By knot of one oh serpent come,
By knot of two the spell to do,
By knot of three I conjure thee,
By knot of four ‘tis through the door,
By knot of five the spell to thrive,
By knot of six the spell to fix;
By knot of seven now I have ‘em!
By knot of eight ’tis sealed by fate,
By knot of nine the spell I bind.”

Gemma Gary
Traditional Witchcraft: a Cornish Book of Ways

a skirt so short

November 23, 2015


My partner and I are on the tube going back home after a night out. I am tired and close my eyes for few minutes, my head on his shoulder. Suddenly I can hear his heart beat accelerating…he’s breathing heavily. I slightly open my eyes and I notice the girl on the opposite seat. A beautiful Asian girl wearing a skirt so short I can see the lace of her knickers. And so can he. I pretend to be sleeping while I stare at his penis growing harder I am terribly excited. We get home, I tell him I’m tired and I am going to bed. Instead I follow him to the bathroom, where I know he is masturbating. I open the door and I ask him if he’s thinking about what was hiding behind those lace knickers…that I saw him looking under her skirt…that I’m sure he would have fucked her right and then if he had the chance. He hesitates for a minute…then a naughty smile appears on his face. He pushes me against the door and we have one of the best fuck’s ever…

Source HERE


Love when we have anal sex anytime my body can handle it. That is my favorite orgasm ever! But sometimes, I beg for it and force myself to deal with the pain. I do this when I am constipated and need a little “push”!

Like last night….It sooooooooo took care of the problem and I thank you for it! I will never tell you that I do this!

Source HERE

Double Penetration

November 23, 2015


Of course, when you have never experienced anal sex – or anal play, if we are taking beautifully contoured silicone cocks and butt plugs into consideration – the general proclivity is that of distaste, particularly when watching porn. I say this from a woman’s perspective; the idea of having anything other than Nature’s peachy refuse in your rectal cavity is uncomfortable at best. That is, until you have tried it.

I am trying to annihilate any disregard for my knowledge of this; being very much aware of the abhorrence and murmuring blush of shocked mortification that runs giddily hand in hand with the word anal, I also know what it is to laugh uncomfortably at the thought. Watching women writhe with wetly glistening eyes unfocused, lids heavy and lips spread, heaving and twitching around a groan of beguiled pleasure while a cock of massive proportions pumps rapidly into the wrong hole, is frustrating and doesn’t quite fit into our idea of what a woman wants.

At first, the only time I ever entertained the notion of being aroused by anal play was while watching porn. Porn is like entering another city with the wrong map; you almost always end up in a district on the other side of town. So when Double Penetration came up as a legitimate category, I was too curious and too aroused by the vibrator between my thighs to give it the feminist moral perspective expected of a modern woman living in a cosmopolitan capital.

That doesn’t alleviate the fact that my initial attitude towards anal fucking was formed upon a treacherous mountain of outrage. The porn industry, aimed predominantly at male audiences, takes great pleasure in the possession of a woman through the unhindered use of her posterior – bleached to within an inch of its life. How believable is it for a woman to find that kind of penetration, with no other stimulation, so pleasurable that if comparing the frequency of her moans between a video of plain old vanilla sex and one in which she ‘gets her ass destroyed’, she vocalizes her arousal louder in the latter.

At first I thought it was a domination thing; the ultimate form of male authority and ownership, and the objectification of women as contraptions with three principle uses: the ass, the cunt and the throat, before toying with the idea of female submission. Now there is a subculture I can relate to; a little perspective and the matter became a subject I liked the look of.

And, regardless of how difficult it is to self-initiate double penetration when you not only have to control the toy in your ass, the pounding of another, and the vibrator stimulating your clit, the monumental bliss of orgasm is incomparable. But each to their own.

Source Here


November 23, 2015


Pain, either physical or emotional pain, it would be thought is something to avoid. After all isn’t this the purpose of pain? Seeking pain intentionally would seem to be abnormal. It isn’t. We all do it. Why? Because sensation is what it means to be alive. We watch frightening movies, eat hot sauce. touch the sore spots where we have been injured, ride roller coasters and bungee jump for all the same reasons: we like the pain because it makes us feel alive.

The same is true of emotional pain. We relive old embarrassments, old heartbreaks even though the feelings are unpleasant and painful. This is, oddly, normal behavior for human beings. This only becomes a problem when we over do it. If you are cutting yourself to feel the pain then this is a problem. If you dwell on old sorrows or hold on to old resentments or grudges to the point of depression, anxiety or lasting anger or hatred then ; this too is a problem. If you find yourself in so much pain that you must dull it with alcohol or drugs which are harmful to the temple of your body ; this too is a problem.

What to do? First, recognize just what you are doing. Recognize that it is something everyone does. When these kinds thoughts arise gently, patiently, identify them, note their effect, and move the mind back to other concerns. I can hear the comments already. ”But Sam this is easier said than done”. True. But it can be done. Patience and persistence is the key. YOU control your thoughts and these thoughts create your pain and so can eliminate pain. It works both ways.

Use the technique of one pointed concentration . Learning the technique of focus and mindfulness. You do not have to be a Bodhisattva, a master or have studied yoga for years to do this. Anyone can do it and millions have. You can do it too.

Source HERE

Not a bad mouth

November 23, 2015


He seemed to be lying on the bed. He could not see very well. Her youthful, rapacious face, with blackened eyebrows, leaned over him as he sprawled there.

‘How about my present?’ she demanded, half wheedling, half menacing.

‘Never mind that now. To work! Come here. Not a bad mouth. Come here. Come closer. Ah…!

‘No. No use. Impossible. The will but not the way. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Try again. No. The booze, it must be. See Macbeth. One last try. No, no use. Not this evening, I’m afraid.

‘All right, Dora, don’t you worry. You’ll get your two quid all right. We aren’t paying by results.’

He made a clumsy gesture. ‘Here, give us that bottle. That bottle off the dressing-table.’

Dora brought it. ‘Ah, that’s better. That at least doesn’t fail.’

George Orwell
Keep the Aspidistra Flying


The end of the affair is always death.
She’s my workshop. Slippery eye,
out of the tribe of myself my breath
finds you gone. I horrify
those who stand by. I am fed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Finger to finger, now she’s mine.
She’s not too far. She’s my encounter.
I beat her like a bell. I recline
in the bower where you used to mount her.
You borrowed me on the flowered spread.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Take for instance this night, my love,
that every single couple puts together
with a joint overturning, beneath, above,
the abundant two on sponge and feather,
kneeling and pushing, head to head.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

I break out of my body this way,
an annoying miracle. Could I
put the dream market on display?
I am spread out. I crucify.
My little plum is what you said.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Then my black-eyed rival came.
The lady of water, rising on the beach,
a piano at her fingertips, shame
on her lips and a flute’s speech.
And I was the knock-kneed broom instead.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

She took you the way a women takes
a bargain dress off the rack
and I broke the way a stone breaks.
I give back your books and fishing tack.
Today’s paper says that you are wed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

The boys and girls are one tonight.
They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies.
They take off shoes. They turn off the light.
The glimmering creatures are full of lies.
They are eating each other. They are overfed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Anne Sexton


November 23, 2015


The cats of Liège, excluded
from the guest bedrooms
of allergic Englishmen, sleek

and ever self-contained,
tuck their legs under and perch
on stools to perfect indifference

while ironing and undergraduate
essays pile around them
on chair and windowsill and desk,

until they finally condescend
to notice the stubborn optimism
of March, anticipate the open doors

they’ll wander through at will
to sniff the busy air, preferring not,
it seems, to be as free as birds.

Michael Curtis

(Michael Curtis has performed across Europe, on the radio, in schools, libraries and at numerous other venues. In 2006, his first children’s book was published and his selected poems Taking Shape was published by Maison de Poesie Nord/Pas de Calais.)