If Love is Aces Give me the Jack

bigZLiLk Does Canberra

2008-12-04T09:58:00.003+11:00

Ladies and Gentlemen

Boys and girls

Introducing to you

The guest writer

Will you all put your hands together and welcome into the circus tent

bigZLiLk

Ok that’s enough

bigZLiLk is a good friend of mine who like myself enjoys the darker more seedy side of life but still holds down a respectful job and has everyone fooled

Some say he has no age and his favourite food is raw meat.

Sunsets only piss him off and the dark is afraid of bigZLiLk

He had previously shown some interest in writing so I said “why not post something on my blog”

So what you have below is his first post.

Now I know bigZLiLk and by his standards this is a very tame post, a little tickler to start off you might say.

I’m sure in time the bigZLiLk will open up and reveal to you his black seeping heart.

But until then here’s a little tale to wet your whistle.

bigZLiLk Does Canberra

This story is about my first weekend in Canberra, the suburb in the middle of nowhere mascerading as this countries capital, when I was sent there for work, who put me up in a hotel.

My hair was getting a bit long, so I thought i would cut it, as i do. I didn't want to cut my hair in the hotel, because there's no vacuum cleaner and I didn't want to bother the maids. I don't carry scissors with me anymore, because I always put them in my carry-on luggage and inevitably they get taken from me at Airport Security, so i had to go and buy some from the supermarket. I've always used paper cutting scissors, preferably the old stainless steel ones. They used to be easy to find at a supermarket or newsagency and encourage the mottled appearance natural to the way i cut my hair. Having acquired some scissors, i found a spot across from the hotel on some lush green grass next to a public fireplace where i might stand and cut my hair. I placed my trimmer and pocket mirror on a table next to the coin fireplace and was finished with the front and sides when i was interrupted by a phone call. It was then that two policeman approached.

Now, the hotel i was staying at is down a short one way street, it was early on a saturday morning and as i watched the two young male policemen approach i could see their shiny modern panel van parked in the hotel entrance behind them. i was sitting on the park bench engaged in my phone conversation. They paused before me, one taking the lead, the other standing behind me. I took the phone from my ear and enquired, "am i not allowed to be here?" and the officer replied "it's ok, finish your call." I went back to my conversation, and the officer picked up the scissors from the table and placed them on the ground behind me. Interested to discover what the problem was, i promptly finished the call.

"Is there any reason you are out here cutting your hair?" the officer, having noticed the scissors, with the trimmer and mirror still placed before me, correctly surmised."Erm, i needed a haircut so i went and bought some scissors and here i am cutting my hair," i innocently replied."Yes, but why are you cutting your own hair, here?" he enquired again."Umm, it's what i do. Every three weeks my hair requires cutting, so i cut it! I could hardly cut it in the hotel room, there would have been hair everywhere," i responded dryly.

A bit bewildered, the officer enquired if i had any ID with me, and i handed him the only photo ID i possess, an outdated and expired Learner Driver's License with an incorrect address. I explained where i lived and answered his questions regarding the purpose of my visit to Canberra while he took down my identification details. Obviously wanting to confirm my sincerity, the lead officer left to check my story with the Hotel reception staff. The remaining officer then went about trying to solve what he obviously thought was the complex riddle of my haircutting prowess!

Apparently he found it hard to believe that anyone who cuts their own hair could work in Canberra, so his initial question were regarding what i did with the company. I explained i was here to test system changes they planned to implement and deflected his suspicion that four weeks was a long time to test for such a thing. Satisfied that this line of questioning was making no headway, he stood flumoxed, providing me the opportunity to ask him some questions!

"Haven't you ever seen or heard of anyone cutting their own hair?" i asked."No i haven't to be honest with you."

Now it was my turn to be dumbstruck. Canberra really is a conventional little town, i thought! Both of my parents cut their own hair, as has my sister, when i'm not cutting it for her. Several of my friends cut their own hair too. Trying not to be too tickled with amusement at my situation, i again engaged this officer in conversation. I asked him about the kangaroos that graze in the fields beside the hotel, but again he turned the conversation back to my hair!

"I'll admit i'm not the most conventional person..," i started to say, before being interupted."There's nothing wrong with that."

Now this last comment struck me down with a severe case of de ja vu. Being an unconventional person, this is not the first time i've had this conversations with the police. I've had the opportunity to make this admission to an officer of the law on several occasions, and on each of them the officer has interupted and replied with exactly the same response, word for word with the same demeaner. It's comforting to know our police force is so well trained, even if he didn't really believe what he was saying!

At this point the other officer returned from the hotel. Satisfied of my authenticity and seeing little reason to pursue the matter any further he picked up the scissors and returned them to my possession.

"Have a nice day," i offered."Enjoy the rest of your stay in Canberra.""This is the most exciting thing that's happened to me so far," i laughed."Tells you something about Canberra, doesn't it?" he grinned.

That cutting your own hair is a suspicious activity, and if the police are called they'll rush to the scene of the crime, i thought to myself!

But that's not the end of the story. On Monday, the whole office was in hysterics and I kept having to re-tell the story, so I wrote the above up in a little email and sent it around. A lady from another section approached me and asked, "What time on Saturday morning was this?" I mentioned it was about 10:30am and she said,

"I called the police at just after 10:30am on Saturday morning because my neighbours fence was being destroyed by a bunch of young kids, and they told me that I would have to deal with it myself because they were already occupied!

"Consider yourselves warned.

Memories are made of this

2008-11-26T13:44:00.002+11:00

“Can you take me away from here?”

“I can take you 150 kilometres north”

“That’s far enough”

We sat in the car not saying a word to each other

The silence was loud and unbearable

I could here her thoughts and mine mixing together over the sound of the tyres on the road

It was raining and the wipers were on full, it was really coming down

“Do you want to stop and get a coffee?”

“I have no money”

“I have money”

“Can I have something to eat?”

“You can have something to eat”

We pull into a roadside café and I park next to a big semi with writing on the side;

‘You holler we haul it’

Inside the café Johnny Cash is playing on the stereo, something from one of his last albums, you can tell because he sings with purpose like he does not want to die mid song.

The lady behind the counter is fat and round and stinks of cigarettes and mothballs, black veins run the length of her legs and her name tag says ‘Glenda’

I order two coffees

Black

And a breakfast omelette for my traveller

We sit in a booth with one of them mini jukeboxes on the end of the table, surrounded by crusty condiments

“Can I play a song?”

“Sure”

I give her a dollar and within a minute Roberta Flak’s ‘Tonight I celebrate my love for you’ silks out of the speakers.

Glenda brings us our coffee and breakfast omelette and as she walks away her ass wiggles from side to side and the black veins strain against her skin and verge on popping out her legs; squirting black blood behind her ass has she wiggles away.

“Do you think Glenda has someone to celebrate her love with?” asks my traveller

“I dunno, probably, she has that ass, a man could get lost in that ass for months”

“Do you think that’s all love is, is fucking?”

“Glenda doesn’t look the talking type; she looks like she’s lived a life of actions not words. But no, there’s more to love than fucking”.

“Like what?”

“Like time”

“Like time?”

“Yeah like time, you gotta spend allot of time on this planet and if you wanna spend the most of that time with the one person you gotta like em, don’t you think”

“Like em or love em”

“Whatever”

“Do you have someone to celebrate your love with?”

“Just eat your damn omelette”

“I’m not hungry”

“Then why’d you order it?”

“You were paying”

“Fuck”

“So then traveller does you have someone to celebrate your love with?”

“I did but not now”

“What happened?”

“He would come home at nights drunk and rape and beat me and call me names like ‘filthy cunt’ and ‘worthless whore’ and poor beer on me as he fucked and beat me”.

“Fuck”

“Yep and then I would take a shower and clean the sheets of blood and beer and he would be snoring loud on the couch and then I would put a blanket over him and go to bed.”

“Is that what you’re running away from? Him”

“No not anymore”

“Divorced?”

“I killed him”

“Fuck”

“So mister you wanna eat my breakfast omelette?’

“Sure”

We sat there in silence as I ate the breakfast omelette and Roberta Flak faded away to join in on the silence.

I could feel her staring at me

“I gotta go the toilet”

“Sure”

“Can you come with me? I’m afraid of public toilets”

“Sure”

I put the fork down and followed my traveller into the toilet

She undid her belt and pulled down her panties and squatted an inch from the seat

Her legs were thin and bruised and sexy, her cunt full grown and bushy

Silence was broken by her stream of piss hitting the toilet

She looked up at me watching her piss

And smiled

And Johnny Cash started singing with a purpose……………….

Monday’s Movie Night; A real tear jerker

2008-11-11T09:41:00.000+11:00

“Can you play an instrument?”

“I can play you”

“I’m not an instrument”

“Yes you are, you’re the most easily played instrument around”

“I have no strings”

“You have strings of the heart”

“They are unplayable”

“I play them well”

“You play them well?”

“I play them well”

“Can you teach me?”

“You can learn”

“How?”

“From your mistakes”

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes”

“Then you will learn fast”

“Teach me”

“In time”

“I have time”

“Time for me?”

“Time for you”

“You’re learning fast”

“Wanna fuck?”

“See, you know a string”

“A string of your heart?”

“The strings of you”

“So you wanna fuck”

“Of course I do”

She’s sitting on the couch, naked in a white robe

She lifts her leg and farts

And takes me in her mouth

The music plays

And my heart skips a string...............

The Machine

2008-11-05T13:35:00.002+11:00

A man walked up to me in the street and said

“Hey mister, nice to meet you”

I looked at him

“Is it?”

“Why yes is it, it’s a beautiful day and the sun is out, you are walking and I am walking and I don’t have to work another day in my life”

“Well the sun is a cunt and I’m walking cause my car broke down and I’m lookin down the barrel at another 20 years of 9 to 5”

“You’re leaning too hard on the machine man; you gotta not lean so hard on the machine”

“Too late I’m in the machine, programmed, hardwired;

Wake up

Shower

Masturbate

Eat toast

Drink coffee

Drink water

Pull out the drive

Turn left

Turn right

Stop

Go

Morning

Log on

Hello

Espresso no sugar, strong

You will have that by 3pm

Eat

Shit

Log off

Turn right

Turn left

Bins out

Dinner

Whisky

TV

Fuck

Sleep

“See you’re leaning too hard man, you lean too hard and the machine takes your soul and all you’re left with is a bag a bones and no soul”

“What the hell have you got”

“I’ve got a soul man, I don’t have no car, I don’t have no house, no wife, no kids, no job, no boss, no friends, no food and no cares”

“You’ve got it all man”

“Yep I sure do man, I got it all man, all I need, right here” tapping his chest

“Good for you, you got it all, all you need, good for you, I’ll see ya around, good for you”

“I got it all man”

“Good for you”

“Hey mister”

“Yeah”

“Spare some change?”

A Commissioned Spring

2008-10-20T14:27:00.003+11:00

“Bo I want to go out”

“I’m writing”

“But you’re always writing, I want to go out, it’s nice outside”

“It’s nice inside too, we have music and drink and air-conditioning and what more could you want”

“I want more Bo”

“I can’t give you more”

“Bo what will I do when you die?”

“You will eat, sleep, drink, fuck, dress yourself, walk around and bitch”

“But I need security”

“Then get a dog”

“NO not that kind of security, emotional and financial security”

“OK you win let’s go out”

“But what about security”

“One thing at a time”

“Now you want to go out or what, grab your coat”

Penny always brings a topic round to emotions or financial security but the trick is to put her off the scent by introducing a new topic, a new conversation for the reason that no matter what the topic might be she will always have an opinion and will just be happy to talk, talk and talk.

Women are wonderful at this; they can play for hours and if they start to slow down just start another topic and you can daydream for another hour or so.

“Where are we going Bo?”

“To see Marcel”

“But why Marcel”

“Because you wanted to go out”

Marcel lives on the 18th floor in a commission housing project and is the most remarkable painter I have ever seen.

Out the front of his building Penny and I pass a group of kids hanging around and one of them whistles at Penny and yells “show us your cunt ay”, “yeah show us ya hairy cunt”

“Here we go” I think to myself

And with that Penny is off, running and screaming after the boy

“Come here you little son of a bitch, I’ll kill you, you know, just you wait”

I sit down on the bench and light a cigarette and watch Penny run after the boy

The sun is out and it shines bright down on Penny as she runs, she’s wearing her favorite summer dress but in spring and the flowers are out and it all looks so nice and I take another drag on my cigarette and watch as she catches the boy and sits atop him and starts punching and clawing at his face and the sun is shining and the flowers are out and it’s a lovely spring day.

As I finish my cigarette Penny walks towards me with a big smile on her face and brushes the dirt and grass off her knees and her favorite summer dress in spring.

“See what I did Bo? I got the little prick”

“Yes I did dear and how lovely you looked”

“I got the little prick good didn’t I Bo?”

“You sure did dear”

We get into the lift and I press floor 18

I knock on Marcel’s door

The door pops open and there is Marcel

”Peek-a-boo…… oh it’s you… sorry come in”

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” I said

“I thought it was Lisa” he said

“You play peek-a-boo with Lisa?”

“Just come in and sit down will ya”

The apartment is covered in paintings and empty beer cans and brushes and pizza boxes and mouse traps in all the corners and empty tubes of paint and dead mice

“This place is disgusting” says Penny “when was the last time you cleaned?”

“Cleaned?” said Marcel with a puzzled look on his face

“Come here I want to show you something”

We follow Marcel into his bathroom where he sits on the toilet and perched in front of him is a canvas on an easel and next to that a tray with different colored paints on it and brushes

“See I can paint while I shit, I can sit here all day and paint and shit and Lisa brings me drinks and food and I don’t have to go anywhere, I can just eat, drink, shit and paint, it’s marvellous”

“It’s genius” I say

“It’s disgusting and gross and unhygienic and the most disturbing thing I have ever seen” says Penny, “what does Lisa think of it?”

“She loves it, she gets the house to herself and when she wants to go to the toilet I just stand to the side”

“I’m getting out of here” yells Penny

We all go out into the lounge room and the front door opens and in walks Lisa

“Lisa Oh it’s so awful how do you put up with it? Bringing drinks and food to him in the toilet” says Penny

“Some of his best paintings have been done on the toilet”

“Oh Lisa it’s so awful”

Marcel throws his hands in the air as he walks across to Penny and yells

“We all shit, we are born and then we shit, we shit till we die and then when we die they suck the last bit of shit you have right out of you.”

“I paint to fill in time between shits”

“So that’s what you want to be known for? Painting and shitting” barks Penny

“Precisely, In fact you can do my eulogy, you will read”

Here lies Marcel Zimmerman, he was not a great man but a man non the least, a man who wanted nothing more than to paint and shit and eat and fuck, He was not a great man but a man non the least.

I laughed so hard I tripped on a beer can and landed on my ass, laughing among all the dead mice and the empty pizza boxes.

“What’s so funny you asshole?” yells Penny, “your not going to be remembered for much more, what do you suppose I will say at your funeral?”

Here lies Bo Bo, I wanted more, he could not give me more…………………..

The weather outside is frightful

2008-10-17T13:35:00.000+11:00

Three months ago my wife said to me

“Its ok Bo you don’t need to wear a raincoat, the time has come”

“Ok, if the time has come” I said

Fast forward three months to today

You see that?

On the screen

That’s its leg

That’s it head

And that there

That’s its beating heart

Tonight I will smoke cigars and drink whisky

And be thankful

Thankful that I will get to be a Dad...........

The saddest smile I ever saw

2008-10-13T09:48:00.001+11:00

We would drive down to the ocean as a family each year come May

And we would sit on the pier and drink sarsaparilla and fish off the pier.

Dad would sit in the car and listen to the radio

And we would catch fish and drink sarsaparilla

Mum would bait the hooks and smile and pour the drinks

And we would fish and drink

Dad in the car

Mum on the hooks, smiling

Dad would stick his head out the car window and yell; “Get me a fucking drink woman”

And mum would smile and dad would get his drink

And we would fish and drink sarsaparilla

And mum would smile and bait the hooks

And it was the saddest smile I ever saw....................

Been off sick for a while, so I will get around to you all and see what you have been up to.

Special #13

2008-09-26T13:17:00.004+10:00

At 11:10pm AEST China launched the Shenzhou VII spacecraft from Jiuquan Satellite Launch Centre in northwest China. This mission is supposably all about China completing a 30 minute space walk and testing out a new ‘Made in China’ spacesuit.

Oh and building a Lab…..

A lab

What kind of fucking lab?

You can’t start off talking all about a 30 min space walk and testing out a fucking spacesuit then say as if an after thought… Oh and building a Lab.

What kind of fucking lab you cheeky cunts.

In a national televised event, China’s president Hu Jintao was there along with other senior leaders, one in which was foreign minister spokesman Liu Jianchao.

Now I’m all for space missions and research into future possibilities for humankind but why is it I’m a little nervous about China kicking it with ET.

In an article I read, a few things stood out as being a tad alarming to my ever critical self.

One of the Astronauts Zhai told president Hu “The motherland and the people can rest at ease”

The motherland?

What the fuck, why can they rest at ease?

I want to rest at eases but I can’t with these fuckers flying overhead in their Fudi Auto spaceships, kitted out with Hello Kitty accessories.

They then go on to say that getting comfortable with the art of spacewalking is a crucial step in China’s most immediate extraterrestrial ambition: to build a permanent space lab.

There’s that Lab again

A lab for what?

Answer me you planet polluting mother fuckers

It then goes on again with the space walks

The astronauts have trained together for more than a decade, but the mission is not without its risks, notably the space walk. The process of space walks cannot be simulated completely on the ground.

Oh but building an outer space death lab can?

You’re telling me that these two chopsticks have trained for 10 years and the main thing they’re worried about is a fucking spacewalk.

If that wasn’t enough to get me nervous, then the next two comments from foreign ministry spokesman Liu Jianchao certainly did.

Sly fucker Liu said the mission was part of China’s effort to “explore and make peaceful use of outer space.”

And

“We believe this will further promote our space flight technology and make a contribution to the peaceful use of outer space for all human beings.

Peaceful use

Human beings

The Motherland

A lab

What are you little fuckers up to?

It better not be like the Japanese and their Whale research boats

Or

Project MKULTRA

Whatever these bastards are up too I want to know

I don’t trust them

What do you think?

Oh and have a good weekend all

GO Storm

New Sheets

2008-09-16T11:29:00.001+10:00

Don’t undress my love
you might find a mannequin;
don’t undress the mannequin
you might find
my love.

She walked across the room towards me
Her left breast bigger than the right

I like the right

Her hair long down her back,
black and long down her back

Her cunt smooth and hairless

Another brunette, another bed, another house, new sheets

I lay naked stretched out, hands behind my head as requested

She walks with style, naked, hair long, cunt smooth and with style

Her right breast

With style

I feel vulnerable with this one

Has she found my weakness?

Does she know who I am?

She stops at the end of the bed and looks into my eyes

She looks deep

I feel vulnerable with this one

I can hear my heart, its beating fast

She knows my weakness

She looks deep and smirks, one side of her thin red lips curls up as she looks deep and smirks, hands behind my head

I hear my heart; it’s all I can hear

The room is small

I need to get away

I need to get out

My breath quickens

She knows too much already

We only just met

“You like classical music don’t you Bo”? She whispers

My hair stands to attention and my body stiffens

“Why do you think that”? I stammer

My heart is thumping and I start to sweat

“I know all about you Bo”? She whispers

As she places one knee on the bed

My hands frozen behind my head

Her other knee follows

I can’t move

I can’t think

I feel vulnerable with this one

The beating of my heart is interrupted as Mozart starts playing on her stereo

“You’re favorite” She whispers

I lay there stiff, frozen, hands behind my head, naked

New sheets

She straddles me

Her hair long and black

My hands behind my head

Her face inches away from mine

She whispers

“I know you”

I feel vulnerable with this one....................

Have you seen it? It’s around here somewhere…………

2008-08-21T16:41:00.001+10:00

It’s been about three months solid off the grog and the smokes and the substances I like to throw down and what have I got to show for it?

What?

Healthy liver

Healthy lungs

Healthy bank balance

Healthy promotion

A happy wife and a healthy marriage

But all this at what cost I ask?

I’M FUCKING BORED SHITLESS FOR FUCK SAKE

The bills are being paid on time, the gas bills, the electricity bills, the telephone bills.

I’m a fucking valued customer now. Six months ago I was utility enemy number one.

I now go for nightly walks with the wife and the dog around the neighbourhood streets and smile and make small talk to other dog owners we meet on the way

“Oh what a cute dog” they say

“What’s his name” they say

“Our dog is five” they say

“And his name is George” they say

(FUCK UP AND DIE YOU CUNTING WANKERS)

I smile through gritted teeth trying not to vomit into my mouth and look to my wife to do the talking.

Last weekend I actually spent a whole day looking at linen.

FUCKING LINEN

I know the fucking cotton thread count of every fucking major brand on the fucking market

And that’s not all

I’m using words at work I have never used before like

“In moving forward”

And

“But is it sustainable”

I even used the word synergy in a sentence

It’s got to fucking stop.

I’m loosing my soul

I went to the doctor’s to talk, in talk I mean give me drugs, lots of drugs, drugs to make sure that when in moving forward it’s sustainable and can be achieved in synergy

“Doc I’m going mad” I tell him

“Why is that Bo?”

“I’m writing shopping lists and drinking organic rice milk” I tell him

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I fucking hate rice milk that’s what’s wrong, stay with me Doc”

“Ok and what else”

“I’m not drinking, I’m not smoking and the only woman I’m fucking is my wife”

“That’s a good thing Bo” he says

“Don’t patronise me Doc”

“Ok then why is this not a good thing Bo?”

“I’m a womanising drunk with the sex drive of a rabbit and the now highlight of my week is watching ‘That’s Gold’ on the NRL Footy show and seeing QBE get up $1.40 on the stock market”

“So is this change in lifestyle affecting you” he says

“I wouldn’t be sitting here banging my head against a brick wall with you if it wasn’t now would I Doc”

“So how can I help you Bo?”

“I was hoping you could tell me, seeing how much you’re charging me for this consultation”

“Ok Bo I’m going to prescribe you a course of Valium. Take one in the morning and one at night, this will help you with you’re anxiety”

“First smart thing you’ve said in 20 minutes Doc”

I left that doctors surgery and went next door to the chemist to get my prescription filled

Once I got my prescription filled I went to the next, next door and got six longneck Carlton Draughts from the bottle shop

Whoever put these three businesses next to each other didn’t have the goodness of humankind in mind.

Or they are pure fucking geniuses

I jumped in the car, cracked a longneck and popped three Valium and steered the car to the nearest brothel

I have a soul to get back.

So as you can see fuckers I have been very busy pretending to be someone I’m not and paying the ultimate price of loosing ones soul.

I have not been writing at all and not spending anytime on the internet apart from checking in on my favourite porn sites for some well needed masturbation.

I will be around to all of you soon and spending some time reading and catching up on what you have all been up to. I still need to find out what happened to Fingers and the Brain, two geniuses at work.

I have probably been voted out by the blogging tribal counsel cause of my absence as I know how fucking fragile some of you cunts can be.

Will be around soon

Till then

FUCK OFF

Uno and Ouzo

2008-07-09T13:58:00.002+10:00

I was working in a dirty shit-hole kitchen in St Kilda as an apprentice

A marvellous introduction into the world of commercial cooking

It was a real dump, there was food stains on the roof, green rotten bacon in the drop fridges, mouldy soups that would be mixed together and put up on the specials board

The head chef was a big Greek man who would walk in and say “Who we gonna kill today ah you motherfuckers”?

He always played 80’s music during service and sang at the top of his voice

I was in charge of the cold larder section, cockroach salads and mice terrine

The job was shit and so was the pay

But the wait staff were top notch.

They were all uni students studying art or some subject that would eventually help them get into a leading call centre one day

There was this one girl Josephine who was a ballerina in training and she had the most tremendous posture I had ever seen.

She would glide across the kitchen: back straight, head perfectly angled and an ass like an eleven year old boy and she couldn’t put a move wrong.

Not in my book

I cut my finger nail clean off twice just from looking at that ass glide on by

She was crazy too, she’d sneak up on me from behind and slap me across the back of my head real hard and when I turned around she would grab my ears with both hands and pull me too her and plant a big kiss smack on my lips and say “It’s cold and rainy outside with a slight south westerly” and she would turn on her toes and glide off.

She only worked Friday & Saturday nights and on those nights after work she would come over to my apartment, sit at my kitchen table and play Uno and drink Ouzo.

I’d drink whisky straight up and smoke cheap cigars and let the ash fall on the table

She would shoot her Ouzo down, each time, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and say “That’ll put hair on ya chest, too right it will”

We never had a straight conversation, it was always in statements or riddles or looks or physical

If I said something she didn’t like she would slap me across the face

If I said something that she liked she would grab my balls and wink

It could be something as little as “Would you like a cup of tea”?

SLAP

“How about Ouzo”?

BALLS, WINK

I never offered much tea

She would craft little faces or figures out of my cigar ash on the table using a toothpick, give them names like Frank or Gretel and baptise them with Ouzo washing them away

“Why you gotta do that on my table”? I’d say

“Fuck you they have as much right to go to heaven as you do” she’d say

“Why use the Ouzo? It gets on the floor and I stick to it all week, use the water”

“You’re not gunna get into heaven with that attitude Mr” she’d say and toss a shot of Ouzo at me and then she would deal another hand

She always won at Uno; I was never much a fan I just played it to keep her there. I liked having her around; she wasn’t dull like most other girls

Also, we never once had sex

She said she was saving herself for Mr Right

“I’m saving myself for Mr Right” she’d say

I was not him

Instead we would sit at the kitchen table where we drank and played and smoked and baptised and we would take our pants off and masturbate together too miss matched celebrities

She would rub her clitorises and say “Julia Roberts and Humphrey Bogart” and she would close her eyes and moan

I would work my cock and say “Marilyn Monroe and Jack Nicholson” and she would close her eyes and moan

Sometimes I would say the wrong name and she would open her eyes and slap me

When we came we would yell “UNO” and she would come over to me and lick the cum off my hand and leg and take a shot of Ouzo and say “That’ll put hair on ya chest, too right it will”

I still see her sometimes when I go to the Ballet

Watching her glide across the stage like she did in the kitchen

She did find Mr Right, a local minister out in the suburbs

I hope he likes Uno

PS. Sorry fuckers for not being around too much lately, the fuckers I work for gave me a promotion and now I have to pretend I know what I’m doing at a whole new pay level. Will be around soon
Till then

FUCK OFF

Beef Casserole at a 100 paces

2008-06-23T10:43:00.001+10:00

Another house, another bed, another woman, another bathroom, another way home

I get up and go to the bathroom for a shit; her cooking is taking its revenge

I use her toothbrush and throw up in the toilet, sweat beading on my forehead, I wipe the sweat with my singlet top and it leaves a dirty mark where I wiped

Crazy bitch tried to kill me

I sit on the toilet and the shit streams out like the vomit did, thin and powerful.

I wash my face and hands, brush my teeth and I vomit again

I find the kitchen downstairs and drink from a container of juice and look at her family pictures stuck on the fridge with magnets collected on family trips around Australia

There’s a big pineapple, a big banana, a big lobster, a big worm and a big guitar

There’s a picture of her and her husband and her two kids sitting on a bluestone wall with the ocean behind them, they are all smiling and looking happy and relaxed.

I vomit into the sink

I look for something to wipe my mouth

I look in the cupboards, the draws and the pantry, nothing

I grab one of the finger paintings off the fridge and wipe the vomit from my mouth and put it back with the big pineapple

I take another drink of juice and stare at the finger painting

I have improved it

I go back upstairs and look at her sleeping, her legs are showing out from under the sheets, she has wonderful legs, long and thin and smooth and strong.

They are not legs exclusively for me, I must share them with her husband and with other lovers. I want her legs just for me, around me, smooth and strong and long and thin.

I trace my index finger the length of her leg and she stirs and so does my stomach

I run to the bathroom and vomit

She comes in behind me

“What’s the matter?”

“You tried to kill me you crazy bitch”

“What are you talking about?”

“The food, you poisoned it you crazy bitch, I’m going to die, I can feel death”

“No I didn’t you bastard; you just have a weak stomach”

“Hand me your toothbrush, I’m going to stick it down my throat and get all your poison out”

“What? No way man you have vomit in your mouth, use your fingers”

“I already used it twice already, hand me the damn thing, I gotta get this Death outta me you crazy bitch”

She hands me her toothbrush and I stick it as far down my throat as I can and more of her poison comes out.

I jab it in further and more of her death comes out.

“Crazy bitch I’m dieing, you killed me”

As I kneel down like a dog at the toilet and jam her toothbrush down a third time and really try to force out the death, I loose my bowels and spray shit across the bathroom.

She screams

“Ahhh it’s on my leg, you son-of-a-bitch you shit on my leg, Ahhh”

“Screw your leg I’m dieing, I’m dieing and I shit myself, I can see the headlines now”

WOMANISING BLOGGER FOUND DEAD
IN LEGGY LOVERS BATHROOM
COVERED IN SHIT AND VOMIT,
MURDERED BY BEEF CASSEROLE

“You shit on my mat and my leg and look at the tiles, ahhhh, you son-of-a-bitch, who’s gunna clean this up?”

“Quick get me some finger paintings”

“What?”

“Finger paintings woman, on the fridge, with the big fruit, get em”

She leaves the room

I crawl in the shower, turn on the water and watch the shit and vomit disappear down the drain and wait for death.

I’m still waiting…………

Bad boys get more sex: study

2008-06-18T16:07:00.002+10:00

This is an actual article on the Nine MSN website today.

Bad boys really do get the girls, according to new research.

This week's New Scientist says two studies in the US have found that men with antisocial personality traits are more likely to have a prolific sex life.

The so-called `dark triad' traits include impulsiveness, narcissism, thrill-seeking and deceitfulness, it said.

One of the studies, a survey of 35,000 people in 57 countries, found a clear link between dark triad traits and the reproductive success of males.

"It is universal across cultures for high dark triad scorers to be more active in short-term mating," David Schmitt, of Bradley University in the United States, told the New Scientist.

"They are more likely to try and poach other people's partners for a brief affair."
Another study found that males who scored higher in the dark triad personality traits had a greater number of partners and a desire for short relationships.

No fucking shit you stupid twat. While you’re conducting studies I’m fucking the life out of your wives and girlfriends, fucking their boring day to day life with you right out of them.

I can hear it in their screams, feel it their trembling bodies

NEW RESEACH

You dumb fucks actually went to university and you put you’re higher learning skills to use in a study like this.

What’s next?

New research shows that the longer you live the older you get.

Stupid dumb fucks

In fact I’m going to conduct my own study

New research shows that wives of dumb fuck scientists, whose cunts were fucked so thoroughly and viciously by Bad boy Bo Bo, were unable to go back to their stupid-ass-licking-white-coat-wearing-pen-protector-wankers-of-dumb-fuck-scientist-husbands.

Leaving the dumb fuck scientists to go through the rest of their lives conducting pointless and obvious studies while all around them fucked their brains out

Submitted

Published

A+

Fuck Off

Sex and Whisky

2008-06-16T14:15:00.001+10:00

“You wanna go shoot some hoops”?

“Listen kid I’m twice you’re age and my backs not too good and you’re a nice girl and nice girls shouldn’t be shooting hoops”

“But I wanna shoot some hoops”

“How about you get me a glass of water from the kitchen and jump back in bed here with me”

“You never want to do anything fun old man”

“I’m 28 and you had me up most of the night with the sex and the games and I just don’t wanna shoot hoops right now, its 6am and my backs not to good and will ya just go get me glass a water would ya”

“Ok but will you read to me when I get back”

“Sure no problem I can do that”

You sure do notice a difference with the eleven year age gap

Sure the skin is tight and the ass and the thighs and the cunt but it’s the talking the constant talking that drills into you’re head

It’s not just sex and whisky with these ones

It’s the games and the talking and the texting and the emails and the little presents with the little bows and the tartan pencil case with you’re name written in the heart and it’s the shooting of the hoops

Give me a married woman with three kids and a travelling husband and an ass that forgot to get old

That’s what I want

Sex and whisky

“Here’s your glass of water, will you read to me’?

“Sure no problem I can do that”

Once upon a time there lived this cougar…………………

Organ Donor

2008-06-13T12:28:00.000+10:00

I haven’t had a drink in four weeks

I have whisky nightmares and Vodka dreams

My hands have stopped shaking and my liver is angry

I will put a hinged door for nightly access to my liver

And at night I will put my liver in a glass of whisky on the nightstand

It’s a grand plan

And in years to come my nightstand will have various glasses

My Liver in a glass of whisky

My Teeth in a glass of candy

My intestines in a glass of urine

My tongue in a glass of shit

And my heart in a glass of hate

And we will all be happy

And I will have to oil the hinges to the doors

Two blocks

2008-06-10T15:47:00.000+10:00

I ended a loveless affair with Sandra the barista and have to buy my coffee two blocks further down each morning

We started the loveless affair in the summer and it is now winter

And now I have to buy my coffee two blocks further down

I should have started our loveless affair in winter and then it would be summer and I wouldn’t mind walking two blocks further down to get my coffee each morning

I could look at all the shop windows and all the young girls in summer dresses as I walked the two blocks further down

But its winter and the shop windows are dull and the young girls are dull in their long coats and woollen beanies and red noses

And I have to walk two blocks further down

And it’s all dull

And the coffee is dull

And the shop windows are dull

And the young girls are dull

And I have to walk two blocks further down

My new barista is named Kylie

And it is now winter

And the next coffee shop is a further two blocks down

Next summer I will have to walk four blocks further down each morning to get my coffee

But then I will have the windows and the summer dresses

Confession

2008-05-16T10:27:00.001+10:00

Bless me bloggers for I have sinned, it’s been 15 days since my last post.

What are your sins my son?

Well for the past month I have been on what we call a Bender father blogger. I have been consuming alcohol at an alarming rate and destroying all in my path.

What has happened during this bender my son?

Well father blogger it all started when I went into a bottle shop near close half drunk, chatted up the Asian lady behind the counter, fucked her in the beer fridge next to the Carlton Draught and nearly vomited when I got a whiff of her cunt that smelled like hay.

I called mates and left abusive and incoherent messages on their mobile phones

Not turning up for work

Maxed out a credit card purely on booze

Drunk; smashed a bottle of Vodka in the food court of a shopping centre when I was told there would be a five minute wait on my quarter pounder, then went back to the bottle shop where I bought it from and demanded a replacement. When the attended refused I grabbed him by his collar and threatened to arrange his face in an unpleasant manner.

I walked out with two bottles of Vodka.

Had security grab me at said shopping centre where I smashed another bottle of Vodka over said security guard and legged it out of there before I was left with no bottles of Vodka.

Was an absolute cunt of a person to my wife and nearly ended our marriage. No really I was the FULL CUNT. There are too many stories to tell you father blogger on how I was the full cunt to my wife. So we will leave it at that.

I do this every few years or so

It’s my blow off valve

I’m off the booze for a while now

Wife and I have started marriage counselling and I have started drug & alcohol counselling.

My drug & alcohol counsellor Monique is a foxy little vixen who I intend to fuck.

I’m taking my wife over to New York for a well deserved holiday so I won’t be around blogland for a few weeks

See you all in a few fuckers

Oh and thanks to all whom sent me concerning emails, it’s nice to have people like you around.

And Fingers you old cunt put you’re pants back on, I’m not gay.

Describe your life at the moment in 50 words or less.........

2008-05-01T13:46:00.001+10:00

FUCKED

Frederic Chopin knew how to write spreadsheets

2008-04-24T21:28:00.002+10:00

I worked the whole week

This week

The whole week with the cunts

Tough haul, a long haul

The light at the end of the tunnel had a name

Pinot Noir

What a beautiful name

So elegant, so graceful

So misleading with its end result

I sit here in my office, Frederic Chopin playing his Concerto No.2 through my computer and drinking my eighth glass of Pinot.

My star employee Klara left forty five minutes ago after a fabulous snog and a monotonous hand job

She’s more of a rising star, one to look out for in the next draft pick

My boss called me at 4:30pm today to say she had a deal for me, a deal I couldn’t refuse

I refused

But after a very short conversation detailing reasons why I can’t refuse

I accepted

This brings me to why I’m sitting in my office writing you

I have to come up with spreadsheets that read the data of the data that head office require

Normally head office can suck my finely manicured balls, but seeing as it’s for Captain-I-have-allot-of-information-on-you-that-could-ruin-your-career

I graciously accepted.

So I will sip another sip of my Pinot and type another =sum (A2:Z60) and that will please my powers that be

Why do I do this?

Because I know I will access the internet at work and masturbate to naked women while I am getting paid to write spreadsheets

Question

How the fuck do you write spreadsheets?

I’ll have another drink please!!!!!

Professionalism is a dirty word

2008-04-17T16:49:00.000+10:00

Below is an email sent by this cunt faced nobody to her manager. Her manager happens to be a mate of mine and has forwarded it onto me for a laugh.

Hi Paul,

Please find below details of encounters that I have had with the Manager from our Blah Blah Office:

He is extremely unprofessional, often looking slovenly without his corporate tie.

He is always unshaven, reeks of cheap cologne, smokes excessively, including in the company vehicle.

Eats very greasy stinky food and leaves said wrappers in the car.

He is a terrible driver and has very bad taste in music

He is quite lecherous and makes inappropriate comments in regards to women

He seems to be constantly hungover but in a weird kind of way, but he can be quite amusing.

Kerryn Blah Blah
Business Development Officer
Marketing and Communication
Blah Blah

“I was highly offended at this email sent, I do not wear cheap cologne”.

Cheap Wine and a Four Day Growth

2008-04-16T16:43:00.000+10:00

No show at work for two days

Can’t be fucked, the cunts are giving me the shits to no end

Too much whinging, whining, complaining and bitching

I can only take so much of that environment before I throw my hands in the air at the disgust

Two days off

Four day weekend

Four day growth

Needed

Overdue

CUNTS

All of em

I’m sitting in my swanky apartment on my designer couch typing away at my laptop, Mozart Symphonie No.35 playing at full volume on my stereo, Angel Dark is on my TV getting her ass fucked in What gets you off 2 and I’m about to finish my second bottle of Shiraz

Life is good

No Whinging, whining, complaining and bitching cunts

No shits too no end

Just Mozart and Angle Dark ass fucking with my Shiraz

Life is good

The End

The Night Shift Nurse and The Dead Man’s Cock

2008-04-11T13:23:00.002+10:00

One of my jobs as an apprentice chef was working as a prep chef in a Melbourne hospital

A shit job but the nurses were tremendous fucks

I have never had a terrible fuck off a nurse yet

I was eighteen

Within this hospital was a morgue and one of the night shift nurses I was screwing at the time liked to be fucked from behind while she fondled and stroked a dead mans cock

Some of the dead men were old men, died of natural causes

Some of the dead were young men who had died in car crashes, motorbike crashes, drug overdoses and so forth

Some of the dead men were middle aged, heart attacks and wot not

I just fucked away at her ass while she stroked the dead mans cock

I was usually half drunk on cooking wine and working late shift when she would come into the kitchen and stand in front of me at my work bench

She would pull out one of her tits and show me her little appetiser and wink

“Here’s you’re appetiser chef boy, you hungry”?

I would look over at my head chef who would be in his office watching her serve up her tit appetiser to me with a grin

I’d knowingly raise my eyebrows to my head chef

He would nod his head to the door and mouth the words “get out of here”

I’d grab a bottle of cooking wine on my way out

The hospital halls would be silent and dimly lit

Night shift

We would take the emergency stairway down six flights to the basement to where the morgue was with the dead mans cocks

She would unlock the door with a key she had stolen that afternoon form the main key cabinet upstairs

The smell would hit you like a wall the wall was cold and stale; the wall was cold and sterile

The wall was cold and dead

I’d drink my cooking wine and she’d take me by the hand to the dead mans cock she wished to fondle

She would open the fridge door and slide out her fetish for the night

I would sit on a chair and drink my cooking wine and keep my eyes on her ass while she started fondling the dead mans cock

She’d let me know she was ready with a little moan and hitching up her nurse uniform exposing that ass

I’d drink more cooking wine and make her wait

I liked looking at that ass

It was a fine ass

I’d drink my cooking wine and look at that fine ass and say

“You’ve got issues woman, you need help, how can ya get your juices from stroking a dead mans cock?”

“Just come over here” she’d say

“I need to drink this bottle and look at that ass a little more, you got issues woman”

“Just get over here” she’d say

“Issues I tell ya”

I’d finish my cooking wine and take off my pants, keeping my eyes on that fine ass

As I fucked that fine ass she’d moan and fondle, moan and stroke

Moan and fondle

Moan and stroke

The dead mans cock

I’d cum in that ass and she’d squeeze hell out of the dead mans cock

“Lucky he’s dead” I’d say, “That’d kill a man”

I’d put my pants back on

“You’ve got issues woman, issues I tell ya, but fuck what a fine ass”

I’d leave her there with the dead mans cock

Back up the six flights of stairs and through the silent dimly lit hospital halls

Back up to my kitchen, my workbench and my grinning head chef

Back to chopping vegies

Back to drinking cooking wine

I loved night shift

You could say

To death

The Sunday Roast

2008-04-09T12:53:00.003+10:00

Every Sunday we would go to my grandparent’s house for a roast lunch

The Sunday Roast

Nan & Pop had a big backyard with a hills hoist smack dab in the middle

An Aussie backyard

They had two German Shepard’s Bonnie & Clyde

They had a big silver shed in the back corner of the yard which sat up on a slightly raised part of the block.

I use to sit up on the roof of that silver shed with my slingshot and survey the yard, my land, my Kingdom, my country

Bonnie and Clyde patrolling the perimeter for insurgents

From the castles watch tower I could see all around, 360 degrees.

To the left Mr & Mrs Karrapanos with their nuclear olive trees and mortar tomatoes

To the rear Mr Jackson with his armoured blue ‘wife beater’ singlet and his VB can grenades

To the right were Mr & Mrs Mills and their daughter, my arch enemy, Lisa.

On Sundays Mrs Mills would bake cookies, Anzac cookies, Choc chip cookies and scotch fingers.

The smell infiltrating the air like anthrax

Lisa would be in her yard skipping, skipping her rope of death.

She always wore the same dress on Sundays, her Sunday dress. It was white with little red cherries dotted all over and red ribbon lining around the base, the short sleeves and the little collar. She always had her hair back in a little ponytail and held in place by a little cherry hair tie.

She was the enemy

I would lie on my stomach and shoot nuclear olives at her which I had collected on an earlier mission in Karrapanos country

Lisa would run in crying, crying to her mum who would then be at our front door knocking, knocking for an apology.

My other enemy, my parents would bring Lisa through the house and out the back and into my kingdom, my country.

Bonnie & Clyde rendered helpless against their parent powers

I would be forced to allow her to become apart of the coalition

Her job

Medic

She never wanted to play war; she always wanted to play Doctors and Nurses

Doctors and nurses was for pussies, I was a soldier, a tough man soldier a warrior.

One fateful Sunday afternoon Lisa and I headed out on a mission.

Our mission

To infiltrate Mr Jackson country; wife beater country

We would find a stronghold behind the rusted Datsun 200B and fire our nuclear olives at Mr Jackson while he drove his Victor mower armour plated tank.

Our mission was going to plan with wife beater being hit a number of times to the head, chest and legs

All of a sudden we were spotted, spotted by Jackson wife beater, VB can grenades coming in thick and fast, landing inches away, exploding in spray, covering us.

“Retreat, retreat, enemy upon us”

We retreat over the great wall fence and land safely back in our own country

As I’m standing there checking myself for any injuries, war wounds, a stray VB can grenade comes flying over the great wall fence and I’m hit

HIT

Right in the nuts

I go down

“Man down, man down”

“Medic, I need a Medic”

We take cover in the silver castle and Medic Lisa assesses the damage

Reluctantly on Medic Lisa's orders I remove my shorts

Medic Lisa holds my injured cock and nuts in her tiny hands and tells me this will make it better

As my injured soldier cock got hard Medic Lisa’s eye’s got wide and mouth dropped open. She withdrew her hands in shock and started apologising.

“It’s ok it doesn’t hurt it just does that sometimes” I said

“I haven’t seen my daddy’s do that” She said

“What does yours do” I say

She lifted her cherry dotted dress and pulled down her undies and right there in front of me for the first time I saw it

My first CUNT

It was amazing; I knew right then and there I would be searching this great big world of ours for the rest of my life in search of

The CUNT

From that fateful mission, that fateful wife beater mission, I would stumble upon my life’s mission

My mission for CUNT

Every Sunday we would go to my grandparent’s house for a roast lunch

The Sunday Roast

Nan & Pop had a big backyard with a hills hoist smack dab in the middle

They had a big silver shed in the back corner of the yard which sat up on a slightly raised part of the block.

My new best friend Lisa and I use to play in that big silver Hospital for hours

Doctors and Nurses

Hours

Exploring

Playing War

It’s for PUSSIES

All in a Days Work

2008-04-07T13:27:00.002+10:00

I have been in bed sick all week, not much of a post there.
So I will tell you a little story from the past.

“How much have you got on you man?”

“About a grand man, you?”

“Same man”

“What do you wanna get first man, pussy or drugs?”

“Drugs man, we’ll get our moneys worth with the hooker”

“Good thinking man”

Leigh and I take off in our white Van, an empty speaker van that was full at the start of the day with high end shitty speakers.

We had sold them all that day along, in and around the streets and suburbs of Melbourne

We would pull up to cars at traffic lights, people walking their dogs, mothers putting their groceries, their weekly rations, their 2.3 children into the back of their all the same station wagons.

Our spiel that would slide out our mouths a hundred times a day is we are on our way to deliver the speakers to a club, hotel or restaurant, we have just realised the warehouse has given us an extra set of high end quality speakers and we want to sell them for a bit of party cash on the side before we return to the warehouse that afternoon.

This was our job

This was our lucrative job dealing only in cash

Dealing with dog walkers, dealing with drivers at traffic lights, dealing with all the same station wagon mothers, dealing with all the same station wagon mothers husbands, dealing with Asians, Greeks, Italians, Serbians, Australians, Blacks, Whites, fucking society itself

But with that came

Dealing with the cops, dealing with the people who later realised they’d been had, dealing with the car chases, dealing with the arguments, the fights and on a couple of occasions dealing with the barrel of a gun pointing at you.

The money was good

The feeling was not

I would only last 6 months

“How much have you got on you man?”

“About a grand man, you?”

“Same man”

“What do you wanna get first man, pussy or drugs?”

“Drugs man, we’ll get our moneys worth with the hooker”

“Good thinking man”

Our destination

St Kilda

Pussy and Drugs

St Kilda

We pull up out front of a once beautiful art deco apartment block that is now overflowing with homeless drunks and face scratching drug addicts.

We walk down a dimly lit corridor, lit only by the green exit signs at each end

The wallpaper peeling off and lined with graffiti

‘Muzza waz hear 98’

“I wonder if Muzza is still with us in 04”

The smell of urine fills our nostrils and the sight of a rat scurrying up ahead over piled rubbish fills my mouth with vomit

We come to a door with the number 14 sitting above the peephole; the number 4 is on an angle, held only by one screw

I knock the pre arranged knock

Knock

Knock, Knock

Knock, knock, knock, knock

Knock, Knock

The door is opened as far as the chain will let it

We are greeted by a moving mouth of yellow decaying teeth and the breath of a decomposing corps

We place our orders

Back in the van we cut some fat lines on the dashboard and J Edgar Hoover them up our once urine filled nose’s

Life speeds up

We drive around the streets looking for our pussy, music blearing and smiling in anticipation of our satisfaction, our fulfilment our pleasure to come.

We pull up near a park; she’s standing there in her filthy hooker outfit

She’ll do

“How much sweetheart?”

“For a hundred each you can throw me in the back of that van and do what you like to me”

“You’ll do”

We drive in the opposite direction of where she told us

Paranoia will do that

We park the van in a quiet dead end street

Throw her in the back

She’s medium in height, druggy skinny, small flat tits and sick pale skin

She’ll do

She slides the latex on our cocks with her mouth while cupping our balls and tickling our assholes

Professional

While she is sucking our latex cocks she tells us to slap her, slap her hooker face, slap her hooker ass and slap her small flat hooker tits

Professional

While I’m fucking her hooker cunt and she’s sucking Leigh’s latex cock, she tells me to stick the vans clublock in her hooker ass

Professional

While I’m doing a line of coke off the vans clublock sticking out of her hooker ass and she’s sucking Leigh’s latex cock, she stops to tell us that for a line she will drink our cum

Professional

An hour and a half later she is drinking our cum out of a short black takeaway coffee cup with a hooker smile

Cum shots

Takeaway cum shots

Takeaway cum shots with a hooker smile

Professional

We drop her back at the park, her hooker office, her hooker place of employment with no hooker holiday pay, no hooker sick leave, no hooker stationary cabinet and no hooker superannuation.

What’s her retirement plan?

We are satisfied

Content

Happy

With our sacks emptied and our heads full of coke we head off to a bar

After all

Hooker fucking

Its thirsty work

“Whisky?”

“Make it a double”

Sunday Drive

2008-03-28T14:59:00.003+11:00

The shy is blue, still blue

A lonely cloud in the sky, alone in the still blue

Tall luscious green trees all around reaching for the still blue

Long snaking miles of smooth tarmac lay ahead, cutting through the mountainous terrain, cutting through nature’s derrière, nature’s lady lumps.

The snaking tarmac is mans cock.

Man’s man made cock penetrating mother nature herself

I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of a convertible

Man’s man made extension of my cock

An innocent raven haired woman in a yellow flowing dress riding shotgun, the dress rising just enough to reveal her long flowing legs resting softly against my hand atop the stick shift

My hair and scarf blowing in the broken still blue, the still blue broken by my man made cock extension.

The innocent raven woman laughs at all my jokes, plays with her flowing hair, rubs her flowing legs and clutches her flowing yellow dress

She is a nice woman

When I talk she stares at my driving profile

When I return her stare she shyly and submissively looks down touches her lower lip and then looks up ahead at the snaking tarmac, the snaking tarmac raping mother nature

We stop in a little village for a baguette and a glass of wine

She laughs at my jokes and stares at my profile

The profile of the man she wishes for, the profile of the man she dreams of, the profile of the man she has saved herself for, the profile of the man she loves

She is a nice woman

Leaving the village we are miles along the raping snake travelling at speed, cutting through the still blue my hand now on her flowing leg, her head tilted back, raven hair flowing, laughing at my jokes and smiling at her new found confidence.

Up ahead there will be a short blond girl standing on the side of the raping snake

Waiting

She will be wearing short blue denim shorts, a tight red singlet top showing her tight tanned stomach and bare feet.

She will be holding a camera in her left hand

She will be chewing gum, blowing bubbles, loud snapping bubbles

She will have her head tilted to the right, blowing snapping bubbles

Her name will be Cindy; she will not know how to spell her own name

She will have worked as a stripper from the age of consent

We will have a flat tyre twenty metres from where she is standing snapping bubbles

Raven hair will be changing the tyre in her flowing yellow dress, kneeling down with her flowing legs and stealing now insecure glances at her wishing lover’s profile

I will be leaning against a tall luscious green reaching tree, smoking a pipe, my scarf hanging against my chest and I will be smiling down at Cindy’s camera lens

We are miles along the raping snake travelling at speed, cutting through the still blue, my hand on the back of Cindy’s head as it moves the length of my cock

The cars suspension and Cindy’s neck are working as one, absorbing what the raping snake can throw at them

In the rear vision mirror the raven haired yellow dress is now still

Still among the still blue and the luscious green

Still on the side of the raping snake

The lonely cloud in company

She was a nice woman