trying to get into my pants.  This was after we’d tried having a relationship and realised it would never work, and went into one of these lovely comfortable friendships you can have between a guy and a girl when the whole let’s-have-sex thing is dealt with and discarded as a bad idea.

And the reason I indulge in such a self-indulgent, onw-horn-blowing kind of post is because I so wish I could convince every woman in the world of this: just accept yourself, flaws and all.  And at the same time, strive to be as honest about who and what you are as you can.  That is what is attractive in another person.  Not a perfect body, not flawless make-up, not any amount of hairspray or the best stylist in the world.

I don’t particularly like myself.  I don’t think I’m physically all that.  But most importantly, as a rule, I don’t think about these things at all.  I just am who I am.  And honestly, I think that’s what guys see, what attracts them to me.

They get over it quickly when they find out what a mess I really am. (c;  If I can come across as attractive, I promise you, so can you.  It’s not in the mirror image that stares back at you.  However cliched this statement may be, beauty lies in what you are.  And how much you accept yourself.

Feeling Better

Yesterday night I texted Bobby asking him if he would like to spend the night and he never replied. Matt came over this morning to take back the TV he gave me. He has been making excuses to see me a lot so he can guilt me about having sex with Bobby and hurting him so bad. So I faked an apology so he can feel better about it and I can move on from this petty game. We went for lunch after and he told me all about his new girl. I listened because it made him feel better and I got a better sense of who he is. I went to the dentist and got a tooth fixed. I feel good about that. I went to work and had an awesome conversation with my friend Rozy. She is a kindred spirit. And now I am home.

This next week is going to be pretty busy for me. Tomorrow morning I am going to the mall to buy my halloween costume and get a new dress for a birthday party I’m going to on friday. Later that evening I am going to a corn maze with Becca. We tried to go twice already and the first time we got lost and ended up going to a movie but the projector broke so we just went home. The second time Becca had just woke up from a nap and didn’t want to go walking in the cold for 3 hours so we settled on a movie and went and saw 9. So this time we are determined to make it work. On Friday I am going grocery shopping and for lunch with my friend Emily and then going to work and then going to Cody’s birthday party. Bobby will be there for sure but I plan on ignoring him the whole night the way he chose to ignore me when I wanted him. If he doesn’t care then I’ll probably move on but if he does care then I’ll be getting laid that night.

I’m excited to keep myself so busy.

Who wants to be a sexist cougar?

Okay, in the past week we’ve posted on racism (blackface) amd sizeism (little people). Although there are many more “-isms” to cover, let’s now deal with some sexism.

The clip you are about to watch is from Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, and I can categorically state that this scene would never have occurred if the host were male and the contestant a woman. So, here we have the host, a horny old cougar, Meredith Vieira, about to devour a young Navy pilot. I’ve never seen anything quite like this — I’m surprised Meredith didn’t stick to the chair when she stood up.

What this clip shows us is that all “-isms” are relative, not universal. I use the word ‘relative’ here because it seems the “rules” of behaviour that now shape the way in which men relate to women in public do not apply equally to women in their treatment of men.

So, here you go, girls, payback time for all those years of oppression and regularly being treated as eye candy!

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desperate housewife wannabe?

i am so tired of being exhausted, completely overwhelmed, and feeling stupid. i guess that’s what a new job will do to you. feeling stupid is especially exhausting to me. i’m not really that used to it. that may sound stuck up…but whatev. this is my blog.

lately i’ve been thinking about sex roles and gender identity. our society typically looks to women to be the caregivers, the more emotional of the sexes, and the ones who truly make a house a home. i think that for the most part, the aforementioned is true. however, i wonder about people like me–sometimes i think that i could be really domestic, and then other times, the thought makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit. i realize that the ‘throw up’ thing is extremely unappealing to men, and that is most likely why i am single.

it is said that men are attracted to women that are fertile–while i have no idea about my fertility, i believe that men are innately attracted to women that have a natural desire to nurse, nurture, and be nincompoops. of course, no offense if you are a married/taken woman..i’m in no way suggesting that all women that are not single are useless–i’m simply saying that men tend to gravitate toward women that don’t challenge them in any way, but especially intellectually. i know many many men and most of them are dating women that have jobs or iq’s that could be seen as ‘less’ than what they have (btw, i’m not saying that the job or iq of anyone i know is less than their male counterpart, but i do believe that men believe it to be true, if that makes sense). men also seem to be attracted to women that don’t have as much ambition as they do. they want to be the adventurers and they want their women to nurture. i’m not saying that this is entirely wrong…afterall, i do believe that in general men were born with more of a tendency toward adventure than women. but that’s not always the case. some women really don’t want to be trophy wives. is that okay?

i really dislike the idea/assumption that women (or men) should be a certain way in order to fulfill their gender role. i often doubt my ability to dedicate my life to the ‘american dream/american family’ thing. i get disgusted at the sheer image of a dirty, ornery child. when i think about sitting at home all day, every day, i go insane.  i start to feel like i can’t breathe when i think about my life becoming about nothing but carting my suburban children around in a mini-van. i feel like so many parents (especially moms) lose themselves and have no identity other than mother/wife. again, if that is what one desires, i have no problem with it. but i must wonder…is the role of wife/mother the highest level of achievement for a woman in our society? and if so, why?

i think it could be fun to be a mother. i think i might love being a wife. but i hate when people make comments to me (which happens more than one might realize) suggesting that i don’t care about typical things that ‘most’ women care about, simply because i’m not on a desperate search to find my baby’s daddy. while i can appreciate the allure of staying home: coffee with friends, lunching, maybe an hour volunteering with the PTA, and spending all of your husband’s money on clothes/household items/new ‘ingredients’ for that ’special’ recipe, when i apply that situation to my own life, i feel empty and sad.

i’m sure there are a plethora of moms that are thrilled to be home, and i’m not hating on stay at home moms. my mom was a stay at home mom for most of my life, and i’m not gonna lie, i loved every second of it as a kid. but as an adult, i can’t help but wonder if that’s what she really wanted, or if she regrets it at all. i know she wanted to raise us as opposed to someone else raising us and i love that (and should i ever have kids, i want to find a way to do this and still work), but is there something missing when society teaches women that their only importance is to bear and raise children, keep a clean house, make a delicious dinner, and look desirable for their husbands?

i’m just not on that bandwagon. again, i’m not going to chastise someone for being on it, but it’s not for me. i’m not saying that i have no desire to be a wife or a mother…but i have no desire to have that life (you know…the “i run my kids everywhere and do 75 loads of laundry a day, look like a bedgraggled mess and have no time to enjoy myself , my husband, or my friends). i don’t want my every written word, spoken word, or thought to be about my kids and how they run my life. maybe that’s selfish. i’m sure anyone that’s a parent thinks that i’m a total a-hole. it is what it is.

i think that moms are amazing, and many of them skillfully preserve their self-identity, raise a family, and have a successful marriage. but i feel like i know so many who make the whole of their lives about others–and even though i believe that our general life focus should be on others, i think that there is a very important piece of self-preservation that is essential and healthy. i especially think it’s important for kids to see that sometimes “their dad” comes before them, and sometimes “their mom” needs to have coffee with a friend instead of being cooped up in the house with them all day and all night.

i guess you can’t have it all. maybe it’s different once you experience it. but i think that one of my big realizations about myself is this: one of my biggest ‘life fears’ is being a trapped suburbian mom with no adventure, no mystique, no self-satisfaction. i want the wife and mother thing. but i also want to put this $100,000 education to use. i want to have an active part in foreign relief/missions. i want to travel and experience life.  does that make me an ‘inadequate’ woman? does that mean that i am not fulfilling my purpose on this earth? does it make me evil or selfish?

maybe. but maybe it makes me someone who wants to show my kids what life is really about according to me. then again, maybe it just makes me an a-hole. i’ll accept either.

Tickets pour de chaudes sessions

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Brown Sugar Bullshit!

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”

You are now free to move about the fucking cabin!

fantasy

sometimes I wonder that if what is in my head will always be better than anything in reality… like if I really was with a woman, would it be what I picture it like?  Will I like it?  Will it fill my desire like I think it would?  Or would I still be unsatisfied and continue finding a fantasy in my head.

I hate my body, pretty much always have… so will the act of real sexual encounters always be a let down until I like what I look like?  I mean in my fantasies not only am I with a hot chick, but I either have a nice athletic fit body or I am me as a guy with a hot body.  So I see myself in a completely diff way than I am right now.

So would I be happy if I lost weight and liked my body and if my hub was replaced with the perfect girlfriend and everything else about my life was the same… living here in my house taking care of my kids?  Would I finally be satisfied in this life?  Or is there something more to it all?  Is it really something else I want?

Swedes are for fucking and fucking over

Because I was taught most of my english by Australians I also learnt to speak like them. This comes with both pros and cons. Pros: I don’t get fucked over by cabbies trying to drive me around in circles and as long as I dont get stuck on a word or slip out something with an accent, people take me that little bit more seriously (a good thing when you’re already blonde with big boobs). But it comes with equally as many cons, if not more: At uni I am expected to produce essays and hold presentations etc of the same quality as a native, and I am assumed to know things that I actually have no clue about and use the same vocabulary as everyone else. I still hear words that I have never heard before almost everyday. Because people think I’m from here, it is particularly frustrating at the times when I struggle to express myself in the way that I want to. They don’t take into consideration that I am speaking a second language (not even when they know I am Swedish) just that is a fucking good effort(!), they just see a blonde girl using a fairly basic vocabulary and therefore get the idea that they are just that little bit more intelligent than me and thereby superior. If they are aware of my Swedish heritage you can add the prejudice of me being easy and constantly sex starved. Whoever claims not to have these prejudices is lying. And sure, we are liberal, open (no, not literally) and most of us love having and talking about sex. This should be seen as a good thing! Non-swedes are no angels, they just judge in silence!

What brought this topic up was a guy that I met at a club two weeks ago. The same guy that I was referring to when I wrote that it felt like I had been raped both physically and emotionally. This man was in my home, in my bed. And he has the fucking guts to do this:

When I met him at the club and he asked me to come back to his I said I was not interested in having sex. If that’s what he wanted he still had an hour to find someone else. He managed to talk me into letting him come back to mine (I’m such a fucking idiot). Then he spent all night trying to have sex. I kept saying no… Until that morning, when I for some reason gave in.
After about a minute it was over. And do you want to know what the guy says?! “Oh well, I think you’re a fake Swedish person anyway”.

Can you believe this guy?! At that point he was still inside me! I was too shocked to say anything. And that’s probably a good thing seeing as he ws 1.97 cm tall and all muscle. I don’t think it would have been a very clever thing to slap him. He left straight afterwards and I was left feeling extremely disappointed in myself and mankind.

It is hard to not become a cynical in this world, but I sure as hell am trying. I want to believe that everyone is good deep inside and that there are nice guys out there, but sometimes you just get all the air sucked out of you and it’s hard to recover from it.

Cheek Freaks 8

Title Cheek Freaks 8 Genres All Sex, Anal, Big Butt Actors Mayara Shelson, Nikki Jayne, Pamela Butt Studio Evil Angel Review Cheek Freaks 8 finds Jazz Duro capturing a quartet of extremely anal-friendly doxies teasing and pleasing. Inflatable dildos, anal beads, dog-collars and leashes are all on the kinky menu for Brazilian Mayara, Pamela Anderson-lookalike Pamela Butt, and the two Nikkis – Miss Jaye and Miss Rio. Buttman Presents Jazz Duro’s Cheek Freaks 8 is a single disc with photo galleries and trailers

Curiosity

I slept with this guy (who’ll be Cute Geek)  on Sunday and last night/this morning. On Sunday it was fun as long as it lasted, and last night/this morning he made me come.

Yesterday I met up with my childhood friend (whoäll be Ninja from now on). I was supposed to just meet up with her, leave her stuff and go home again. We ended up sitting at the train station and talked for about half an hour. Then she was meeting up with a friend of mine who she’s also friends with now.

I told Cute Geek that I’d been talking to Ninja and told her some about him. He got really curious xD Black Lotus is really curious about what’s going on with us too xD

I don't like the word whore. I prefer the term penis enthusiast.

I wish I had updated this sooner. In less that one week, I have slept with my ****man, My novelist (yes he writes books) – whom I shared by bed with for many nights unless someone else was in there. I also gave a Handy to the guy I gave my first ever handy too, many many moons ago. The next evening I pashed 3 guys and 1 chick. The evening after that, I had crazy manic full on hardcore sex, with explosive orgasms’ (yes I also got head) in the bed of an enemy. I’m pure evil. To top it off, once we were done, and I was reaching for his fingers to edge inside me for one more good time, he announce he is Married. Married with two babies – oh buts its ok, my wife’s a fatty and I haven’t had sex with her in over a year, and this is the first time I’ve done something like this, and you’re not just a casual fuck, I would really like to see you again. Then he showed me pictures of his children and wife. Now I’ve read a fair bit about this, and seen many movies, and it literally crushes me when I see a married man do this to his wife. I have sunk to an all new low. I slept with a married man. I can’t believe it. I’m shocked. But I was also that out of it, I can’t say I wouldn’t have still done it, even if he had told me he was married. He has a wonderful body, beautiful shaped muscles on his calves and forearms. He is a dreamy early thirties, and I can officially say, perhaps age does mean increased experience. He was 100% better that the 39 year old I slept with a few months ago. So, after conquering three sexual partners this week, I’m officially spent. I’ve also realised I am alcoholic. I start my first meeting tomorrow. Yesterday was a struggle but I managed to survive on only two glasses of wine and one beer. It was hard work but I achieved it. I’m also so broke. This weekend I’m attending a local whore house with a few female friends. Hopefully I get to make some cash, I haven’t resorted to this since I was 15 years old and worked as a professional whore with a high class junkie, yes they do exist! Wish me luck for money!

I wish I had updated this sooner. In less that one week, I have slept with my ****man, My novelist (yes he writes books) – whom I shared by bed with for many nights unless someone else was in there.

I also gave a Handy to the guy I gave my first ever handy too, many many moons ago.  The next evening I pashed 3 guys and 1 chick.

The evening after that, I had crazy manic full on hardcore sex, with explosive orgasms’ (yes I also got head) in the bed of an enemy. I’m pure evil. To top it off, once we were done, and I was reaching for his fingers to edge inside me for one more good time, he announce he is Married. Married with two babies – oh buts its ok, my wife’s a fatty and I haven’t had sex with her in over a year, and this is the first time I’ve done something like this, and you’re not just a casual fuck, I would really like to see you again. Then he showed me pictures of his children and wife.

Now I’ve read a fair bit about this, and seen many movies, and it literally crushes me when I see a married man do this to his wife. I have sunk to an all new low. I slept with a married man. I can’t believe it. I’m shocked. But I was also that out of it, I can’t say I wouldn’t have still done it, even if he had told me he was married.

He has a wonderful body, beautiful shaped muscles on his calves and forearms. He is a dreamy early thirties, and I can officially say, perhaps age does mean increased experience. He was 100% better that the 39 year old I slept with a few months ago.

So, after conquering three sexual partners this week, I’m officially spent. I’ve also realised I am alcoholic. I start my first meeting tomorrow. Yesterday was a struggle but I managed to survive on only two glasses of wine and one beer. It was hard work but I achieved it. I’m also so broke. This weekend I’m attending a local whore house with a few female friends. Hopefully I get to make some cash, I haven’t resorted to this since I was 15 years old and worked as a professional whore with a high class junkie, yes they do exist! Wish me luck for money!

Pupaza si Crapul. Episodul 9

CONTINUARE

Reusisem sa ajungem pe bratul Sulina, cu o bere in mana cautam tabara camarazilor mei. Cunosteam foarte bine locurile de aici si nu aveam cum sa ma fi ratacit. Prietenii mei nu se aflau in zona si orice incercare de a face un contactat telefonic parea inutila intrucat nu aveam semnal.

In timp ce orbecaiam prin padure vremea incepea sa isi faca de cap. O furtuna ce parea sa nu fie de scurta durata se pornise iar padurea scotea niste zgomote inspaimantatoare. Hotarasc sa ma intorc la masina si sa intind repede un cort pana nu este prea tarziu.

La masina Angela era parca era speriata de  bombe.

-Eu nu dorm in cort! Imi este frica! Nici macar nu o intrebasem unde vrea sa dorma.

-Daca nu dormi in cort insemna ca ai sa dormi langa cort! aplic eu regula stiind ca ea vrea in masina.

-De ce nu dormim in masina? insista ea.

In timp ce intind cortul rafalele de vant si de ploaie ma obliga sa imi pun pelerina de ploaie. In 10 minute cortul este instalat si in timp ce conectez cablul de la baterie la sursa de lumina ii explic ca in masina nu se poate dormi mai bine decat in cort. Ea nimic Batman, Batman. Ca in cort e frig, ca sunt serpi, ca bate vantul, ca daca o sa rastoarne furtuna vreun copac peste cort, ca o sa racesca la ovare etc. O las sa bodoganeasca si umflu repede salteaua pneomatica. Iau radioul, sacii de dormit si doua perne, inchid masina intru in cort si incep sa aranjez lucrurile inauntru.

-De ce nu vrei sa dormim in masina? ma intreaba ea in timp ce isi arunca o privire in cort.

Ii explic repede ca masina nu este pentru dormit, ca o sa amorteasca, ca nu se poate incalzi pentru ca nu va mai folosi sacul de dormit si o invit in cort. Trag fermoarele in urma ei si ii dau sacul de dormit.

In cort este mai liniste decat afara si datorita sursei de lumina (o lampa de neon de 9w conectata la 12v cc) se poate vedea foarte bine. In timp ce se imparteau pijamalele imi vine o idee geniala. Fug repede la masina si il iau pe prietenul Alex si iau niste material de lectura (niste reviste mai deocheate pe care le aveam prin masina). In timp ce din cutia de bere improvizez o scrumiera ii fac cunostinta Angelei cu Alex.

Binenteles a urmat un preludiu verbal, povesti pescaresti, politica, vreme, mediu, bla bla bla. Pana cand ajunsi cu sticla de Alexandrion aproape goala ridic ochii din revista catre Angela. Ea nu se compara cu niciuna din taraturile alea care pozasera in revista. In primul rand avea ceva ce pizdele obisnuite nu aveau – ea avea creier, era incapatanata si avea acel dar al contrazicerii foarte rar intalnit la femei. Acest lucru ma facea sa o consider diferita si sa mi-o doresc cu atat mai mult.

Ceea ce a urmat s-a sincronizat foarte bine cu furtuna. Aerul ionizat parca fara suficient oxigen era inspirat zgomotos de nasile noastre. Gemetele erau acoperite de furtuna, din cand in cand o pala de vant umfla veranda cortului neancorata. Tunetele si fulgere ne faceau sa tresarim cu repetate contractii placute ale organelor sexuale. Ne oprim in sfarsit epuizati si eliberati in acelasi timp de energiile consumate in timpul celei mai furtunoase partide de amor. Afara furtuna se oprise deodata si incepuse o ploaie tropicala.

VA URMA

No That Ain't No Way To Be, I'm So Over It ♥

So you hear all these motivational speakers, and speakers that just like to raise awareness on dating and date rape etc., etc. talk about when it’s your turn to step in and stop something you know isn’t right. Well, I’ve been trying to do so, maybe not in the right way all the time, but definitely trying to keep my roommate from getting hurt for the 3294372349th time.

Today, I was telling one of my sorority sisters that one of her friends needs to mind her own business and stop butting into her relationship issues. Well, I’m taking my own advice now. I don’t like this person and my roommate knows this. It’s funny hearing girls say how different he is… yeah he’s in his own freaking scumbag league. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so inconsiderate, non-supportive, rude, and ignorant in my life. But, it’s no longer my place to say anything. I’ve been trying for 3 years to help my roommate realize that she deserves better, but until she realizes it, nothing’s going to change. So with that said, I hope she learns to have an open mind about internet dating sites, because that seems to be the only thing he’s interested in these days and what guy wants to be with a girl who isn’t interested in the same things he is?

Needless to say, this will most likely be my last post about her relationship issues. Giving my opinion, sometimes even when it’s asked for, just causes problems and it’s not worth fighting with her. She’s my best friend and all I ever wanted was for her to be happy. She’s on my blog roll if you find her story interesting. She probably tells her story better than I do anyways. Peace ♥

on observing me

Yesterday I watched Inglorious Basterds – which was awesome – and afterwards I had a beer a local irish pub. Apart from noticing the nice detail that there were two tables with metal people, we also talked about polyamory and love. First off, I was told “polyamory” is wrong. It should be either “multiamory” or “polyphilia”. That thought never occurred to me, but it does make some sense. Anyhow lingual purity, especially given two dead languages, is an unrealistic and silly demand anyhow.

But I do have a serious point to make. It has to do with the question what love is how we recognize something as love. There are, I think, two plausible answers to this: A phenomenological answer that focuses on private experience and a sociological answer that focuses on the de facto social structures that two or more people construct by “doing love”. We recognize roles and structures in our society by being engaged in and observing certain repeated, structurally distinct behavioral patterns. These may be as simple as the bank teller by where (s)he usually sits and as complex as recognizing from posture, expression and subtle words that someone is trying to flirt with you.
Love as a love relationship is a socially constructed reality, it consists of nothing else but repeated actions, formed and fulfilled expectations and the understanding that this whole package “yes indeed is a love relationship.” As a society, we aim to structure our common social reality in ways that make it easy for us to navigate it. That means, we strife for recognizability. It’s important that relevant aspects of the social reality – such as who are your betters, who is the doctor and with whom can you safely mate – can be easily spotted and interpreted correctly. As with any social construct, we hand the ability to engage in its construction and to navigate the social world that it generates on to our children in the many ways that children learn from their parents. I would suppose it’s mostly emulation, but I’m no developmental psychologist.
I guess, by now you see where this is going: In my 30 years of life, I have learned and internalized how a love relationship looks, what kind of behavior patterns should recur in it and to find deviations from that form mildly disturbing. While my expectations are probably less conservative than those of the majority, I cannot deny – and neither can you, I’m sure – that there are certain taken for granted things that you use as heuristics in spotting who’s got a love relationship with whom and how it’s going.
And in many ways, the relationship I’m in does not conform to that.

On the other side of this divide is what you could call inner experience if you want to. But it’s not just “how I feel” or anything esoterical about soul-mates or what not. This, too is an empirical category, but it is not concerned with a social construct “out there”, but with myself. It is about me and my behavior and emotional experience. What I experience here is in parts emotional: how I feel towards Kitty in various situations – it’s not like there is one feeling throughout, but it’s a fractured multiplicity that only through cognition gets integrated into a whole – love. It is also an observation of my own behavior – how I act towards her in various situations. I think an important marker was sticking with her during the whole affair with the threat. Much more than a sense of why I did, the exprience of doing it makes me see that I love her. You could say that by observing myself acting in accordance with my idea of how a lover acts towards another – and more specificly how I act towards those I love – I find reassurance that this complex of emotional experiences does indeed constitute that I love her.

Thus, while I feel very strongly that I love Kitty, I have problems seeing our relationship as a love relationship as I habitually and unquestioningly “define” it. I think that this mostly due to three things: Polyamory – which was not even in my dictionary before a couple of months ago, the absence of sex and – at times – tenderness and intimacy and finally, going back to our early time together, BDSM. I have spoken about the first two parts extensively and I think it should be obvious why that would be difficult to integrate into any construct that I would want to call a love relationship. The last part is less obvious and I’m not sure how to best explain it. But I’ll try.
Before meeting Kitty, I’ve been in a seven year relationship, where I always wanted BDSM, but it was never part of it. I had acquired certain anticipations regarding “what women want” in a relationship, based on what the nurse wanted. These included “no BDSM”. During the early days of my relationship with Kitty, we would try to have a D/s in our relationship and it was quite difficult for me to get into that, to learn that kind of thing. And before I managed to do that, the problems that lead to the absence of sex started to creep in. Leaving me with half an experience of how it should work and in a difficult situation with a difficult girlfriend in which to complete that learning.

So much for the analysis, now what do I make of it?
For one thing, I do think that coming to terms with how a love can look in a relationship is on the agenda. I’m not sure how it will turn out, but I don’t think that my learned pattern is what I will always be stuck with. On the other hand, there are things that might turn out to be important to me that I’ve never considered before. I do think that I will come to some kind of integration and idea of a love relationship, that will work within the polyamory framework that I seems I will move within. And as far as BDSM goes: “difficult” might be just another word for rewarding.

Fellatio tak Semudah Blow Job

Melakukan fellatio tidak semudah blow job. Namun jika Anda mengerti tekniknya Anda akan mendapatkan hasil yang lebih memuaskan.

Bingung melakukan kepuasan seks yang ideal untuk pasangan? Fellatio bisa menjadi alternatif. Lalu, apa sih sebenarnya fellatio itu?

Fellatio adalah seks oral yang dilakukan terhadap Mr Dick. Fellatio dapat dilakukan untuk merangsang orgasme dan ejakulasi semen.

Fellatio umumnya disebut sebagai blow job. Istilah ini berasal dari bahasa Latin fellar yang berarti ‘menghisap’.

Fellatio adalah aktivitas seks yang khusus ditujukan untuk laki-laki. Jika Anda ingin sesekali menyenangkan pasangan, entah itu untuk foreplay, after play atau bahkan saat ML, maka fellatio adalah pilihan tepat.

Namun sebaiknya diingat, jika fellatio menjadi pilihan, berarti perempuanlah pihak yang aktif. Fellatio harus dilakukan atas keinginan Anda, karena jika Anda tidak berniat melakukannya, secara psikologis akan mengurangi kenikmatannya.

Banyak orang mengasumsikan fellatio adalah blow job. Namun sebenarnya, fellatio jauh dari sekadar blow job. Jika blow job lebih banyak mengonsentrasikan aktivitas mulut pada Mr Dick, pada fellatio Anda diharapkan lebih mengeksplorasi diri Anda dan tidak hanya menggunakan mulut.

Fellatio menganjurkan Anda menggunakan jemari untuk merangsang daerah sekitar genital, yaitu paha dalam, dan bokong. Karena sebenarnya area sensitif laki-laki tidak hanya Mr Dick. Untuk membuat lelaki terangsang, Anda dapat menyentuh kulit di sekitar area genitalnya.

Saat melakukan fellatio, Anda dan pasangan harus sepakat terlebih dahulu. Tentang rangsangan yang akan Anda lakukan, dan kesediaan pasangan menerimanya.

Sebagai contoh, lelaki kerap memegang kepala pasangannya saat Fellatio dengan sedikit menekan. Ini membuat rasa tak nyaman bagi perempuan. Selain itu, jika terlalu lama, otot mulut bisa mengalami kejang. Beberapa alasan inilah yang paling utama dikeluhkan sebagian perempuan. Namun, biasanya perempuan lebih bisa memendam ketidaknyamanan ini demi terwujudnya kepuasan seksual lelaki.

Ada beberapa langkah khusus agar fellatio dapat dilakukan dengan nyaman dan menyenangkan seperti yang dikutip dari askmen.com.

1. Mulailah dengan membelainya dengan lembut, mencium dan memusatkan perhatian di seputar Mr Dick, buah pelir, paha dalam dan perut bagian bawah. Jika pasangan Anda belum terangsang, maka dia akan segera terangsang begitu anda menggodanya.

2. Buat gerakan pertama sebagai sesuatu yang mengejutkan dan memberikan kesenangan pada Anda berdua. Lakukan gerakan yang berbeda secara bergantian misalnya: pusatkan gerakan pada kepala Mr Dick saja.

3. Bermainlah dengan Mr Dick selama dua menit. Cium, jilat dan goda dengan mulut dan gerakan tangan Anda. Lakukan yang sama untuk ‘bola’-nya. Bersenang-senanglah dan kreatif. Ubahlah teknik dari waktu ke waktu. Tujuan anda akan membuatnya memanas dan tak berhenti menggelinjang.

4. Mulailah fellatio dengan sungguh-sungguh: lakukan gerakan naik-turun, seperti saat Mr Dick memasuki Miss V. Berikan tekanan dan sedotan dengan lembut dan gunakan lidah anda, tetapi terus lakukan gerakan naik-turun. Anda sedang membuatnya siap untuk orgasme.

5. Lingkarkan jemari anda di seluruh batang Mr Dick di bawah mulut, sementara Anda menambah tempo, tekan Mr Dick dan gerakan tangan Anda seirama dengan gerakan mulut. Jagalah irama antara tangan dan gerakan naik turun dari mulut, berikan sedotan ‘akhir’ dan jilat frenulum-nya. Dia akan mengalami ejakulasi setelah lima menit.

Melakukan fellatio tidak semudah blow job. Namun jika Anda mengerti tekniknya Anda akan mendapatkan hasil yang lebih memuaskan. Pasangan akan mengalami orgasme lebih lama, dan Anda tidak akan mengalami pegal pada otot rahang dan leher. [Mor]

Cine este împotriva legalizării prostituţiei?

Am citit o serie de articole din presă, de pe bloguri şi comentariile cititorilor legate de subiectul aflat din nou în actualitate în societatea românescă, acela al oportunităţii legalizării prostituţiei. Astfel am putut să-mi fac, cât de cât o părere despre cum este percepută această problemă de cetăţenii României şi cum se împart aceştia în funcţie de felul în care se raportează la ea. Concluzia tristă pe care am tras-o este că fac parte dintr-un popor înapoiat, cretin şi ipocrit.

Deci, cine este împotriva legalizării prostituţiei?

1. Biserica Ortodoxă Română (B.O.R.). Reprezentaţii bisericii sunt împotrivă pentru că “aşa se cade”, devreme ce ei sunt apărătorii spiritualităţii, moralităţii şi tradiţiilor (?!) poporului român. În plus, o serie de preoţi care deja sunt clienţi obişnuiţi ai prostituatelor se tem că, odată cu scoaterea la lumină a acestor îndeletniciri, ar putea fi prinşi şi ei în fapt în timp ce se dedau la preacurvie în locurile de practicare, devenite publice.

2. Adversarii politici ai lui Băsescu şi susţinătorii acestora. Din moment ce propunerea vine de la partidul de guvernare şi de la preşedinţie, trebuie în mod categoric să fie împotrivă. Nu mai contează validitatea proiectului sau argumentele pro şi contra. Dacă iniţiativa vine de la duşmanii lor, trebuie să respingă categoric legalizarea prostituţiei.

3. Femeile “cinstite”. Acestea sunt femeile care, deşi profită la fel ca şi curvele de pe urma bărbaţilor, o fac sub paravanul unei relaţii sau căsnicii. Singura diferenţă între femeile “cinstite” şi prostituate fiind faptul că cele din urmă o fac cu “n” bărbaţi în vreme ce primele o fac doar cu unul singur. De ce se teme această categorie de femei de legalizarea prostituţiei? Pentru că astfel ar pierde cea mai puternică armă prin care au control deplin asupra bărbaţilor: sexul. După cum bine ştiu mulţi, dar se fac că nu observă, femeile îşi ţin sub papuc “jumătatea” prin metoda “dacă eşti cuminte şi faci
cum spun eu, capeţi ‘păsărică’, dacă nu, te-ai lins pe bot de ‘păsărică’, până ne împăcăm”. Metodă foarte eficientă şi verificată din timpuri străvechi. Dacă s-ar produce o liberalizare a sexului pe piaţa românească, atunci învechita, greoiaia, ineficienta şi prea mult mâncătoarea de resurse “Regie Autonomă a Femeilor Cinstite”, care deţine în prezent monopolul, ar da
cu siguranţă faliment.

4. Falşii creştini şi moralişti. Aceştia vin la înaintare, pe lângă argumentul “zbrobitor” că suntem un popor creştin (cred că eram şi în perioada interbelică când exista “Crucea de piatră”), cu întrebarea: “Voi nu aveţi mame, fiice, surori? Le-aţi trimite să se prostitueze?” Păi bine măi, cretineilor ipocriţi! Dacă voi sunteţi atât de creştini, de puritani şi moralişti,
înseamnă că şi fiicele, mamele, surorile voastre au fost educate în acest spirit, nu? Şi dacă ele sunt femei cinstite, cuminţi şi cu frică de Dumnezeu, cine le obligă să se prostitueze??? Chiar şi acum sunt atâtea şi atâtea femei care trăiesc în lipsuri şi sărăcie şi aleg să muncească din greu în loc să-şi vândă trupul şi alte mii, zeci de mii, sau câte or fi, care aleg să se prostitueze. Acestea din urmă bănuiesc că şi ele sunt mama, sora sau fiica cuiva, nu?! Aşa că lăsaţi ipocrizia!

5. Unii bărbaţi însuraţi. Bărbaţii însuraţi se tem că nu vor rezista ispitei să calce pragul bordelurilor şi astfel îşi vor trăda consoartele. Dacă consoarta i-ar satisface nu văd ce ar mai căuta acolo.

6. Pudicii şi nevroticii. Aceştia consideră sexul ca fiind ceva ruşinos, murdar, un subiect tabu şi deci, cu cât mai puţin sex, cu atât mai bine.

7. Feministele. Activistele “constipate” consideră că prin legalizarea prostituţiei, demnitatea femeii este afectată, aceasta fiind considerată un obiect, o marfă etc. Uită însă că şi bărbaţii pot practica prostituţia, fiind trataţi la fel. Şi mai uită şi că, atunci când este vorba de bani, femeile adoră să fie tratate ca obiecte.

8. Boşorogii impotenţi. Acestora, în cazul legalizării, le-ar fi ciudă că ei nu ar mai putea şi/sau nu ar avea bani să se ducă la curve.

9. Dezinformaţii şi naivii. Aceştia se lasă convinşi de imaginea falsă creată în mass-media în legătură cu fenomenul şi cred că prostituatele sunt doar amărâtele şi jegoasele de la periferie şi din zonele de centură. Nu au idee că există un număr mare de prostituate de lux, rafinate, educate, cu o stare materială bună şi la care au acces mai mult politicienii şi oamenii de afaceri. De asemenea confundă prostituţia cu traficul de persoane şi nu înţeleg că protejarea faţă de bolile venerice este doar o problemă de igienă personală a fiecărui individ, fie că este prostituată fie că este client.

10. Femeile urâte. Urâtele şi “batozele” sunt disperate că pe ele n-o să le mai fută nimeni

Din punctul meu de vedere legalizarea prostituţiei este un lucru benefic pentru societatea românească. Nu vin cu argumente de căcat gen venituri la buget, controlul fenomenului, protecţie socială pentru prostituate, controlul bolilor venerice etc. Lucrul bun care s-ar întâmpla ar fi aşezarea sexului acolo unde îi este locul în ierarhia nevoilor umane, încetând să mai fie o obsesie naţională, fapt care ar duce la relaţii autentice şi mai sănătoase între bărbaţi şi femei.

Dacă privim situaţia actuală, vom observa că există un puternic dezechilibru creat între permanenta şi obsesiva excitaţie sexuală vizuală la care sunt supuşi bărbaţii din România şi mijloacele de satisfacere pe măsură a nevoilor sexuale. Ziarele şi revistele sunt împănate la greu cu nuduri feminine şi fotografii cu tentă sexuală. Publicitatea, filmele şi emisiunile de
televiziune abundă de sexualitate, nuditate, scandaluri cu tentă sexuală, aluzii la sex. Majoritatea puştoiacelor umblă pe stradă îmbrăcate ca nişte târfe ieftine.

Când vine vorba de sex însă, româncele nu sunt chiar aşa de “flower power” ca cele din vest. Sunt puţine care fac sex doar pentru propria plăcere, se lasă greu, cer garanţii şi avantaje materiale. Asta face ca multe relaţii să fie legate în grabă, bărbaţii fiind împinşi doar de nevoia de sex, iar femeile de dorinţa siguranţei şi confortului material. Asta duce la cupluri disfuncţionale, divorţuri, copii traumatizaţi etc.

Mulţi adolescenţi, dacă n-au maşină şi suficienţi bani de buzunar de la părinţi, au ca singure opţiuni în materie de sex, masturbarea şi homosexualitatea. Asta dacă nu se grăbesc să se însoare de tineri.

Prin legalizarea prostituţiei, multe astfel de frustrări se vor diminua. Femeile vor fi mult mai interesate să înveţe cum să-şi satisfacă partenerul pentru a-l păstra lângă ele. Tinerii se vor maturiza mai repede şi mai sănătos, relaţiile se vor baza mai mult pe iubire, sinceritate şi încredere reciprocă. Eu nu văd nimic rău în asta!

Sursa foto: Gândul

back in time

sure thing

Im sorry i have not been on here for a while.  There is or was some one playing e mail gamea and  messenger on here. She said she work for the SBISD as a cafe manager.  Just look at her picture and u can tell she ant small.  At 411 feet tall .   Any way  it was nice to see that russina play like force acts.  Look like to me when he made her suck she wanted to.  Well u kow that gets u kinda horny and want to choke the chicken.   Well its Wed 30  sept 2009 . 

Yes im sittin here thinking of what to put on here.  I amigine one of thes pay a little and get lots is good .  I dont know.   No i would not have that fat blacck haird too much pubic hair lady over here no way.  yes i got some lipton tea in a can from the store today.  It seems reasonable to find some one and not do ungodly choke.  Thats not normal.   Yea eating peauut butter helps out n the fiber process.     

 If i seen that Terry Ford or what ever her name wants to be she has might big tits.  If she is married who knows ?  Who cares.   Yea fixing that 15 speed realy helps.  If i want to pull the chicken just ride that  thing 2 miles or so.  

O I for got the last one i had sex with .  That weird lady thats near Lufkin.  O first it was going up there and to that motel.  Had a rough time puttin my dick in that small hole.  Then the next time it was at that trailer .  O i met the gang her realtives . It was better this time but she dont do the head to well.  And then sein her naked discusting . O i had to get the rocks off and exercise the dong.   Finally found out her game its called support .  Screw that idea.

Just get down here for a hour or so i need to exercise the dong then u going to have to leave .  With out a car u dont have i say fuck it.  Ill find som eone else.  I know this sounds like a made up story ,. May be it is.