July 2003 Archives

The first issue I had was to find the location of the blond in the auditorium. I didn't actually see her until more than half way through the presentation.

She looked at least as bored as I felt. Stupid thinking there would be a perfect time for I don't know what. It's never the perfect time... until the moment is gone.

Seared in my memory is her pink sleeveless t-shirt emblazoned with the word SPICY. Doubtful I'l ever know at this point.

The other thing that made me thoughtful was DW's post about scent and fragrance. Anyone around me who smelled of cinnamon and clove would be in danger of attack. You know what I mean.

The first girl I really lusted for wore something called Cinnabar. It's not very today, nor was it even then—but it made my nose notice in the most profound way. I cannot tell you how wonderful that scent is to me. That fragrance and a lusty come-hither look will make my brain suffer a shortage of blood—as my body prepares for a more physical next step.

I don't know how other boys feel about it, but this boy can be put under quite a spell with scent alone.

I would not be able to control myself.

Damn!

Tomorrow I will try to write on two topics:

1)The post I was writing at work when I was so rudely interrupted.
2)More about the rude interruption.

And then, the oral sex.

When ever you think you're not sexy, apologize to yourself.

Don't make me come over there!

Because I might comfort you if you feel bad.

But I might spank you if I feel bad.

Yours in antici-

-Soulless

For I must seek release.

Throbbing.

Pounding.

Rivulets.

My mind is flooding with images, I say.

Following the lines out of the frame...

You can't erase the movie my mind makes.

You can't erase the strong sensations generated there.

Can you feel me flick my tongue?

Can you imagine how it affects me?

That was a damned good idea! The top of the page is much cleaner now. I think I'm going to be making better first impressions.

Peek while you can.

And I'll get your link up higher. You mean that much to me.

I wanted to get fucked, but not like this!

I was laid-off this morning.

Motherfucking ouch already!

I have no idea how I feel. Shocked, angry, sad. All that.

Funny how you know who your friends are when something like this happens. And funny how people care a lot more than you think they did.

Funny.

Very funny.

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

One of my former peers is taking me out for drinks tonight. He told me he loved me. That might be the coolest thing I've heard in a while.

Tomorrow, I don't know.

I gotta renew my Driver License, maybe apply for unemployment, get my resume in order and start submitting all over hell.

With any luck, I'll get a reasonable job before long.

I just hope I don't get more calls from sobbing former coworkers. That's harder to deal with than the damn job loss.

But enough about me.

Rest assured that I love you and I won't do anything rash.

Between the *lick* and the story—you're killing me.

So I'm going to go look at pictures now. Not that I wouldn't have anyway, only I feel a little more compelled to reach a resolution at the moment—catharsis, if you will.

I may have to punish you for teasing me. I'm entertaining two options. And they could be used in combination.

Now that I have completely fucked around with the details, please let me know if it's better or worse. There are subtle changes above and less subtle changes on the left.

Or maybe it looks the same as it ever was?

If it wasn't already enough that you could chat with yours truly, there's yet another reason to use AIM:

Blog Change Bot

I think I want to eat the Gothic Babe of the Week. (7/20/03 if it changes...)

I now have two reasons for this song to be stuck in my head.

You know who you are.

You can't just leave me hanging, er, you can't leave me like this!

I just get excited and then... Oh... Ok.

I follow the broken links
Finding yet more trails

The best thing about the web, by far, is not so much any one thing you can do.

But it enables communication with rational, thoughtful people that you would not otherwise have known about.

Thank God!

Fix the effing BMP thing later. Grab image first. Things change too fast.

:: kicks self ::


It's time for bed. Maybe that's where my playmates went.

Love.

Mysterio is a good name, don't you think?

After I've spent the day going over the active network accounts with a fine-toothed comb, I find out team lead and mensa-guy already looked at the list and didn't see any problems.

So why do I have the fucking red ass from being spanked?

I want to hurt people.

I wonder how it would feel to make a cast for the trophy room.

I wonder how cool the casting material would feel as it flowed around me.

How quickly does it harden?

Probably not as fast as me...

It would be fun to try!

After it was all said and done, I'm sure there would need to be some cleaning done.

I could be a trophy...

But you would have to catch me first. And convince me that it was a good idea.

You lick ice cream better than I do, I think.

We're still laying next to each other on the bed.

Legs entwined.

After a few moments,

you begin again where you left off.

Taking me quickly to the place where there is nothing else.

I can kind of tell you're gripping me hard.

Hard is good. So good!

I can kinda tell you're stroking really fast.

Fast is so good!

"Make me come!" I plead!

"Come, baby!" you tell me.

"I want you to come!" you order!

I feel stroking...

I'm moaning...

I think I say "OH GOD!"

I'm coming!

I'm coming!

You keep making me come!

I'm coming!

I think I've stopped making sounds.

I'm just trying to breathe.

Slowly open my eyes.

I can feel that I've come all over my stomach.

When I grab your hand it's full of come, too.

I turn my head and kiss you.

I slide my finder into you again.

You're so wet!

I'm rubbing your clit again when you tell me "Oh, yes! Right there!"

I'm concentrating on you fully.

I hear your breath quicken...

"Oh, yes! Oh, yes!" you cry as you come.

You breathe so hard!

You grab my hand to tell me to stop. Gently I stroke you but you move my hand.

You curl up next to me.

Closing my eyes I feel you massaging me, stroking and pulling me.

The muscles in my groin get tighter. Every sensation is urging me.

I contract the muscles that stiffen my cock.

You answer with squeezes of your own, gripping me more tightly, quickening your strokes.

I reach a little farther down to spread you,

To find your wetness.

I rub the wetness around your clit.

"Oh, yess..." I whisper next to you.

You tell me to keep going.

Sliding my finger down to dip inside you,

I can't believe how wet you are!

Keeping you parted, I rub little circles around your clit.

I rub over your clit directly, then circle again.

I trace over your belly with my hand.

I'm finding it a little hard to concentrate.

One of your hands is just playing with the head of my cock while the other strokes the shaft.

Some how I'm able to find your warmth. You've parted your legs for me. I love to explore you.

Let me press and circle with a few fingers right here.

"I love to finger you!" I say in a quiet, deep tone.

Your beautiful body next to mine.

Your soft hands on my cock. Squeezing, pulling.

In the dark room, there is only

a flickering candle,
you,
and the wonderful thing you're doing to my cock.

Oh... Mmm. You found my cock.

"God, that feels good..."

You squeeze gently but insistently.

I close my eyes.

I feel your other hand stroking my balls, then squeezing the base of my shaft.

Yeah, that's...

Good

Lying next to each other. Your leg over mine.

Talking and laughing.

Your hand stroking my chest.

You roll on your side to look at me.

Your hand stroking up and down.

Ever lower.

When I'm weak I draw strength from you
And when you're lost I know how to change your mood
And when I'm down you breathe life over me
Even though we're miles apart we are each other's destiny

Zero 7, Destiny

Thanks, Pussy Ranch!

1. Do you think it is morally questionable if an 18 year-old woman who looks like a 12 year-old girl appears in a pornography that's aimed toward guys who are into 12 year-olds? Is it okay because she's 18 in real life, or still nasty?

That's still nasty. I don't like the depiction of teen-aged girls. In general it makes me ill and I fear the worst for those girls. I've seen men to do really abusive shit and it makes me super sad.

Having said that, I've seen "teen" porn that I also thought was really hot.

Makes me feel like a sick, sick man.

2. Do you think shaving/waxing pussy completely bare has pedophiliac undertones?

Only if the woman looks really young. Otherwise—I just like to see.

3. Would you be sexually active with a hot 16 year-old if you were single, the 16 year-old was willing, experienced and suffienciently mature, and there was a guarantee you wouldn't get found out?

No, I don't think I could do that. Any more, I think I would want a woman to be at least in her late twenties before I would seriously consider her as a partner.

4. Do you think advising abstinence for teens is stupid or wise? (Note I said "advising," not like super-preachy Jesus soapboxery.)

Wise *if, and only if* given with advice on other scenarios as well. Abstinence is one alternative, and human experience includes much more than that.

5. Would you buy your 14 or 15 year-old kid condoms if he/she asked?

I would not do it happily, but I would much rather take that step than deal with a newborn nine months later.

Thanks for the birthday licks!

That touches me in a way that nothing else can.

And you really don't have to do it, but I love it when you do!

Thanks for making it a great birthday!

I'm sitting here with a stiffy and nipples that need to be touched.

Yeah...

Sometimes it's frightening!

Because I know damned well that words are not what you need.

And I swear to God I would if I could.

I would if I could.

Completely.

I never had that before.

Smart, beautiful, and sexy didn't hurt...

But feeling for once like an equal was the most astounding thing in the world.

I stayed at work until 6:30 am Friday from 7:30 am Thursday to finish work I procrastinated on all week. I got it done and it turned out OK, but I feel like I should have done better.

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Sorta like talking with my mouth full.

:: imagining mouth being full ::

You put the hugest smile on my face!

And shivers and the whole thing!

I'm grinning now...

From what you've... revealed... I am completely comfortable saying they have nothing on you. Being who you are, I'll bet you make a lot of women green with envy.

I'll even bet a lot of boys see the world in you.

Don't make me be crude...

Damned boredom. What to do?

So I'm crashing early tonight. Hard.

Tomorrow is my birthday.

The question is "What do I get if I've been good?"

And also "What if I've been bad?"

Rawr!

Thanks to those of you who have let me know your position so far! I lick you, too (or pat you, as the case may be)!

The "Not Sexy" post was a self-deprecating reference to 7/24, 10:25 PM

Posts I've been reading elsewhere are much sexier.

I've eaten fiery panang curry today, an extra-large box of cheese popcorn, and an entire pint of vanilla haagen-dazs.

Ooh! Oooh! And Guinness from the tap.

I want any online interaction with me to include a friendly lick. Or a lusty one. I'll infer the rest.

And the lick shall be done thusly:

*lick*

And it's your fault entirely.

Unless you're a boy. Then you can just pat me on the ass or something.

Don't you hate when your favorite blogs don't update for a while, and then when they do it's not at all what you expected?

That's not sexy at all!

I can't believe how much I have left to do.

So few pixels
But yet they convey so much

You can count them
And you can count the colors

You can calculate the number of possible combinations of colored pixels

But

If you were to show each individual possiblility

Would it tell every story?

Could it show you everything that had ever been or could be?

Imagine every photograph

Every illustration

Everything you have ever seen

Wouldn't it be one of the possibilities?

And for each image displayed, how many interpretations would there be?

If you looked at each image for a second, how many lifetimes would pass?

Could it not be everything? Everything from every angle?

Or would it be nothing? Just a series of random pixels like white noise? Like so many monkeys at typewriters?

I would be warm
The surface would be calm
But there would be playful currents you didn't expect
I would sparkle in the light
And be clean and clear
But you wouldn't be sure if you could see bottom or not

Mom and Dad just treated me to dinner. Houlihan's. I had the pot roast—because it's so tasty. I would have had Guinness, except for I would have felt socially awkward as my brother can't drink and besides, I knew I would need to go back to work.

So yeah, here I am at work.

BTW, the celebration is slightly premature: mon anniversaire est le 26 Juillet. July 26th. It will mark my 35th year.

People, I have lived long enough to know that life is what you make it. I don't know how to tell you anything truer than that. What you tell yourself makes all the difference. If you don't think you can, you won't. I haven't, so that tells you something about how I've felt about myself forever.

I also know that I have within me the power to change. I have. I'm changing now. I'm not the same person I was when I started writing this, and it hasn't been all that long. I'm pretty similar. I look the same, but I feel much different.

I don't know what's coming. The only plan I have is to learn to accept myself. I figure if I can do that, the rest is cake.

So, I've still got issues. But the difference now is that I know there's no trap. Small changes add up. And largely, life is good.

I don't know where any of this came from, but it's where I'm at.

I hope you're in a good place. And I wish you the best.

I'm so grateful!

I love it when she does that!

I can do that, if that's what you want...

:: This is me not being sure I would know a sound mind if I found it ::

This is not a complete picture of me any more than the face I present at work or when I conduct personal business—although it is representative of me.

This is the place where I write what I think.

So you know me like no one else does.

Yep, sometimes I write because I want a reaction, to know I exist.

Guilty as charged.

But can you blame me?

:: Schwarzes Als Meine Seele ::

Would you have me look at the computer under your desk so you could check out my ass?
Is that all you would want from me
While I was under your desk?

I know you're busy
I'm good at troubleshooting
Let me fix what's wrong

Slide your chair back in place
Let me pull you to the edge of the seat

It's always better to be there in person

Describe the problem for me
Tell me what works
Will you show me?

I work slowly
I don't like to rush
I like to doublecheck everything

My job isn't over until you say it is

I need to hear it from your lips
Tell me if I'm getting closer
Tell me

Let me know if it happens again
I have other tools I can use
We can attack the problem from another angle

I'll stop by later to check on you, or give me a call if there's an emergency.

If you change the color do you change the essence?

Let me be your flood
Your tidal wave
Let me crash against your shore again and again

Warm and flowing, sometimes ticklish.
Touching so much of you.

Doesn't she deserve a grand?

Shower and masturbate!

Good morning, Sexy!

I'm tired.

Peace. Love. Anarchy.

Soulless need his evil mojo back.

Where are you my sweet little kitten?

I can hear you purr.

Let's curl up together.

Soulless out.

Never, ever call me to your desk in the guise of aiding a VP, tell me you'll be right back, then leave me waiting until your monitor power-save kicks in.

Do not then meet me in the lobby on the way back to my desk and tell me it will be just two and a half more minutes when clearly it will not be.

And after you haven't done any of that, I must insist that you do not call me after I have been seated at my desk for 3 minutes on the verge of productivity.

Please.

For the love of all that's holy, stop it!

I would tell you how much I love being close to you, how much I desire you, how much I long for you, to be with you, to be in you. I would tell you in a low voice how motherfucking sexy you are. I would suggest some of the ways we could love each other forcefully.

And I would promise to see you tonight.

Because there is nothing else.

Right fucking on!

An ugly building that has been left derelict on the inside. There's a lot of cleanup work to do, and I didn't like the building before.

I don't know if it happens to you, but I get the distinct feeling the universe is telling me there's something I didn't get right and I'm gonna have to do it again and again until I fix it.

What? What is it? Where do I even begin?

Before I threw shit into the fan.

I'm getting very, very restless.

And it's getting hotter all the time.

I want to dance in your flame.

I don't know anything about her as a person. The tabloids would have us believe she's crazy but I doubt it's as simple as that.

She's edgy in a way I find entirely alluring.

But then, my boss and I go get lunch at McDonald's—her suggestion. We get back to campus fully 30 minutes before she wants to go to back in to work.

So we drive around to a parking lot on the empty side of campus, park in the shade and shoot the breeze for a half hour while she smokes.

How can somebody that cool simultaneously be so crappy?

That's all we did. She's six months pregnant and not that way. From my perspective it would be no more or less confusing than anything else that happens to me. People probably think we're a couple anyway. One person actually asked us ow long we had been together. That means probably a lot more are thinking it.

But I just ask for trouble because I have no boundaries. We'll have a semi-intimate moment like that, so she knows a lot about me and I know way too much information about her personal life. Then she'll totally throw the boss thing at me where she knows better and I'm the fool.

I like her a lot, but sometimes I really hate working for her. And then I'll give her slack because I know what's happening in her life and the issues she's against with her management...

It's pretty hopeless.

But I fear for when she's on maternity leave. What jackass is going to be my acting superior?

But I am honestly angry and hurt.

The fact that it has been put off for another week makes me feel insignificant. I know how damned insane everything is, but it always is. It's not going to be better next week either.

The third reschedule feels a lot like a humiliating kick in the crotch, to coin a phrase. It shows me pretty clearly how I rank. What a fucking idiot I am giving my life over to this place.

I need to pay my debts and quit this shit.

I want to quit working, get warehouse space, get a bass, a drum set, some midi-gear, and make music until I bleed or can't move or am somehow otherwise incapacitated.

In the interim, I would like to get shit-faced.

Seems like about the least I could do.

However, I am a firm believer in reciprocation. I said firm.

They are haunting me.

There is a swelling in my pants and I feel like giving chase. Wonder if I could catch you?

...(I overslept, for those of you keeping track) and no food, I feel remarkably good. Except I'm hungry.

But I have my office to myself for a few hours and I'm playing music. Life, for the moment, is good.

For example, I'm looking at the administrator email account on our new server. Mostly it's full of undeliverable notifications for email accounts that no longer exist—like the CFO.

One email sent to him has a subject line that reads "May I LICK you all over...?"

What if it wasn't spam?

Thank you. Thank you very much!

Between that post and an email from astrology.com telling me how great Leos are, my head is about to burst.

The finishing touch. I think that will do for now.

Apparently I like the 13 pixel font size versus the 12. If I mention the archives again... how 'bout I don't mention 'em again?

Thanks for your patience.

We will return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

But don't stop.

I have learned that it is possible to use Blogger's Archive Index Template as part of a drop-down form thing.

My deepest gratitude to Girls In The Bag for the idea in the first place (View—>Source), and to Google for taking me to various sites to help me understand at least some of what CSS can be used for—at least the things I specifically wanted to know. I do not have mad skillz where HTML is concerned, but with enough tweaks I managed to confuse the code into working.

I may still experiment a bit, but so far it works well enough...

You have good poetic parts, I would say.

I had to check because I love it so much!

So, the thing is, I found out on Reverse Cowgirl's blog that Paper has some salacious content this month.

There is an article (with photographs) of Jenna. You know the one. And there is also the work of one Coop. His illustrations have long been admired by yours truly. So much so, in fact, that I'm adding a link to his personal site on the left.

Chocosphere

I personally recommend Belgian chocolate with 70% cocoa.

It's helping me calm down a bit.

I mean, I worry a lot.

That you'll think I'm needy or whiny.

That you'll think I write uninteresting things.

That you'll be offended.

So that part I read tonight was about acceptance.

It's not good. It's not bad. It just is.

The hard part for me is not being so brutal to myself. The way I talk to myself, it's a wonder that I'm not just curled up in a ball on the floor.

That's all going to be tricky.

At this point, it means a lot to me to even be aware of the physical sensations the anxiety produces. I didn't know before. I didn't even suspect.

Just sitting quietly, breathing deeply, and feeling the sensations makes me feel a little more centered.

The scared part of me wants ice cream.

I don't have any. But I do have same dark chocolate.

Pardon me...

Driving home tonight I kept driving faster in stupider places.

I'm so bored. When you have what you need, the rest is just passing time.

I know, I know... shut up because it's ugly to talk that way.

Boredom is ADD's worst enemy.

Fear the ADD person who is bored.

He will find ways to entertain himself.

Especially not ratty cowboy hats. Please remove them for the duration of the porn shoot.

Thank you.

When faced with a breast, my first inclination is to move closer—to suck the nipple. Taking the whole areola into my mouth and tracing around and around with my tongue. I love to feel the nipple become erect in my mouth, to feel the texture change, to direct more attention to the most erect part. Sometimes sucking, sometimes flicking with my tongue, sometimes lightly with teeth.

Burying my face in pillows.

Your pillows make me hard.

Thanks for another way to insert innuendo into otherwise perfectly harmless conversation.

People wonder what I'm smirking about all the time.

You should hear yourselves.

But then I checked Google.

But then I'll go through a phase where I must hear the loudest, angriest, grittiest rock possible.

I'm loud-angry-gritty rock boy today.

It feels really good when you lick.

I love the way you look at me
I love the way you smack my ass
I love the dirty things you do

Did I ever tell you that you're the best?

Do that again!

Sandra, no...
Sandra...
I swear, I couldn't...

What if that was...

I'm not super horny at the moment, but like, if we were in bed together I could easily imagine how a few tentative touches could lead to ferocious sex.

It's a summer night and warm in the house. The fan moves air for us. Every so often the slightest cool draft can be felt from the open window.

It's late but my eyes are still open.

I'm wondering if yours are, too.

I put my hand on your hip, gently.

Touching you makes my cock throb.

You must be able to hear my breathing change.

God, how I want you!

It didn't feel crass.