Bits and pieces

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opportunity likes to play ding-dong-ditch.

Greatly appreciated since I'll be graduating next month. Does one need a masters for this position? Or any other positions that one may find themselves in?

He's always hesitant to do tricks... until he thinks no one is watching. I still try to feed him well though.

this here would be one fine fucking orgy. fuck it. let's do battle. you 4 and I. if it ends in fucking... bonus.
 
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Mmmmmm.... been catching up on your little thread.... Nice.... It caught my eye the other day when both our threads were together.... You see great minds do think alike.... We named them the same thing.... And.... just so you know.... even if I did know you had called yours Bits and Pieces... I still wouldn't of changed mine's title.... just the kinda gal I am....;);) Anywho.... You have another watcher..... Kisses...:kiss::kiss::kiss:
 
Mmmmmm.... been catching up on your little thread.... Nice.... It caught my eye the other day when both our threads were together.... You see great minds do think alike.... We named them the same thing.... And.... just so you know.... even if I did know you had called yours Bits and Pieces... I still wouldn't of changed mine's title.... just the kinda gal I am....;);) Anywho.... You have another watcher..... Kisses...:kiss::kiss::kiss:

yes.
but the quality of your posting in your thread is FAR more interesting than anything I can drum up to post in my thread. Of course much of it has to do with this rabid desire of wanting to push my cock up between your tits and fuck them when you are so kind to include them (clothed or otherwise) in your posts. Whereas looking back at the photos of my chest in this thread... well... it all pretty much does nothing for me.
 
Have you ever felt like you somehow ended up at a party you weren't invited to?

yep. Started waking up and walking into this party around the age of 14. How long I've actually been doing so without knowing is anyone's guess. I just recall catching on around that time in my age.

Kept on keeping on for the longest fucking time too. Then I turned 30 and the party I've since been crafting in my head began to spill out into the party I wasn't ever invited to and everyone's like "Whoa... who's this guy again?" and now I'm like... "go fuck yourselves" and the chicks are all like... "you know... back in high school when I'd sneak under the bleachers to smoke a bowl, bare my tits, and blow my boyfriend(s) part of me wished I was blowing you..." and I'm like "nice mommy haircut. go fuck yourself." and the parties I find myself invited to and feel impossibly awkward at I sit in an ADD riddled stupor unable to engage or be engaged all cool like.

Invariably a point in the night will happen once or twice and the shit that's been pushing me deeper into myself will sort itself in perfect sequence and in perfect timing of the social environment and I super nova and am all like "YES YES Y'ALL AND YOU DON'T STOP!"

And everyone stops...

And the hosts are always like "SEE! This... THIS is why he's here people! You don't see him then... BAM! Left field awesome shit." Of course, not used to this scene I'm five paces ahead of everyone, backing myself back into myself while my outside feels everyone begin to include me and be all like "you know... I always..." and I'm like... "go fuck yourselves."


My advice MYW? Open your fucking eyes. You are not invited. In the event that you were, it was out of selfish reasons.

Either adapt to the party or withdraw from it.
Those are your fucking choices.

Both have consequences.
But one sets the foundation for you to find yourself.

You can be among a stampede of horses kicking up dust.
Or you can be the only one in the ring; perfectly poised, and well attended.

You can be free amongst the chaos and back biting, feeling as though something is actually being accomplished.

Or you can be one inside yourself, astute to your surroundings waiting for the gate to open and actually accomplish shit simply by being seen.

You can keep attending the party you are not welcome at.
Or you can become the party you are welcome at.
 
this deserves to get reposted at least quarterly...brilliant, and hilarious.

I am not sure how I ended up here, but this is great...


You are not the first to tell me such news.

Having learned this some time ago I admit to wondering how many previous posters stopped posting (or possible posters are kept from posting) in my thread due to insecure hotheads becoming all pissy because the poster said "hi" to me or I said "hi" to her. Apparently I'm a huge threat... which I guess I can see. I mean if I were a single guy in the online market for cyber poon and I had a hottie I was working on and she's all cozying up to another guy I'd be "seriously? wtf? I'm right here what more do you need?"

So yeah, I'll nod my head in recognition. It's no fucking goddamn secret that the online market is supersaturated with more Swinging Richards, than Biscuit Betties... and then here's this married asshole...

Wow... I'm a "single guy" that freely admits that I'm married. I'm I the only one? I kinda feel like I maybe am. I mean how many of you ladies have been chatted up or have chatted up a man you thought to be single only to find out he's married and trolling for something on the side? Or sweet jesus... the guy who's married but it's "rocky and on skids"? (yes I know for fuck sure this isn't gender specific)

this whole online relationship thing... fuck it's a huge cluster fuck.

anyway... I think I was digressing... so back to what I was talking about.

Sorry guys for being a cockbloc... no I'm not. It's fucking funny as fuck.

I've been told in the past that I've got quite a shadow-following, following my bullshit diatribes, manic depressive skribblings, and whatever the fuck I fucking record down in this fucktarded journal of sorts.

I always sort figured it was made up of general observers in passing, a hand full of gay/bi-sexual men waiting for me to post pics and talk fancifully about sucking cock, shy mousy types that are intimidated to make themselves known, and of those that simply got sick of me not responding to their posts so what's the fucking point you know?

Now I'm kinda wondering if there's a shadow-following of the shadow-following waiting to see if they will post so they can sweep in with teeth-gnashing fierce lividity and be all like "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING POSTING IN THAT FUCKHEADS THREAD YOU WORTHLESS STUPID FUCKING WHORECUNT:mad:!" Or some variation.

And I'll tell you what ladies (and guys... because this too is not gender specific), unchecked irrational, unreasonable, online possessiveness is a fucking huge red fucking flag for an abusive personality disorder. Jealousy is one thing. Sweet fuck, I get fucking jealous and am of the opinion it's a good thing... keeps one sharp, aids to inspire one to improve their game, opens the door to self-reflection and ideally moves one towards progressive improvement. But controlling another without regard, willingness to compromise, with verbal threats, belittling of ones character and self-esteem, is mental and emotional abuse. I don't give a fuck if you live with the person, or if you live 10 hours away.

Do I find it funny as fuck that talking to me results in the belittling of someone else? Fuck no. But it is funny as fuck when assholes expose themselves for who and what they really are.

So no worries about me changing anything I'm doing Vixxennn. Whoever is telling you whatever about me to you isn't your problem, nor is it my problem... it's their problem.

Without mutual consent, absolute understanding of the relationship, 100% clarity, and respect for each other as meaningful individuals...

No
One
Owns
Anyone
Ever.


power_and_control.png
 
I am not sure how I ended up here, but this is great...

my guess is that you were gunning for the hotter female version of this thread and understandably so.

No matter... thank you. And thank you for the repost of something that is all too easily forgotten or willfully dismissed out of desperation or belief they can do no better.

Women... you can ALWAYS do better.

No matter how much you've convinced yourselves or have been led to believe that you cannot. You absolutely can.

Do not tolerate manipulation online... do not tolerate it in real life.

You owe nothing to NO ONE.

If they gift you something, be it praise or panties you say thank you.

If they gift you something and expect, press you for, and/or demand something not offered, you say: thank you for the gift, it is very much appreciated. I do not like your sense of entitlement and expectations. If you think that by my accepting of your gift I am agreeing to your covert contract you are an assumptive fool. Should you like for me to return the gift you gave me, it is your right to ask. However I am under no obligation to comply. Should I choose to, it will be out of the kindness of my heart... and NOT an act of acquiescing.
 
my guess is that you were gunning for the hotter female version of this thread and understandably so.

No matter... thank you. And thank you for the repost of something that is all too easily forgotten or willfully dismissed out of desperation or belief they can do no better.

Women... you can ALWAYS do better.

No matter how much you've convinced yourselves or have been led to believe that you cannot. You absolutely can.

Do not tolerate manipulation online... do not tolerate it in real life.

You owe nothing to NO ONE.

If they gift you something, be it praise or panties you say thank you.

If they gift you something and expect, press you for, and/or demand something not offered, you say: thank you for the gift, it is very much appreciated. I do not like your sense of entitlement and expectations. If you think that by my accepting of your gift I am agreeing to your covert contract you are an assumptive fool. Should you like for me to return the gift you gave me, it is your right to ask. However I am under no obligation to comply. Should I choose to, it will be out of the kindness of my heart... and NOT an act of acquiescing.

This. Thank you.
 
I did not mean what you thought I meant.

I'm going to assume you didn't mean what I thought I read.
 
It's my thread. You mean whatever I think you mean. As for what you think you read. Well... that's out of my control.
 
yes.
but the quality of your posting in your thread is FAR more interesting than anything I can drum up to post in my thread. Of course much of it has to do with this rabid desire of wanting to push my cock up between your tits and fuck them when you are so kind to include them (clothed or otherwise) in your posts. Whereas looking back at the photos of my chest in this thread... well... it all pretty much does nothing for me.

Oh, I beg to differ..... I find your mind fuck ramblings like a stiff drink...... Refreshing, sharp, one that tantalizes and tickles the pallet..... Of course, that has to do with the fact as I read them I can only think of just how it would feel to have that throbbing, dripping cock of yours sliding with ease and force between my breast as you pulled and tugged at my hardened nipples ( be it your fingers or chained clamps) to bring my breasts tighter together for your pleasure and my delight..... :kiss::rose::kiss:
 
Well... You're out of the box...

Also sexy as hell.

I'm going to lurk a while. Hope you don't mind. ;)
 
you know what I hate?

a lot of things.

The current top thing that I hate is feeling expressive and not knowing about what and in what way it will manifest itself. I fucking hate it. Sweet fuck do I hate it.

Been trying different things that I do to see what I can prime out.

drawing... nothing
photography... tired of it
writing... actually it feels like writing. been pretty prolific here lately, as well as writing the periodic letter or two, as well as writing emails, as well as getting back in touch with someone I got to thinking about at work and realized that I didn't actually lose touch with her but more or less repressed what we had become to each other. Dead end lovers.

I felt pretty fucking stupid doing so. Waiting for a reply (wondering if one would ever come. I mean... she very well could have written me off) was about as enjoyable as the dry heaves after a night of heavy puking.

I wish I could re-cap the whole thing leading up to the email. For the sake of trying, I shall do my best.

I was at work
doing violent things
alone
and in my head
thinking about nothing
outside of wondering how to do said violent things more efficiently to spare my body of unneeded pain.

on the face of it my job really isn't that violent. just profoundly physically demanding. It's awesome. I digress.

and then
like a baseball bat upside the head
there she was in my heart and behind my eyes
and my knees buckled.

me knowing myself
and how prone I am to irrational thinking, irrational emotions out of the blue
I directed the storm of my inner turmoil to the parts of myself feeling it the most.

Sounds weird... but it works.
If the thought and associated emotion get swept up along with the storm
Then there's no reason to put forth much effort addressing it for it is indeed irrational.

If... on the other hand... the fucking thing stands like WWII artillery bunker and holds up to the storm, then I gotta shelve the fucking thing and address in a more safe environment. Usually in the shower at home. With the lights off.

So that's what I did.
I then spent the years of that day drafting 54 emails in my head. All of which I knew I wouldn't use.

At some point I found myself sitting in front of my computer. If I were feeling theatrical right now I'd tell you I spent all evening composing this epic heartfelt email that would sure bring about a sinking feeling of sadness and empathy for me in you and you all would want all the more to read it for yourselves so that you too could be a part of such an experience.

But I'm not feeling theatrical tonight.

I got to typing and proceeded to cut myself open about what was and can never be and how my want wants it to be and blah blah blah...

it was all done in about 15 minutes.
though it took about 45 minutes to click "send"

hitting "send" is always this magical horrible moment. all the more when you don't have that nifty "edit post" option. Once it's sent, it's gone. Out of your hands. All that's left is time... and your thoughts... and what's worse is that you can see the bullshit you sent via the "sent messages" option most email thingies provide.

and so I sit thinking "why? what's to gain? why disturb the peaceful silt that has come to be between you and her? quiet... peaceful silt below shadow dark crystal clear water..."

Why?
Because sometimes the need to tell someone no longer there that they are still there for you and in you... no matter how far your walls have pushed them away... is just too fucking cutting to keep to yourself. Fuck the silt.

and then...
She writes back so perfectly a reply that you cannot read it through in one sitting... so perfectly a reply that you come to realize there are levels of loneliness in yourself you never knew existed until you feel the comfort of them being filled by the words... I love you too.
 
hitting "send" is always this magical horrible moment. all the more when you don't have that nifty "edit post" option. Once it's sent, it's gone. Out of your hands. All that's left is time... and your thoughts... and what's worse is that you can see the bullshit you sent via the "sent messages" option most email thingies provide.

and so I sit thinking "why? what's to gain? why disturb the peaceful silt that has come to be between you and her? quiet... peaceful silt below shadow dark crystal clear water..."

Why?
Because sometimes the need to tell someone no longer there that they are still there for you and in you... no matter how far your walls have pushed them away... is just too fucking cutting to keep to yourself. Fuck the silt.

This, Mr. Y, is absolutely fucking perfectly said.
:kiss:
 
Why?
Because sometimes the need to tell someone no longer there that they are still there for you and in you... no matter how far your walls have pushed them away... is just too fucking cutting to keep to yourself. Fuck the silt.

and then...
She writes back so perfectly a reply that you cannot read it through in one sitting... so perfectly a reply that you come to realize there are levels of loneliness in yourself you never knew existed until you feel the comfort of them being filled by the words... I love you too.

Sigh.

Yes. :heart:
 
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Because sometimes the need to tell someone no longer there that they are still there for you and in you... no matter how far your walls have pushed them away... is just too fucking cutting to keep to yourself. Fuck the silt.

and then...
She writes back so perfectly a reply that you cannot read it through in one sitting... so perfectly a reply that you come to realize there are levels of loneliness in yourself you never knew existed until you feel the comfort of them being filled by the words... I love you too.

Your words reached out to me and grabbed my heart in a clenched fist.

I'm on the other side of walls like that. I hadn't realised how much I still yearn for the opportunity to reply to an email such as yours.

Thank you for sharing. :rose:
 
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