true story

Oleg looked at Marge sleeping, he loved her when she was sleeping, he missed her when she was away. When Marge was awake and speaking Oleg wished she would go away or slit her wrists or his wrists. Oleg was perplexed, was this his lot in life? All he wanted to do is love her, this should be simple. Marge hated life and felt she had been dealt a shitty hand, Oleg being part of that hand, it was only when she was sleeping that she didn't think about it. They grew old together, bitter and perplexed, they died together in a horrible freak propane explosion in the back yard, barbecuing, bitter and perplexed.

is that a bicycle horn in your pocket or.........

As long as Gladys could remember she has always been turned on by clowns. When she was younger this confused her, she would ask her boyfriends to be clowns for Halloween just so she could fuck'em in the makeup, but it wasn't the same. The clowns she would pickup at circus's, carnival's or even kids birthday party's did it for her. Alcohol on the breath, fat belly, stained costumes, someone coming apart at the seams, dressed all happy; this is what turned her on most. She tried running around with a circus, but that didn't work, she didn't want to know them she discovered, she just wanted to blow them. Gladys friends stopped inviting her to there kid's birthday party's when they kept noticing the attention she paid to the clowns, not appropriate in front of the children you see. When this happened Gladys opened a catering business for children's birthday party's so she could have all the broken disgusting clown's she wanted and lived happily ever after.
the end.

surrogate yummy

I walk in the strip club, ignoring my friends, I look for the one that reminds me of you, There you sit in a dark corner as if waiting just for me. My buddy passe's me and heads straight for her, "Thirty minute VIP for the old man young lady!" She takes me to a private room and pushes me down on a couch, raising one leg up so her ankle is by my ear she leans in close, "What's it gonna be Birthday Boy?" I pull out my phone and play her the sound of your voice,"Do you understand?" Her eyes grow wide, she licks her lips,"yeah baby I get it." hot and breathy in my ear. She rips open my shirt and digs in deep, opening up my chest like a trained surgeon. Holding my pounding heart in her hand, caressing it like my cock she begins tattooing your name across it in delicate black letters. When she finishes closing me up, we kiss long and slow, she licks the stitches and bounds away. "Happy Happy Birthday Baby!"

fuck me with a purpose

My friend calls me to tell me about her new boyfriend, how he has a small penis and it hits her in all the right spots, her last boyfriend had a huge penis and she hated it, now she has orgasms which she didn't before. Then she talks about work, the movie business, boring and theater stuff, extra boring. I'm glazing over, these are not the areas that make us such good friends, but we are so i endure. Then she says, "I will preface this with I really like your girlfriend.." and I say, "But?"
"In all the time I've known you all your relationships have been with very strong, sometimes bitchy, usually very crazy women. More often than not curvy large breasted women, all women I'm sure could kick my ass. All in all very passionate relationships. Your girlfriend is very thin,pretty but almost waif like, very nice, funny and grounded. For such a passionate, romantic, freaky kinky guy, she seems a little sedate. I wonder if this is a result of your divorce, I wonder if you traded in passion for control."
I tell her that I have thought about this already and yes I have traded passion for control. I no longer want crazy passion,I don't want someone to be the center of my universe, I left that with my x-wife. She tells me that this is horrible and sad. This goes back and forth a little more, we say good night.
I like what I have with my girlfriend, it's probably the most "normal" relationship I've ever had and "normal" to me is like porn. Yes I get a little bored sometimes, but the trade off seems worth it. It's nice to keep my own crazy in check. I'm addicted to the crazy, the bloody passion, the chemistry thing, like a junkie for the chemistry thing. I used to be a pro at turning my life upside down, I don't want that any more.
We don't have a crazy passionate relationship, but we laugh a lot, were nice to each other, we have a good sex life, sometimes a little kinky, and she feels loved. That's enough for me.
I've purged, I feel better, thanks for listening.

ramble #57 cowboy's, indians, and satanists part1

I was driving to work and spied a head in the street, a Halloween decoration, hair matted on a fleshy skull.
It reminded me of when I saw my first severed head, I've seen two. I was six walking down the street with
my grandmother when an accident happened 15 or 20 feet ahead of us, a bus, a car, and a person. As we approached
the gathering crowd you could see feet sticking out between the bus and the car, blood, and stuff that looked like
hamburger bits and strawberry soda. My grandmother pulled me behind her as she talked to another woman blocking my view.
Thinking about what I saw, the angle of the feet, the bus, the car, logically made me think I should look under the bus,
so I did.There it was a head, or what was left of a head, you could make out a moustache, an eye, some hair, and Lot's of
blood and hamburger. I yanked on my grandmothers hand to tell her what I saw, but she shushed me, I waited a moment and
yanked again, and was shushed again. Very loudly, as loud as a six year old can be with out yelling, "Grandmother there
is a head under the bus!" She shrieked and picked me up and started walking away from the scene. My grandmother is very
sweet has far as I'm concerned, she's always treated me the way a grandmother should. Sometimes I think about the whole
family though, my grandfather who adored her till the day he died, he was like a very large Cary Grant. Once he lost
all the weight and was a healthy Cary Grant, he was doing something he loved for a living, but my grandmother didn't think
it would keep her in the life style she so desired so she told him to quit,he did and gained all his weight back, not good.
I look at her three kids, my father, my uncle #1, and my other uncle #2. My father, with whom I speak to very little, a tattooed
shell of a man, someone who has lived a very rough life by choice and is now paying for it as a pathetic old man. Uncle #1 Married
four times, alcoholic, 2 of his 3 kids in jail, not very happy, but my favorite. Uncle #3 has lived near or with his parents his
whole life, has had very few girl friends and has been a physical mess for the last 25 years, we've never gotten along. There
entire youth was centered around my grandmother and how much my grandfather adored her. I guess I'm lucky that my grandparents
adored me and I missed out on what ever dynamic fucked everybody up, yes because I am the picture of mental health.
You know what I mean jellybean? My grandmother says that.

I wrote this in notepad-cut and paste-looks like shit.

i....i....i

I can't seem to get off this dark stairway
I sit in the dark at the bottom
I look up I see light
I rumage around on the floor feeling for things
I can't see but I know are always there for me
It's so easy to just sit here in the dark....
wondering about what's at the top of the stairs.

sometimes lust ain't pretty

I am a f@@d netw@rk addict and yes I want to fuck S*ndr* L33.

So shoot me.

"It's the best thing you can put in your mouth." S.L.