Threesome mad fucking rabbit

Threesome mad fucking rabbit

He more or less abused her. On the sofa ripped her clothes off. Shamed her in front of me sitting by her. I sensed the aura of a dominant doing his thing and she squirming and he pushing harder til she succumbed and squealed. By that time her tits were out, her polkadot bra rode up to her chin, she was opening and closing her eyes. “Are you ok?” she asks. “Yes, don’t worry”, as I just took her head and rested it in my lap. Unzipped and go my cock out as he frigged her pussy like a three prodded gun of fingers, sharply. “She so wet” he says smiling. “mmmm”, she sucks my cock. SHe wasn’t up for it downstairs, in bed she wanted to cum. Tore clothes off fucking her deep as she grabs his cock and as he’s a voyeur apparently he was just getting off watching us, his wife and me, fucking; too drunk to cum I pound and pound and splurt all through her, and then he mops her up. “so much” he says, a doctor he is, so anyway, He doggies her as she kisses me.

……

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Lapping

re-blogged via Lapping.

*

Pressing her legs wide,

Lips on inner thighs glide,

Waft of excitement,

A heady enticement,

Lifting up her thighs,

So on your shoulders lies,

Just inches away,

Bending forward to play,

Your lips press to hers,

Tender pleasure confers,

Suck fat outer lips,

Spread them with fingertips,

Suck pink inner ones,

As her sleek nectar runs,

Pushing tongue inside,

Her groans she cannot hide,

Your head she grabs for,

As she implores for more,

Tongue pressed deeply in,

Juices run down the chin,

As you lap them up,

Searching for more to sup,

Thighs hold you tighter,

As she bucks in rapture,

Drinking juice that flows,

Until her trembling slows.

*

via Lapping.

What a poet is.

What a poet is.

In the tough hard world of ballet it takes a woman of vision to succeed. I know because of how I know it’s run. It’s run with sensitive males at the helm, and in fact the women are having to be tougher. Their pirouettes, the 32 fouettés of Swan Lake don’t just come from grace.
If the men need a sense of looseness to accompany the music the girls come back on that and deliver precision.
I just remember being in cars with these people, drinking, being loved—- a lot of it was intrigue, a lot of it sexual services. I didn’t have to fight. Well I did for one girl.
I strive for the completion of my vision and I think it’s a weakness, I need to see it materialized. It takes me a long time to mellow with just a general direction, controlling that gently and firmly.
The problem with wanting to see a vision is that it is a pinnacle, usually with just normality either side wagging its tail, and you have not equipped yourself for that, you have to invent another vision straight away, and that’s where I get lazy, rest on my laurels, and get swept away into crap, get disrespected by people eager to prove you wrong on the back of your success.
I’m used to that too. I just take it, and have become a sort of hermit, making sure the tiniest details of his life are manageable- that there is some sort of continuity, that people are understanding, understand, and that there is some sort of respect.
It’s a loner’s existence. I do fall in love, and it tips me upside down. I often give too much credence, think the beloved understands perfectly, will compromise, but it’s usually not the case. They often see this talented person who needs to make it in the world, when really I’ve spent years just protecting that.
Poetry needs a shell. It is so pure. It cannot defend itself. I am a sort of bank clerk poet. My mother had a friend who was that. He was so humble, so sweet with his big blue eyes, so forgiving, his studio in Paris just full of lines and lines of books without shelves, just running along the skirting boards. I looked at this when I was 20 and I think it really got to me. He didn’t have that horrible detachment or coldness I’d seen in other artists, that pretense, that arrogance. He could speak to anyone. He could empathize, ok, with limits. But mostly.
That became my vision of what a poet is.

Just this

It’s not much fun. Stripped I have little to do. I don’t really want to IM because I realize that for you it had little bearing on reality. You turned a lot of circles and it was just exasperating and hurtful too. It’s a bit empty here. Still alive though, smoking in bed not reading I just wanted to post this to reassure you. I love you and hope you’re ok. J. Xxxxxx

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I know you’re awake

I know you're awake

Tryin to take care
I look out the patio doors
You wlecome me
become
What I want

You are ther
your angst
my care
us
please
tell me
I know
what we want

give it to me
ginve me you
give me
fuck you
give me
hey
you
fuck wit

i want you

get over the curls in your bowery

you in a wedding dress
ok, yes, give me your butt
hello
what is it
become
gorgeon filers
hicks muck
having revels
strawberry twists
kiss me!

oh baby
cum on me
i wnat you
cum
cum
oh yes
ohhhh
fuck
i want you
i ‘ m going to take it really far
because
you are my special one

A dream

Last night I had a very clear dream. One of those planes

C-love

 

that leaves trails of smoke left this sort of big banner vertical in the sky. It was a message from you and it read:

HELLO DADDY, THIS

IS A MESSAGE FROM

PUSSY THAT SHE WILL

SOON SEE WILLY WHEN

SHE COMES HOME.

I then took my phone out to take a picture of it to send you, but of course, as in dreams, a gust of wind came along and whisked it away.

I was ‘one of those’ types of dreams.

Untruth

Untruth

My dear Boy,
Today you must realize, again, we have told you, not to give yourself to people who do not deserve your respect.
There are very few out there, and so far you have not met that many. You will start now to cover yourself in cloaks that we’ll supply, we’ve had enough of you being torn apart when you reveal yourself.
There are arcs in relationships and at the apex you have to see where the fulcrum tips. If action heavier on your side, is the other person now too late to play catch up, when the tide has turned?
You are our Little One. We have seen you grow. Although we did find you a love, we are so sorry that you have again been misled, manhandled and that all that you have given was not returned. The balance tips though, and in our words that you’d transmitted, there were 6 months.
What has not been given now, cannot be made up for. We will teach you to hide now, from things you do not deserve, and whom do not deserve you.
Be strong Little One, our Blessing is yours, and that you’ve known all along.
D. + S.