bloggers jerking eachother off is awfuly distateful! and arogant, it's absolut bullshit! 79% correct

"I know I'm better then they are" he said to himself in the bed room. She was in the bathroom getting ready for bed. "God has it gone that far?" he said, loud enough that she overheard him. They were both in a great mood, the show was awesome, dinner, the movie, everything went so well. That's what she was thinking when she came up to him, naked, chest first, breast heaving. He was pleased, she was a twenty four year old beauty. Why is she so good to me, he though to himself. She wanted him to tell his parents he needed the money to re finance the business. They were surviving, but barely she thought. Lowering herself towards him she helped him pull off his shirt. They were naked almost, he was still in his underpants, I'm better then they are, he thought to himself, starring at her, he didn't want her to know. "Come on baby, get naked" she demanded with a slap on his back. He laughed, fell back, looked at her gorgeous body. She was perfect, an overwhelming joy came over him. He looked at her and found he was very excited. "I thought of a really great idea baby" he said out loud, to her turned naked soul. She lay there amputated, relieved of her stagnation, her issue to probe was gone. He was done, and he hadn't even touched her. Everything was going so well, except she wasn't all there at dinner, she was with him. Their daughters best friends father, they played parents together. She was looking at his chest naked, turned to her, anticipating an embrace. Turning away, she said "I had a great idea, what's yours?" He was excited to say, but sad that she had braced herself, limiting his access to their play. It was just that the thought of that daughters friends father had and eventful impact on her. Their bodies were meant to be joined together, the two limitless were presented with such a lack of presence. "Touch me baby" he demanded. She obeyed reaching over to hold him then she listened to his rather amusing idea!

chew.

"I don't have preferences" she said, reaching out towards the bowl of fresh produce. The fruit was bare, bright shinning in the kitchen window's light. It was summer and the day's were growing dim, into twilight, lovingly, long. They, the two girls sat, together in the barren backyard, rehearsing, their method, their snap. "No' No' you must choose" said the girl holding her hand open. "I have no preference, I don't know the difference," the one said to the other. "Where is your mother?" asked the one who's friends home she was at. "We'll, she's out, she's out with her," a pause "her young, adorable, slim, slimy lover, but that does not matter." She said making a face and grabbing the Macintosh apple. "Why not the Granny Smith?" asked the friend. "Alma why do you have to bother me about this kind of stuff?" she asked her friend, who was standing above her, angry, reluctant to allow her friend to just eat any apple. "You just made the decision a little hastily you know?,  too quickly, you're almost a teenage girl" she stopped herself, smiled, picked the biggest Granny Smith out of the fruit bowl. The two girls stared at their decisions, "Alma" she asked, "Yes" answered Alma. She was heading for the terrace, the sun was shinning and she wanted to tan on their deck, but quite. Both girls had on sunglasses. It was the first warm day of the season. "So where's your mom? with her lover? What does that mean Niki?" Alma asked staring at Niki's apple reflecting the sun's light. Niki turned toward the sun and said "my dad loves green apples, he say's" she mentioned without more then an inclination just a hesitation, " he say's he likes them because they have a zest, they have a spice to them." The two sat on the lawn, beyond the small garden,  in the midday sun, both nodding their heads "yes".  "I like the green apples best Alma, I do." Niki said looking up at the Macintosh, "But I just love the color of this ones skin." then she rubbed the apple up against her cheek softly, quickly. Alma stared at Niki as she bit into the bright red apple, she could tell the texture of the fruit was crisp, it had that Crunch. The sound made her so hungry that her first bite of that Granny Smith was so meaningful, she ended up biting off more then she could

I fucking hated you for being

Her hands were wet, she was drunk, her face was in the toilet. There was her sickness, spewed, everywhere, "I'm not a little girl anymore" she whispered to herself through the elastic spongy cord of saliva still remaining attached dangling down from her lower lip. Her clothing was soiled with rubbish, probably from falling on the pavement after leaving the club, that stink like what must be the stench of some one rotting. She shrank to the porcelain bowl, confidently, where she sat contently. "I don't need to feel that bad," she said to herself drunk. Her eyes were closed, and her hair soused in effect in the same substances as  her unkempt soul. She was finished and it was her own fault. She was alone, it was twelve thirty in the morning. The house was full of kids, who knew her, who were in part the cornerstone. The dull reminder of her own demise.
The night was young, and the nausea was subsiding, "I can handle this" she said to herself.  Her shoes, three inch open-toed heels, lay sprawled behind her. "I'm almost nineteen" the words fell out of her mouth. Her head was thrown to every direction as she held her position as steady as she possibly  could in her condition. She was begging to get a grip. In that moment she remembered what drove her there in the first place.
-----
The three boys found themselves closer then ever, their relationship had grown into the full blown friendship that they all read about in the books. The type of connections they faced where the type Wolf  wrote about with Mrs. Holloway and Peter and Septimus too. All three of them found themselves together as a pact. "Joseph" the loudest of the three yelled to the tallest remaining, "Yes Adam" replied Joseph, his voice rasp from having been smoking cigarettes all night and drinking. "Yes, Adam what?" he asked annoyed by his so called colleague for even making him wait a moment more then a second. Adam, accustomed to Joseph's shrill sense, shrugged the attitude off to continue slowly. "What are we going to do about Lindsey" Joseph's thoughts began breaking through into his speech. Adam wasn't even thinking about her, she was in the back of his mind. The car was in the front, her car was a dream. "Adam!" Joseph yelled, turning to speak to Adam and their third companion, a thin, narrow boy with a frown that would turn a nun Jewish. "What do you want from me!" Adam snapped back. They were both pissed off at each other. They all loved her, and they all knew it.

----
"Before I loved you" she spat, angry. Her agony forcing itself out the only way it could by screaming out his name. Her ecstasy shattered into infinity, forever lost, into a madding sleepless abyss. She felt enough at ease that what was left of her stomach, her gut was empty, purged. She convinced herself  that she was able to sit up, she knew she could not stand. Her body was crying, not surprised, her attention was on him, sick, relentless, agony. Rendering her way to the surface of the seat she sat, acting on the impulse to ruin herself, she found herself on the toilet still having won, having prevailed. She sat sunk, riddled with ease and grease, sad, and drowning, but unable to die. "Witless!" she said to herself.  Her hands were still wet from her ambitions, wrecked. The thought of him burdened her at all time. It wasn't the fact that she loved him, it was what she had done before she had known him.

---
 Joseph turned to the two and pointed his finger at Adam and said "is she your girlfriend!" he waited for Adam to say something, "You fucked her." he yelled, the sound of his voice cold echoing forward and back again between the houses the boys were walking by. "He fucked her didn't he Jerry?" Joseph voiced, leaving Jerry to answer timidly "Yes!" They were in a rut, and there was no digging their way out of it, they were being brought down upon each other, they were a team.
Joseph stood, halting in front of the two as they progressed toward the light that was Lindsy's house. "Jerry," he repeated "Jerry, tell me again" he demanded "tell us both what you saw Adam do with my girlfriend" Joseph frivolously expressed.  Jerry stood back, hesitant and weak and began to speak at the same time as he lowered his head. He muttered five words that sent shivers up Adams spine "I saw him fucking her," Jerry was in tears by the time he finished the sentence.

---
She sat there, she had had a while to think about the two of them. But he made her heart yearn for relief. She needed to find a way to stagnate the pain. To cauterize what her heart felt and would not stop bleeding for. It was wrong, it had been wrong the whole time. She loved someone else. Sitting on the toilet there in the middle of the night all she could repeat to herself drenched in spoils was, "Before I loved you

imagine selling out to someone who sat you on the moon

You can't sell your soul really. I guess what I think you can do is give away the gifts your soul gives you. You're soul is like you're kite, sailing, floating, exploring, giving way to the wind in the atmosphere, our sky. Ok, a typical human soul should be capable of being able to navigate itself to the ends of our universe and back. Well that's the way we were built. But we've devolved since the start. two thousand years ago God told our Sun to come down and tell humanity not to look further then the closest fiery ball of radiation in space, and worship. This identity landed here to sell us those great indulgences, false prophecies for prophet. God lied! he doesn't want anyone who believes idiocy in heaven. The soul used to have more to work with on the ground. There is lots of people, believers who can see the end, and reflected back to their heart honestly, all the way from the ends of the universe, the ends of time, the the frigidness of space. The death of oneself should hit him from a lot further, then the hot ball of fire a few million unites of measurement away. Now there are those people out there who can see it all and don't know it, delusional, it's actually just something in the way of the light being sent to their heart from our soul. That thing in the way, is up to you to understand. Your kite, your sail is your responsibility, and there is no real strings to guide it with. If you translate the information badly, you're a waste, and it's easy, selling yourself to somebody, but when you do, they own you.

ever change something to avoid smashing one person to bits?

you changed it for everyone though, for one person,  just one.

Round 2

Throwing open his flip phone he read "NEW TEXT" on the screen. "Fuck yeah!" he announced with an ecstatic jump. "What is it?" asked his ill represent friend sitting next to him, observing the emotional excitement. "from what do you suck life, your energy, I can't be that happy, how do you do it Mike?" the boy sitting, said, admitting  his folly to his friend, while taking off his blue cap and rubbing his forehead. Mike was tinkering away at his phone, typing a new text. "It was from Courtney!" he said energetically, "she wants me back!" he screamed overjoyed. "The two of us had a fight a week ago!" he said reprovingly. The memory resonating in his mind like wild fire. "Ha" he laughed, thinking. "You know I never felt as close to her when we were together, as I did when we were apart!" Mike said, his voice sad sounding. He sat next to his friend, the two, side by side on the bench waiting for the 7:30 train to the university. "What did you have the fight about Mike?" asked the boy still holding his hat in his right hand, crossing his legs. Mike looked into the face of his thin friend, "she lied to me!" he said. His friend recoiled in agony. "Courtney lied to you?" he said, taken a back, with a look of disgust on his face. The two sat there, Mike crossed his legs too. A passer by also waiting for the next train asked Mike for the time. "It's 12:42" answered the boy taking a look at his wrist. "So?" he asked, his thin face sullen, "I know her" he embarked, beginning to explain himself, their relationship. Mike stopped him, "don't worry about it, she just kept some things to herself." He said, finishing up his text message and pressing send. "It doesn't matter anyway" he said unwilling to divulge any information.
They waited in silence, until the train heading south showed up. Mike was anxious, "what's the deal?"  asked his friend "aren't you feeling good?" his friend insisted on inquiring, they were making their way up through the cars, to the back of the train, Mike's eyes were blood shot, and his mouth was dry. "You know" Mike said "we ate my whole prescription today." he wasn't making it up, the two of them had sat on the trains since the night before eating Mikes amphetamine prescription. "Yeah" said the boy with the blue cap, which he had begun spinning on his finger. "I got some more at home anyway" he stopped then hesitated, "hey doesn't Courtney have a massive prescription." The boy said resting his hat over his face, leaving him blind and feeling weak and senseless. Then Mike turned to him and said, "Yeah, except Courtney wanted to stop taking the Pill! She wanted to abort treatment, stop using you know?" he stopped realizing he was grinding his teeth. Took the hat off his friends face, and looked him in the eyes and said "hey Kirk, Kirk!" Kirk turned to him, his eyes in a pool of shallowness, burnt out, but listening. "I think I love her" Mike said. Kirk turned to him, and asked "hasn't she lied to all of us?" Mike just looked away and said "I think I love her. But that's cause I know I'm the only that ever controlled her" he sighed, "in that way, with the pills." He looked in front of himself saying "I controlled her enough to know her" repeating  "that's for sure," "enough to know I need her, like I need them!" They both sat back, and listened to the train then let their eyes rest and crossed their legs. They could both hear the vibration caused by the incoming message that had just arrived to Mike's phone. It read "Just finishing up at the clinic! need to see you, feeling bad, got the meds." Mike never felt so alone in his life. He looked up through the roof and said "thank God," then looked over at Kirk and asked "So how many pills you got stashed back at home?"

tokyo talkers

Imagine being an artist, limitless, endless, exactly the same, historically. You have your body and the medium, your hand holding the paint brush pushing the Paint on the canvas. Transferring your ....what is that it's putting on there? Yeah, your idea, your reflection, your tangible realization, your life I guess. What can you put on there, and how do you do it well? How do you make your ...(what was it?).. thought, the best. Well, you gotta know what it is, it's something that doesn't exist, right? (idiot) and it's really hard to make pretty. I'm not saying that it's ugly, but it (that thing you don't know) thinks you suck, which makes it appear nasty, it's something that tears you apart. Exposes your heart, something that exists and hurts and is ugly, red, and beating. Tangible, your tool. The hand holding its tool, your body, your heart. The heart, the part of us that surrendered to the gravity and separated itself from the non existent idea. The piece, an essence holding us together, uniting us to the universe. She is the settler, the story teller, our mother.  Our heart, is hers, she bears that gravity that holds on to the distance, her choice to stand, to remain herself. Heart, it just wants something it can never have. It wants that idea, that reflection, that vision of itself but tangible.  The way it really is, not the way our life appears. This body in comparison, to her perception, is weak and painfully mortal. We have her, and she is within us. I have a sweet body, fast, fast, a great paint brush. I really do, and I have a head, and it's like a hole. Know you can take, know you can take my head from me, my heart bleeds, to see, the pure, her companion, the un-obstructed, our dead and dear friend, the definition of idea...SOUL. Little bastard, cold as ice. a lust after. Space-less emotion, the know it all know it all, suspended in perfection. Seems like an expensive thing, but I think it's more individually expansive. Tiny to some, huge to others. And we all know how she feels about size boys. She likes the big ones...she likes Rock stars, hard, Diamonds, heartless isn't she? but only when it comes to following her deity, the Jesus's.  She has her playlist, it's pragmatic to think she can see past her chest.

right then she knew she was going to sleep with

"It's 2:30am mother fucker!" he said, awakening, tired, sleepy eyed, "You know how much I like to get woken up." He was getting out of bed, clutching his cell phone. "Where are you exactly?" He asked annoyingly while slipping on his favorite Rancid shirt. The stains left by the two of them, his first time, dried. He didn't care, she knows all about how they got there. He was her lover, "lean, mean," he thought out loud. "So she's stranded!" he said to himself as he placed the blackberry he so often found himself listening to her voice from into his pocket. She needed him and he loved her for it. It was 2:30 in the morning. "Where'ev you've been" he said, rehearsing his questioning, repeating them, the answers he wanted to hear, to himself. Then settling himself into the tiny hatchback, the smell of the car, the sense, a reminder of his innocents lost, drawing him back to their encounter not more then a few hours back.
"Kiss me" she demanded, they had just met at the party up the street. He was the cutest boy there. The instant they saw each other, they knew, both of them at the same time. "You know, I knew we'd end up together the moment you laid you're eyes on me," she said remembering the glimmer, the shimmering, shinning light of hope, of excellence in his sight. " You know what I thought to myself" she asked him, her naked chest pressed up against him, their bodies smashed in the compact car. " What?" he asked. "Well" she announced, pushing her face into him, taking her arms and wrapping them around his waist, reaching as far as she could, sitting, from the passenger side. "What?" he asked again, impatient. She just looked at him and laughed. The hesitation went unnoticed while the two held themselves together clutching one another. "Well" she said a moment later hesitating again, watching him, seeing through him, it being his first time, pondering the direction he intended to push her in. " Well, I thought what the fuck, why not? I could tell, you liked me, I could see we both felt it, but I also thought." She waited to see if he wanted to hear, she waited to see, to find out, to realized he had fallen asleep with her head on his chest. "Well, I wasn't sure if it was going to be worth it!" she said, noticing the hairs in his nostrils curl as he took in the air,

take me in alive alice evil ah canaaaaadians suck@ you how ever who am I?!

"Never mind I'll find someone like you" the boy yelled out, the two had just finished their quarrel. His father had just turned his back, "Run" his son yelled behind him. "Follow that hollow fact, run dad, it doesn't hear you! You know it." He paused, thought it over. "Go back snuggle up to her," he understood that the man he kept so close to himself, inside, was dead, "Go back, you've found your love, settling for that dream." he spoke infuriated, knowing full well that his grief was forsaken to fall on deaf ears. Ears, that have forgotten the sound of their own ambitions, their own portrayals of the lessons that hurt of awesome, of truth. Hurt the heart, saw the soul gloriously flame, stay, wave, remind us that forever we are to never mind ourselves. To stay souvenirs, regrets, mistakes made of memoirs of sweetness. "Nevermind" he yelled "Forget me!, I'll find someone like" he stopped, reacted, then said thoughtfully "someone who wants to rear the facts, be a grandfather. A member in all honesty" He squandered this speech aloud, persistently, precisely, watching his elder maneuver, toggle, tinkle himself forward, then saw the old man look back. "You've been manipulated!" his face exchanged the words deeply in-honestly. Drawn back, re counting the words that reminded himself of his past, his resistance to affording himself his own fault. "I don't regret being myself dad." He said watching his father run, observing the resistance of heart,  his intent to turn, "I love you old coward." he whispered watching, listening to the old plead with his inside, that implicit soul, trying to forget to hear, to compare the mistakes, his re perception, then get into his car, heart broken. " Run dad" he whispered to himself, "I'll find someone like you. I wish nothing but the best"

taxitalk: Vagina

taxitalk: Vagina
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