0 comments/ 18165 views/ 0 favorites Random Thoughts By: ann onomiss This is what I'd wanted for so long...craved, desired, and even begged for...and now the time had finally come. You were sitting there in the chair, remember? The only lighting in the room came from the candles placed about, creating an exotic golden glow. You were so beautiful to me. You always have been, but even more so now because you gave this night to me. A special gift from my Sir and I would show you just how much I appreciated the gesture. Do you recall what I was wearing that night? What little clothing I had on as I approached you from out of the darkness? A figure seemingly created out of the candlelight as it first touched the tip of my right boot and then traveled up my leg. I dressed this way for you. Wanted to please you. Always want to please you. I saw your expression change as I came into full view. As my body was revealed to you. I reveled in it. Your eyes, you tried so hard to keep the arousal hidden from me, but I saw it. A brief flash before you cloaked it, but it was there. And your nostrils, how they flared. Could you smell my sex already? I wanted so much to simply run to you and hug you tight. To thank you for being so generous with our time. Giving me control over whatever happened between us. But I didn't. Instead, I sauntered over to you and stood between your parted legs. Your eyes roamed my body and I swear it felt like your hands were touching me, probing my secret places. I knew you liked what I'd done with my body. For you. The latex boots, black and tight. They looked as though they had been painted on. I turned around so you could see how nicely they cupped my ass. Hitting just below both cheeks. You exhaled sharply. You were hot. I turned again, to face you, and the faux gems on my belly chain glinted in the light. It accentuated my flat tummy, the muscles. Your eyes traveled the slack that swayed gently against my lower belly, that ended right above my pussy. Your fingers twitched. You wanted to touch it, touch me. I nudged your right leg closer to your left so I could rest my boot upon the cushion of the chair. The latex bent so nicely around my knee as my leg came up. Do you remember how the latex smelled? I took your right hand and allowed you to feel my boot. I could feel the heat of your palm on my thigh. You closed your eyes as I guided your hand over and around the shape of my leg. I know you wanted more and I would give it to you. I released your right hand in order to take hold of your left. I was so antsy, but I hid it well from you. I wondered how much more of this torture I could stand, how much more you could take. I traced the lines on your palm with my thumb, then I bent to kiss it. Reverently. Your eyes were glued to my actions, nothing escaped you. I smiled as I eased your hand up between my legs. I know the smell of my sex was intoxicating and doing this would surely push you over the edge. We needed to touch sexually. Had to, so I had you cup my pussy. Feel wetness there. Silken skin. Freshly shaved and smooth. You groaned. I rubbed your hand harder against my cunt. Then, there was nothing. I had let go, pushed your hand from me and walked away. I was losing my control. You did this to me. Made me want you so badly I couldn't concentrate. Near to begging to have your cock drilling me roughly. I wouldn't break, no, not this time. This was my night. I would remain in control. You, darling man, you didn't protest what I did. You simply sat and waited for me to return. Did you understand why I had left? Is that why you were so patient with me? You knew I would come back. I always do. For you. What you give to me. What you do to me. How you make me feel. And so I did. My nipples were harder than before now. You saw. I wanted to feel your tongue on them. Teeth. Scraping. Biting. Pulling. Your fingernails. Scratching. Every step I took towards you was heaven. My pussy leaked sex oils. I felt it when my thighs rubbed together. Did it drip down onto the tops of my boots? Could you see? There I was before you. Again. Removing your shirt. Unzipping your pants and then tugging them down your legs. My eyes drank in the sight of your body. Of your cock. I don't believe I'd ever seen it so hard, so ready to fuck. My knees nearly buckled then and there with the want I felt. Close your eyes now. Remember how you felt that night. The latex as it slid against your skin as I straddled your lap. The soft bobbing of my belly chain between us. The heat emanating from my body. I kissed you. So softly. One kiss and it said so much. Your eyes closed as my hand moved down, gripping your cock. Do you remember, Sir? Can you feel it again? So it began. The night you gave to me. We sank into dark sexual depravity. And it was very, very good. Random Thoughts Lions and Tigers and F-150s Oh My! "Sex is like a gun. You aim, you shoot, you run." Yeah, that's exactly what I'm worried about. In today's society, you can't afford to go around having sex with just anyone. And, that's precisely what I did. You see, I was a 21 year old virgin. All of my life I had been raised to wait until I found the perfect man and married him before I had sex. That was my plan for the future. But somehow, I messed up. I thought I knew who I would lose my virginity to. I had been in love with this man for the longest time. Through thick and thin, I would always remain his friend...and if things worked out, his lover. I had a perfect little dream of showing him in the ultimate way how much I loved him. Obviously, things did not work out. I would have given my world for this man...but he just did not want me. That is the worst hurt I could have ever experienced...not being wanted. But, oh well, life moves on. Now, enter the new boyfriend. We met through my brother of all people. Now how odd is that?? My brother (the man that hates everyone I've ever liked) sets me up with a man. I'll never get over that one. Automatically, everything with this man was different than I've ever experienced. First off, there's a seven year age difference between me and him. Not too bad. Yoko Ono was eight years older than John Lennon, and they had an excellent relationship. But, I get off the subject. The feelings I had for him were definitely different. I could tell this would be a serious relationship. He did nothing out of the ordinary, he just took me to the movies...bought my ticket, and made me feel absolutely beautiful. Wow. I can feel that way about myself?? That’s a new emotion for me! After the date, he showed interest and said he would like to go out again sometime. Sure!! Fine by me! I was totally cheezing big time when I walked into the house. The second time I saw him, we were at my brother's house. Remember...I was a 21 year old virgin. Somehow, I found myself damned near screwing this man in my brother's smoke shack outside. DAMN how did that happen?! He didn't pressure me into a thing, so I can't say that. Maybe it was just that it had been 6 years since I had had *any* sexual contact with a man whatsoever. And the last man I had been with was the person I thought I loved. Needless to say, I was a little bit hormonal at the sudden attention. The odd thing is, I was acting unlike I had EVER acted before. I don't just suddenly let any man touch me...and all of a sudden I am?! Weird stuff. I don't remember the third time I was with him, but I remember that night. I told him online that I did not want to lead him on...I was a virgin. He acted totally sweet, and told me that it was fine with him. "The time should be right for you and not just your partner," is the exact words he used with me. WOW again! In the past, whenever anyone found out about me being a virgin, they totally freaked out and wanted nothing to do with me. Score one for me!! I found a good guy. The next night, I lost my virginity in the back of his F150 down by the river. Can we say, WTF?! I was not drunk...I was not stoned. I was sober. He was sober. But yet, I totally went back on every value and ideal I've had since I was a small child. Needless to say, I was a little confused. I remember telling him that I was not ready. I also remember right after I said that, I kept necking with him. I felt him get ready to penetrate me, but I did not say no. I did not say yes. I knew exactly what was happening, and I let it happen. How do these things happen in the age of HIV and pregnancy????? We didn't even use protection. All my life I knew to use protection or some bad stuff could happen, but yet I went back on that too. Since then, he has been a total sweetheart. The next day he felt like a total asshole. He said he did not expect that to happen, and he felt like he had taken something from me. He respected me for being able to save my virginity, and he felt like an ass for being the one to take it. All I could tell him is that I could have said no, but I didn't did I?? I could have stopped it all but I chose not to. He felt a little better at that, but still had some guilt going on. Now, if it was just as easy with me. I feel totally terrible that I gave it up after 3 days. I mean come on! But, as I sit here writing this, I realize that he and I are now on 12 days of dating. Yeah that isn't long, but this whole relationship is going very fast. He's already given me his ring to wear. Whoa. In the twelve days I have been with him, I have learned so much. I've learned that I do not have to feel like shit in a relationship. I do not have to hate myself or give up my identity. I can feel good about myself and be with him at the same time. I'm totally in shock. My friends all say he spoils me rotten and I deserve this. I'm still trying to figure out how I went from "I wish I could be with guy #1 but he'll never want me or love me like I love him," to "OMG this guy is the ultimate sweetheart." He's said he has no intention of leaving me. He says he's in this relationship for the long run...if I can handle it. I think I can. However it happened, I just hope I can give some of the happiness he has given me back to him. Sure, I'm still freaked out because I gave my virginity to him so early. But, I said I wanted to save it for the right man, the man I loved. Come to think of it, I think I did. * * * * * Hickeys. What gives? What is it about hickeys that men find so alluring? They're a bruise for Christ’s sake. So I'm out at the river today with the love of my life. Things get a little heated, and he begins to suck on my neck. Oh boy...that I can handle. I'm sitting there quite happy in this position, when....IT HAPPENS. No longer was I happily necking in the truck with my boyfriend. I had a large, 220 pound Hoover vacuum cleaner attached to my neck. Hell, a TURBO charged Hoover. HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD! Someone get the Jaws of Life, I think I'm dying. You could almost feel my flesh separating from my body. After he morphs back into my sweet, fun-loving boyfriend...he notices exactly how good he got me. "Wow, that’s gonna leave a mark." No kidding. Half of my flesh is still hanging loosely from my body...and he thinks he needs to inform me that it's going to leave a mark. OOoooook. Do men find it necessary to "mark their territory?" Why don't you just back up to me and spray like a cat, big guy? Now I have to find a way to cover this crap so I can lead a somewhat normal existence. As a woman that does not wear makeup, that's just a tad bit difficult. I guess I'll just go around and tell people I have an alien embryo growing out of my neck...that would explain the swelling and the nasty look to it. Yeah, that'll work. * * * * * “I hear by claim this woman in the name of…..” What is it with people? For the past six years of my life, I've been unhappy. Unhappy because I had no one in my life to love, other than family and friends. I wanted a boyfriend. All of my other friends were very lucky when it came to matters of their sex lives. They had absolutely no problem finding a significant other. Needless to say, I'm a big dork. My friends thought it was pretty cool though. They always knew where I was gonna be on a particular night. It was always at home. If someone needed me, they could find me quick. For a long time, I didn't care about it. I was happy being alone. I didn't need any man to make my life worth living. I had me, and that's all that mattered. But, I must say the loneliness hit sometime around senior prom. While my friends had their boyfriends to take with them...I took one of my gay male friends. Niiiiiice. After that, it was always kind of disturbing to see them happy in love, doing all sorts of cool things with their men. They would always tell me "Don’t worry, your Knight in shining armor will come soon." Wouldn't it be great if life was like the romance novels that these people obviously read? Now the confusing thing happens. Not only did I find a boyfriend (Holy JESUS...it IS possible!), but my friends do a total 360 in their attitudes. Take, for instance, tonight. My boyfriend, me, and one of my friends went out to the local pool hall. On the way to pick him up, my friend starts telling me how she doesn't want me to ditch her just because "my man" is coming. Ok, whatever, I wasn't intending on ditching her. Then, when we get to the pool hall, it starts happening. He would come to me after every shot and give me a kiss on the cheek or a big bear hug. And I could see her foaming at the mouth. This went on for a little while then, my friend proceeds to inform him that she "found" me first and that I was "her ho". Um................ok. After that, he kept doing things to annoy her. He did some of the most blatant displays of male territorialism I've ever seen. And then she would do something even worse. I could almost see my boyfriend - dressed as a Spanish Conquistador - driving a sign into my side and proudly announcing "I hereby claim this woman in the name of..." before getting tackled by my friend (who is also dressed like a Conquistador, and is carrying her own sign). I don't understand it. I just don't. My friend is insanely jealous of what me and my boyfriend have. I don't understand why though. I try my hardest to keep her in the loop and to do stuff with her...but it doesn't matter. Whatever I do, if he's involved it isn't good enough for her. PLEASE people, there's enough of me to go around. I can have fun with her one night and have fun with him the next. I don't have to spend every second of every day with one or the other of them. Hell, this is too much trouble, I think I just need a dog. * * * * * Deep Cleans and Refreshes You know, relationships are weird. I was thinking on this whole relationship the other day, and I realized something. I'm happy. I realized something else too...I've been s*** on so much in my life that it's about damned time I'm happy. For the longest time, I thought I deserved all the crap that was done to me. And, I didn't really realize bad things were happening. I thought I was happy. Boy was I wrong. This all started when a friend mentioned the man I thought I was in love with. She then mentioned how badly he was acting towards the people he lived with. For some reason, this opened my anger flood gates. I started ranting and raving about all the things I had *just* noticed had been done to me. This supposed gentleman I was "in love with" was the biggest prick. I was the proud recipient of the largest mind fuck ever. He and I became friends before we were anything. Then, he found out I had taken a "shining" to him (ok, I sound like my grandma). He then came over to my house and informed me he WAS going to seduce me. I didn't believe him. Wrong AGAIN! (dang I'm on a roll). In a short matter of time, he took naive little me and turned me into his puppet. I would have done anything for him. He apparently loved playing mind games with people, and only a few fell for it. I consistently did. No matter what he did, I would always forgive him. I thought I loved him. Everyone would tell me he was too mean to me, but I didn't see it. I was blind to his faults. And if I did finally see one of these faults, I found an excuse for him to act that way. For years this went on. Then he moved away. Problem solved?? HELL NO. I said I wanted to stay his friend, which I sincerely tried to do. Everytime he came to see me, he would start talking about how much he loved me and how if he wasn't in a serious relationship he would want to be with me (if he can even say this, it means the relationship wasn't serious enough). Stupid me, I believed every word out of his mouth and consistently held on to the hope that one day he would want me. Now that I have my boyfriend, I realize how big of a prick the first guy was to me. You know what?? I'm pissed. What did I ever do to him (lets call him Don Juan for the sake of a name to use) to be treated so badly?? All I ever wanted from him was to be loved. I gave him love unconditionally, but didn't receive anything in return...other than heartache. In a matter of a few years, he single handedly crushed any form of self-esteem I may have had. I hated myself. He took away my joy. I pride myself in being an eternal child...I always looked at life through a child's eyes. It made life more interesting...and he took that away from me too. I started looking at life like a 50 year old crack addict. I was so depressed. And somehow, he still made me think he loved me. I doubt he ever had any love for me whatsoever. I was always his backup girl...whenever he couldn't have who he wanted, he would come back to mind f*** me some more. I think I will ALWAYS be bitter. I also saw how badly other people had treated me. I always tried to go through life and help people be happy. And all I accomplished was having them walk all over me. People went out of their way to hurt me. I did not deserve any of it. And I'm just now realizing this. My boyfriend apparently has done more for me than I originally thought. He's taught me to respect myself and my right to be happy. He's also helped me to realize I don't have to let people walk all over me. That's amazing. I feel bad though because my best friend has been trying to make me realize this for years, but he succeeded in 3 weeks. After I had my tangent about mean people, I feel totally different. I almost feel free. Boyfriends are amazing. * * * * * Love What is it with that word? Love. You hear it all through your life; from your parents, brothers, sisters, and friends. But when your significant other says it...WATCH OUT! The first time they say it (depending on if you're like me) your blood pressure rises sky high, you get sweaty palms, dizzy spells, and nausea And then, after you recover from your sudden health problems...the grinning begins. He said he loved me yesterday and I thought I would go into cardiac arrest. The sad thing is...it was over the computer. The first emotion that hit was denial. No, he didn't say that to me. But there it was, in the flickering of the screen, "I love you." Quick! Does anyone know CPR?! The second thing to hit was the insane grinning. My grin was so wide I looked like the old flip-top-head commercials. Then I told my best friend exactly what happened. She's in the process of planning her speech for our wedding. Ok, so now he loves me. That's good right?? I've gone from being insanely happy to paranoid. This has all happened pretty quickly. Does he love me, or does he love my anatomy? Is "love" just a way to get me to do what he wants? "Love" has gone from being a very family oriented word to the greatest thing on earth; then it suddenly became a curse. How does a person ever know if "love" is good? * * * * * Parents are Insane Ok, now I just don't understand parents. They're odd creatures, and I believe there isn't a sane one on the planet. Take, for instance, my mother. She's forty five years old. She raised two strong willed children, and is the grandmother of two young boys (not from me). Mother was raised as a traditional farm girl. Her family brought her up very old fashioned, and she was raised to believe you should save yourself for marriage. She was also raised to be the shy, demure woman who would eventually marry and be subservient. Ok sure. Mother and I have always had a relationship that was more like friendship than anything. I always felt confident talking to her about anything...until now. I felt very badly that I could not tell her I have been with a man. Today, I found my chance. She came home drunk off her ass (what happened to the shy woman!?). I told her how my boyfriend was planning on buying a hotel room and taking me out one night. I assured her that nothing was going to be happening, we were just going to be hanging out. She then proceeds to tell me she doesn't care, and hell why don't I sleep with him?! Ok mom, exactly how much did you drink anyway? I looked at her with pure shock evident in my face. She then tells me that I'm 21, she trusts my judgment on things. If I'm gonna have sex, I'm gonna have sex. I can't be a virgin for the rest of my life. Can you imagine my surprise as I found myself telling her I had, in fact, slept with him already? Her only reaction was to smack herself in the head and look at me like she was shocked. Then she said not to tell dad. That brings me to fathers. What the heck? When a man's kids hit puberty, the boy is encouraged to "bag" as many females as he possibly can before getting married. The dad feels proud of his son for screwing girls. But LORD HAVE MERCY, lock the girls up in a tower when they hit puberty. When I first started dating my boyfriend, all of the males in my family gave him the much feared "death speech." It was basically them informing him that if he hurts me, he dies; and if he even dares to have a lustful thought about me, he dies even harder. My dad even ventured so far as to say, "There's an in-bounds and an out-of-bounds. I control the out-of-bounds." Sure dad. God forbid I have a free will in the matter. Why do girls get different treatment regarding sex? Why should girls be hermits, condemned to be virginal until a man should possibly take enough interest in them to want to marry? And why, oh why, should we live by our parents ideals about sex? We've entered the 21st century, boys and girls, and we're going to live our lives how we want to. Instead of trying to force your children to live by your ideals, you should try to teach them all sides of the story. Let it be their decision. Teach them about condoms, birth control, and STDs. I would rather my children know all of their options than to have them sneak around behind my back - terrified to talk to me - because I have tried to impose my will on them. Let them know all of the consequences of having sex; and let them know that you are always there for them if they need help. Your kids should not be terrified to come to you for help. If you can't rely on your parents, who can you trust? * * * * * Relationships and……….dun dun dun………The Bread winner! Traditionally, when a man and a woman are in a relationship, the man is the "bread winner." What I would like to know is, who wrote this "law?" Why are men so insecure in their masculinity that it would offend them to no end if their woman made more money than they did? I had a rather curious conversation regarding this exact topic with the two men in my life, my father and my boyfriend. I am currently going to college to earn a Bachelors Degree in Computer Science. Yeah...I'm a programmer. When - and if - I make it out of college alive, I have the possibility of making a lot of money in my chosen career. My boyfriend, God bless him, is a mechanic. He sees this almost as a stigma because he isn't exactly making a ton of money. I told him about a job opportunity I have directly out of college, then he said it. "You'll be making too much money to want to be with a poor person like me." What do you say to something like that?? Isn't that the STUPIDEST thing you've ever heard? Money is not everything. Even if I had all the money in the world, it would be nothing to me if I was not happy. And I would not be happy without him. End of story. So now I know my nerdiness bothers him. Greeeeeeeat. What can I do? I have no idea. So I did what a girl can do when she's confused about men. I went to my dad. Well my father, in his infinite wisdom, made the situation worse. He agrees with my boyfriend! Dad said he would feel downright offended if my mother made more money than him. He is supposed to be "the breadwinner." Random Thoughts Someone, get me a calendar. I was under the impression that it was the 21st century. I was also under the impression that the women's movement of the 1960's brought to light (at least a little) that women are very intelligent creatures that are equal to men? Guess I was wrong. This whole foul mess has made me decide one thing for certain. I am going to get a computer programming job. I will most likely have a very good paycheck...and if my boyfriend is still around, he can enjoy it with me. If not, he needs to go to school and get a degree and do something else with his life. Until then, I'm the Queen Bread Winner. ;) * * * * * EEEEEEEwww you mean he might see me…… naked?! Not good! I was on a webpage today - Relationship101.com - and read a rather interesting article that someone had written. I think it was called "The Naked Truth" or something along that line. The author brought up an interesting point: Why are we so terrified to let our significant other see us naked? Think about it for a moment. How many times have situations been heated between you and your partner - maybe you got a little action - and then as soon as everything was over you covered yourself as soon as possible? Oooh my GOODNESS the man/woman I just slept with may *shock* *horror* see my naked butt! Egads! What the heck? I'm not going to lie, I have some major issues myself. I don't want him to see my butt...he just does not need to go there. End of story. I don't understand it either. It isn't like there aren't more embarrassing parts of my body that he could see, but the butt? Oh NO! Am I the only person that gets like this? As the article said, men can be seen in public with enormous beer bellies that hang over their pants; but as soon as they're with their woman they try to suck it in so far it touches their spine. Women, now women, they can be seen wearing the most revealing, tiny clothes. I saw a shirt at Wal-Mart that was just scary. I mean I've seen wash rags bigger than these things. Is it that we're afraid of rejection? I could see being a little timid when things first get heated...but for goodness sakes, if you've already had sex with them or gotten naked and they didn't run from the room screaming, what's the big deal?! They obviously really like you or they wouldn't be with you. People are strange. I don't care if he sees me naked...just don't go near my butt. * * * * * Just My Luck It's been a while since my last entry, so I will try to make this one a good one. On July 4th, we went to the fireworks display on the military base with my family. My folks and my brother were all sitting off to the side, and my boyfriend and I were sitting off to ourselves. He looked at me and said "What are you going to do if I find out her baby is mine." WHOAAAAAAAAA! I forgot about something didn't I!? When he and I first started dating, he told me he was going to have to go "donate DNA" for a paternity test. Well, since that was a long time ago, I thought everything went ok and I wouldn't have to worry about it any longer. WRONG. Seems he hasn't received his results yet. Now I'm worried. Why you ask? I've fallen for the big guy. I've fallen hard. I know how hard it is in situations involving child support and things like that. I don't know if I want to be in a situation like this. That other woman can make our lives hell. But then when I get to thinking maybe I'd be better off out of this whole thing, I start thinking about how much I love him...and how my parents have gone through the same thing and they made it out of it alive. Sometimes I long to be single again...life was much easier then. * * * * * Call me a feminist but… strip clubs really piss me off. Sunday, my brother asked my boyfriend right in front of my face if he was still going to go to the "titty bar" with him Thursday night. I am a feminist. Not to the point of being deemed a feminazi, but I definitely do have some viewpoints I stand by. I have personal issues with strip clubs. Why must they go and treat women like they're a piece of meat? Why oh why do men have the need to go out and pay a woman to dance in front of them???? She has absolutely no feelings for him at all, she just wants money. And usually they'll give a pretty good show for that money. But that is the only thing motivating her. Men probably think they're pretty hot stuff with this scantily clad woman dancing for them...I, frankly, think they're stupid. "Oooh look she wants me!! Look at her giving me a lap dance, I'm one sexy stud," he says as he shoves another dollar into her underpants. LOSER!! I was frothing at the face tonight to my father about this whole issue, and he says "It's no different than Chippendales dancers." You know what?? He's right. But you know what else????? You'll find me AT HOME, or with my boyfriend, the night those losers are in town. I'm happy with who I have. And you know what else?? I don't have to pay him to get naked. Another thing that bothers me about these clubs....what are me and my sister supposed to think? The women at these local clubs are quite...how to say it nicely...homely. The fact that my boyfriend and my brother have the need to go out and pay these women when they could be with us makes us feel like s***. Are they implying that the strippers are more attractive than us?? Are they better??? I have news for my boyfriend. The next time he wants me to get naked, he better whip out some dollar bills. * * * * * Is he dating me… or my brother? I think our relationship - if you can call it that - has hit a low point. It seems like he enjoys hanging out with my brother more than he enjoys being with me. He and my brother go on float trips together, the go to titty bars (grrr), they hang out, and they do just normal guy stuff. Do you know what our dates consist of? We go to Wal-Mart, or.....MY BROTHERS HOUSE. Isn't that just great?? It's gotten to the point where I actually think that he doesn't love me at all. Part of me thinks he just goes out with me to become better friends with my brother. I've tried to talk to him about this, and about how I rarely get to see him. Granted, he does have to drive his step-dad's truck, but his step dad doesn't seem to mind when I'm around. Then again, this could be a clever ploy to make me trust him, then when I least expect it, I'm gonna get a knife to the back. But anyway, I talked to him about this and he always says the same thing. "Being away from you is hard on me too." Um...he sure doesn't show it. Or, "Your brother is my friend, you're my girlfriend." I was under the impression that that would be more of a reason to hang around me than my brother. We got into a HUGE fight shortly after that, and I told him I guessed I was being selfish wanting to be around him 24/7. I guess I shouldn't want that. His response, "You should want that because I want to be around you 24/7." Am I being paranoid or over reacting? Or do I have a good reason to be upset. I just don't want to be miserable...which is what I am right now. Random Thoughts Late at Night No real story this time, just a series of random thoughts about my writing, my philosophies of life, and my reaction to the comments made on this site. I warn you these are just what the title says, some random thoughts about life, people and this web site. I hope this essay is entertaining and gives my "fans" or those that follow my writing a better insight into me and my work. I'm just enough of an ego manic that my enjoyment comes from putting these random thoughts on this page. By the way this is being typed late at night after a great steak and more than one glass of Gentleman Jack. First let me say that I firmly believe that my computer is the spawn of the devil sent into my life to torment and torture me until I run screaming to my gun safe, grab my .357 and shoot myself in the head. It is a diabolical creature that has wormed its way into my brain and my life and won't let me go. It's more addicting that alcohol, nicotine, and most drugs. This beast should be destroyed. I've been a registered member of this site since Dec. of 2007. My decision to write and post stories beginning in late April 2009 can be blamed on about a dozen of the authors on this sight that I enjoy. They inspired me to try my hand at writing. If you need to place blame on anyone for having to endure my ramblings they are the ones responsible. My major inspiration is a talented English author whose stories are some of the best on the site, in my humble opinion. It's a damn shame that he had stopped posting on Literotica because of comments posted by some assholes. He got tired of the attacks against him personally and chucked it in. The web site is poorer for his leaving. I and I'm sure, other readers have followed him to another site so that we can continue to enjoy his talent. One of the other authors I follow in writing about the comments put it best, I think. He explained that he realized that he couldn't please everyone so he writes for a target audience of one; himself. I follow in his footsteps concerning my poor efforts. I would like to say a word about the comments concerning the stories posted on this site. I guess any of us who post stories here should be flattered that anybody would read our work and I suppose we should be even more flattered that anyone would take the time to comment on that work. And I am. But one of things that bother me about the comments on this site is that the hate Nazis can post their drivel without having to be responsible for their actions. I believe they should have the "guts" to provide at least an email so authors can respond and rebut their rants. Never the less I appreciate the fact that I pissed them off enough to make them comment in the first place. I don't mind constructive criticism anonymous or otherwise or even negative comments as long as they concern the story itself; such as technical improvements. Being a relatively new writer I can use all the help I can get. There is always room for improvement concerning a plot line, or character development, or story flow. But attacks against me or my characters are uncalled for. No matter what or how I develop a plot or story, someone isn't going to like it. That's okay; you can't please all the people all the time. However instead of attacking me or telling me how a character should act; talk to me about how to improve the story and what you didn't like about it. My characters don't always react like a real person would. Normally they are stronger or weaker, more controlled or less controlled, and smarter or dumber than people in real life and behave accordingly. So all you haters out there remember this, IT IS JUST A STORY. You will see that with the exception of my first 5 or 6 stories there are no cheating or slut wives in my work. Also if you have read or will read any or all of my stories you will find that most of them a happy ending or at least not a really sad one. And if you don't like this type of ending for stories, then I suggest you exercise the ultimate form of censorship and quit reading my stories. Why would you continue to read stories or an author that you don't like? You will also find that most if not all of my characters believe that they are responsible for their own actions and the consequences. This is a philosophy that I live by. I know, not politically correct, but then again I've never been considered politically correct. If everyone believed and followed that creed our lives and our country would be in much better shape. Okay enough venting; on with my random thoughts. Again this is just a few thoughts, beliefs, and theories that I believe and have or will incorporate in my stories. Some are my own and some I've read or heard somewhere. If you've made it this far without turning off your computer in disgust, THANK YOU. And if you decide to continue, a big double THANK YOU. Again, I'm enough of an ego maniac that I think people will find my rants entertaining. Hope I'm right. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence; that is until you have to mow it. There are some people in this world that are a total waste of space and resources. They should be dealt with as you would any parasite or virus and destroyed for the good of society. These same people are a great argument for post natal birth control. This is an old one but still true: If something looks too good to be true, it probably is. At least once in your life you will run into someone that you shouldn't fuck with. The trick is to recognize these people and don't fuck with them. After many years of getting angry over things people do or say I'm believe that "What goes around., comes around" if not in this world then in the next. I believe that you get what's coming to you most of the time. My problem is that I don't want to wait for you to get yours; I want to be the one giving it to whatever asshole has pissed me off. I believe that Karma is a bitch. I believe payback is a mother...... I believe that you shouldn't settle for getting even, that you should get ahead. I sometimes believe in vendettas and grudges and revenge; depending on the circumstances. If someone does something to insult, injure, or harm me or mine, well payback is what I said before. It may take days or months or even years but in the end I will have what's due me. If someone harms you or yours in a few years you may look back and say, "I should have done or said so and so." It's much more satisfying to be able to think about what you did for payback. There is a lot more that I would like to say but even as dense as I am, know that not everyone or even anyone is interested in my convoluted ideas and beliefs. I can't promise that there won't be more "random thoughts" posted but I promise to keep them at a minimum. Thanks for wading through this mishmash and until the next time LIFE GOES ON. Random Thoughts on Tits Tits. You have to love them! They bounce. They hang. They jiggle. They sway. They tremble. They wiggle. If you're a man (or a lesbian with a strap-on strapped on), you can even fuck them. They can be bound with cords so that, the blood flow to and from them restricted, they turn purple. Clothespins can be attached to them, and they can be pierced with pins and needles. They're all-purpose sexual accoutrements. Should a guy get his chick pregnant, she can even use her tits to feed the brat. Women have them--well, most do--and shemales have them, too. Even a few men have them--a condition known as gynecomastia. On a dare, one dude (Canadian Brian Zembick) had a pair of tit implants installed and liked them so much he decided to keep them! Except for the cunt itself, there's no greater indicator of femininity and womanhood, even on a shemale or a crazy dude like Zembick, than a pair of pert and pretties. Tits come in a variety of colors, shapes, and sizes, and every man and woman has his or her own preference when it comes to which type of tits they consider appealing or appalling. Some like small, teen-size tits; others enjoy more bang for their fuck. Normally, I myself would rather feast my eyes (if not my mouth) on the teeny-tiny variety, with one exception: I love to see a pair of boobs hanging down, free and easy, under milady's chest, swinging back and forth or just simply hanging. They're not round in this position; they're more udder-like appendages, elongated but plump. A woman who calls another female a "cow" probably has an image like this in mind; with her breasts suspended beneath her, hanging free and clear, there's certainly something bovine about a big-breasted woman. As they change angle with respect to the voyeur--I mean, viewer--tits look different. Straight-on, on a young woman, they're high, round, full, firm, and sleek. Seen from the side, in profile, the same set of tits resembles ski slopes with rounded undersides. Seen from behind and below, with their nipples invisible to the view, they resemble twin moons. Seen from the front, hanging down, they look, as mentioned before, like the udders of a cow (or the way a cow's udders might look if the bovine beast were a woman instead of a bovine beast). Rather like women themselves, tits are protean (that's "protean," not "protein"). They're shape-shifters, fluctuating and variable. Therein lies much of the mystique and much of their appeal. Tits can perform tricks, too. One tit can be lifted, nipple to mouth, while the other is left in place. They can both be cupped in one's hands, either by their owner or her lover and thus "juggled." They make handy substitutes for purses, as anyone knows who's ever seen a lady stuff a roll of dollar bills down her bra for safekeeping, and they can be of assistance in the application of a woman's lipstick, as anyone knows who's seen Molly Ringwald perform this trick in The Breakfast Club. For the more imaginative and adventurous woman, a hand-held dildo can become a tit-held playmate. Undeniably, tits have sex appeal. Even their mere presence can enhance a woman's career, as Dolly Parton's comment to Bill O'Reilly indicates: "Sometimes, I don't know whether I'm supporting them or they're supporting me." In fact, whole careers have been built on tits--just ask Pamela Anderson or, for that matter, Hugh Hefner--or anyone in Hollywood. I mean, who'd give Selma Blair a second look if it weren't for her tits? Even the careers of women who have talent and glamour are enhanced by a flash of their tits. We watch Linda Lovelace for the prodigious talent of her esophagus, of course, but, if we're honest? Male or female, we check her tits even while she's busy swallowing the best of Harry Reams. And, be honest, when Swamp Thing mates with Adrienne Barbeau, are you watching his thing or her boobs? Maybe that's why Bob Hope used to sing "thanks for the mammaries" at the conclusion of some of the shows he put on for overseas troops. He had a captive audience in the military forces for whom he performed, but it wasn't his comedy that interested them, it was the likes of Ann-Margaret and other living, breathing hooters who kept the soldiers' attention, whether in Korea, Vietnam, or some other hellhole. A whole "restaurant" franchise, Hooters, is built upon tits' resemblance, real or imagined, to owls' eyes. Unfortunately, even a decent pair of tits can't always save the day. Dana Plato, of TV's Different Strokes, tried to make a career comeback by exposing her tits in a few tawdry X-rated films, after committing armed robbery in Las Vegas, but, somehow, for her, the magic wasn't there, even though she did have some respectable hooters. If you've been reading this essay closely (or at all), you've seen that tits go by many names. We call them boobs (women's favorite term), breasts (which medical doctors prefer), hooters, jugs, knockers, mammary glands (or just plain "mammaries" among friends), melons, and probably a score or more other euphemisms. A nicknames is supposed to be a sign of affection on the part of the person who bestows it (although some argue that it is actually an expression of condescension and contempt). If such is the case, any anatomical part that's acquired as many nicknames as tits has to be popular, without question. In America (especially in Texas), nothing's ever big enough, especially tits (unless you happen to prefer bee-sting and thimble-size tits, as some do, since smaller tits are associated with youth, and young ladies are hard to beat in terms of beauty and, well, youth). Consequently, plastic surgeons make tons of money enlarging the size of female and shemale tits, performing, in some cases, as many "breast-augmentation procedures" on the same hard-to-please lady as the quack who continuously remodeled Michael Jackson's face. Some women and male-to-female transsexuals have been known to change tit size as often as they change their hair color. Most men, presumably even Zembick, tend to be content with breasts of any size, "A" through double" E," although Marilyn Monroe popularized 36-inch, "C"-cup hooters, and, for many, men and women alike, her example sets the standard. There's a lot more I could (and should) say about tits. For example, some have argued that their very existence demonstrates the existence of God (see my essay, "Do Boobs Prove Intelligent Design?"), and I haven't even broached the subject of areolas and nipples or clothing that's designed exclusively for the support, enhancement, and exhibition of tits--bras and the like. I could go on, sharing random thoughts on tits forever and never tire of the subject, but you might, if you're less a tit lover than I am, and, besides, I have other pressing matters (such as a job) to which to tend, so, reluctantly, I must conclude my thoughts with a joke: Wanting to marry, a rich old codger gave each of three beautiful young women a million dollars to invest on his behalf. A year later, he met with them to advise them as to how fruitful their investments had been. One woman had earned five million dollars on her million-dollar investment, he said; the second woman had earned ten million; and the third woman had earned twenty million dollars. Which one did he marry? The one with the biggest tits! * Note: In case you were wondering, Andy Rooney did not write this essay. (He may have wanted to write it, but he didn't.) Also, just to be clear, no tits were hurt in the writing of this essay.