Although this was a correspondence to someone, I thought it fit to share what I did this weekend as it was interesting to say the least.
This Sunday's work day was cut short and another type of work was done for my friend/boss. I drove her ass to N.B. and back in 20 hours. She needed someone to drive her ass there to drop off her grandchildren so that her ass could go to Florida to collect her jewels. I figured what the hell...I could use the money.
So big deal I worked 25 hours straight without sleep, drove through torrential rain and fog, got stopped by the po-lice on the return in N.B. for driving in the passing lane and speeding (but officer I was only doing 104), but they let me go because I didn't understand their stupid highways. No shit when I tell you that I believe those roads to be designed by a drunk. That is what I said to the officer. Anyway, this trip left me tripping as I could not sleep when I got home, so I stayed up until about 8 p.m. Having last slept on Saturday night and only getting 4 hours sleep, I experienced visual and audio hallucinations by Monday evening! Oh mang!
Seriously, I thought we were taking my Terrain, but we took her son's Escalade just because it had a dumb DVD player for the kids. Here I thought this vehicle should have more bells and whistles than mine, but NOOOOOO. The steering column was doing a shimmy at 135 kph and at night in the rain that is DANGEROUS. Also, it had no Onstar phone, nor did it have turn by turn navigation. Boo, hiss, and spit!
Being that kids were in the car, I did not smoke going to N.B., but on the return, I smoked in the vehicle. As the bitch doesn't smoke, it was tough titty suck it for her. I smoked my brains out.
Her grandchildren are twins are they are little monsters. Before the trip started, I warned them to be good as I kill children. In playing the wicked witch, I got the kids to eat their food on threat of having it presented to them for every meal henceforth...oh the tears they shed as they ate the damned food. They received the Riot Act in regard to wasting food. LMAO All in all, the experience was entertaining and made me some bucks for my upcoming camping trip. Wee ha! ~ Maggie ~ June 30, 2011 3:26 pm
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
The Pisser
Twas this past Saturday (June 18, 2011) and I was doing my p.m. shift, however, the light was brightly shining and the air was warm. As I was working with “dead boy,” I figured I would take my book “Being In Time” by Martin Heidegger outside and enjoy the sun. One of my favorite things to do besides reading is to wear offense t-shirts. Being that I am in Quebec, the shirt that I had on this day became more offensive to the pisser for reasons you will note. The shirt read “Welcome to America Now Speak English.”
Anyway, with my glasses on in a relaxed state, I notice a car pull to the side and a guy getting out. I see him head to a tree where he pulls out his weasel and takes a piss. As I found this offensive, I started yelling at him.
The guy who was shirtless and sporting shorts, looked like he was a steroid addict as his muscles were huge. Those huge muscles were beautifully adorned with a thick tribal tatt. When he was done draining his weasel, he approached me yelling in French. As I don’t understand French, I was yelling back “I don’t speak French!” By the time he got to me, I asked him “would you like me to go piss on your lawn?” He was all up in my face and all of a sudden he could speak English. Amazing! The car he had come out of was now in front of me with another guy in the back seat and a woman at the wheel.
Imagine him telling me to “shut up” and “sit down and read your book” to which I replied “no.” Who the fuck was he except some pig who can't ask to use the bathroom. He kept on insisting that I “shut the fuck up and sit down,” but I couldn’t. He was so mad he raised his fist and said “I’ll punch your face.” At this point I take my glasses off and stare him right in the eye and say “do it.” That fist stood in mid air wavering as I eyed him never taking my eyes off of his. When his arm finally dropped and he got in the car, he was making jerk off movements with his hand and movements as if he were playing with a pussy. For every gesture that he made of a sexual nature I responded loudly “YOUR MOTHER” bringing all the brilliance of my New York accent to his ears.
Eventually, they pulled away and I went inside. Having asked "dead boy" “did you hear or see what happened?” He replied “no.” Now you know why I call him "dead boy." His name does not even deserve capitalization.
Not for anything, if the hulk would have hit me, I would have had carte blanche to go to town on him with a good can of whoop ass providing he did not knock me out with the first punch.
Anyway, with my glasses on in a relaxed state, I notice a car pull to the side and a guy getting out. I see him head to a tree where he pulls out his weasel and takes a piss. As I found this offensive, I started yelling at him.
The guy who was shirtless and sporting shorts, looked like he was a steroid addict as his muscles were huge. Those huge muscles were beautifully adorned with a thick tribal tatt. When he was done draining his weasel, he approached me yelling in French. As I don’t understand French, I was yelling back “I don’t speak French!” By the time he got to me, I asked him “would you like me to go piss on your lawn?” He was all up in my face and all of a sudden he could speak English. Amazing! The car he had come out of was now in front of me with another guy in the back seat and a woman at the wheel.
Imagine him telling me to “shut up” and “sit down and read your book” to which I replied “no.” Who the fuck was he except some pig who can't ask to use the bathroom. He kept on insisting that I “shut the fuck up and sit down,” but I couldn’t. He was so mad he raised his fist and said “I’ll punch your face.” At this point I take my glasses off and stare him right in the eye and say “do it.” That fist stood in mid air wavering as I eyed him never taking my eyes off of his. When his arm finally dropped and he got in the car, he was making jerk off movements with his hand and movements as if he were playing with a pussy. For every gesture that he made of a sexual nature I responded loudly “YOUR MOTHER” bringing all the brilliance of my New York accent to his ears.
Eventually, they pulled away and I went inside. Having asked "dead boy" “did you hear or see what happened?” He replied “no.” Now you know why I call him "dead boy." His name does not even deserve capitalization.
Not for anything, if the hulk would have hit me, I would have had carte blanche to go to town on him with a good can of whoop ass providing he did not knock me out with the first punch.
Monday, June 6, 2011
The Best Fuck Ever as a reply to ANON
He had asked me to pick up some rope and I was like “what for?” He never did tell me, but told me I best not come home without it. Frantically, I went into every store where I thought I could buy actual rope. Mind you, I had to say my man wanted to put up a clothesline. I truly was at a loss for words as I had no idea what he was planning. As most of the stores carried the plastic type of clothesline, they tried to sell it to me, but I couldn’t take it. Trust me when I tell you the clerks at the store gave me odd looks because of my insistence of the real thing. All in all, the real thing could not be found. Thus I headed home with a synthetic type of rope which I was hoping would be good enough for whatever he wanted. Upon handing him the synthetic rope, the look of pissed came across his face and words were exchanged. He told me he was going to my girlfriend’s and that I should come there in a few hours.
Upon arriving at my friend’s place in Staten Island, she, her boyfriend Eddy, and Drew were there sitting on the couch looking like rats. Something was up, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
We were all sitting around hanging out when all of a sudden he said “let’s go upstairs.” Mind you, my friend only had a storage attic up there and nothing else. He blindfolded me and walked me up there. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he took the blindfold off and that is when I saw the setup. There was a Spalding ball, the rope I had bought, a bottle of vodka, rubbing alcohol, and a little dish. At this point I had not noticed the metal thing-a-ma-bobs that were placed into the wood of the slanted roof.
I forgot to mention, he had me dress a certain way that night. He had this thing about picking out what I was to wear although he did not always do it. From what I can remember, I had on a black garter belt, black stockings, no panties, a black bra, a skirt and some sort of top.
He led me to the center of the room where I was questioning him as to what was going on. He didn’t tell me, but he did proceed to take the rope and tie my hand firmly to which point he pulled my arm out and connected it that thing-a-ma-bob in wall. The same happened with my other arm as well as my legs. Felling like a suspended rag doll at his mercy was a wonderful feeling, however, this was not just about sex. I did nag the sucker to pierce me so many times and he never took me up on it. This night he did, but I still did not know that was what he was going to do.
When he had me the way he wanted me, he told me to take a few swigs of vodka stating that I would need it. After the swigs, he placed the Spalding ball in my mouth (which he then cut in half) and put a bandana over it and my mouth and secured it to the back of my head. At this point he goes over to the little dish and pulls out two stud earrings that don’t match. These type are the ones that have a point and are used when you get your ears pierced. Now I knew what was going to happen. I could feel my already heightened and excited nature go wild and I had no room to move.
He had a Polaroid camera in hand and was taking shots. He was talking as he was doing so telling me that my juices were running down my legs. When he had his fill of photography, he proceeded to push those studs through my pussy lips (which hurt like hell). He then fucked me from behind as hard as he could and for what seemed to be an eternity. When he was done. He removed he gag and kissed me.
After untying me and dressing me back up, we headed downstairs. I have to say that I was walking like I had been on a horse for a month. My girlfriend and her boyfriend were sitting there laughing at me.
She told me that he had used her to set up those rings to which he attached the rope as he wanted to make sure it would work. Also, she said despite the gag, she could hear me screaming downstairs. Everyone had known but me. This was one hell of an awesome experience. So much so, I had him do it again only I was not tied.
Upon arriving at my friend’s place in Staten Island, she, her boyfriend Eddy, and Drew were there sitting on the couch looking like rats. Something was up, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
We were all sitting around hanging out when all of a sudden he said “let’s go upstairs.” Mind you, my friend only had a storage attic up there and nothing else. He blindfolded me and walked me up there. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he took the blindfold off and that is when I saw the setup. There was a Spalding ball, the rope I had bought, a bottle of vodka, rubbing alcohol, and a little dish. At this point I had not noticed the metal thing-a-ma-bobs that were placed into the wood of the slanted roof.
I forgot to mention, he had me dress a certain way that night. He had this thing about picking out what I was to wear although he did not always do it. From what I can remember, I had on a black garter belt, black stockings, no panties, a black bra, a skirt and some sort of top.
He led me to the center of the room where I was questioning him as to what was going on. He didn’t tell me, but he did proceed to take the rope and tie my hand firmly to which point he pulled my arm out and connected it that thing-a-ma-bob in wall. The same happened with my other arm as well as my legs. Felling like a suspended rag doll at his mercy was a wonderful feeling, however, this was not just about sex. I did nag the sucker to pierce me so many times and he never took me up on it. This night he did, but I still did not know that was what he was going to do.
When he had me the way he wanted me, he told me to take a few swigs of vodka stating that I would need it. After the swigs, he placed the Spalding ball in my mouth (which he then cut in half) and put a bandana over it and my mouth and secured it to the back of my head. At this point he goes over to the little dish and pulls out two stud earrings that don’t match. These type are the ones that have a point and are used when you get your ears pierced. Now I knew what was going to happen. I could feel my already heightened and excited nature go wild and I had no room to move.
He had a Polaroid camera in hand and was taking shots. He was talking as he was doing so telling me that my juices were running down my legs. When he had his fill of photography, he proceeded to push those studs through my pussy lips (which hurt like hell). He then fucked me from behind as hard as he could and for what seemed to be an eternity. When he was done. He removed he gag and kissed me.
After untying me and dressing me back up, we headed downstairs. I have to say that I was walking like I had been on a horse for a month. My girlfriend and her boyfriend were sitting there laughing at me.
She told me that he had used her to set up those rings to which he attached the rope as he wanted to make sure it would work. Also, she said despite the gag, she could hear me screaming downstairs. Everyone had known but me. This was one hell of an awesome experience. So much so, I had him do it again only I was not tied.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Guide, Mentor, and Teacher~
You act like a reflection. A reflection that may not be seen by the viewer upon initial view, however, the image that gazes back upon a dialogue sees where spots lie. Sometimes it just takes a moment or mere mention of something that allows for thought to perform the proper function and at which junction it is to occur.
For all things one does, there has to be something in it for them. A reward. That something does not have to be a grand article of material nor anything of substance in tangible form, but there is always something. Delving into the psychological realms tells me this. Yet there is something else as well. I can call it an experiment of sorts to see if there is a shift in behavior.
Perhaps you have studied Skinner or Pavlov, then again, you might have studied Plato’s work on Socrates in which you seek an elenchus. Who knows. Nonetheless, it is always wonderful to see the truth in the mirror rather an illusion one has conjured up.
Much thanks and respect. ~ Arachne ~ June 3, 2011 @ 1:34 pm EST
For all things one does, there has to be something in it for them. A reward. That something does not have to be a grand article of material nor anything of substance in tangible form, but there is always something. Delving into the psychological realms tells me this. Yet there is something else as well. I can call it an experiment of sorts to see if there is a shift in behavior.
Perhaps you have studied Skinner or Pavlov, then again, you might have studied Plato’s work on Socrates in which you seek an elenchus. Who knows. Nonetheless, it is always wonderful to see the truth in the mirror rather an illusion one has conjured up.
Much thanks and respect. ~ Arachne ~ June 3, 2011 @ 1:34 pm EST
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