Victoria Sent
“All Laws are an attempt to domesticate the natural ferocity of the species” –John W. Gardner, Secretary of Health, Welfare, and Education for the 36th U.S. President Lyndon Johnson
Response
“I love how the Government,the Church and the old Ice Queen up the Street care where I put my Dick. I Wonder how they would feel if I cared what they did with their genitals?” – Malflic Sexual Deviant, Social Activist, and Obsessive Fan of Everything Friday
This is an experiement, me fucking around and nothing more. In a way its a political statment. All pictures were taken in the course of an afternoon between commiments and social engagments.
Suburban Wasteland - An empty parking lot
My life is often little more than random delays in the quest to occupy my time. The inspiration for the picture cam after watching a sluttly little Blonde girl with her cute little ass hanging out of a pair of daringly short Daisy Dukes climb in to a big assed black pick up. What can I say I’m not really suburbs kind of guy yet I live there.
Rows of Cars and Light posts
Lack of an Inspiring Land Scape - Look Ma No Hills!!!
A with party ahead of me, why not bring our own munchies
Oh look and empty mall, the symbol of a flacid economy
More Open spaces...on the upside...well there isn"t one
another Concrete WastelandMissouri the Land of Banks & Churches
This past holiday weekend while visiting my sister’s family and parents over dinner Sunday night I failed to look shocked when the topic of an acquaintance of my sister’s being a swinger was brought up. “I just don’t approve of their lifestyle” Sis said. BTW there was more to than being a member of the swing set that she objected to and on those points I’d have to agree. Considering the maid of Honor at her weeding was a lesbian she’s usually not one with lifestyle hang ups although seeming has grown more conservative in her old age (she’s now about 33).
I laughed and told her I knew it when I met the couple three years earlier. Explaining that while some people are perceptive and super hero’s all have a special power that if you combined my perception and considered it to be a super power my talent in a comic book would be (ok here’s where you get to use your Superman intro voice …Leaps tall buildings etc) “Picking out Breast implants even good ones in a packed room, stadium, or club. Spotting swingers at a single glance, and combined with an extra ordinary Kinkdar making it impossible for the leather crowd to hide….
Everyone laughed then I declared myself “the Immaculate Saint of Itinerate Souls”. Which was apparently far funnier than I thought. Still gasping for breath from her laughter my mother added “see I told you, you should have started playing Bar Mitzvah’s with your faith healer routine that pissed off the Nuns when you were 12.”
Sadly she wasn’t kidding she wasn’t kidding although I think I was 14 at the time the suggestion was first made. If nothing else I could have turned sacralidge in to a half way decent living
I give you one of my favorite poets SweetTalk to get you all hot and bothered.
Now take a deep breath. If you’ve cooled down enough and are interested in more of her works you can find her at http://m.twitter.com/Sweettreat and on my top friends list on myspace as well.
Now moving right along
While I certainly wouldn’t call the Chesty Blonde a classic rope slut in the modern vernacular of the word the dynamic of our relationship works for the most part which is about all anyone can ask for. To her credit she often tolerates my insanity and interests. I on the other hand am a confirmed lifelong card carrying Kinkster. So if anyone knows of an impending deviant round up a la the Salem Witch Trials give me a heads up so I can run to the proverbial hills.
Like a lot of people we have vanilla lives too and included in those vanilla lives is the house in the burbs (which I hate), a couple of kids (that I love very much) and all the other things that go with that setting including the occasional challenge of deciding which alternative lifestyle type friends (Yes AU you’re politics gets you lumped in to that category…just kidding you’ve earned your spot there.) can come to the same parties as our, or more accurately the Blonde’s nilla friends.
For example you can’t have the lesbian couples over with the same people from church (I don’t go other people in the house on occasion do). Or if after going out with some Nilla guys to a bar one shouldn’t explain that the women on the dance floor aren’t lesbians they’re Bi and that there was a swinger social there earlier that evening. It also raises additional questions when you greet the aforementioned Bi Swingers by name when they come over to say hi between the band’s set. What can I say I’m a friendly guy, I know a lot of people, are you buying any of this? Yeah I’m not sure they were either.
Anyhow having avoided flying on a giant silver penis earlier this week I find myself working from home and decided to have lunch with the blonde. After a little soup and salad she informs me that the little one who’s ten had questions about what was under our bed. Of course I had to think about what it was first.
“The Bed Posts?” I asked not certain why that mattered. After all we took the tall bed posts off for the most part a few years ago. Maybe I was suppose to put them in storage umpteen months ago and forgot about. Unlikely but not impossible.
“No the box of rope Mal”
See the byproduct of an active sexual lifestyle and a few kinky habits is the tools of the trade. I have a night stand with enough things in it to start a small adult toy store complete with a nice fetish section and enough rope to dock an air craft carrier. Then there’s the rope bag in the closet, the surplus toy back pack and add the Blonde’s top filing cabinet drawer and night stand and then you have a pretty good idea.
Often when traveling together she worries if we die someone will inevitably find those things and what they will think. I think they’ll figure out that we probably had sex and might have liked it. Sorry but the post mortem thoughts of me should be ones of a pious couple. Loving yes. Sexually unimaginative, No!
“So what did you tell her?“ I asked seeing as I’m the one who the kids typically ask the odd questions to. It was nice to not be the one doing the explaining for a change. Just a few weeks back I was tasked explaining what swinger was in a way that was understandable, honest, and appropriate for a 10 year old. The follow up was “are you a swinger?” the answer was equally as direct “No” which then turned into “Uh OK. Can we have Sushi for Dinner?”
“I told her it was for your book cover” – it was an honest answer. That particular box of ropes was for the book cover. Not the play ropes but simply things I bought for the book cover and sadly haven’t used since (I love the colors but like other rope types much better).
Getting back to my desk I contemplate whether or not to move the box. If so how do I answer why we moved it. Guess it all really comes down to whether or not I was suppose to store the big assed screw off bed posts somewhere else which I’m in no hurry to do since they can be put back on in about 10 minutes and are so much better to tie things to.
The audio sucks but the guitar (one of my favorite solo’s ever) and vocals are typical of my sound during the early 90′s before the music got really dark.
If your my friend on here, in real life
or both chances are you aren’t a plain vanilla white bread type.
Well either that or you find my insane diatribes amusing or are
keeping an eye on me to make sure I’m not really the Anti Christ in a
Canali Suit. I’m lying of course I don’t wear Canali suits…shirts
on occasion but not their suits. Only Because I’m far more
traditional in that sense.
Anyhow A few posts back I told a
story about being old. It was funny because it was true. Fair
enough this is another true story, it might be funny, it might be
offensive and it reminded me of why in most places I’m so guarded.
It was a date night for me but not
with the Blonde it was the Father Daughter dance at my Youngest’s
School. She’s 10 in the 4th grade and I know that in the
next year of so I won’t figure into the equation that is her life
quite as much. From there my relevance and position will only
diminish. So I treasured the night. We had dinner with some of her
friends and their fathers, we went to the social hall inside a church
(and lightning didn’t strike). Last year she danced with only me,
this year she was off with her friends after making sure I was cool
with it. Which was thoughtful and cool by itself.
On the Surface I have a fairly typical
corporate life, a classic family configuration and look like every
other blue blood most of the time. Recently I was asked to join a
men’s social organization…it was something that even the Blonde
Questioned with “you’re not really considering it are?”
To which the reply was. “Lets
see…I’m an Atheist who writes pornography for fun, has very kinky
tendencies, quotes Vonnegut, and openly supports gay rights…do you
think I’ll fit in?” A long smart assed version of NO!
So any how the night wore on and there
was Jonas Brothers and Hannah Montana songs followed by a few more
main stream pop tunes…then High School Musical. All very tame.
Sure my kid didn’t get why they weren’t playing her requests for
Prince tunes but knew that getting them to play Queen or Zappa was
out of the question. Her musical tastes are as eclectic as her
fathers.
Well then it happened….Katy Perry “I
Kissed a Girl” came across the speakers. The 6 of the 8 dads at my
table started to squirm. Now was it the most appropriate song for 1st
through 5th grade kids? Probably not but they all knew
the words and were dancing like mad. It was to quote the song
“innocent”. (FYI I have blogged about disliking the song but not
because I think it will make people do ”immoral things” but
because it was in my estimation yet another piece of worthless pop
music)
They went on and on about would the
priests approve! I thought gee I don’t l know but do we approve of
all the priests that have taken advantage of children over the
decades. I kept my mouth shut.
The Diatribes continued and “How
could they play that song” and the typical puritan homophobic type
stuff. As a point of fact I had wondered into a local watering hole
with a few of these same men a week prior and they had no problem
watching two same sex couples fornicating in front of some local red
neck band (Who were actually quite good).
I wondered what they would think if
they knew I had gay friends. Not that I cared for myself but for my
daughter. I wondered how many had an even slightly creative or
artistic bone in their body. Did they ever roam up and down the
Jersey Shore, in to the City down into Maryland living like a
hedonistic nomad in their youth. I doubted it.
The topic of music came up again and
three of us sat fairly silent for a while just listening. This is
the one area of life where I have trouble keeping the facade of who I
am suppose to be and who I am. Very few things get me off in life,
Great Sex, a runners high, a good caffeine buzz, and a song that
touches a nerve.
After hearing how they all “protect”
their kids from this stuff. When asked how I control what my kids
listen to I had to be honest. “I tell them if they are going to
listen to a song or sing the words then they have to tell me what the
words mean if I ask and that if I find out they buy the censored
version of a song they are supporting closed minded fascists which is
very uncool.”
While most turned white, a few got
uncomfortable and I think one Physically wretched.
The conversation evolved, but I was
given a wide berth. It was painfully obvious that we didn’t exactly
share the same values. As the evening wore down we danced a few
more dances and then Piled in a car to go home. I had bummed a ride
with one of the other kids and on the way home the three girls in the
back broke into “I Kissed a Girl” The dad was upset, you could
see him literally turning red. So calmly I asked my kid to sing a
different sing. After being slightly stunned since she had never had
such a request before she just changed to something else with her
friends following suit. The irony here is it was the rap pop thing
“low” which to me other than not being about bisexuality is not
better than the previous selection for subject matter.
Before we got through the front door
she asked “why did you ask me to sing a different song?” I have
the policy of being direct and open. The song was upsetting Mr. B
offering nothing more. She looked at me “well then I guess we
shouldn’t have him over to the same part as T & M” And she
bounced off unphased to tell everyone else about the evening.
T happens to be the mother of one of my
kids friends. M is her partner. And I was so proud that my own kid
seemingly has such an accepting perspective. To her it was as normal
as me and the Blonde being her parents.
As a bonus note on a not related to
this topic I have this to say to a certain Council member who is
trying to stop the winter race series I run in (not that he’ll ever
get to read it) because he doesn’t want have to wait for runners to
pass by when he’s going going to church.
HEY FUCK WAD PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE! IF
YOU KEEP BITCHING ABOUT THE 4 TIMES A YEAR WE RUN BUY I WILL
PERSONALLY ORGANIZE AN INFORMAL SUNDAY MORING RUN THAT PASSES YOUR
HOUSE EVERY WEEK OF THE YEAR.
Fucking Hypocrite!
thoughtfulThis is in participation with the
good Reverend Sleestaxx’s event celebrating the penis. If that
doesn’t sound gay I don’t know what does but I’m playing along
anyway. For this to make any sense at all please read his blog Vagina Warriors before continuing. This is not for the faint of heart or Penis
fearing (or penis loathing crowd) but enjoy none the less. Its is a
mockery of a mockery so ingest with an appropriate sense of humor
with one exception the closing quotes were excerpted from an actual
conversation with a friend last fall. It is perhaps more insightful
than we care to admit.
I have a penis,
after all it is probably the single most defining characteristic of
being male; having a penis that is. And being male in the typical
penis toting male fashion I value my penis more than mere words could
describe.
It has after all served me very well in the 39 years or so I’ve been carrying it
around. I’m fairly certain that its not anything special as far as
Dicks go but still it works when I need it to and at times when I
don’t since in fact that as the old saying goes it has a mind of its
own. Sure a Penis and mine in particular serves a variety of
essential and non essential but pleasurable functions. Unless of
course you consider sex an essential function either for pleasure or
soly for repopulating of the earth. This however is no place for a
mundane debate on over population, replacement value or other
symbolic but irrelevant pinko commie hippie topics that are in some
way related if not inter laced with the penis.
Now considering that most men and by most men I’m making an assumption here based on the cultural behaviors I’ve been exposed to. Most men fall into one
of two categories those that are comfortable with that part of their
anatomy and those that aren’t.
Take the classic
example of a man prizing a woman’s virtue. Why was it a prize?
Because a man with a small penis didn’t want to be compared to
another man she may have known in the biblical sense who was in fact
hung like the stallion roaming around outside in the pasture. Me
I’d rather have a slut who’s a good lay and can move her ass and
other things in a pleasurable way than a frigid neophyte who in
contrast finds no joy or pleasure in the act we are performing. In
contrast to many I’m not possessive and have a good relationship with
my penis.
There are those who
stay covered when walking into the showers of the health club and
those who don’t. Confidence in ones endowment is a strange thing.
It ebbs and flows with the moment and situation for many. Me I’m a
let it all hang out type…Guess what ladies it is what it is and if
you don’t like mine go find another one you do. Gentlemen if nudity
in place where people are supposed to be naked makes you
uncomfortable then why were you looking in the first place…god damn
cock watchers!
And Miss as for it
poking you in the back while I sleep see the aforementioned penis has
a mind of its own type statement. Be flattered and don’t treat it
like a curse. As a side note just because it’s at attention and the
one who owns it might still be sleeping it is not an open invitation
to stick it in your ass while I’m still sleeping. Not that I’m
complaining but every so often letting a man sleep before impaling
yourself with me is an OK thing as well. Its owner would appreciate
the thoughtfulness of this simple courtesy…occasionally.
While many moments
define who we are some of the most memorable either good or bad
involve those intimate moments. One where an errant comment is made,
intentional or otherwise can cause an emotional scar.
My friend Gretchen
from a few decades ago was truly one of the most stunningly beautiful
women I had ever known to this day. Platinum hair, long legs, a
beautiful face, the curves of a classic Hollywood Beauty for the ages
simply gorgeous. Sadly she had a hang up from passing comment made
by a lover that if not all, most would have viewed as
inconsequential, innocuous or unremarkable. In fact is was a comment
that most women would have taken as flattering.
If I told you you
had a small ass would you be offended? Would is cause you years of
uncertainty despite other inner and out beauty that was completely
ravishing? Are women the only ones subject to such insecurities. I
think not. Perhaps they discuss it . They tell their friends
share with their lovers if daring and bold. Passing comments by women
about a penis cause the same type of pain. The same type of scars
ones that are so deep and emotionally rooted in the psyche yet I hear
them made with wanton and reckless abandon.
Still men are to be
stoic, unfeeling, hard like stone , unflappable, hardened,
predictably repetitious in and machine like way. The penis has
become a thing of envy, of replication and a thing to be replaced
with long phallic like pulsating, flashing, undulating machines of
every length and girth, of ever size and shape.
It has been
“improved” by both nature to be found in the produce aisle or
vegetable garden and by science in the form of unrealistically long
freakishly thick girthed phallic symbols. As gratifying and fun as
these things are if man had produced and widely replicated the female
sex organ to anything near the popularity of Zucchini or vibrators or
beyond humorous cartoonish impersonations found in blow up dolls and
pocket pussies the world would be out raged. They would be offended
it would be a sin against both god and nature.
This is where we err.
So today we
celebrate the sanctity, the importance and the power of our defining
maleness.
Today is a day to
be proud of your member no matter how demure or grand.
No matter the girth
or the svelte of it stature
No matter how
straight or curved.
Today is a day
where those who lack the self confidence in their manhood to begin to
believe that the defining characteristic of being male; a penis. Is
in fact a fine thing to posses.
Unless of course you lesbian friends have told the guy hitting on them at the
bar “What do I need your little penis for for when I can can have
one twice as fat that won’t go soft after 15 minutes. Yours might
work twice in a night and my vibrator and strap on works all night
long; every night.”
For the record this in not fiction in any way, shape, or form. Seat 3c from EWR to STL. It’ll make more sense as you read on.
After a road trip that started in the middle of last week and took me though the weekend well into Monday afternoon I was functioning on less than 4 hours a night of sleep the entire time and as I poured my exhausted ass out of the car and into the airport finally heading home all I really wanted was to kiss the Blonde and pat her on the ass, pet the dog, eat a bowl of cereal and have a glass of milk. Sure I got a few great blogs along the way you’ll all get to see shortly but needed a nap on the damn plane.
We board and the regional jet, it’s only about half full. The first thing that caught my attention was the very well known photographer who walked on the plane and sat in front of me. I’m too fucking tired to really care and probably can’t carry on a conversation. So I don’t say a word, if there’s a need to meet her I’ll call the studio or attend a show.
Following her is a large dark haired guy in his late teens or early 20′s. He’s big, kind of round and from appearances not a menacing being despite his stature. More of a shuffler than a predator in his un-tucked wrinkled buttoned up oxford, faded blue chino’s, sneakers, and outward signs of a religious faith that were impossible to miss.
Everyone’s on board, the if we crash you’re dead announcements start and I put my shades on lean against the window and close my eyes. No rest for the wicked and 15 minutes later we are in the air, early. A few minutes after leaving terra firma the guy I had described moves across diagonally in front of me into an empty row and whips out a magazine.
I read and write on planes so no big deal but a few minutes later he’s got the Shpilkes so bad that it’s pissing me off from 5 feet away. I look over and he’s got a Playboy opened to the center fold (the 16 hottest Russian Girls or something like that issue, Red background blonde chick with a furry white muff on the cover). Tit’s and ass out on display right there on the plane. Not something I would necessarily do but I’m no prude there wasn’t a kid on the plane so back to trying to mind my own business. The photographer in front of me noticed and eventually shot me a glance back like do you believe this guy.
Fact is it that was only the beginning because apparently the man was starting to get a little wood from his reading literature and the next thing you know he’s pulling at his crotch to make room for a growing member. A few minutes later he’s doing the same thing and not in a discreet manner.
Omar the Tent maker was now having real issues with the restrictions his pants and tightie whiteies were having on him and began an elaborate package adjustment process that was more annoying than his previous fidgeting.
Then he starts again, reading and touching, it was like watching a train wreck, a glimpse of a nude picture here, a rub on the head there.
Look nothing is wrong with masturbation in general, wax the dolphin, and beat the bishop until you’re little heart’s content do it until you’ve had enough, do it until you’re so raw you can’t stand to touch it anymore. None of my business if you jack off like a mentally deranged lunatic 100 times a day more power to you…if you’re in private.
Hell I’ve had lovers go on an exhibitionist solo mission right in front of me that would have made many a man have inadequacy issues, Other than eventual boredom I could have cared less.
He continues on reading and is now up to a full scale choke the chicken crotch rub right through his Dockers still sitting there in plain sight. I want to lean over and ask him to kindly head to the lav whip it out and finish shooting putty at the moon in private.
Now there is a certain irony to the entire event since just last week I wrote a yet to be posted piece that about having sex in public called “118 seconds of bliss” on the air train at the same terminal I was leaving again. It is making me seriously rethink ever posting it.
He goes on with the read touch repeat routine for an hour until finally I think he forgot to go back to the read part and lingered a bit too long on the touch part and must have creamed his jeans. Oh well there’s a subset of the mile high club I’ve never joined and never intend too. And since when do a pair of cotton pants feel good? I’m thinking rug burn.
And the perverted fuck never stood up to wipe himself off…he just changed his radin material to the in flight magazine. I’m never wearing shorts on a plane again…a full body condom maybe but not shorts.
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #133? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks
Fuck The Pope.
“The Church would have you believe that abstinence should be sufficient.”
Good Boy
“Despite my outward appearance, I still felt sexy as hell knowing what was underneath those misleading garments.”
May Masturbation Challenge: Progress Report day 10
“At the Dee & Apollo household, it’s early on Day 10 of the May Masturbation Challenge. ”
Mr. Sugasm Himself (one from the vaults)
The US Constitution Erotic Coloring Book
Editor’s Choice
UK Criminal Justice Bill Clause 63 – but what is “extreme”? – A Beginners Guide
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)
BDSM & Fetish
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #135? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks
Tantra is work and a two way street
“Tantra is hard work and is not all light and orgasmic play.”
Nyotaimori
“She smiles wantonly, but says nothing.”
Submit
“But when you’re really attracted to someone, and part of that attraction is to their dominance, it almost gives you a second wind for pain.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank
Editor’s Choice
Discussing a lifestyle event with strangers
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.