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Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Now This Is Advertising

The greatest road sign ever . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sunday, November 28, 2010

World's Best Kisser

I'm wet and I'm moist
So come on let's rejoice
In the birds, the bees, the fillies and the colts
And the fact that we are all young adults (hi baby, how are you?)
And lie back on your couch
After this there'll be no doubt
I don't care if you're a Miss or a Missus
You done been squelched by the world's best kisses

Ho, ho, sit up straight and pout
I'll suck your face until I pull your molars out
A tongue so grand you'll call me more than friend
One kiss from this and you'll never brush your teeth again
(and you know it's true, mate)

Well go back to your husband now
Tell him you done broke your vow
Stand proud and say "Hey Mister,
I've just been kissed by the world's best kisser"

Ho, ho, sit up straight and pout
I'll suck your face until I pull your wisdoms out
A tongue so long it really grows and grows
Put it in your mouth and it'll clean out your nose

I've only kissed one girl before
My Grandma on the kitchen floor
She dribbled and grinned and said "Hey Kid,
You taught me things your Grandpa never did"
She added there'd be hell to pay
If Ma found out we'd gone astray
So hurry Paul, go and get some sleep
You finally got a skill to teach the sheep

Hey, hey, calm down and pucker up
These lips are strong enough to stop a truck
A tongue so long, it really packs a punch
One kiss from this
And I'll know what you had for lunch
One kiss from this
And I'll know what you had for lunch
Yesterday

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tA4EzfdLdPg&feature=related

Funk You

I don't know much about art but I can tell you this:
Duchamp's Urinal is a piece of piss
Van Gogh cut off his ear to spite his face - so what!
Me, I've got a message for the whole human race:
I wanna be a phallic symbol like the Tower of Pisa
And wipe the smile off the face of that bitch the Mona Lisa
I'll date Botticelli's Venus just to tease her
But unless you're hung like a Jackson Pollock
You couldn't please her!


Funk you! And funk your mother
Funk your sister, funk your auntie
And funk your little brother
When you've learnt how to funk one another
Don't leave that groovy thing on the shelf
Go home to the one you love and -
Funk yourself!


As Galileo said, "And yet it moves!"
While Oppenheimer splits the atom
And Newton finds the groove
But me, I agree with Einstein
Who put it so much simpler,
"I want to end as it began
With one big bang, not a whimper!"


Funk you! Funk quantum physics
When you've proved their theories wrong
You can go and funk the cynics
Take a proton pill as you butt-funk the critics
You're an E=MC squared (that's your life! )
Well, funk you buddy and -
Funk your wife!


Sexual psychology fascinates me more than art or science
I've attempted intercourse with every household appliance
A girl came to my clinic, I guess you'd call her a client
She wouldn't touch my pinkies, which I found so defiant
I said, "My psycho-analyst will love you, cos you look just like my sister."
She said, "But I've got no arms, and armless girls cannot play Twister!"
She tried to take my pants off and she had to use her teeth
But her stiff upper lip got caught in the metal zip


Funk you! And funk your mother
Funk your sister, funk your auntie
And funk your little brother
When you've learnt how to funk one another
Don't leave that groovy thing on the shelf
Go home to the one you love and -
Home to the one you love and -
Home to the one you love and -
Funk yourself!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAQoE0HwIsk

Dead Elvis

I was floating through the cemetery late last night
When I saw a ghost who was out of sight
He said, "Down in the graveyard there's a party going on
So get down, get down six feet and sing a spiritual song
Everyone's invited, we would be delighted
If you grabbed your favourite corpse and came along."


You don't move your arms and don't move your legs
You just do the, do the Dead Elvis
You don't grind your pelvis, it's the dance of the dead
You just do the, do the Dead Elvis


Your old hound dog's sniffin' at your tomb
Tryin' to find a bone that ain't been consumed
You can't jailhouse rock in your blue suede shoes
When you do, do, do - the Dead Elvis


I bet you're lonesome tonight in your hole in the ground
Old Shep's so shook up that he pissed on your crown
No one's crying in the chapel, get wise, get hip
There's some pretty heavy shit going down and you're it
Priscilla was delighted, all Dallas was invited
To poke fun a your corpse and kick your dog


You don't move your arms and don't move your legs
You just do the, do the Dead Elvis
You don't grind your pelvis, it's the dance of the dead
Come on and do the, do the Dead Elvis


It was a terrible day, when you had your cardiac arrest
They tried to find your heart but couldn't cut through the flesh
You can't Viva Las Vegas when there's no viva left
Come on and do, do, do - the Dead Elvis

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EApQ19FMgaY

Krishna Riding Shotgun

Set 'em up, drink 'em down
And pass the cup around
It's the last we will share for quite some time
I've shaved my head, wear a dress
I've left my bonny wife
I've got Krishna riding shotgun
On the stagecoach of my life


My sweet Lord Rama Rama
Got my ticket to Nirvana
It's a commune just left of county Cork!
Share a pint with me Lord Shiva
As we read the Bhagavad Gita
I'll have Krishna riding shotgun
On the stagecoach of my life


Well, I used to be a cattle prod for Jesus
And L. Ron Hubbard took me in some, too
I was a moonie, loved Charles Manson,
But they are not as handsome,
As the godhead whose skin is shining blue


My sweet Lord Rama Rama
Got my ticket to Nirvana
It's a commune just left of county Cork!
Share a pint with me Lord Shiva
As we read the Bhagavad Gita
I'll have Krishna riding shotgun
On the stagecoach of my life


Hari, Hari, Ha, Hooray!
I chanted every day
With my virtue tucked proudly in my lap
And I pray all night to Krishna
'Cos he's a damn good listener
And he never ever ever answers back


My sweet Lord Rama Rama
Got my ticket to Nirvana
It's a commune just left of county Cork!
Share a pint with me Lord Shiva
As we read the Bhagavad Gita
I'll have Krishna riding shotgun
On the stagecoach of my life


And when Irish eyes are trying
To make the Pommies pay
We'll get Krishna and his shotgun
To join the IRA, the IRA, the IRA
Hari, Ha, Hooray!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbE4GKUUmOE

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Family Ties

"Bye! Have a safe flight!"

He waved his father and new step-mother off. He closed the door. It was just him and his step-sister alone for two weeks while the parentals vacationed to Bali.

No sooner had he settled himself on the couch to watch Sports Center, then his younger step-sister emerged. Her long blond hair cascaded down her back and her outfit left much to be desired. Her short skirt revealed more then her creamy white thighs. If he craned his neck he could see the white lacy thong she wore underneath. Her top left nothing to the imagination either. It tightly pulled across her ample chest, riding up to reveal her bellybutton. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra as her nipples stood up, rubbing against the softness of the fabric.

Her shoes were the worst of the lot. Six inch heels made him bite his lip in anticipation. He could feel his erection straining against his jeans. Black and spiked, adding more length to her legs. He envisioned her bending over to refasten the buckle on the shoe, giving him a bird's eye view of forbidden fruit.

He shook his head. It wasn't like they were really related. They were only 'brother and sister' by marriage.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

"Out," came her short reply.

He rolled his eyes. He was three years older then her, but sometimes it felt like it was thirty.

"You're going to that party, aren't you?"

"So what if I am?"

"Dad told me that you couldn't go. Your grounded, remember?"

She snorted and flipped her hair. Her blue-green eyes shot daggers at him.

"So, what they don't know won't hurt them," she cooed, folding her arms across her chest. "Besides, you're not the boss of me."

She turned on her heel, reaching for door. She had only just pulled it open when his hand landed on her arm. He pushed the door closed with his free hand before dragging her back into the living room.

He gave her a gentle nudge and she fell onto the couch. She gave an exasperated sigh and crossed her legs. She didn't have time to hear a lecture.

"You're not leaving the house like that," he said, in his best big brother voice.

She rolled her eyes and snorted.

"You look like a hooker."

"That's the point. It's a pimps and ho's party. Everyone else will be wearing it."

"I don't care about everyone else, I care about you. Every sleazy guy in the area will be hitting on you. It's just not worth it."

She shot him a look. "You saying I have to get changed? Agh! You are so unreasonable. Everyone else will be dressed as a slut and I'll be the only fucking nun!" She stood up, rocking a little in the heels. She tugged her skirt down a little and pushed past him.

He grabbed her arm again. "I didn't say you had to change. I just said you weren't leaving the house dressed like that."

Her head snapped back as she stared at him. For the first time since her mother announced that she was marrying his father, she saw a wicked gleam in his eyes. She licked her bottom lip, jutting it out slightly and pouting. It always worked on her mother. Didn't seem to have the same effect on him.

"Fine," she snapped, unhooking his hand from her arm and stormed back upstairs.

He sighed and flopped back on the couch. He had missed most of Sports Center.

He turned the TV off. It was quiet. Almost too quiet.

He headed upstairs and, without knocking, opened her bedroom door. She was sitting on the windowsill, on leg hanging out the open window.

A primal growl escaped from him as he rushed to her, pulling her forcefully back inside and throwing her onto the bed. She cried out as she banged her elbow against the wall. He closed the window and turned to look at her.

She was rubbing her elbow and didn't seem the least bit remorseful for what happened.

"What did I say?" he shouted. "You're not leaving this house dressed like that. If you were determined to go to the damn party you could have least thrown on a coat or something!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're a prick," she spat.

She moved to stand but he pushed her back. She fell backwards, ungracefully. She glared at him. "You can't keep me here," she told him.

He smirked. "Are you sure about that?"

For a brief moment, the anger in her eyes disappeared, replaced by fear.

He left the room, returning moments later with a pair of stainless steel handcuffs.

Now she was afraid. She backed up, pressing her back against the wall. "Wh-what are you doing?" she asked, her voice soft and meek.

He made a play for her wrist. Missed. She tucked both hands behind her body, keeping them at bay from him.

"You want to play that game, do you?" he asked.

He grabbed her legs, pulling her closer to him. She screamed as he flipped her. She tried to kick him but to no avail as he successfully secured her hands behind her back. For added measure, he coped a feel of one of her breasts. Round and firm, just how he had imagined.

She bucked underneath him, cursing at him. She could feel his cock pressing into her body. It was hard as it digged into the back of her thigh. He tweaked her nipple which caused her to cry out.

"Now, are we going to be good?" he whispered, his lips lightly brushing her ear.

She struggled under his weight but didn't respond.

He stood up, staring down at his 'sister', hands tied behind her back and her skirt had risen up to reveal the curve of her arse. He traced it with his finger. She craned her neck to glare at him.

Without saying a word he reached for her bathrobe, removing the cord. He gave her a full smile as he approached her, swinging the cord mindlessly. She swore at him again, fighting. She was attempting to back herself off the bed and stand.

"Such a dirty mouth for such a little girl," he mocked, kneeling, placing one knee either side of her body. With his hands, he reached up under the skirt and removed her panties. It was a difficult task as she struggled upon his touch, but he was successful. He then go busy tying her feet together with the cord from her bathrobe.

Her breathing was short and shallow. He watched as her chest rose and fell rapidly. He rolled her onto her side. Reaching down her top, he cupped her breast, squeezing gently. She watched him the entire time, a murderous look in her eye. He lowered her top so one breast was free. Lowering his head, he licked her nipple. He sucked on it, watching her reaction. Her eyes closed only for a moment. When they reopened, her gaze was still menacing.

He stood up. Reaching for her panties, he shoved them into his pocket. He was going to get good use out of them.

He pulled open her closet door and pulled out her school neck tie. Returning, he knelt beside her. "Can I trust you to be quiet?" he asked, his hand moving through her hair, his voice soft and gentle.

"Fuck you!"

He placed the tie in her mouth and secured it behind her head. Her eyes were wide, brimming with tears. "Later, sweetness," he teased, pinching her nipple, forcing her to cry out into the gag. "Remember, we have two weeks."

She began to panic, struggling against her binds as he left the room, locking the door behind him.

He went back downstairs, got himself a can of Coke from the fridge and made his way back into the living room.

Turning on the TV, he began channel surfing. He found some old film and sat contently to watch it. He took her panties out from his pocket, playing with the delicate material. He sniffed them, taking in her scent of desire. Before he had taken them off, she had been aroused.

His mind wondered back to her, tied and helpless on her bed. Her cries for help muffled by her school tie. He unzipped his jeans and began to masturbate himself. He was exceptionally turned on. Pre-cum glistened on his hand as he stroked himself. His mind was whirling with thoughts of his helpless 'sister'. It was a scenario that he had thought about ever since their parents had gotten married.

She teased him on a daily basis, strutting around in her school uniform, her skirt shorter then it was ever meant to be. She would flirt shamelessly, flipping her hair behind her, her eyes locked on him in an icy stare that made his blood boil. Whenever her pink tongue ducked out of her mouth to lick her lower lip, his pulse would race.

"Ughhhh."

He shot his load. He hadn't realized how horny he truly was. He reached for a tissue and cleaned himself, zipping his jeans up. It was just the thought of her at his mercy that had set him off.

He was suddenly hard again.

He threw the tissue into the bin and made his way up the stairs. He paused at the bedroom door, his ear pressed against the wood, listening. He could hear soft sobbing coming from inside. It was then he realized he had actually scared her.

He unlocked the door, opening it quietly. Lying on the bed, still bound, he saw her. Her face was tear stained, her tit still hanging out.

He moved closer to her. He could make out the red marks on her wrists from where she had struggled against the handcuffs. The bathrobe cord still held her feet tightly together.

Her eyes opened as she felt the weight of his gaze on her. He reached down, removing the gag from her mouth. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She was hysterical. Gone were the murderous looks and cussing language.

In a bid to shush her, he placed his hand over her mouth. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, sliding his thumb over her cheek. "I have no desire to hurt you. But I am in charge while the parentals are away."

She nodded meekly.

He reached down and caressed her exposed breast, his hand gliding ever so gently over her nipple. Her eyes closed and he was mesmerised by her breathing.

"I'm going to take my hand away and you're not going to scream?" he said. He meant it as a question, but she knew it was an order.

Slowly he removed his hand. She stayed silent.

He continued to rub her, moving his hand from her breasts to her back, moving slowly towards her arse. His fingers trailed down her spine, following the curves of her body. He ran his finger down her arse, dipping underneath her, grabbing at her exposed pussy. He slipped a finger inside her and she let out a low moan.

"You like that?" he asked. She nodded, panting. He didn't really have to ask. He could feel her body responding to his invasive touch.

He laid down behind her, pulling her body into his. She could feel his erection straining for release from his jeans. She moved her hands, grabbing at him. He growled as she touched him through his pants. She massaged him as he bought her closer to an orgasm.

Then he stopped. He withdrew his finger, giving her a farewell stroke. She felt him move away from her. She craned her neck to see what was happening. She heard him unzip his jeans before he returned, inserting two fingers into her.

She gasped at his touch. He let his fingers explore her being, stopping occasionally to flick across her clitoris. He repositioned his hips and she felt his cock in her hands. She massaged him, alternating her touch from light to squeezing.

He lent down, taking her nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it before gently nipping it. She cried out and in turn squeezed his shaft, tightly. He closed his eyes. Her grip felt so good. He let his tongue flick across her nipple as he inserted a third finger. She groaned as her body accepted the new invader.

Between the rubbing of her hands and the grinding of his hips, it didn't take long for him to blow the creamy load into her hands. He removed his fingers from inside her, scooping up his hot jizz from her hand and smeared some of it across her body. He stuck his fingers into her mouth, forcing her to taste both him and her. She licked his fingers clean, seductively staring at him.

He removed his fingers from her mouth. She wiggled around, hinting at her own impending orgasm which had been placed on hold. He chuckled, moving down the bed. He pulled her skirt down, sliding it over her hips, then her thighs before ripping it off completely and tossing it to the ground.

He untied her feet, spreading her legs apart, looping each one over his shoulder. He placed his mouth right over her clitoris.

"Omigod!"

She let out a gasp as his tongue slipped inside her. Her eyes closed and she raised her hips, silently begging for him not to stop.

He lazily licked her slit from top to bottom, inserting his index finger every now and then. He refused to let her come. Everytime she was on the verge, he pulled away, taunting and teasing her, forcing for her to beg him.

"Please," her voice croaked.

He stared into her eyes. The pupils were dilated, her lips parted. She was breathing heavily, a sure sign that she was ready. Of course, the juices that leaked out of her were the other indication that she was ready.

"Please? Please what?" he teased, his tongue darting inside her for a second before retreating again.

"Please, let me come. Please, I'm begging you."

Her voice was pleading but he wasn't satisfied.

"What do you call me?" he asked, trailing his index finger across her sensitive clit.

She said his name, her eyes pleading.

He shook his head and continued his torture.

She cried out in a combination of frustration and pleasure. He stopped again, propping himself up between her legs. He blew cool air onto her pussy, making her jump.

"Let's try again. What do you want?"

She paused. If she repeated herself he'd only continue this torture of her body. She racked her brain. What was it that he said? 'What do you call me?' She stared at the ceiling, her mind whirling with possibilities. Only one seemed logical at a time like this.

"Please, Master. Let me come," she begged.

He smiled.

"Good girl. I knew you'd learn."

He returned to eating her out. She cried out, tossing her head back. She arched her back and dug her nails into the bed covers. It pained her as they were still cuffed behind her back, but it didn't seem to be a top priority. She wanted, nay, needed to come.

She felt it hit her like a tidal wave. Starting at her toes, her orgasm moved up her body. Every nerve was alive, tingling. She shuddered as she let her orgasm rush over her.

He continued to roll his tongue across her clitoris, forcing her come repeatedly.

He slowly stopped and let her relax. He watched her body go limp, her eyes closed, her body glowing with ecstasy.

Her breathing returned to normal and her eyes fluttered open. She tired to push herself up but failed. She rolled onto her side, her wrists still bound behind her. She groaned, struggling to break free. She felt like he had zapped her of all her energy.

She felt his hands on her wrists. She heard the click of the handcuffs unlocking. She sat up, rubbing her wrists. They were red and slightly bruised from where she had fought against her 'brother'.

He placed his hand on hers, touching her bruises lightly. "Did I do that?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Mostly my fault. If I hadn't of tried to get away, these marks wouldn't be here."

He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "True, but it was sexy as hell to watch you fight it." He kissed her. Not rough. Not forcefully. But sweetly. Pleasantly.

She placed her hand on his chest, feeling his well toned body. Her fingers trailed lightly over his chest hair, intertwining with them.

They parted. She cocked her head to side, darting her tongue out to lick her bottom lip. Her eyes bore holes into him. "You want to fuck me, master?" she asked, teasingly. His eyes gleamed and before she knew what was happening, he was above her, pounding into her. He nipped her neck and she yelped. How did he know it was her sensitive spot?

She turned her head, allowing him full access to her neck. He didn't need any prompting as he proceeded to lick, kiss and suck at the tender flesh. The combination of him attending to her neck and pounding into her, sent her over the edge again. Her fingers gripped the bed sheet, her black nails lost in the sea of black satin.

He slowed his rhythm, watching her come. It was the hottest thing he ever saw. He felt her muscles contract around him, squeezing his member, bringing him closer to the edge.

Sweat fell from his brow. A couple more thrusts and he knew he'd be spent. He felt his own orgasm build as she came down from hers. She could feel him spewing his creamy load into her, filling her.

He pulled out of her. The sight of his come mixed with hers, running out of her pussy and down her thigh, excited him. He ran his finger along her leg, catching some of the fluid on his finger, which he offered to her. She opened her mouth, accepting his finger and the mixture of them both.

"Mmmmm," she said, her eyes locked onto his as her tongue swirled around the tip of his finger. "So, what are we doing tomorrow?"

Friday, November 26, 2010

It's Christmas Time Again

Three men died on Christmas Eve and were met by Saint Peter at the pearly gates.

'In honor of this holy season' Saint Peter said, 'You must each possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven.' 

The first man fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on. 'It represents a candle', he said. 

'You may pass through the pearly gates' Saint Peter said. 

The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them and said, 'They're bells.' 

Saint Peter said 'You may pass through the pearly gates'.

The third man started searching desperately through his pockets and finally pulled out a pair of women's panties.

St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked,  'And just what do those symbolize?'

The man replied, 'These are Carols.'

And So The Christmas Season Begins......

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

12 Things Not To Say To A Woman

Forget the chat-up lines! Finding the right words to impress a girl isn’t easy, so let’s start with a process of elimination...

1 - “You’re really pretty!”
Why not: If she is really pretty, she’s heard it before. If she isn’t, don’t fib.
She hears: “Blah-blah I wanna have sex with you.”
Instead: Five minutes’ conversation is all it takes, then say, “That’s an amazing story” — a true compliment that she won’t get from every jerk.

2 - “Can I tell you something?”
Why not: It’s usually followed by a lame line like, “You’re really pretty!”
What she hears: “I’m nervous about wanting to have sex with you.”
Instead: If it’s that pressing, just tell her. Only, if it’s “I wanna do stuff to you — heh,” best keep it to yourself.
 
3 - “This is my mate Mick. He’s just been inside, but don't worry, it wasn’t a violent sex crime”
Why not: First rule of wingman-ing: together you are strong, alone you are losers harassing girls. Don’t spill secrets.
What she hears: “Run!”
Instead: “This is Mick. He’s, uh, in the security industry. And he’s a legend.”

4 - “And that was the second time I tried to kill myself…”
Why not: Don’t offload all your crappy baggage on her.
What she hears: “I’m an immature psycho who needs a mother.”
Instead: Keep it upbeat.

5 - “Thank you”
Why not: It sounds like she’s doing you a favour.
She hears: “My self-esteem is so low, I assume you’re doing this out of charity, and I think of you as a free hooker.”
Instead: “That was great. Let’s do it again some time. Like, say… now!”

6 - “Your ‘boyfriend’?”
Why not: If you like the no-strings hook-ups, don’t get the s---- when she reveals she has a boyfriend.
She hears: “I’m gonna find him, fight him and ruin your life.”
Instead: Give yourself a mental high-five for fulfilling her needs better than her chosen partner, and enjoy the ride.
 
7 - “You’re so much better than my ex…”
Why not: You mean it as a compliment, but to her it cheapens the deal.
What she hears: “I’m using you as a replacement for my ex.”
Instead: Tell her about her. We all like to hear about how good we are, and you’ve probably got some material.
 
8 - “Same time next week?”
Why not: It sounds like it’s routine. And just because it’s not serious doesn’t mean she won’t get hurt if you take her for granted.
What she hears: “Thanks again, meaningless sex vendor!”
Instead: “So, when are you free next?”

9 - “Now that you mention it, you have put on a few kilos”
Why not: She knows she’s gained weight, you know, and the springs in your bed definitely know. She’s asking to be lied to, and that’s your duty.
Instead: “No. You’re beautiful.”

10 - “You’re so like your mother!”
Why not: Everyone dreads becoming their parents, everyone does in the end — and everyone hates having it pointed out.
What she hears: “You will die a neurotic, emotionally shrivelled husk of a woman.”
Instead: Find a less psychologically damaging way to deliver petty criticisms.
 
11 - “I cheated on you, but it meant nothing”
Why not: She doesn’t need to know.
What she hears: “I cheated on you with the specific aim of hurting you.”
Instead: Just keep your mouth shut.
 
12 - “Your [guy] friend wants you”
Why not: She won’t believe you.
What she hears: “People are only interested in your body. All people. Everywhere.”
Instead: “Your [guy] friend is awesome. I want to hang out with him more.” After all, where do you keep your enemies? That’s right: close...

Sunday, November 14, 2010

The Stalker

You see me.

You watch and obsess.

Everything I do, you study.  You try to understand the reasoning behind my movements. 

First there were the letters.  Then the calls.  Then, when I called for the police, you disappeared, making me believe that you were nothing but an illusion. 

But you're not.

I know you're there, watching as I undress.  I can feel you, your eyes following me, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.  You're scaring me. 

I close the window, pulling down the blinds but my sense of fear stays.  And it hits me, a realization that I haven't checked the doors.

Half naked, I race downstairs to see the back door open, swinging in the breeze of the cool night.  Gasping for air, I race to the phone.  I must call for help.  I dial the first number when I get that unshakable sense.  I tense, knowing you're there.

As you approach I can smell your cologne.  The scent I bought for my partner lingers near my nose.  I can feel your breath on the nape of my neck, you hands running over my body.  You expect me to feel powerless, to give in. 

But, you picked on the wrong girl.

With a jab to the ribs, you're on the ground.  You struggle for air and watch as I make my escape into the night. 

I bang on the doors of the neighboring homes, in hopes someone will come to my rescue.

A door opens and I tell my frightening story.  He leads me inside, checking to see if you are coming.

As he closes the door, I collapse into the armchair.  He stands before me, offering his robe to shield my semi-nude body.  Thanking him, I stand, accepting his robe.  But as I tie it into place, I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

I know that scent.  That cologne.

Wide eyed, I turn to see you're grinning face.  I have played into your trap.  My scream is muffled beneath the gag you thrust into my mouth.  You bind my hands and carry me towards the basement, my sobbing cries lost in the music of the night. 

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Perfect Way To Spend Halloween


As I mentioned on Twitter, last night (October 30th) I had the pleasure of joining some co-workers and a few of my close and personal friends at Dracula's Cabaret Restaurant for a night of pure indulgence.


First of all, upon entering the 'haunted house' us 'mere mortals' were shown to the Graveyard bar where we were invited for pre-dinner drinks and a look around at the horror shop.  Inside they had a bust of Freddy Krueger complete with the actual mask and costume from A Nightmare On Elm Street Part 3.  They had autographed photos of Vincent Price, Christina Ricci (from her Addams Family days) and even Tom Cruise as Lestat. 


From there, we were escorted down into the Boiler Room where we boarded the ghost train which took us into the main dining hall.  Once we were seated we selected our main meal (for the record, I had the Silence Of The Lambs which was so tender it simply melted in your mouth) and not too long after the entree appeared. 


The food was exceptional, but the entertainment was sensational.  The performance we saw was labelled 'Black Blood' which was a retro Goth comedy show, featuring vampyre themed variety acts that spring straight out of South London’s popular electro rock era of the 1980’s. The show oozes with gold spandex, black lace and wicked satire as it rips into modern culture with fangs bared and a healthy appetite for laughter


The two leading men, Vlad and Thorn, were absolutely brilliant and Thorn was a super hunk.  Must admit, there were little puddles of drool on my table from staring at him all night.


For $93.00 we had first rate entertainment and a 3 course meal.  Drinks were separate and our table ran up a bill of $347.50. 


It was non-stop fun that is highly recommended.  Got photos with the Drac-ettes, all the female wait staff and of course with Thorn and Vlad. 


If you are ever on Australia's Gold Coast (or in Melbourne), spend a night at Dracula's.  You won't regret it.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Skin On Skin

Bodies writhe and gyrate together. From the upper level, the dance floor seems a mass of people lost in the music, sharing the pulsating rhythm as their sweaty bodies push and move as one. Flesh touching flesh; rubbing, twisting, flexing. The pounding beat of the music soars and quickens in its intensity, lights project a rainbow of colours across the dance floor, and the dancers move with it in elated uniformity. Glittering gold, bare shoulders, heat, energy. Skin on skin.

He watches her from the balcony. She is alone, eyes closed and lips parted as she sways, letting the rhythm of the music wash over her body and take her over. His hand grips the rail as he watches her slide her hands over her full, firm breasts and slowly down her taut stomach. She presses her hands on to her thighs, rubbing slowly up and down, letting the silk of her black skirt rise and crumple. He begins to breathe harder, feeling the warmth in his groin and beads of sweat form on his upper lip. Tighter, tighter he fastens his fingers around the cold steel of the rail and presses himself against it. Her hips rise and fall with the throb of the music; moving in a controlled and steady rhythm. Her fingers dig into her fleshy thighs and she smiles, oblivious to the throng of those dancing together in ecstasy around her.

He descends the stairs. Feathers, silk, lace, sequins, latex and skin brush past. People smile curious, knowing smiles. He stares at her, watches her grow more excited with the frenzied pace of the beat, as she bites her lip and turns her back to him, her hands passing over the small of her back. She does not see him. He slips his hands under her skirt and feels the defined curve of her hips, pulling her into him. He lets his mouth close on the back of her neck, flickering his tongue over the delicate skin, biting her gently.

Head back, mouth open, she lets a slow moan escape from her lips. She begins to guide him into her rhythm, her hands firm against his buttocks, pushing him harder, harder. She can feel him, hear him. His hardness presses into her back, his chest heaves and falls, and she can hear his steady, heavy breathing escalate. His hands coil around her legs, stroke her burning inner thigh and she can feel her own wetness - hot, yearning.

The music throbs around them in a wild frenzy. She places her hand over his, leading it to her moist softness. He lets a finger slip into the silk of her panties, running his fingertips over her mound, smelling the musk of her neck as she digs her nails into the back of his thighs. Teasingly, he begins to stroke her clitoris, gently, rhythmically. She squeezes her thighs together and gasps; he licks and sucks her neck as she writhes, turning to face him. She takes his wrists and holds them together, pushing him against a wall. Her eyes, determined and intense with desire, look long and steadily into his. Her lips, swollen, wet and open, meet his. She bites and sucks his lower lip, then their tongues, moist and warm, move together, echoing the rhythm of their grinding hips. She begins to kiss his chest with her open, firm mouth. She lets her tongue spiral down, sucking his hard nipples and caressing his inner thigh with her hand. He lightly passes his fingertips over her breasts, circling her nipples, then cupping them in his hands.

She unzips his pants, biting the zip and tearing it downwards. He moans as she runs her tongue over his hardness which is smooth and hot to the touch. She envelopes it in her warm, soft mouth, sucking as she glides her tongue around it, harder and faster around the head. His hands run through her hair, massaging, stroking, gripping. She rises to her feet, and he bends to his knees, running his hands down the entire length and curve of her body. Every nerve is alive, tingling.

He pushes her legs apart, tearing at her panties with his teeth, until he probes inside her deeper and deeper, with his hot tongue. Her back moves against the wall to the throb of the music surrounding them, guiding them. His hands caress her stomach, sending flutters of excitement shooting though her groin. His tongue slides in and out of her slippery wetness, as he flickers it over her clitoris in a steady rhythm; she can feel the fire inside her beginning to rise up until it almost consumes her. He pulls away, and standing up to meet her glazed eyes, he licks and kisses her stomach, her breasts, letting his hands caress the curve of her firm hips and buttocks. He kisses her mouth - she can taste herself on his warm lips and tongue, smell the muskiness of her own scent.

The music pulsates, beginning its ascent into the final climax. A sharp gasp - he hoists her up onto the wall, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He enters her - the consuming wetness of her, the tightness of her. He is so hard now. He drives himself into her again and again, she moans and pushes herself against the hardness of him, deeper and deeper. The sweat and heat between them escalates as they rock back and forth; insane, hot, wet, the music climbs higher. She is burning up, the fire twists and spreads inside her. The heat is almost too much to bear, he bites and sucks her neck, she claws his back with her nails. The music climaxes as they do - an explosion of sweat, heat, lust, animal passion.

Sweet relief, exhaustion.

All is quiet.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Erotic Stranger

I hate this drive, the long stretches of straight road. I have been here a dozen times - the road from my family in Adelaide to my life in Sydney. Two days of highway and a night lying awake in a musty caravan with a set of double lines running endlessly behind my eyelids. It is hot. Despite my short cotton skirt and singlet, I feel uncomfortable, my thighs sticking to the leather. I switch Cd's and start to sing. The rhythm propels me forward through the miles. Soon I must stop for the night.


There's an object up ahead. Not moving. There is usually nothing on this section of road, except perhaps the occasional cockatoo, feeding of grass seeds at it's bitumen edges. The object is closer now. I can see its outline. It's a man. A man with a head of dark curly hair and eyes so brown I can tell their colour as I pass by. Did he have his thumb out? I think he did. He's a hitchhiker. I hit the breaks.


I can see him running now, the straps of his backpack swinging out across his shoulders. I wonder what he's doing out here, if he is dangerous. He smiles at me and I shiver, his teeth shine between his full lips in the afternoon sun. He has smooth dark skin, a build that suggests fitness and an outdoor life. He opens the rear door and throws his pack onto the back seat. Before I know it he's sitting beside me, his shorts wrinkled around his groin, the hairs on his thigh tickling my forearm.


I release the handbrake and move my hand back to the steering wheel. He smells faintly of soap and although I am concentrating on the road, I can tell that he's watching me. My nipples are hardening beneath the damp material of my singlet.


It is night now and he has agreed, in his exotic accent (Italian I think) to rest till morning. We take a detour on a dirt road and he has pitched a tent on the river bank. We are sitting by a fire on a blanket, and he smiles provocatively at me over his dinner.


"I have some wine," he says. "Want to share?"


I nod. He looks gorgeous, the firelight playing on his handsome face. His torso left bare after a wash in the river. I can see a slight smattering of hair on his chest and a line that runs down beneath the waistband of his jeans. I have an urge to trace the line with my fingers, to slip them down across his flat belly and inside his pants.


As if he can tell what I'm thinking, his lifts the corner of his mouth in a sexy smile and turns away, his back muscles moving beneath his dark skin as he searches in his pack for the bottle.


He snuggles close now, pours some wine into a paper cup and hands it to me, gazing into my eyes, running his fingers though my long hair. He makes me feel sexy and alive. I should be tired from the drive but after a wash, a change of clothes and time alone with his erotic stranger, I am energised.


I take a sip. He watches my lips, and before I have swallowed, he's tracing them with his tongue. Sensing that I like this, he moves this mouth down, licking at my neck, my collarbone. He's sucking at my hardened nipple, biting it through my cotton t-shirt.


"Do you feel good?" he asks me.


"Mmmm" is all I can say as I spread my hands against the warmth of his chest.


His hand is under my skirt now. He traces patterns across my inner thighs with his fingers. I move my hands up to his strong jaw, then further, through his dark curls. His lips are soft and slightly moist against mine. I slip my tongue between his them and run it across his teeth. He shifts his hips. His cock is hard, so hard that it hurts as he pushes it into my leg. I undo his fly, releasing him to the cool air, moving my thumb across his smooth length and squeezing. He is breathing heavily, running his teeth across my lips.


I gasp as his fingers reach the heat between my thighs and move the material aside to slip gently into my wetness. He groans then and I feel his fingers sliding upwards, thrusting inside me.


He stops, smiling shyly at me as he slips my t-shirt over my head and unbuttons my skirt. I am naked except for a tiny g-string. He looks at my breasts, taking one in his hand and the other in his mouth. I can feel his tongue circling my nipple.


My vagina is hot, aching and so very wet. I can't wait for him to touch it. I grab the hand that is kneading my breast and move it, very slowly down my stomach and under the elastic of my thong. I make deep noises from the back of my throat. He rubs all four fingers between my labia, then moves his index finger, now slippery with my desire, to my clitoris.


His slow circling movements cause an intense tingling in my stomach. I'm moaning with pleasure. In a split second he has removed my thong and replaced his fingers with his lips. His tongue darts inside me before tracing a path back up to my clitoris.


While licking, then sucking me hard, he pushes a thumb inside rubbing till it hits a point - a point of unbearable pleasure that merges in sensation with the part of me he is sucking. I throw my head back and let out a throaty cry as he catapults me into a shuttering orgasm.


Before I have recovered, he has put on a condom and is entering my swollen flesh with a gentleness I had not expected. His head is buried in my neck, nuzzling. I can feel his delicious warmth pressing at my breasts, his cock moving in a sensuous rhythm, threatening to send me over once more.


"Can we do this again tomorrow?" he whispers.

A Woman's Dream Man

Before I lay me down to sleep,

I pray for a man who's not a creep,

One who's handsome, smart and strong.

One who loves to listen long,

One who thinks before he speaks,

One who'll call, not wait for weeks.

I pray he's rich and self-employed,

And when I spend, won't be annoyed.

Pull out my chair and hold my hand.

Massage my feet and help me stand.

Oh send a king to make me queen.

A man who loves to cook and clean.

I pray this man will love no other.

And relish visits with my mother.

Friday, September 10, 2010

My Babies

Anyone who knows me, knows that I love my animals and treat them as though they were my children.  I found some photos of my beloved Ben and Onyx when Onyx was just five months old.  So cute. 

Here they are.  Feel free to comment on them.

Love always,
Rhiannon

Monday, August 30, 2010

Ode To Ben

For those that read my Twitter page, you'll know that today I lost my beloved Ben.  He wasn't just a dog nor just a pet.  He was family.  And this little poem is for him. 

A heart of gold that stopped beating
Two twinkling eyes closed to rest
As the Good Book reads
God only created the best
And with no doubt
The best was you
Goodbye, we love you
Benny Benny Boo

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Short Poem Competition

Recently a magazine held a short poem competition.  The rules were the first line had to be romantic while the second line was, well, less then romantic.  Here are some of the best that were sent in.  Enjoy ~ Rhiannon

1. My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:



Marrying you has screwed up my life.


2. I see your face when I am dreaming.


That's why I always wake up screaming.


3. Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;


This describes everything you are not.


4. Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,


But I only slept with you 'cause I was pissed.


5. I thought that I could love no other


-- that is, until I met your brother.


6. Roses are red, violets are blue; sugar is sweet, and so are you.


But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead; the sugar bowl's empty and


so is your head.


7. I want to feel your sweet embrace;


But don't take that paper bag off your face.


8. I love your smile, your face, and your eyes


Damn, I'm good at telling lies!


9. My love, you take my breath away.


What have you stepped in to smell this way?


10. My feelings for you no words can tell,


Except for maybe 'Go to hell.'


11. What inspired this amorous rhyme?


Two parts vodka, one part lime.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

POCKET TASER STUN GUN: A GREAT GIFT FOR THE WIFE

Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety....??


WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home.


I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing!


I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. AWESOME!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.


Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.


I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?


So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries. All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, "no possible way!"


What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best...
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it dipshit," reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and . . . HOLY MOTHER OF GOD . . . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . . WHAT THE HELL!!! I'm pretty sure the Incredible Hulk ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs?


The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an atempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room. Note: If you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. A three second burst would be considered conservative.
SON-OF-A-B****, THAT HURT LIKE HELL!!! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I had no control over the drooling. Apparrently I soiled myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sence of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe was came from my hair. I'm still looking for my nuts and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!!

P. S. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!