1805 Definitive naval victory for Admiral Horatio Nelson (47) against Spanish and French fleets at Trafalgar, Nelson mortally wounded on deck of flagship HMS Victory by French sniper
10:10
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| Kiss me quick, 1805 |
The blue whale is the largest creature on Earth with a call that can reach 180 decibels- a jet engine sounds at 150 db.
14:44
That night, when Aoife flipped out, I walked home in anger. Sure, I was indignant. How dare she dump me? Or make it so that I dumped her. Or pick me up on my bluff to break it or whatever. I went to bed that night, stunned by the throwing out. Numbed, even if not surprised.
I recently started using lubricant for having sex with my girlfriend. Not that I couldn't make her relaxed enough. I found it was me who enjoyed it more. The friction upon my instrument was greatly reduced leading to longer sessions and quicker recovery times. I would apply it to tease her and sometimes, I'd try to slip it down to the second floor, if you know what I mean, unsuccessfully I might add, except partially, once, when drunk, with my tipsy tip.
I didn't harbour a big perversion to do it that way. I'm not sublimating or any of that freako Freudiuan crap, I'm not threatening gay or anything. It's just that after a certain amount of time, if you're in love with a girl and have an average sex life, you want to liven it up some.
So you sneak a peek at the magazines and websites about how girls like it. Or how they imagine men like it. You try to consult the kama sutra and lovers' guides. But there is one thing they're not doing. They're not talking about. The elephant in the broom closet. Nobody is talking about a man and a woman fucking in the ass.
I was hoping this lube would lead to something. Smooth the passing, as it were. Make it seem plausible, pliable and desireable.
I never did ask her if she would like it. Come to think of it, we weren't that close that we could talk. She didn't seem to mind that much when I nearly got my inch on. She was drunk too. Otherwise I wouldn't have flung myself upon her. I just pulled back, embarrassed. Most of the time I just rimmed and rammed her pussy for a close.
I figured I wasn't going to be needing the lube anytime soon. I didn't have anyone lined up I was going to call. I had granite blocks tumbling on me from the collapsing pyramid of emotion and blue balls. I got into bed. Turned out the lights. Started pulling my wire. I wasn't fantasising about anyone really because I was bitter already. I was masturbating in despair more than desire.
One time in this company I worked in, a short manager type was talking at the bar. A real numbers guy. He looked like he walked around in stripey suits all his life. Looked like he had stripey suit pyjamas to sleep in. He was so self-confident he was oblivious, about what I don't know.
He was telling another manager about going on a trip to Canada with the bank he worked for. Stopped down by the brothel, he said. Just before she finished him, he said, she pulled on a rubber glove, made him bend over and stuck her finger in his ass. It was the hardest cum he ever made he said. The other nodded, knowingly. I get the feeling it was a long time ago.
So I tried it. Years later. On my own. Too scared to ask if off my squeeze of the past two years, who was a nice girl but not dirty. I committed and hit a homer.
It was like a firetruck pulled up in my balls and started hosing the place down.
My ring was tingling with exquisite pain. At one point I didn't know whether or not I'd be able to stop coming. The I remembered and let go of the control panel. All the buttons returned to their rest position. I ended up having to take a shower because it was so much all over my belly and chest there was no way to wipe it off.
Later as I lay there in my fresh pyjamas and drifted off to sleep I listened to a Johnny Cash cover about hurt.
Anyway, the biggest and most proper orgasm of our entire relationship came just after our split. And I was on my own. But it felt beautiful.
My depression was floating on the breeze already. I was not going to be able to trust anyone again, for a very long time, but I didn't have to feel bad about myself.
I was free. I was liberated. The occupation troops had decamped. I was able to transcend my own feelings of inadequacy by drilling deep into my body and finding untold resources.
14:44
That night, when Aoife flipped out, I walked home in anger. Sure, I was indignant. How dare she dump me? Or make it so that I dumped her. Or pick me up on my bluff to break it or whatever. I went to bed that night, stunned by the throwing out. Numbed, even if not surprised.
I recently started using lubricant for having sex with my girlfriend. Not that I couldn't make her relaxed enough. I found it was me who enjoyed it more. The friction upon my instrument was greatly reduced leading to longer sessions and quicker recovery times. I would apply it to tease her and sometimes, I'd try to slip it down to the second floor, if you know what I mean, unsuccessfully I might add, except partially, once, when drunk, with my tipsy tip.
I didn't harbour a big perversion to do it that way. I'm not sublimating or any of that freako Freudiuan crap, I'm not threatening gay or anything. It's just that after a certain amount of time, if you're in love with a girl and have an average sex life, you want to liven it up some.
So you sneak a peek at the magazines and websites about how girls like it. Or how they imagine men like it. You try to consult the kama sutra and lovers' guides. But there is one thing they're not doing. They're not talking about. The elephant in the broom closet. Nobody is talking about a man and a woman fucking in the ass.
I was hoping this lube would lead to something. Smooth the passing, as it were. Make it seem plausible, pliable and desireable.
I never did ask her if she would like it. Come to think of it, we weren't that close that we could talk. She didn't seem to mind that much when I nearly got my inch on. She was drunk too. Otherwise I wouldn't have flung myself upon her. I just pulled back, embarrassed. Most of the time I just rimmed and rammed her pussy for a close.
I figured I wasn't going to be needing the lube anytime soon. I didn't have anyone lined up I was going to call. I had granite blocks tumbling on me from the collapsing pyramid of emotion and blue balls. I got into bed. Turned out the lights. Started pulling my wire. I wasn't fantasising about anyone really because I was bitter already. I was masturbating in despair more than desire.
One time in this company I worked in, a short manager type was talking at the bar. A real numbers guy. He looked like he walked around in stripey suits all his life. Looked like he had stripey suit pyjamas to sleep in. He was so self-confident he was oblivious, about what I don't know.
He was telling another manager about going on a trip to Canada with the bank he worked for. Stopped down by the brothel, he said. Just before she finished him, he said, she pulled on a rubber glove, made him bend over and stuck her finger in his ass. It was the hardest cum he ever made he said. The other nodded, knowingly. I get the feeling it was a long time ago.
So I tried it. Years later. On my own. Too scared to ask if off my squeeze of the past two years, who was a nice girl but not dirty. I committed and hit a homer.
It was like a firetruck pulled up in my balls and started hosing the place down.
My ring was tingling with exquisite pain. At one point I didn't know whether or not I'd be able to stop coming. The I remembered and let go of the control panel. All the buttons returned to their rest position. I ended up having to take a shower because it was so much all over my belly and chest there was no way to wipe it off.
Later as I lay there in my fresh pyjamas and drifted off to sleep I listened to a Johnny Cash cover about hurt.
Anyway, the biggest and most proper orgasm of our entire relationship came just after our split. And I was on my own. But it felt beautiful.
My depression was floating on the breeze already. I was not going to be able to trust anyone again, for a very long time, but I didn't have to feel bad about myself.
I was free. I was liberated. The occupation troops had decamped. I was able to transcend my own feelings of inadequacy by drilling deep into my body and finding untold resources.
US SOLDIER UNDER MORTAR BOMBARDMENT IN IRAQ COWERING BENEATH BED:
Lord, please let it pass.
