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Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Urban Legend

A young woman who was leaving on a long road trip was planning to drive through the night to a city several hundred miles away.  She was travelling alone, which made her mother very nervous.

"Be careful," her mother cautioned.  "Don't trust strangers.  There's a maniac on the loose, you know, and he preys on single, young women just like you."

The woman was quick to dismiss her mother's fears.  It was true that a man had escaped from prison, and it was true that he abducted two young women and brutally murdered them with a large butcher knife, but what of it?  The woman felt there was nothing to fear, as long as a person was street-smart and kept her wits about her.

"Don't worry about me," she told her mother.  "I'll be fine.  I know how to take care of myself." 

She had meant what she said, but her mother's warning lingered in the back of her mind.

The sun had already set when the woman stopped at a lonely service station by the side of the highway.  Heavy clouds obscured the moon and the stars, and the sky threatened a thunderstorm.

Hurriedly, she filled the gas tank and made use of the restroom.  When she approached the counter to pay her bill, the attendant smiled in a friendly fashion.

"Dirty night," he said as he used a grimy finger to point out the dusty, dirty window.  His outdoor signs whipped around in the wind.

The young woman nodded, a faint smile crossing her face, but said nothing.  In the gloom of the night, away from the comforting lights of town, she didn't feel as courageous.  The service station attendant might have been a perfectly fine and harmless person, but she had no way of knowing that for certain.  He was a stranger to her, and she had been warned to not talk to strangers.  As she thought of this, she took her change from the man and hurried our the door, toward the safety of her car.

She was almost there when she heard the bell on the door jangle behind her.

"Wait a minute!" the attendant called.

The woman didn't turn around.  Instead, she quickened her pace.

"I'm in a hurry!" she lied as she ran around the front of the car and yanked open the driver's side door.  She slid in behind the wheel, closed the door and locked it.  When she looked up, she saw the attendant standing inches away.

Inside the well-lit station, he had appeared to be only a little grubby and disheveled.  But outside, under the arc of the unnatural fluorescent light, the attendant had taken on a decidedly unsettling countenance.

"I made a mistake," he said to the woman.  "Gave you the wrong change.  Just come back inside for a minute and we'll sort it out."

A dense, cold knot formed in her stomach.

"I have to go!  I don't care about my change!" she yelled through the closed window.  She turned the ignition key and breathed a silent prayer of thanks when her occasionally unreliable car roared to life.

But the attendant was insistent.

"No, it's you who owes me money," he said.  "It'll just take a minute.  Then you can be on your way!"

He stepped in front of the woman's car then, blocking her way.  More than his nervous gaze or his obvious lie, this frightened the woman.  She fumbled in her purse for a handful of coins, and opened her window just wide enough to throw the money out.

"Here!" she cried.  "That's more then what you gave me!  Now let me go!"

The attendant leaned forward.  He placed his hands on the hood of the car and looked directly into her eyes.  Slowly, he shook his head.  Silently, he mouthed the word "no."

It was so threatening, so loathsome, the woman was jolted into action.  She put the car in gear and stepped on the gas pedal.  The attendant jumped out of the way, barely in time.  The front fender of the car still managed to brush his thigh with enough force that he was knocked down and sent rolling across the pavement.

As her car swerved wildly onto the highway, the woman risked one backward glance.  To her horror, she saw the attendant making a limping run for his pickup truck that sat parked near the restrooms.

She pressed her foot into the gas pedal, pushing the car to its limit.  But the car's limit was less then enough, and soon there were headlights looming behind her.  In the darkness, the woman couldn't see that it was the attendant's truck following her, but she knew.  The driver repeatedly flashed his headlights on high beam and blasted his horn insistently.

'Oh my God!' the woman thought.  'He's trying to run me off the road!  It's just like that urban legend!'

The truck advanced until it was inches away from the car's bumper, and its horn blared out with deafening persistence.  When the driver backed off slightly, it was only so that he could blind the woman with a staccato flashing of lights.  Between this terrifying interference and her own state of panic, the woman feared that it wouldn't be long before she misjudged one of the twists and turns of the dark highway.

As she was thinking that, she sped past a familiar sign.  "Ingrid's B & B, ½ Mile," it read, and the woman remembered the small farm where she had once stayed with her ex partner.  She knew that the drive was coming up on her right; it was a sharp turn that drivers were apt to miss, unless they were prepared . . .

The woman saw the gravel lane and cranked hard on the steering wheel.  She felt the car go up on two wheels, where it wobbled briefly before coming down with a spine-compressing thud.

There was a noise, a violent noise that began with a squealing of rubber on pavement, as the pickup truck tried too late to follow her car.  The noise was followed by the brittle snapping of tree trunks and the scream of twisting metal.  Finally, there was a soft whoosh of flames.  The truck had left the road and torn a destructive path down the shallow gully that divided the highway and the B & B drive.

The woman felt overwhelming relief wash over her.  She slowed the car, turned it around, and with a trembling hand shifted it into park.  For a moment, she watched the flaming wreckage that imprisoned the maniacal service station attendant. 

She closed her eyes, leaned forward until her forehead was touching the steering wheel, and waited for the tears to come.

But they didn't.  In their place, there was a strange sensation of triumph.

'I was right,' the woman thought.  'I know perfectly well how to take care of myself!  There's never a reason to be afraid, as long as I keep my wits about me!'

When she finished congratulating herself, the woman sat up once more and opened her eyes.  Some small movement in the rear view mirror captured her attention, and she glanced up to see what it might be.

It only took a split second for her to realize that she had been wrong.  Wrong about her cocky beliefs and wrong about the poor, dead service station attendant.  He hadn't been trying to kill her; it was suddenly clear that he'd been trying to warn her.

For there, in the deep shadows of the back seat, sat a large man with a leering eye and evil smile.  When he noticed the woman looking at him, he smiled more broadly and held something up.

The flickering orange flames of the burning wreckage reflected so beautifully in the polished razor-sharp blade of his very large butcher knife.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Escapade - Part One

She was older then him.  Four years older to be exact.  But that didn't matter.  She was what he craved.  She was what he wanted to wake up to.  Her eyes enchanted him.  Her smile was infectious and her body was.....whoa!

He took a step back from the balcony, admiring the beauty that was lying in the bed.  It was the second time that they had gotten a hotel room together and they had made quick work of discarding their clothes.

She had raked her nails down his back as he unzipped her dress.  He slid it over her ample breasts, guiding the dress down over her curvaceous hips, letting it fall freely to the ground.  She kicked it aside, tossing her mane of sunshine gold hair back over her shoulders.  Her green eyes filled with desire as she licked her lips.  She wanted him more then she could say. 

He discarded her bra and panties before asking her lie down on the bed.  He groped her body, running his fingers across her erect nipples.  Her breasts were one of her best features, so full and luscious that it was almost criminal.  He placed his mouth over her nipple and flickered his tongue against it before biting it gently.  She closed her eyes, a low moan escaping from her.  

Her moan changed to a groan when he moved away from her.  He chuckled slightly as she reached for him.  He knelt down on the floor and placed his head between her thighs. 

He was good at teasing and he knew that she loved it.  The first time that they were together, he had tied her to the bed and teased her until she begged him to fuck her.  Today, however, was different.  He had already explored her body.  He knew her reactions.  He knew how tight she was.  How hot.  He knew that she wanted him more then anything.

He licked the length of her pussy.  Moisture flooded his mouth as she shivered slightly, her hands groping her breasts, fingering her nipples.  She looked down at him, catching his eye and shot him the hottest, smouldering look that she could muster.

His groin tighten painfully.  He shifted his weight and continued to eat her out.  He changed his pace, moving faster before slowing down and completely sucking her clitoris into his mouth.  

A shudder ripped through her as she let out a throaty cry of pleasure, her eyes wide.  He continued to suck her clit, prolonging her orgasm.  She begged him to stop.  

He smiled as he stood up and unzipped his pants.  The sight of his erect cock had her scooting to the edge of the bed.  She wet her lips and made a play for him.  She placed her mouth over his length and began to tease him to the best of her ability.

"Holy shit," he murmured as the heat of her mouth wrapped around him.  Her tongue swirled around his head, tickling the delicate skin.  Her hand wrapped around the base and began jerking him off in smooth, fluid motions.

He pushed her away.  He didn't want to come so soon.  Nor did he want to come in her mouth.  He grabbed her legs, spreading them wide and inserted himself into her tight body.  She moaned and bucked her hips forward, squeezing her inner muscles so that he was trapped inside her.

Lust filled her eyes as they stared at one another.  Slowly, he began to pull out of her.  She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer to her body.  He obliged, thrusting deep inside her.  "Ohh, babe, you're so tight," he said into her shoulder as he quickened the rhythm.  Her response was a sultry look and a low moan.

Her hand gripped the bed sheets while the other one groped her breasts, digging her purple nails into her juicy flesh.  

His pace quickened.  This was no longer making love, nor were they teasing each other.  This was primal animal fucking at it's finest.

A scream tore from her mouth as his cock hit that spot.  That single spot inside her that sent her into a sea of ecstasy and pleasure beyond her wildest dreams.  

His own orgasm wasn't that far behind.  He announced it as he shot his thick, creamy load inside her.  He collapsed on her, his head buried in a sea of golden curls.  He felt her nails trail down his back, clawing at him.

Using his forearms, he propped himself up, staring intently into her eyes.  Her face was flushed, her cheeks pink.  She kissed him, her tongue massaging his. 

They parted and he pulled out of her.  She whimpered in protest as he stood before her.  She felt empty.  She reached down, rubbing herself, feeling the combination of her come mixed with his as it trickled from her pussy.

She stared up at him, her green eyes were glassy.  She was satisfied.  He lent down and kissed her passionately.  "Careful," she whispered, licking his neck with the tip of her tongue.  "Otherwise you'll have to fuck me again."

"I have every intention of it," he told her, planting a kiss on her forehead.  Her eyes darkened and the expression of interest played across her face as he stepped outside in all his naked glory. 

Friday, August 26, 2011

A Simple Poem

In fantasies we walk the path of dreams
In dreams we walk the path of fantasy
In my heart I walk the path of you
Regardless of how you see me

My heart skips a beat when you are near
My mouth feels like it is made of cotton
My heart breaks when you leave me
My eyes cry tears that you will never see

Your smile lights up my life
Your voice makes me feel alive
To have it whispering in my ear
Sends shivers down my spine

To feel your touch against my flesh
To feel your breath against my skin
Makes me feel like I am worthy
Makes me feel like I can love again

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Gore Verses Fear: A Look At Horror Through The Years

This is a continuation of my earlier post 'Penny For Your Thoughts'.

What does it take to make a modern day horror movie? Add one dash of hot chicks, a few cloves of victims, a teaspoon of serial killer, copious amounts of gore, stir and presto! A modern day horror film.

Since the turn of the century, horrors have taken a severe detour when it comes to how to scare people. Directors and writers alike have thrown aside the suspense in favour of blood, guts and gore. The question is why.

I'm not going to get into the argument of if horror films promote real life violence (simply because I don't believe that they do – to quote Billy Loomis (Skeet Ulrich) from Scream “Don't you blame the movies. Movies don't create psychos. Movies make psychos more creative”), but I am going to look at suspense verses gore and what sets iconic movies like Silence Of The Lambs and Halloween apart from that of Saw and Paranormal Activity.

Suspense is what makes horror, well, horrifying. Whether it be something as simple as the score (Come on, how many of you would be pissing yourselves if you were in the ocean and someone started humming the 'Jaws' theme?) or shadows, suspense is the reason that old school horror, like that of Psycho, will remain timeless.

Most films today seem to forget this and focus more on how many people can they dissect in ninety minutes and how many fake limbs are needed. The days of caring about the story and the characters are long gone.

Let's take a quick look at Saw. I was impressed by the first film because the concept was original and there was a storyline and believable characters. They combined both gore and suspense well, and didn't treat the audience as simpletons. But as the sequels emerged so did a frightening factor: Blood, guts and gore. The Saw series is no longer scary but stomach churning. Suspense no longer exists except for a sudden burst of dramatic music when something jumps out at our 'victims'. I walked out of Saw IV because I couldn't stomach what I was watching.

So why does it seem that horror of late wants to disgust us rather then scare us? Simple. We're desensitised by everything we witness on the news and in the media so a film has to go above and beyond that to get a reaction from its core audience. So if that means flinging a rib cage at the screen, then so be it.

Paranormal Activity was a huge success because the creators took a step back from the blood and gore and stuck with suspense. They went the opposite way to the Saw series and were rewarded by it. Now, I have to admit, I was bored to tears with Paranormal Activity and found myself fast forwarding 98% of the movie because I couldn't connect with the characters. I didn't feel for the characters, I didn't find the story that interesting and when the 'surprise' at the end happened, I just sat there and said to my friends, “Wait. Was that it?”

Paranormal Activity followed the footsteps of The Blair Witch Project. Low budget with an original concept loaded to the brim with suspense and lack of blood. The only difference for me was The Blair Witch Project had likable characters and for years was passed off as something that really happened. Some people to this day still believe that. It was suspenseful, it generated a lot of buzz from the film industry, and above all, it didn't rely on gore to scare. It relied on story telling and believable characters. When Heather, Josh and Mike felt fear and were terrified, so was the audience. It was scary because it was deemed to be real. We were suckered into the story. 

When an audience becomes part of the terrifying story then fear will follow. 

When Halloween hit cinema in 1978, theatre goers would cover their ears because the music was too scary. John Carpenter's theme music still scares audiences today. In fact, it's the only thing that will wake me from a dead sleep. But it wasn't just the music that causes Halloween to rank at number 2 in the top 10 of scariest films (Empire magazine November 2010). It was the use of low lighting, blue light, shadows, great story telling and surprise, surprise, lack of blood. Michael Myers terrified audiences through out the world by blending in. He would materialise from the shadows as the score grew louder. The only indication that he was there was his ragged breathing. And when he was unmasked by Laurie during a final struggle, audiences read more fear into his revealed face then intended. To quote director and writer John Carpenter, “The place went ape shit.”

Michael Myers is a horror movie juggernaut. Along with Friday the 13th's Jason Voorhees and Nightmare On Elm Street's Freddy Krueger, Michael has terrorised audiences for over thirty years. Something about that movie struck a cord with audiences the world over. For my mother, who saw it at the drive-in in '78, it was Michael's mask. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could see it materialise out of the darkness. For others, it's the infamous closet sequence where our heroine, Laurie, is trapped and Michael is breaking down the door, literally, to get to her. Or perhaps it's Dr. Loomis' speech about how 'pure evil' Michael is. But for me, it will always be that menacing score. No film today has been able to match it. Although Scream was sneaky and had Halloween playing in the background at the party ergo the same music was used for both pictures.

With Shark Night 3D exploding into cinemas, I want to take a moment to look at movies that promote genuine fear. Not some man in mask, but real fears. Buried, whist I wouldn't consider it a horror, plays on the real fear of being buried alive as well as claustrophobia. Python and Anaconda delivered on our fear of snakes. Alligator taught us not to flush pets down the toilet, and as for Jaws, well, I know people that still won't go in the ocean.

But the difference between Jaws and something like Deep Blue Sea is the suspense. In Deep Blue Sea we are introduced to the sharks in a similar fashion to Jaws in that the story begins with an attack, however unlike Jaws, this attack is not fatal. (Fun fact, the number plate that is pulled from the sharks mouth at the beginning is the same number plate pulled from the tiger shark in Jaws). The makos in Deep Blue Sea are shown more regularly then the Great White in Jaws and therefore subconsciously desensitising us from everything that is about to take place. Not to mention that the CGI work was terrible and I have never encountered a 45 foot mako (the largest on record is 13 feet) which deducts points from the story for believability.   

I didn't jump once when the makos made their appearance, but when Jaws popped his head up out of the water to say hi to Chief Brody, you bet I jumped. I also agreed that they were going to need a bigger boat.

From what I've seen of Shark Night 3D it's going to be a senseless blood bath. As a lover of sharks, it's heart breaking to see something like this depicting these animals as cold-blooded killers. Yes, there are fatalities that are the result of shark attacks, but I assure you something like Shark Night 3D is in no way as believable as what happened in Jaws. From the trailer I can already see that Shark Night 3D is a gore-fest, with no real thought behind the scares. It's a group of kids (aren't they all) isolated and used as shark bait. There's no real thought behind it. It's just like every other shark film that's been made since 1975.   

So why don't modern film makers take a look at the past and try to recreate what happen in classics? I'm not talking about remaking a classic (that's a whole other argument) but learning from it. Use shadows, use lighting, use music to create your mood. Have people that are believable and a storyline to match.

As movie goers evolve so does cinema. Unfortunately, when it comes to the views of horror, people assume that more blood is better. Would you rather witness a man being torn limb from limb or a well thought out stalking chase with a final showdown that will result in a bloody aftermath? I'm not suggesting that future horrors suspend their use of blood and gore. I'm suggesting that they tone it down. Take a note from classics from the past. Focus more effort on your story and your characters and you will be rewarded.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Rendezvous - Part Four - The Finale

The warm water washed down over me, washing the suds of the shampoo down the drain.  I close my eyes as the water runs down over my face, dripping from the end of my nose and chin.

Reaching for the conditioner, I smile as I think about you.  You lying naked in the bed that resides no less then three feet outside the bathroom door.  Naked, hugging the pillow as you sleep.  I'm hoping that you're dreaming of me.

I lather my hair up, piling it on top of my head, making sure to coat it completely in the conditioner.  You always mock me for the way I spend so long taking care of my hair.  I usually just flash you a smile and remark that I only do it so it'll be strong and healthy which means that you'll be able to pull on it when we're getting dirty.  That usually shuts you up for a little while.

With my hair piled on top of my head, I reach for the vanilla and rose scented body wash that you bought me.  I squeeze a generous amount on a loofah and began to wash my body.  My arms, my breasts, my stomach and thighs. 

The loofah teases my nipples causing them to stand to attention.  I can't help but pause as I enjoy the sensations.  Slipping a hand down the plain of my body, I spread my legs slightly, allowing my wandering hand to feel my body. 

A finger slips inside me and I let out a low moan.  I am really wet which is kind of obvious considering I'm in the shower.  But the thought of you causes a different kind of moisture. 

I quiver slightly as the loofah drops from my hand and I withdraw my finger.  I cup my breasts, squeezing them together, my fingers taunting my erect nipples. 

My eyes are closed, my breathing is ragged.  I would give anything to have you touch me. 

Suddenly I can feel your hands on my hips.  My eyes fly open in surprise.  Craning my neck to see over my shoulder, I gasp.  You're standing there, a sleepy grin on your face.  "Having fun without me?" you tease, placing your hands on top of mine, squeezing my breasts and simultaneously pulling me into your body.  I can feel your erection press against my flesh.  "How long have you been standing there?" I asked, as you kiss my shoulder.

"Long enough," you reply before forcefully kissing me.  My hair cascades down my back like a golden waterfall as you push me gently under the stream of running water.  I moan, raking my nails down your chest, feeling the water bounce off. 

Our tongues dance together, your hips grinding against mine.  I want you inside me so desperately.  I pull away from you, gasping for air.  My eyes are still emerald green.  You smile knowingly as you lift my leg, wrapping it around your arm as you hold me against the cool tiles.

With one thrust you're inside me.  I gasp and shudder.  Your hair is matted to your forehead as you ask me if I'm alright.  I nod, unable to find my voice. 

You begin slowly, short, shallow thrusts before I beg you to nail me harder.  You grin and with one swift motion, have lifted me completely off the floor.  I gasp, gripping your shoulders, my nails digging into your skin as you continue to fuck me with the same intensity as a NASCAR sprint.

Your arms are the only support I have.  Throwing my head back, I let out a throaty cry.  You grin, knowing that the rhythm of our bodies is drawing me closer to a climax.  My nails sink into your shoulder, my eyes are closed.  "Oh, baby, don't stop," I beg, biting my lower lip. 

"Look at me," you say.  I obey, my eyes opening slightly.  "Kiss me."  A faint smile plays on my lips as I lean down. 

Our lips touch.  My lips part.  Your tongue massages mine, flickering in and out of my mouth with the same intensity as which your cock pumps into me. 

I wrap my legs around your torso, squeezing you the best I can.  You groan and our mouths part.  My breathing hitches in my throat as you bite down on my nipple.  A mini orgasm passes through me.  I know you felt it too.  I can feel you staring at me. 

"Come for me, baby," you whisper.  Your words are almost lost in the sounds of running water.  I moan a reply, thrusting my hips towards you, squeezing your cock with my inner muscles. 

You groan and I feel you shifting.  I ask if you're OK when my sentence is cut off by you rubbing your thumb against my clit.  I groan with pleasure and come hard.  You can feel my body convulse.  You groan as you come inside me, your come mixing with mine.

You lower me to the ground.  My legs are shaking but you won't let me fall.  You hold me upright, running your hand through my hair, your fingers entangled in strands of sunshine gold.  You kiss me, sweetly, deeply.  "Happy?" you ask.

"Very," I reply, collapsing against your chest.  I can feel your heart beating as the water makes the same noise against my back.  Your hand slips down my body, grabbing my ass.  "Good," you say.  "Because we have this room for another two nights."

Sunday, August 21, 2011

In Your Eyes

I love our time together.
I love the way the sunlight plays against your bare chest. 
I love the feel of the silk sheets against my bare skin. 
I love the way you look at me. 
It's all in your eyes.

I love the feel of your lips as they brush against my body. 
I love the feel of your tongue as it tickles my skin. 
You look at me and I see it in your eyes.

I love nothing more then to wake up next to you. 
I love nothing better then to watch you shower. 
Actually, I do love something better. 
I love showering with you. 
And when I do, I see that look. 
It's all in your eyes.

That admiration. 
That devotion. 
That sweet nature that has me coming back time and time again. 
The way you hold me in your arms. 
The way you run your fingers through my hair. 
The way you slide your hand into the back pocket of my jeans and give a gentle squeeze. 

I love how you talk to me. 
I love how you fight with me. 
I love how playful you are with me. 
But most of all, I love that look of passion. 
It's all in your eyes.

All linked by a single glance.
It's all in your eyes.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Penny For Your Thoughts

Everyone who knows me can tell you that I have a passion for horror films.  I love watching Michael Myers terrorize Haddonfield on Halloween.  I love watching Freddy Krueger rip into teenage dreams and Jason Voorhees- well, sad to say I'm not really a Jason fan. 

Lately I've been thinking about modern day horror verses old school.  Halloween is over thirty years old, Psycho is fifty plus and Jaws is still the most terrifying shark film on the market.  But why are these films still so popular?  I can only think of two things: Suspense and character development.

Suspense is what makes horror, well, horrifying.  Whether it be something as simple as the score (Come on, how many of you would be pissing yourselves if you were in the ocean and someone started humming the 'Jaws' theme?) or shadows, suspense is the reason that old school horror, like that of Psycho, will remain timeless.

Modern day horror seems to focus on the gore and sexual prowess aspect of horror.  How much blood can we throw at the screen?  How many naked people do we need in this shot?  Has anyone seen the fake detached limbs? 

When the Saw series first began, I had high hopes for it.  It was original (and disturbingly came out of the mind of two boys from my home town) and it focused on suspense with a bit of gore thrown in for good measure.  By the time the fourth film came into play, I was over it.  Forget the suspense, it was just a simple blood bath.  Needless to say I didn't find it scary as much as stomach-churning.  I walked out of Saw 4 midway through because I hated what I was watching.  To this day, I still haven't seen the seventh installment, nor do I really want to.

Which brings me to Paranormal Activity.  Suspenseful?  Yes.  Gorey?  No.  Boring as all hell?  Definitely.  I watched Paranormal Activity on television and ended up fast forwarding 98% of the movie because I was bored to tears.  The only part I actually watched was the end and even then I was asking my friends, "Wait.  Was that it?"

The Blair Witch Project, which, for those who don't know, was the 90's version of Paranormal Activity.  It was terrifying.  It was suspenseful, it wasn't boring and most of all, it actually had characters that we liked.  (For me, and I'm not asking you to agree, Paranormal Activity was that dull that I was considering sorting out my sock drawer)  The Blair Witch Project came into the market that was dominated by big baddies - Not the baddies of the 80's (Freddy, Jason etc.) but that of the 90's.  The Fisherman and Ghostface.  The Blair Witch Project succeeded and remains to be scary because it was different.  It followed a different path to most horror and yet managed to keep the basic horror elements that have made movies like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Silence Of The Lambs iconic.

Character development seems to be the other issue the horror genre has.  Scream has been the only modern day film where you're not actually rooting for the killer because the main characters are pissing you off - OK I admit that I'm still waiting for Gale Weathers to die but I'm not the only one.  We feel for Sidney, we laugh with Dewey, and we all hated Wes Craven when Randy died.  Scream is the golden example of what characters should be like. 

Jaws is another movie with character development.  Think back to the film.  We got chills down our spine when Quint told us why he'd never put another life jacket on.  We chewed our nails in fear as Matt Hooper climbed into the anti-shark cage.  We agreed with Martin Brody when he said "You're going to need a big a boat."  We even cheered when Brody finally blew 'Jaws' up at the end.  If we didn't like the characters, then we wouldn't have these kinds of reactions.

Are these types of movies long behind us?  Are great stories that combine fear, blood and character development long gone?

If I could write horror I would be doing my hardest to return to the years gone by when it comes to stories that truly terrify.  Alas I cannot.  I tired and created the funniest comedy known to man.  I actually think I spent more time on the blooper reel then on the movie itself. 

If you are a writer and you're wanting to branch out, have a stab (no pun intended) at a horror script.  Bring some fresh ideas to the table.  Who knows, in thirty years time we could be discussing why your idea simply won't die.

Rendezvous - Part Three

Closing the door behind you, you smile as I lay on the bed.  I haven't taken my eyes off you or your magnificent body. 

A wicked smile plays on your face as you grab my ankles.  I let out a squeal as you pull me towards the end of the bed.  My hands grip the sheets as you tear me downwards, until my legs are hanging over the end of the bed.

Wrapping your arms around my thighs, holding me in place, you begin to tease my body.  You kiss my inner thigh, gently blowing warm air onto it, watching my reaction.  My eyes close as your tongue traces an invisible line down my inner thigh towards my knee.  I let out a low primal growl, wishing that invisible line was heading upwards.

I can feel your breath on my skin as you chuckle silently.  I am resisting every urge to grab you by your hair and force your head between my thighs. 

I take a couple of deep breaths.  This is your game.  My body is your instrument and you're allowed to play with it however you see fit. 

You kiss my ankle.  My eyes open and I prop myself up on my elbows, watching you.  You look up at me, your dark eyes dancing with delight.  You touch my feet and begin to tickle.  I cry out, attempting to kick you, to free myself from your grip.  I fail. 

You sit on top of me, pinning me under your body.  Your hands tickle my ribs.  I'm laughing so hard that tears have sprung to my eyes.  I'm fighting to breathe.  In between gasps of air, I'm begging you to stop. 

"I will on one condition," you say, leaning down, your chest against mine.  "You sit on my face until I let you come."

I can feel my cheeks growing warm and I know that I am blushing.  I nod quickly, desperate for another orgasm.  After all, you did promise me that your tongue was better then your finger.

You lie on the bed, and I awkwardly look at you, wondering how the hell I'm going to do this.  I scramble to my knees.  I place one leg on either side of your body.  You pull me forward so that I'm practically sitting on your chest.  I can feel my wetness as I'm sure you can too.  I slide a hand down my body but you stop me, informing me that it is you who is bringing me to an orgasm.

"Yes, Master," I say teasingly as I rub my nipples, pinching them between my fingers.  They are so hard that it hurts. 

As if feeling my pain, you place a firm hand on my back, pushing me down, until you can suck them into your mouth.  Your tongue flickers across them before you suckle them, teasing me, making me wetter.  It won't take much to get me off from here.

I pull away, my nipple slipping from your mouth.  I kneel and begin to move up your body.  I rest my hands on the headboard of the bed as I lower myself onto your mouth.

I can feel your tongue glide along my lips, your hands on my thighs, so I can't move anywhere. 

The tip of your tongue tickles my clit which causes a mini shock wave to shoot through my body.  I move slightly, attempting to get out of your reach, but you hold me still, taunting me with your talented tongue.

My breathing changes.  From deep breaths, it becomes short and shallow.  My grip has tightened on the headboard of the bed.  My knuckles have turned white. 

You're still holding me down, your tongue expertly exploring my pussy, tickling my clitoris before sucking it entirely into your mouth.

The pleasure waves begin to roll in.  You release my left thigh from your death grip.  I can feel your hand running over my ass and lower back before joining your tongue inside me.

It's this last action that has my eyes flying open, a strangled cry escaping from my plump lips as my body convulses around your finger. 

You continue to lick at my clit, sucking it into your mouth, prolonging my orgasm.  I beg you to stop when I can't take any more.  Sweat falls from my brow.  You shimmy your way out from under me.  My legs feel as though they are made from jelly.  You place your hand on my shoulder while you unhook my fingers from the death grip that they have on the bed head.

I collapse against the sheet, trying to get my breathing back to normal.  My hair is matted to my body, knotted no doubt.

I look at you through glassy eyes.  "That was the most intense orgasm I've ever had," I tell you, reaching for you.  You smile, taking my hand and leaning down for a kiss.  I can taste myself on your lips as our tongues dance together.

"You're welcome," you whisper, lying down behind, wrapping your hands around my body.  "But you do know we're not finished yet."

To be continued . . . 

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Rendezvous - Part Two

I didn't think I could be in any more ecstasy.  But here you were promising me the moon, the Earth and the stars. 

Looking over my shoulder at you, I smile slyly.  "Pretty cocky, aren't you?" I tease, shooting you my best sultry look.  You chuckle, standing up.  You're still rivaling the Empire State Building as you climb out of the bath.  I watch as you dry your body and wrap a towel around your waist.  Your erection isn't concealed by the terrycloth towel.

You hold out your hand, allowing me to stand.  You aid me out of the bath and begin drying my body.  My breasts, my thighs, my ass, my arms.  I watch as you drop to your knees as your hand rubs over my stomach.  "You missed a spot," I tease.

Looking up at me, you smile, pressing the towel between my legs.  My eyes close as you gently rub.  The sensation of my skin and the towel is enough to bring me to the brink of an orgasm, but just before the explosion that I've come to know and love, you stop, getting to your feet.

I let out a whine of frustration.  You just chuckle, discarding my towel to the bathroom floor. 

You take my hand and lead me out into the hotel room.  There's not much to see except that it's a hotel room.  There's a bed, a minibar, a television.  Nothing abnormal.  There's a small door leading onto a balcony to which you happily lead me outside. 

Conscious of my nakedness, I bring my arms up, folding them across my breasts.  You rip your towel off, handing it to me, and sit in the chair that is provided by the inner city hotel.  You pat you lap to which I arch an eyebrow.  "Come take a seat, princess," you say.

Awkwardly, I shuffle over to you.  Before I have a chance to position myself, you pull me down on your lap, with me facing away from you. 

I gasp as you fill me.  My hand grasps the towel as your hands grasp my hips.  I turn to look at you, my eyes wide. 

I murmur your name as I begin to ride you, my hips slowly grinding on your throbbing cock.  You release one hand from my hip and reach for the towel.  You place it behind you so it won't fly away in the evening breeze.

Feeling exposed I keep my chest covered as I rock against you.  You don't want this.  Reaching around, you grab my wrists, breaking my coverage and pulling my arms down beside my body.  The gentle breeze teases my nipples until they're hard like diamonds.

"Keep your arms there," you command, dusting kisses along my shoulder.  I shiver but nod my head.  I see your hand snake around my body, rubbing one of my nipples before tweaking it.  I gasp and shudder as I can feel the heat rising between us. 

You hand snakes down the plain of my belly before stopping to play with my belly ring.  I know exactly what you have planned.  Before your hand goes any lower, I grab it. 

Before I know what is happening, you've pushed me off your lap and bent me over the railing of the balcony.  You slapped your hand against my ass hard, leaving a red mark.  I cry out, more in surprise then pain.  I realized my mistake.  I shouldn't have tried to stop you.

You kiss me, turning my body around in your arms, allowing me to face you.  "What do you say?" you asked, your tongue dipping into my ear.  I lower my gaze.  "I'm sorry," I say, sounding more like a school girl then a grown woman.  "Sorry, what?" you ask, cupping my chin in your hand, forcing my head upwards to look you in the eye.  "I'm sorry, sir," I say.

A faint smile plays on your lips.  "Good girl," you say, pressing my back against the railing.  You lift my leg and press your hips against mine, grinding yourself slowly into me.  I grip your shoulder, my nails leaving marks. 

You kiss my forehead as we fuck against the balcony railing.  Sweat covers our bodies and I am no longer worried about us being seen.  Or heard.  I don't think I have ever been this loud.  Not even the passing traffic can drown out my sounds of pleasure.

You kiss my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, as you pull me closer to your body.  I drag my long black nails down your back, leaving slick marks in the glistening sweat.

I can feel your cock pulsing rhythmically as my hips buck against yours, driving forward, begging for satisfaction.

You groan as you pull out of me.  I feel empty as you take a step back.  My body glistens in sweat with a pink tinge and my hair is wind-blown.  My eyes are still shining brightly as I move a stray strand of hair out of my face. 

I can't handle this teasing so I decide to take matters into my own hands.  Dropping to my knees, I place my mouth over your cock and greedily suck it entirely into my warm mouth.  You gasp, your hand running through my hair.  Using my hands, I begin to stroke you, confident that I can make you explode in a matter of minutes. 

Alternating between my hand, my tongue and my mouth, I glance up at you.  You're eyes are closed.  I smile wickedly and continue my pursuits.  I slip a hand in between my legs, determined to get myself off as well.

Your cock is smooth and hot to touch.  The taste of come fills my mouth as you let out a primal growl.  Eyes not leaving you, I gulp it down as though it was the best tasting milkshake I've ever had.  Truth be told, I'm gagging on the salty texture.

"You naughty girl," you say, helping me to my feet.  "This was suppose to be about you."  I shrug, not at all seeming apologetic for going down on you.

You smack my ass as I walk past you, heading back inside the room.  I let out a cry as you follow, promising to punish me.  With a cute, coy smile I let out a giggle.  "Yes, Master," I say as the towel we left on the balcony is floated into the inner city by a gust of wind.

To be continued . . .         

Rendezvous - Part One

I roll over.  Your face stares back at me, eyes closed, mouth open slightly.

I sigh as I sit up, wrapping the sheet around my naked body.  I survey the room.  Rose petals litter the floor, the candles have burned out and the sun is streaming through a crack in the curtains. 

The sun?  I do a double take.  Since when did it become morning?

You stir.  I glance over my shoulder.  You're just changing positions.

I toss the covers off and make my way into the bathroom.

I turn on the shower and check my reflection.  My blond hair is a mess, knotted, and sticking up in seventy-five different directions, and my mascara has smudged under my eyes.  It's not a pretty sight.

I stick my hand into the running stream of water.  Perfect.  I climb in. 

Squeezing some shampoo into my hand I begin to lather my hair. 

I smile as I think about how our night started.

I arrived at the hotel.  You were already here.  I messaged you saying I was in the lobby to which you replied with the room number.  I took the elevator to the seventh floor and walked the hall until I found room 713.  I knocked on the door and rocked back and forth on my heels waiting for you to answer. 

You pulled the door open, looking as handsome as always, wearing tight fitting black pants and stylish button up shirt.  I stared down at my summer sun dress, mentally kicking myself for not dolling myself up more.

You grabbed my hand, pulling me into your body, kissing me passionately as you kicked the door closed.  My hands ran up and down your chest as I contently sighed.  "I missed you," you whisper into my ear.  A smile plays on my lips as I stare up at you, my eyes turning jade green.

You take me by my hand into the bathroom.  You have run me a bubble bath.  Rose petals line the bubbles and candles line the bath, their flames flickering, casting a romantic yellow glow.  "I want you to relax," you say as you close the door, leaving me alone.  I strip off, gliding my dress down over the curve of my hip, it dropping to the floor without a sound.  I removed my heels, dropping back down to my five-foot-six frame.  I discard my bra and panties and climb into the bath.

Closing my eyes, I tune out everything.  I've had a hard day at work and the only thing that has gotten me through it is knowing that I'm going to be with you tonight.  My hand glides over my knee, sinking beneath the waters surface, exploring my inner thigh before sliding a single finger into myself.

I jump when a second finger slides in.  My eyes open.  You are kneeling beside the bath, a cheeky smile on your face.  You withdraw your finger and make me remove mine.  I groan but you kiss my forehead.  "Patience, pretty one," you say.  You run your hands over my legs, refusing to touch me where I need it.  You cup my breasts, feeling my nipples harden for you.  I stare intensely, silently begging for you to release me.

As if reading my mind, you stand.  You begin to unbutton your shirt, revealing your toned torso.  You drop your shirt to the floor before removing your shoes and pants.  The bulge in your briefs tell me that you're as ready as I am.  You discard them, smiling at me.  

With a bubble covered hand I reach for your member, slowly gliding my hand up and down the shaft.  Your eyes close and I take that as my opportune moment.  My tongue darts out of my mouth and licks the tip of your cock.  You groan as I repeat this last movement.

You dance out of my reach.  You shake your head when I protest.  "When I come, I want it to be inside you," you say.  I pout.  You just laugh and tell me to scoot forward.  I obey and you climb in behind me.  You pull me back, my head resting against your chest as your hands explore my body.  You kiss my neck, sending shivers down my spine, as your finger finds its way back inside me.

"You're wet," you breath, kissing my neck and shoulder, as your finger slides in and out of my body.  "Of course I am," I reply, my breath hitching in my throat.  "I'm in a bath."  You chuckle before whispering, "Smart ass," into my ear.

You hook your finger slightly, thrusting it upwards, causing a surprised cry from me.  My hands grip the bath edge so tight, my knuckles turn white.  My eyes close as you repeat this movement, each time going a little deeper. 

I can feel your cock pulsing against my back.  I desperately want you inside me but I can't find my voice to ask. 

You watch my reactions, smiling.  You can feel I'm close to my first orgasm.  You continue to plunder the depths of my being until your finger hits that point.  My eyes shoot open, a cry escaping from my lips, a pink tinge rushing to my cheeks as my body shakes. 

Whispering soothing words into my ear, you withdraw, rubbing my arms in an attempt to stop the shaking.  I lean against you, breathing hard.  You watch as my chest rises and falls rapidly.  "I told you that you'd enjoy it," you say, kissing my cheek, your tongue darting into my ear.

I turn my head slightly, my eyes glazed over.  They are still green.  I swallow hard.  "You were right," is all I can say.  I feel as though my body has been zapped and has left me with no energy.

You smile, your eyes lighting up with delight.  "Just think, if that's what I can do with my finger, imagine what I can do with my tongue." 

Friday, August 12, 2011

The Gun Rings Once


I flew into the Hall after I heard the screams.  Standing near the front door, still screaming, was Mrs. Danthorpe, my maid.

"Calm down, Mrs. Danthorpe," I said, touching her shoulder.  The touch of my hand caused her to faint.  Calmly stepping around her, I pulled the door open to see my old friend Mr. Jefferson, standing at the door, his pistol drawn.

"What is the meaning of this, Jones?" he demanded, waving the gun in the air.  I held up my hands as though to defend myself.  "Jefferson, it's just the door bell," I stammered, my eyes not leaving his weapon.  Jefferson arched his eyebrow in interest.  "I don't believe you," he said.  "Someone took a shot at me and I'd like to know who."

"I'm telling you that it's the doorbell," I repeated.  "Go on, give it another push." 

With the barrel of his pistol still pointed at me, Jefferson stuck one chubby finger on the door bell button. 


Jefferson jumped.  "Is this some kind of joke, Jones?" he asked, sticking the gun inside his jacket pocket.  "Not at all," I replied, closing the door.  "I was just sick of the same old 'Ding Dong' that I wanted to try something different.  This sounded fun in the store.  Besides, it may scare off any potential thieves."

"Potential thieves?" 

"Yes, this weekend I'm hosting the Diamond Bonanza."

Mr. Jefferson arched an eyebrow.  "As in the largest diamond show in the world?"  I nodded, smiling.

Mrs. Danthorpe began to stir.  Reaching down for her, I helped her to her feet.  She was a little shaky but otherwise unharmed.


Jefferson stepped over my fainted body.  "It's just the door bell," he quipped as he pulled the door open.

Standing before him was Mrs. Withering, another one of my famed guests.  Just like Jefferson, she too had her pistol drawn at the ready. 

"Don't worry, Mrs. Withering, it's only the door bell," Mr. Jefferson said, extending his hand to her, helping her step over my fainted body.  "How rude," sniffed Mrs. Withering.  She nudged me with her toe so I rolled over onto my back.  "A proper door bell consists of a 'Ding' and a 'Dong'."

Mrs. Danthorpe nodded her head, fanning her face as she lent against the small table.  She was admiring the diamond that sparkled on Mrs. Withering's left hand.  "My, that is an impressive diamond" she asked casually.

"It's rude to state something like that.  But as a matter of fact, it is impressive.  It is a flawless emerald cut, 1.30 carats."  Mr. Jefferson licked his lips, his eyes lighting up with dollar signs.  "Say, that's a pretty looking hunk of rock.  How much would you say that it's worth?"

Mrs. Withering stared down her nose at him.  He was a brute, completely uncouth.  "About eighteen thousand.  Maybe more."

Mr. Jefferson looked at Mrs. Withering before sharing a glance with Mrs. Danthorpe. 

I opened my eyes, the light from my Hall chandelier blinding me temporarily.  I stood up, rubbing my eyes, blinking rapidly. 


"Just the door," I muttered, pulling it open.

Standing before me was the beautiful Miss Valmont.  Her long blond hair was perfectly straight and her hand was poised in a fist in the air.  She had a startled expression on her face.

"Ah, Miss Valmont, did my new door bell scare you?"

"Door bell?" she questioned, tilting her head.  "I didn't press the door bell.  I was just about to knock."

I froze.  "If you didn't press the door bell then what was - "  I turned around to see Mrs. Withering lying at my feet dead.


Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The Tease

She admitted it.  She loved to tease him.  She loved brushing her body against his, sending shivers running down his spine and the blood rushing to his groin.  She loved how a simple glance would cause him to blush and to cross his legs in hopes of hiding his sudden erection.

She was good at it.  The flip of her hair, her intense stare, the simple licking of her plump bottom lip.  He hadn't had so many public erections since he was fourteen.  She was going to pay for it.

He watched her from his bedroom window.  She climbed out of the car, her long creamy legs climbing high up her skirt, her breasts straining against the fabric of her shirt.  Her blond hair was half way down her back and, even from a distance, he could see the wicked gleam in her green eyes.

She knocked on the door and it swung open.  "Jon?" she called as she stepped inside.  Jon smiled as he strolled into the lounge to greet her with a passionate kiss.  She felt herself moan as their lips touched.  She opened her mouth and allowed him to explore her with his tongue. 

She pressed her hand against his chest, pushing him away as their lips parted.  His eyes fluttered open only to see that stare he had come to know oh-so well.

He took her by the hand and lead her to the bedroom.  Pulling her into his body, he ran his hands up and down her arms while kissing her.  He knew she had a sensitive neck.  He knew there was a single spot that would always cause her to grow weak at the knees. 

He kissed it, gently nipping at the skin.  She gasped, eyes closing.  Her impressive chest rose quickly as her breathing became short and shallow.

He unbuttoned her shirt, sliding it down her body and dropping it to the floor.  He discarded her skirt in the same manner.  She felt his hands holding her waist as he continued to suck on her neck. 

Reaching behind her, he unclasped her bra, tossing it over his shoulder.  She wouldn't be needing it.  He pulled away, smiling wickedly.  Hooking his thumbs into the waist-band of her white lace panties, he yanked them down over her thighs before she could protest.

Placing a large hand on her belly, he gave her a gentle nudge, pushing her onto the bed.  She bounced ungracefully, her eyes clouding over with interest.  Never had he been this forceful with her.

She opened her mouth but he silenced her with a kiss.  She groaned, eyes closing, as she felt him push her down onto the bed.  She was trapped underneath his body, her hands holding his above her head.

Something cold locked around her wrist.  She broke the kiss and looked up.  He had cuffed her left hand to the bed post.  She tugged at it.  It wouldn't budge.  She cursed as he locked her right one to the other post.

He watched as she pulled at the restraints.  When he was satisfied that she couldn't escape he walked off, leaving her tied up and naked.

He didn't leave her for long, returning with a piece of red satin cloth.  He approached the bed.  She looked at him.  The naughtiness had left her eyes and was replaced by fear.  He sat beside her, his hand caressing her cheek.  "You know that I'm not going to hurt you?" he asked. 

Sucking in a deep breath, she nodded.  Her eyes told a different story.  He kissed her, deeply, with a passion of a Greek God.  "I love you," he whispered.

She nodded again, eyes trained on the red cloth in his hand.  He held it out then quickly blindfolded her.  She gasped as he tied it behind her head.  Then he stood up, dusting his hands on his jeans.

Her head moved from side to side frantically, searching for him.  Her hands pulled at the restraints.  He watched with interest as her magnificent breasts rose with each breath she took.  He couldn't help himself.  He lent over her body and took one nipple in his mouth.  She gasped as his tongue flicked the delicate little bud.  He sucked it into his mouth, watching her body for a response.  He reached over and began kneading the other breast with his hand.

When he stopped, she whimpered, silently pleading for him to continue.  He grinned as she moved restlessly on the bed.  He was teasing her the same way she had teased him.  But this time, he was enjoying it.

He moved in between her legs, parting them with his hands.  He kissed her knees, her inner thighs before moving down to her feet.  He licked her toes, his eyes watching the frustration play out on her face.

He kissed her ankle as he ran his hand over her intimate area.  She was wet with desire and anticipation.  He slipped a finger into her body and she moaned.  He almost did too.  She was tight.  She was warm.  She was wet.  He slipped a second finger into her as he kissed her upper thigh and along the pubic bone.

She squirmed under his touch.  He stopped what he was doing, withdrawing from her.  She cried out in frustration and he silently chuckled. 

Her body was prime.  It begged for release.  He moved up beside her head and kissed her. 

She pulled away.  "You bastard!" she breathed.  Jon smiled.  She could curse him all she wanted but he was in charge.  He was in control. 

He sat down in a chair next to the bed and just watched her.  She turned her head, listening for any sign of him.  "Jon?" she called out after a few minutes.  "Jon?  Where are you?"

"Right here, love," he responded, scooting to the edge of the chair.  "I haven't gone anywhere."  To prove it, he reached over and tugged one of her nipples lightly.

"How can I make it better?" he asked, dusting a kiss on her collarbone, before tracing a line with his tongue down to her belly ring.  She jumped at his touch.  There was only one thing on her mind. 

"Please, let me come," she pleaded.
"Since you asked so nicely." 

He moved back in between her thighs and ran his tongue over her throbbing clitoris.  She threw her head back into the pillows, her hands balling into fist as he slid a finger into her wetness.  He sucked on her clit, flicking it inside her every so often to collect her juices, while his finger snaked inside her, pressing all the right buttons.

Sweat glistened on her body as she tried to take back some form of control.  It was too late.  With a sudden cry, she came, her body shaking.

He continued to lap at her pussy, making sure that she enjoyed every minute of her orgasm.  He didn't stop until she begged him to.

He watched as her body relaxed.  She was gasping for air, a pink tinge to her damp skin.  He reached over and removed the blindfold.  Her eyes fluttered open and a slow smile played on her lips. 

"Tease," she said before he kissed her again.


Last night I laid awake in bed thinking about sexual fantasies.  So, after speaking with a few girlfriends today, I've decided to share a few.  Enjoy.

Fantasy #1:  Role Playing.  It's a pretty common fantasy for many women (it certainly was among my girlfriends).  Boss and Secretary, doctor and nurse, or how about that naughty little school girl and her teacher?  You don't need to buy fancy costumes - for the latter one just a simple plaid skirt, white blouse and put your hair in pigtails.  It's adorable, and it will be more fun then you can poke a stick at.

Fantasy #2:  This is an extension of Fantasy #1 - Play rape.  Yes, you read that right.  As someone who has lived through the real life experience, I can tell you it's not fun, but it is a common fantasy.  I personally believe it's a way of giving into your naughty side and relinquishing control over to your partner.  But, I beg you, if you choose this fantasy, make sure you use a safe word like 'Orange' or something along those lines.  Once that word is said, your partner should stop.  Should they continue, then it officially becomes rape.

Fantasy #3:  Still with the role playing - sex slave.  Chains, whips, blindfolds can all be involved.  I find this to be a far safer way of relinquishing control over to your 'Marster'.  A simple dog collar around the neck complete with a lead is all the costume you'll need.  (Note: If you find the thought of being tied to a bed with handcuffs and/or chains intimidating, use silk scarves.  It adds a little spice without being scary)

Fantasy #4:  Romance.  Name one girl that doesn't want to swept off her feet by romance.  Lounge in a luxurious bubble bath, surrounded by the flickering lights of many candles, with your partner sitting behind you, their legs on the outside of yours, their hands running up and down your arms while they kiss your neck. It's sensual, it's romantic, it's hot.  Or maybe sprinkle rose petals on the bed before making love with passion and tenderness.  Do it in front of a roaring fire on a soft rug while it snows outside.  It's movie cliche` but believe me even a girl with a heart of ice will melt at this.  

Fantasy #5:  Getting Caught.  This one is rort with danger.  Having sex in a public place.  The thrill of getting caught will always add spice and heat to a relationship.  Grouping in the back of a movie theater, having sex in a public bathroom, doing it against a brick wall in an alleyway.  Whatever you're kick is, just remember if you are caught, be prepared for the consequences.

Five fantasies from the minds of my girlfriends and I that will add some spice to any relationship.  Feel free to contact me in regards to your fantasies.  Leave a comment here or on my Twitter account.  I look forward to hearing from you.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Everything In Life Happens For A Reason

Everything in life happens for a reason. 
The way we walk, the way we talk. 
The love and hate that we feel is all there because we're human. 
We have flaws, we make mistakes. 
But our lives are enriched by learning from them.

Everything in life happens for a reason.
Every day is a new adventure.
When that certain 'song' is played on the radio
Our hearts leap in our chests
Beating proudly as we sing along.

Everything in life happens for a reason.
Even that mean old man on the corner
Once had a reason to smile.
That dog that chases you down the road
Is doing it because of a divine plan.

Everything in life happens for a reason.
So when someone walks out of yours
Don't close the door on them.
They may return
Causing you to smile again.

Everything in life happens for a reason.
So when someone is taken from you
Don't despair.
Through the tears find a way to smile
Because that's what they would have wanted.

It may be hard to hear at times
Especially when one is grieving.
But through the hurt and the pain
Always understand
That everything in life happens for a reason.