Love

April 23, 2017

Amongst some races the constrictor vaginæ muscles are abnormally developed. In Abyssinia, for instance, a woman can so exert them as to cause pain to a man, and, when sitting upon his thighs, she can induce the orgasm without moving any other part of her person. Such an artist is called by the Arabs, “Kabbazah,” literally meaning “a holder,” and it is not surprising that the slave dealers pay large sums for her. All women have more or less the power, but they wholly neglect it; indeed, there are many races in Europe which have never even heard of it. To these the words of wisdom spoken by Kalyana Malla, the poet, should be peculiarly acceptable.

Sir Richard F Buton (translation)
Footnote from The Anaga Ranga

Wife’s Kinky fantasy

April 23, 2017

I have this fantasy where I’m paraded naked through the streets of a local town and them publicly flogged with birch rods.

Source here

Glory Holes

April 23, 2017

manhandled and gangbanged

April 23, 2017

My husband has no idea but fifteen years ago while on holiday in Spain, I allowed myself to be manhandled and gangbanged on the beach by a crowd of strangers. I don’t know how many men ‘had’ me that night? At a guess, I’d say at least forty. I was drunk. It started out as a dare or challenge with two or three young men fucking me on the sand, but then more and more men arrived as word spread around the nightclubs. Eventually the crowd around me became huge – I don’t know, maybe a hundred or more observers and participants, but then the police arrived and moved everyone on.

Source here

Diary 23rd April

As Mel Gibson would probably say: “Freedom is what you do with what’s been done to you.”

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Question: ‘What is a magical diary?’

Answer: ‘Put simply, you keep a magical diary by setting your intentions down on paper, where they begin to take on power, weight, and material force, no longer vacuous desires volleying in the cavern of your mind. It’s as simple or as complex as that.

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To tread the Mystic Way you must learn to annihilate selfhood and to turn your attention from the multiplicity of the phenomenal world, with its classifying and image-making, its logical reasoning and discursive thinking, so as to attain that ‘simple seeing’ of which the mystics speak; for not until your eye has become single can your whole body be filled with light.

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It is only when all outward appearances are gone that there is left that one principle of life which exists independently of all external phenomena. It is the fire which burns in the eternal light, when the fuel is expended and the flame extinguished; for that fire is neither in the flame nor in the fuel, nor yet inside either of the two, but above, beneath, and everywhere…

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Remembering your lip
The ruby red I kiss;
Having not that to sip
My lips instead press this –

Just for women

April 22, 2017

Gender fluid

April 22, 2017

‘Eres hombre o mujer…’

Ah, Barcelona and that sixty-four million dollar question. Man or woman. Which was I?

Peedeel had become Navina that evening – for the sake of the party, you understand? Attendance was by invitation only. And our invitation was dependant on Peedeel arriving as beautiful Navina. He, or rather she, accompanied by Dee and Gabriella, attracted the attention of two young men. Darkly handsome young men.

‘Eres hombre o mujer…?’ They asked; their smiles could melt ice, I thought.

Well, if you haven’t spent your life living under a rock, you’ll know there are obvious ways to tell. And these boys guided me to a room where they could investigate further.

I will resist the urge to recount the sordid details of our ultimate coupling. But I do recall thirty seconds before I climaxed with them, it felt as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room; every nerve ending in my body tingled, I couldn’t move, time stopped. Then the involuntary spasm, the explosion. I recall especially feeling the sensation inside my bones, my jawbone in particular, vibrating through every nerve in waves; muscles clenching on their own, rhythmically, tension releasing spasmodically in those sharp, familiar little jerks of my cock.

Man or woman?

Why, chameleon, of course.

Soy un camaleón.