Here's to women bless their kind, they bloom every month they bear every nine, they're the only creature this side of hell , that can get juice out of a nut without cracking a shell
"Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city, Should in their own confines with forked heads Have their round haunches gored."
I hooked up with a chick out west when I was doing a cross country motorcycle tour. She was okay in the looks department. She seemed to have nice tatas. That was a good enough starting point. As is often the case with my luck, things went awry from there. I got her in the bed. A dim light from the lamp shone lightly on her. The top came off. The jeans came off, then she unfurled her tits. They rather favored a softball in a tube sock. She eagerly tore her panties off, revealing what looked like a Komondor in a leg lock.
I wasn't sure where I would find the inspiration to proceed, so I thought part the sea of matted steel wool and do a little tongue dance on her love button. Surprisingly, she guided me away. I don't know what I did to rise to the occasion, maybe I fantasized about masturbating, but much like I did in my drunken college days, I found a way to lift my spirits. I gave it a good pounding for a while then went to the bathroom to clean up. As I dragged the rubber off my hapless member, a waft of raunch the likes of which hadn't stung my nostrils since I ran over the dead, bloated dog in a rented 3 cylinder Renault schidtbox in Martinique on a hot summer day.
I wept. I don't know if it was from extreme sorrow for what I had done to my little friend, or from the OC like character of her tunnel of putrifaction, but tears flowed from my eyes. In the midst of both the sorrow and horror of that moment, I found an overwhelming sense of gratitude that she had guided me away from going down.
I hooked up with a chick out west when I was doing a cross country motorcycle tour. She was okay in the looks department. She seemed to have nice tatas. That was a good enough starting point. As is often the case with my luck, things went awry from there. I got her in the bed. A dim light from the lamp shone lightly on her. The top came off. The jeans came off, then she unfurled her tits. They rather favored a softball in a tube sock. She eagerly tore her panties off, revealing what looked like a Komondor in a leg lock.
I wasn't sure where I would find the inspiration to proceed, so I thought part the sea of matted steel wool and do a little tongue dance on her love button. Surprisingly, she guided me away. I don't know what I did to rise to the occasion, maybe I fantasized about masturbating, but much like I did in my drunken college days, I found a way to lift my spirits. I gave it a good pounding for a while then went to the bathroom to clean up. As I dragged the rubber off my hapless member, a waft of raunch the likes of which hadn't stung my nostrils since I ran over the dead, bloated dog in a rented 3 cylinder Renault schidtbox in Martinique on a hot summer day.
I wept. I don't know if it was from extreme sorrow for what I had done to my little friend, or from the OC like character of her tunnel of putrifaction, but tears flowed from my eyes. In the midst of both the sorrow and horror of that moment, I found an overwhelming sense of gratitude that she had guided me away from going down.
An example of an insecure pussy talking about tainted meat he's encountered. Wholly predictable.....
It's official. I missed the selfie deadline so I'm Maser's sock puppet because rene and the Polish half of the fubar twins have decided that I am.
I hooked up with a chick out west when I was doing a cross country motorcycle tour. She was okay in the looks department. She seemed to have nice tatas. That was a good enough starting point. As is often the case with my luck, things went awry from there. I got her in the bed. A dim light from the lamp shone lightly on her. The top came off. The jeans came off, then she unfurled her tits. They rather favored a softball in a tube sock. She eagerly tore her panties off, revealing what looked like a Komondor in a leg lock.
I wasn't sure where I would find the inspiration to proceed, so I thought part the sea of matted steel wool and do a little tongue dance on her love button. Surprisingly, she guided me away. I don't know what I did to rise to the occasion, maybe I fantasized about masturbating, but much like I did in my drunken college days, I found a way to lift my spirits. I gave it a good pounding for a while then went to the bathroom to clean up. As I dragged the rubber off my hapless member, a waft of raunch the likes of which hadn't stung my nostrils since I ran over the dead, bloated dog in a rented 3 cylinder Renault schidtbox in Martinique on a hot summer day.
I wept. I don't know if it was from extreme sorrow for what I had done to my little friend, or from the OC like character of her tunnel of putrifaction, but tears flowed from my eyes. In the midst of both the sorrow and horror of that moment, I found an overwhelming sense of gratitude that she had guided me away from going down.
How have you not learned about the 2 finger check? You start making out and stick a couple fingers in there first and get the clit on tilt first. Then while she is kissing your neck or you go to suck a tit. You just run the 2 fingers by your nose. She never knows and you know if you’re cleared to go down town or the 2 finger check comes back negatory.
On edit: if you eat and enjoy sardines disregard. The 2 finger check will always pass, not necessary
I may have played this back when this thread started, but it's always good for another listen
The desert is a true treasure for him who seeks refuge from men and the evil of men. In it is contentment In it is death and all you seek (Quoted from "The Bleeding of the Stone" Ibrahim Al-Koni)
And you have never done stupid schit because of it?
Good Lort,
wut kinda man would let that stuff go to his head and clog his thinkin'???
The desert is a true treasure for him who seeks refuge from men and the evil of men. In it is contentment In it is death and all you seek (Quoted from "The Bleeding of the Stone" Ibrahim Al-Koni)
