i rediscovered
my guitar tonight
i realised
what its for
its not that i’m any
good at it
but i play
til my fingers are raw
its ’cause
it lets me express myself
and sing and
dance and roar
Latest
Hang on
i don’t just want
someone to sleep with,
i want
someone to wake to.
i don’t just want
to eat you out,
i want
to eat out with you.
i don’t just want
you to suck my dick,
oh, hang on,
yes i do.
Tomato fucking bollocks
We go to Costa Brava every year, know what I mean? Me ‘n’ Micky ‘n’ the girls and the kids. Fuckin’ love it, we do. The food is fuckin’ out of this world. ‘cept for this one place we tried once, the Montón de Mierda or some shit. Anyway, it was a fuckin’ disgrace, I mean you couldn’t call that pile of shit a fuckin’ restaurant. Any’ow Mickey decides its time to complain. ”Whatchya mean there ain’t no fuckin’ chips?” ‘e says to the waiter, ”I come ‘ere on a fuckin’ plane ya cunt!” ‘e goes, “I got fuckin’ kids ‘ere! What am I supposed to do with this tomato fucking bollocks?”
So, Mickey gets up like, an’ I grab ‘is beer, so’s not to spill none, in case it kicks off, and ‘e takes this pan of tomato shit and shoves it in this cunt’s face. Its like somethin’ out of Laurel and fuckin’ ‘ardy, except its scaldin’ ‘ot and this cunt is rollin’ round on the floor, clutchin’ at ‘is face an’ screamin’ like ‘e’d just shat a ton of fucking pineapples. Its hilarious, and me and the kids are pissin’ ourselves. The girls don’t even notice, they’re doin’ some shit on their iPhones, know what I mean?
Any’ow, we decide we’ve ‘ad enough of this shit and decide to go to our favourite caff, the El Inglés Son Gilipollas, they fuckin’ love us there, an’ get some proper grub. On the way out I pay the bill, an’ leave a tip. I mean, we ain’t rude, and we don’t wanna give us English a bad name or nuffin’. Know what I mean?
Poke
She was my best Faecbook buddy. We’d chat for hours and play silly games, like pick a music genre and then pop off to You Tube and smother our own and each other’s walls with music. Sometimes we’d find some banal or bigotted discussion thread and just bombard it with surreal comments.
When she had her internet cut off, I was lost. I didn’t know what to do, so I dug out some envelopes, stamps and a pad of paper and posted her a letter. I didn’t know what to say, so I wrote “Kyle poked you.”
Somber...
I was going to write about something down and dirty …sinful….but I can’t..
I’m such a blubbering bloody mess….*waggles finger*..No thanks to you The poems, the hypnotic story telling, stupid funny limericks …sheesh even throws love into a haiku Why’d you have to write something so beautiful and special…making me bluuue Beeecause…some people just have what it takes …and that sir you certainly do I’ve become used to possibly addicted to your funny, sexy, witty words..but today I’m left without a clue Simply speechless….which not too many have left me in this state… only but a few… A big fat hug and sappy kisses to the one that could undo… for you…my heart breaks in two Multifaceted writer that you are…this here is a tribute to the one and only you… I know it’s not much…this..whatever it is….but I reeeally wanted too….
its officially blow my own trumpet day today lol
You I
You
are shy and pull the sheet up around your neck, but I can see where your other hand is, see it moving, see what you are doing to yourself.
I
am not shy and kneel naked and erect between your thighs stroking the length of my thrashing cock, watching you watch me. You rub at yourself a little faster and smile and moan lightly, gripping me with your thighs.
You
slide the sheet down to just above your nipples, your hips beginning to rock up and down, and I can hear the gentle lapping of your fingers washing over your dark, hot pussy.
I
tell you what I want you to do and you oblige, slipping your hand out from under the sheet and brushing your sweet, wet fingers over my waiting lips.
You
let go of the sheet and take hold of my shaft, squeezing it sweetly, with your painted, dark fingers, feeling it throb and twitch in your grasp.
I
pull at the sheet and you let go and grab it, shaking your head, cheekily.
You
know what I want to do and don’t even have to ask.
I
know what you want me to do and I nod and smile in agreement.
You
let go and grab hold of me again, letting the soft cotton glide down over your breast and belly, letting me see how hard you are touching yourself, letting me drink in your pleasure.
I
reach down between your legs and start to stroke at your wetness, slipping my fingers into you and over you and round you, feeling your orgasm rise from deep inside you, your back arching, your mouth open, your eyes half closed in ecstasy, loud, animal moans and my name on your lips.
You
stroke me faster feeling my cock throb and pulsate and my body shudder as my orgasm breaks over me like an ocean wave.
I
come in long thick physical gasps, my cum splashing softly onto your breast, my body shaking, your name escaping from me in between my trembling gasps.
You
come and scream and watch as I lick my cum from your soft, quivering breasts.
Wank biscuit
I was blown away last night and this morning when I read the responses to my little poem. I wrote it in seconds, on the bus on my way home alone from a depressing evening in an even more depressing meat market. I never gave it a second thought and never expected such a heart-warming response.
I never realised just how many wonderful friends I have here. Thank you all for being so sweet and making me feel so wanted. You were all exactly what I needed. Thanks especially to the wonderful Kat of SnarkySnatch who said this, melting my heart and making my day.
“Get it out baby. Get out your pain in your glorious prose but don’t ever give up on sharing your heart. I would give my left tit to be able to have a man that loves as passionately as you do. Fuck anyone that doesn’t see your hearts grace. Yeah. I said it. FUCK ANYONE. You have supported me from the very beginning when there wasn’t even a reason to. You believed in my silly ass and snatch. Your motivational words propelled me forward during many a dark time. I remember one amazing email you sent me inspiring me to continue blogging when I didn’t think I had a voice to. I did continue. This is power you have to a fellow blogger, what the hell kind of empowerment do you give to someone you love? You are a vaginal elixir. You are talented. You are witty and funny. You are loyal. You are thousand gazillion things worth writing about but you greatest gift is that you love with an open heart. How many of us can say we do the same? I am very honored to call you a friend Kyle luv.
I have said before don’t fall in love…fall off a bridge. It will hurt less. I get it. I know. I’ve been there done that. Got the t-shirt and watched the movie on Lifetime but it still doesn’t take away the sting of hurting to say I feel you sweets. At the end of the day Kyle, people are flawed and sometimes selfish. It is an ugly part of humanity. Does it make them evil to hurt us? No. But they sure as shit could show some compassion when they exit. I am sorry you are hurting luv. I truly am. I adore you tons you silly wank biscuit. Hugs and mayhem.”
Brick wall
I was overwhelmed by the love shown to me yesterday by fellow bloggers when I wrote this little post. Some of your responses were so beautiful I think I have to share them. In particular this poem by the marvellous Randall Dean Scott, the man with no face but a huge heart. Thank you Randall. Thank you everybody.
It’s interesting and
absurd isn’t it?
How we willingly
run as fast as we
can into a brick wall.
The wall is so pretty
like no wall we’ve
ever seen but we
must make contact
yet the problem is that
we are too passionate
with everything we
do like da Vinci does
art and don’t give
one fuck about how
hard the wall is if
when it is beautiful and
especially if we
love it.
?
So, I’m having this hot sext with some girl from Canada or Australia or one of those countries and we’re both getting pretty close to coming when there’s a bleep and another chat box pops up. Its a friend of mine and she’s saying how her cat just died. Now, she can see that I’ve seen her message so I can’t really leave it until I’ve finished getting off and “Hang on, I’m wanking.” doesn’t feel like an appropriate response, so I try to console her and keep both the conversations going at once. It’s very confusing emotionally, like having someone cry on you shoulder whilst someone else sucks your dick. Anyway, I pretty much pull it off, until I type into the wrong boxes – the conversations ended like this:
Girl 10 hours ago
ooh god i’m about to come!!!
Me 10 hours ago
i’m so sorry to hear that, at least it was quick
Girl 10 hours ago
?
and this
Friend 10 hours ago
She was hit by a truck.
Me 10 hours ago
oh fuck yes!!!
Friend 10 hours ago
?
Just a dream
I guess it was all
Just a dream,
Something that
Could never,
Ever be.
I guess we were
Too far apart,
Too distance in space,
Too separated
By time.
I will never forget
That last night we shared
Together
Talking and laughing and crying
Until the birds got up.
It was a sweet dream
that we shared, and
I will always remember it
With a naughty smile
And a joyful tear…
