Archive for the ‘blowjob cum’ Category

Big Sur

Sunday, January 27th, 2008

He’d told her early on that this was one of his fantasies…to hike up to a
campsite near Big Sur. They’d packed all the necessary gear and driven as
close as possible early that morning, thoroughly enjoying both the scenery, as
they went south on Highway 1, and each others company. She never ceased to be
amused at an easterner’s comments as they admired the way the mountains met
the ocean on what seemed to them a backwards coastline.

Several times her hand drifted to his right thigh to punctuate a remark or
just to indicate her readiness for their planned outing. How often he’d
teased and cajoled her over the past several weeks both in messages and by
phone. Words like ’star- crossed’ and ‘destiny’ had leaped, rather than crept
into their many conversations, and she felt it to be true. They couldn’t
avoid being together, at least briefly. There was no sense of needing to be
hasty in their actions, just a feeling of fate needing to be yielded to.

They were intrigued by each other in ways neither had experienced in a long
time. Their conversations were sprinkled with puns and innuendos and much
laughter. He frequently accused her of littering his office floor with
innuendos which she countered by saying the cleaning staff should take care of
them adequately.

There was both a level of comfort and the excitement of the unknown which
surrounded them today. They had slept together only once in a somewhat
sterile hotel room, the previous night. But the experience was totally
fulfilling for each of them. They had performed as lovers but also played in
bed like puppies; exploring and frolicking joyfully.

She stretched in the passenger seat with a cat-like abandon and he again
admired the curve of her breast as it pushed the knit top to new contours.
Even dressed in jeans and hiking boots she had a stately quality mixed with
the enthusiasm of a child. What an enigma she was!

And had he been able to read her thoughts he would have realized she felt much
the same way about him. Watching his hands on the steering wheel she
reflected back to the pleasurable way he had touched her body and memorized
the feel of her skin. Looking at his neatly trimmed beard reminded her of the
way it tickled her thighs as he kissed his way up her legs and beyond. He had
certainly mastered her quickly, knowing just where and when to apply butterfly
kisses to increase her already elevated level of desire for him.

Their sexual union began under the guise of being a backrub of course. How
often is that technique used the world over? But it was a pretense they were
content to play out.

Their choice to be together today was also a ruse. Each acknowledged it was a
spontaneous decision. But that didn’t explain why he’d packed the
appropriately needed items before leaving his home in Massachusetts, nor why
…End of the part1. To be continued..

Beach Fantasy

Sunday, January 20th, 2008

It is early morning, and you are the only one on the already-warm
sand of the beach. Low surf rolls in from the horizon, and
seabirds wheel in the sky overhead. Shaking out your towel and
stretching it out on the ground, you quickly peel off your shorts
and T-shirt, to reveal the sexy yellow bikini beneath. Its tiny
swatches of fabric do little to conceal your full, thrusting
breasts, or the firm shapely mounds of your buttocks. You run
your fingers lightly over your taut skin for a moment, then lie
down to let the sun’s warmth fall on you. After a few moments,
you decide to expose yourself completely to the brilliant blue
sky, sliding the skimpy panties down off your long silky legs,
and pulling off the bra to let your breasts bob freely, the
nipples hardening in the gentle breeze. Opening a bottle of
coconut-scented oil, you massage it over your body, making sure
that your pretty white tits and delicate shaven pussy get a thick
coating of the slippery protective cream. Your body glowing in
the sun, you lie back and are lulled to sleep by the crashing
waves, squawking birds, and pleasurable warmth.

The sound of footsteps crunching in the sand awakens you. Shading
your eyes against the sun’s glare, you see a man approaching. I
walk up from the water, still wet from my morning swim, long legs
carrying me quickly up the shore. Rather than grab for your
clothing, you recline on your elbows, thrusting out your breasts,
and part your legs slightly so that the pink slot dividing your
hairless pubic mound is clearly visible. As I near your resting
place, my steps slow to a standstill, and I drop to my knees
beside you. My eyes roam all over your naked body, and you can
see the squirming in my shorts where a cock is quickly growing. A
moment later the crimson cap of my penis pushes up through the
waistband of my swimsuit, still visibly swelling. Chuckling
throatily, you slide a hand across your smooth stomach to where
the bottle of oil is lying in the sand, and toss it over to me.
Then you roll over pillowing your head on your crossed arms,
presenting me with a wonderful view of your glorious ass.

You hear the bottle cap snap off, then feel the warm liquid as it
drips onto your gracefully curved shoulders, running down your
spine to the top of your buttocks. After a moment’s delay, you
feel my legs straddling you, and the hardness of my cock against
your back. I am gripping it by the base with one hand, using it
to spread the slick coating of oil over your skin. Stroking it
over you, I steadily move lower until I am sliding it over the
soft hills of your ass, and the sweet valley inbetween. Your
pussy is becoming inflamed, and you can feel it becoming wet with
an oil of its own. I continue to slide farther down, until I am
rubbing myself against the back of your smooth calves. Rolling
…End of the part1. To be continued..

Archive-name Miscellhypnosistxt

Monday, November 26th, 2007

Archive-author: Tazzie
Archive-title: Hypnosis

+——————-+
! What Hypnotism Is !
+——————-+

Hypnotism, contrary to common beleif, is merely state when your mind and body
are in a state of relaxation and your mind is open to positive, or cleverly
worded negative, influences. It is NOT a trance where you:

o Are totally influencable.
o Cannot lie.
o A sleep which you cannot wake up from
without help.

This may bring down your hopes somewhat, but, hypnotism is a powerful for
self help, and/or mischeif.

+———————–+
! Your Subconcious Mind !
+———————–+

Before going in further, I’d like to state that hypnotism not only is great
in the way that it relaxes you and gets you (in the long run) what you want,
but also that it taps a force of incredible power, beleive it or not, this
power is your subconcious mind. The subconcious mind always knows what is
going on with every part of your body, every moment of the day. It protects
you from negative influences, and retains the power to slow your heartbeat
down and stuff like that. The subconcious mind holds just about all the info
you would like to know about yourself, or, in this case, the person you will be
hypnotising. There are many ways to talk to your subconcious and have it talk
back to you. One way is the ouja board, no its not a spirit, merely the minds
of those who are using it. Another, which I will discuss here, is the pendulum
method. Ok, here is how it goes. First, get a ring or a washer and tie it to
a thread a little longer than half of your forearm. Now, take a sheet of paper
and draw a big circle in it. In the big circle you must now draw a crosshair
(a big +). Now, put the sheet of paper on a table. Next, hold the thread
with the ring or washer on it and place it (holding the thread so that the
ring is 1 inch above the paper swinging) in the middle of the crosshair. Now,
swing the thread so the washer goes up and down, say to yourself the word “yes”
Now, do it side to side and say the word “no”. Do it counter clockwise and say
“I don’t know”. And lastly, do it clockwise and say “I dont want to say.”
Now, with the thread back in the middle of the crosshair, ask yourself
questions and wait for the pendulum to swing in the direction for the answer.
(Yes, no, I dont know or I dont wanna say…). Soon, to your amazement, it
will be answering questions like anything… Let the pendulum answer, dont try
.. When you try you will never get an answer. Let the answer come to you.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

Archive-name Miscellfnorktxt

Thursday, October 25th, 2007

Archive-author:
Archive-title: Fnorking

A History of an Aberrent Sexual Contest

“Fnorking” is a colloquial term for contests involving females inserting
small dead animals into their vaginas. All known instances involving “fnorking”
have occurred on college campuses. The contests dealt with several females
competing to insert as many animals as possible into their vaginas, the winner
being the one able to insert more than any of the other contestants. The winner
of the contest was sometimes crowned the “fnork” queen.
The earliest known incidences of “fnorking” occurred in the late 1920’s.
The phenomenon seems to have been an outgrowth of the goldfish eating fad
prevalent at that time. Most goldfish eating contests involved college age
males consuming as many live goldfish as possible. The female collegians of
that time were less inhibited than preceding generations of females and
developed their own version of this fad. They held contests involving the
insertion of as many goldfish as possible. The goldfish were most often
inserted while live. Contest were held late at night in college dormitories,
although there is a report of one contest being held in broad daylight beside a
well stocked pond. This contest is said to have involved at least twenty-five
females and the winner was able to “consume” twenty-seven goldfish.
All known “fnorking” contests seem to have been held at exculsively female
colleges and universities, although, considering the segregation of males and
females at schools in this time period, this is not unusual. “Fnorking” seems
to have been an outgrowth of the general loosening of morals in the 20’s era
and the woman’s sufferage movements of the early part of that decade. The less
inhibited females of the era were more inclined to enter such bizarre contests.
As the fad progressed, the contests were not limited to just goldfish but
were expanded to include other specie of small animals. It is known that
contests were held involving the “fnorking” of hamsters, gerbils, lizards,
salamanders, frogs, small birds and even one contest involving chipmunks. All
of the above contests involved dead animals. The preferred method of killing
the animals was suffocation. The contests were held immediately after the
animals were killed because they were “still warm and still very pliable.”
The phenomenon seems to have disappeared after the turn of the decade.
This is possibly because of the depression era when less females were attending
colleges and also morales experienced a general regression. No known incidences
of “fnorking” have been reported until very recent times.
Recent reports have eminated from the Florida area and from Europe,
specifically at the 1991 “spring break” in Florida and one incidence in 1989 in
Denmark involving sixty college age females inserting frogs in a day long
contest. There were reports of three contests in the Miami area in 1991, two
involving insertion of goldfish and one the insertion of small toy stuffed
animals. The winner of one of the goldfish contests was able to insert twelve
fish and is reported to have recieved a cash prize in the amount of five
hundred dollars.
Interview’s of 1920’s era females involved in “fnorking” contests indicate
that no prizes were awarded in the contests, of that period. The females stated
that most entered the contests due to peer pressure. They also indicated that
the contests were held in conjunction with college fraternity initiations.
The origin of the word “fnork” is very hard to discern. All of the females
interviewed stated that “it was always called that.” One woman did offer as an
explanation that “fnork” is formed from the first letters of greek words
describing the activity. At this time I have not been able to discover the
words used, if there are any. No written descriptions of the activity have been
brought to light, although, considering the type of activity, this is not
unusual. All of the females interviewed were very reluctant to admit to being
in the contests.
Considering the recent resurgance of the “fnorking” phenomenon, it is
possible that the general lessening of sexual inhibitions in females in recent
times has allowed the fad to resurface. In this day of personal video, how soon
will some enterprising person make a record of one of these interesting
contests?

Archive-name Miscellfantfacttxt

Saturday, October 13th, 2007

Archive-author: Rod Longley
Archive-title: Fantasy Facts!

About 88% of women studied experienced sexual fantasies, according to a report
published in ‘The Journal of Sex Research’. Researchers determined that the
subject of the most frequently experienced fantasy was involvment in an
extramarital affair (41%). Other fantasy subjects reported reported by the
women studied included:

Previous sexual experiences, other than the first (39%).
Different sexual positions (38%).
Current sex partners (36%).
Sex in rooms other than the bedroom (35%).
New sex partners (30%).
Sex on a carpeted floor (28%).
Sex in a motel (27%).
Pretending to be with a former lover (27%).
Reliving the first sexual experience (26%).
Sex on a beach (26%).
Having multiple orgasms (25%).
Engaging in oral sex (25%).
Being Sexually uninhibited (25%).

Some other FACTS on a percetage scale:

75% of Americans say good sex is ‘very important’ to a marriage.
25% of American married couples say they argue about sex or adultery.

16% of American men earning less than $5,000 annually say they cheat on their
wives.
70% of American men earning more than $70,000 annually say they cheat on their
wives.

47% of American men say they enjoy sex more than money.
26% of American women say they enjoy sex more than money.

Archive-name Miscell8preludetxt

Saturday, August 11th, 2007

Archive-author: Byron Elbows
Archive-title: 8-preludes to stories

1. Honey drips slowly from the edge of the jar. Emma takes the knife and
catches the falling stream, feeding it back into the jar’s mouth. I have
watched her do this, not this exact thing, but this sort of thing, for almost
an hour now. Either the honey falling, or the wind through the screen door
blowing papers onto the floor, or else the newspaper catches when she tries
to fold it back on itself. She fascinates me, in a humiliating sort of way.
I could watch her for another hour, unseen.

2. She gets up now.
From my bedroom window, I can’t quite see her face when she stands up,
and just like on the tabloid shows where they replace the faces with a
featureless blue disk, I expect her or her body to betray some terrible
secret. Maybe she suffers from scoliosis, or psoriasis, or possibly some
horribly disfiguring congenital defect that now and then allows her navel
to grow as large as a football.
I wait, watching for the telltale swelling in her abdomen. Surprisingly,
it never happens. No, her body remains perfect, just like yesterday.

3. “Where’s my Pepsi!?!” she cries to no one in particular, staring into
her refrigerator. “All I wanted was a Pepsi \ldots” Well, I have to
laugh at that. Just what I’d thought about all day. But when I looked in
the cabinet, all I had was syrup of ipecac. Revolting, but hardly sufficient
for the job.

4. She walks over to the sliding glass door, opens it just wide enough to
slip her slim body through, then closes it. I can see her dress now, a sort
of twopiece summer outfit, leaving her midriff bare. God, I want that
midriff. She can have the rest of her body, but I’ll take this perfect,
smooth—
Was that—? No, she just took a deep breath, that’s all.

5. She lies down on the lawn chair, reclining nearly all the way back, with
a Pepsi in her hand (she found one after all). Emma, Emma, Emma. I repeat
her name like Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, whose name I see in front of me as the
answer to a Trivial Pursuit question. I shake my head, annoyed, and the
mantra returns. You may have the alpha and the omega, but in between, there
always lives Emma, sweet Emma, a pretty little Greek figure in the middle of
all that Roman nonsense.
Still wondering? I only took Greek to decipher the sorority house names.
Imagine my disappointment when all the letter combinations appeared random,
rather than producing lurid, lascivious names, such as \ldots But I digress.

6. Emma sucks Pepsi through a straw. Sounds vaguely like some sort of
childhood insult. Your mother rides a vacuum cleaner. Your father has a
nose like a rubber hose. Emma seems mostly unconcerned about this.

7. She puts down the empty can on the cement patio with a hollow clank,
and closes her eyes. They do not like the sun, after all. I scratch my
legs.
I want to fall on her. Fall on her, like a Georgian flower, unfolding,
pressing petal to petal, surrounded only by the echoing sound of soft
waterfilled fibers. In my mind’s eye, the Pepsi takes on ambrosial
proportions, linking me with a divine nature. I see all the things I should
not ever see: every unicorn that ever ran, my hands held by someone on the
street, bells I never heard ring, and besides, the reverent smile of a little
boy and a blue blue sky.

8. I shake off my reverie to find her gone. I let out a hmph. The orchid
has fallen into the pond to meet its reflection with open arms, only to see it
disappear as it sinks slowly beneath the water. Shh! and goodbye.

(c) 26 Apr 1993