The Bitter Pill

Motivational Posters

Everyone loves a good motivational poster .......


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Oh Lord that was...

yeishia said:

Oh Lord that was...

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Um, yes, imagine if she was yours with that butter wouldn't melt smile. Come to think about it, she does look a little like mine ..........

You are sooo bad!

yeishia said:

You are sooo bad!

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Thank you .........

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Chews lip thoughtfully between sips of her drink, brows un-furrowing as she glances from the brain poster to the sexy steam punk girls.

"I want an octopus."

NessaCary said:

"I want an octopus."

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A dark voice whispers .... "Careful what you wish for in here ........"

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Eyes widen at the sight of the octopus, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips.
And I thought you were sweet, what with the giving flowers and all...

Urban Dictionary

URBAN DICTIONARY Definition of the Day


Rule 81

A woman will know exactly when you're staring at her breasts. No exceptions.

This is applicable to all situations, not just on the internet.
Sienna sensed a definite rule 81 moment despite John's carefully calculated diffidence.



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Scribblings for fun .......

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No Promises


He turned her around to face him. Tracing the back of his finger across her cheek, he whispered, “No promises.”

Pulling her close, he held her head against his chest so she could feel his soothing heartbeat. Leaning down, he nuzzled into her soft hair, gently massaging the back of her neck. He continued, voice soft and melodic in the dark of the silent apartment, “Do you know, even here, alone, we have wonderful places to go.” His lips brushed her soft ear. “The places of dreams . . . the places to forget . . and the places to remember . . . hot, wet places . . .” he let his words tail off as he gently licked at her soft lobe.

His other hand, worked dancing circles of teasing touches down the small of her back. He could feel her arch and sway a little, as they played across her spine, as they moved up across her ribs, searching, nearing softer flesh. Her perfume, her scent, filled his nostrils. He sighed, a half moan of pleasure at the women in his arms. His ache was building. Soon it would become uncontrollable. He knew he could take her here first, now, if she willed it, allowed it, needed it.

Her turned her slowly around. Her felt, rather than heard her sigh. Her body shivered with a sensuous feline undulation and she pressed back, searching for his hardness. The cleft of her buttocks found it and she rotated against him. What she was doing was no longer teasing, she had to know that. This was betraying a need, a need she could no longer deny. His lips nuzzled around her ear, little nips and licks, each bringing pushes and sighs from her, as she drifted, immersed. He ran his hands down and encircled her soft wrists with strong hands. She stiffened for a moment, fighting her natural impulse to free herself, then softened again, compliant. He held her back against him for a while, teasing them both with their increasingly frantic squirming.

Then slowly, he guided her over towards an almost invisible couch. He paused for a moment, with her thighs pressed against the cold leather of the padded arm. She gasped at the contact, perhaps realising what he had in mind, but didn’t resist, instead letting her gasp change into a low moan of want. He found her ear again, “Do you . . . want . . this?” His hot whisper giving her a final chance to back out or submit.

Seconds dragged, seeming like minutes, but finally, as she gasped “Yes,” he realised he’d been holding his breath. He pulled her forward by the wrists so she had no choice but to bend, fall over the leather. “Oh,” she grunted in surprise and just managed to get her hands in front of her for some support as she collapsed forward.

“Don’t move. . . until I ask you. Stay perfectly still.” He paused, allowing her to digest his request. Then, a little more gently, “You can do that, can’t you, stay still?”

She began to answer but he cut her off, “Shhhhh,” at the same time running fingers up the insides of each of her thighs. He tapped the insides of her legs, “Wider . . .” She sighed, but slowly spread her long legs further apart. “Wider,” more insistent this time.

She groaned wetly in front of him, but wriggled even further apart, her coltish legs lewdly spread open now. Although she was lit only from the city lights, he didn’t need to see more. He could feel the heat radiating from her. Searing animal heat, barely contained and about to be made even hotter . . .


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Um... this might not be the most submissive thing I say today but you have to write with me. Cunning linguistics like yours would be worth staying in the shallow end of the kink pool for.












... please?

fuckmeat said:

... please?

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"The shallow end of the pool . . . ." what a delicous thought.
Even the deepest pool has a shallow end. How far you swim down depends on how long you can hold your breath, and if you want to see what's really in the dark.
Look in your pocket, you'll find a small key . . . it will open the first door . . . should you wish it.


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The Art Gallery

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Song of the Day

SoulWeaver said:

"The shallow end of the pool . . . ." what a delicous thought.
Even the deepest pool has a shallow end. How far you swim down depends on how long you can hold your breath, and if you want to see what's really in the dark.
Look in your pocket, you'll find a small key . . . it will open the first door . . . should you wish it.


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pulls the key from my pocket and contemplates it for a moment, admiring the pretty Fleur De Lys bronzework. A thorough search of The Bitter Pill eventually leads me to a heavy oak door with an ornate bronze lock. I try the key and find that it turns smoothly, despite the antiquity of the lock. I push the door open slowly and step quietly through it, locking it behind me to prevent others from wandering in. Stone steps lead down to a basement level, twisting to keep me from seeing too far ahead

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Ask for a key .........

Scribblings for fun .......

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The Witcher ....... part 2


We stared at each other. She wriggled them down, then kicked her tiny panties over to the pile of discarded attire. None of her normal tease, she was trying to make a point, or pretend to be pissed off, hoping I might back off probably. I stared, back under control, unblinking. Her legs splayed open, “Satisfied now?” she enquired, her own voice adopting a risky, smarmy tone.

I took my time before answering. The mere fact that I could see her slit glistening even from where I sat, spoke volumes. Her body betrayed her, as it often did. She closed her eyes, another show of indifference, but I knew better. The tiny edge of her lip quivered and her nostrils flared, the bob of her adam’s apple as she nervously swallowed. Her toes wiggled. She was on the edge. Almost at the point where a few hushed words could set about the toppling of nerves upon nerves and an untouched, shuddering orgasm.

“No . . . I’m not satisfied.” She opened her glassy eyes and looked at me.

Another pause.

“Open wider.”

Her pink tongue darted out and licked her bottom lip. But her legs parted, the sinews on the insides of her groin rising with the open stretch she adopted. Her lips quivered, stuck with moist lubrication, then opened. Her hood had already drawn back, its little tip poking out, demanding a touch, a finger, cock, anything. Her eyes rolled back and she shivered, the shake of her shoulders swaying her full breasts. I imagined my hands on them, thumbs rubbing circles across aching nipples, dragging a low moan of fake protest and a thrust into my touch for more.

This should be interesting I thought.

Softly, “Mel.” Nothing, she was squirming, rubbing her arse is small circles on the wooden chair, teasing and pulling at her openings. I tossed something on the table.

“Melanie, look at me please”

Her eyes fluttered open. It took her a second or two to look from me, to the table. Maybe she wasn’t expecting this I thought, intrigued. Her mouth worked silently, she went first pale, then her cheeks flushed a bright beet red. For on the table was a pair of her panties. Not just any. These were sodden, heavy and wet still. Full of semen. And it wasn’t mine . . .




Part 1 here

Toonworld

When Toons go Bad ...............


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For shame! You forgot Ariel.

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And poor little Tink too!

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NessaCary said:

For shame! You forgot Ariel .............
And poor little Tink too! .............

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Oh you're quite good .......... I'm sure we can change that ......

Scriblings for Fun .....

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The Rose

His cheek rubbed across her ankle, sliding across her skin, his stubble leaving a pink smear. Her ink mesmerized him. The swirling colours hypnotized and dug at his will, taunting, calling . . . whispering, whimpering. It told him he could do things to her, anything. The ink was a label and it said bend her like a toy.

From the moment he’d seen her, gleaming pumps and micro mini, he’d burned, pressing himself into the desk and groaning. The store was empty, just him . . . and her. She’d looked across at him from the new releases section, directly into his eyes, unwavering and piercingly direct. Then turned and bending impossibly low, browsed the lowest shelf. Selecting titles, reading the back cover word, for slowly devoured word. Her skirt rode high, creamy flesh and a deep pink crack had him stammering and looking around for help, he was alone, and still he looked.

A movement caught his faltering eye, a fluttering of impossibility for her hand was reaching between her legs. From across the room it looked like five tiny pink snakes, as it absently spread and rubbed. He wanted her to leave then. More than anything. For surely she was a demoness sent to tempt him, to confuse and ruin and get him fired. Maybe this was some sort of schoolgirl prank. "Yes, that was it," he decided, small comfort spreading like a warm leakage now he was anchored in the rational, if unusual idea.

Slowly he realised she was watching him. Peering around the corner of her thigh, eyelashes batting as her eyes rolled and closed in time to the writhing snakes, her bright pink toungue darting and licking around her plump lips in an unmistakable parody. His cheeks burned and he cast his eyes down, busying himself shuffling non-existent papers. Maybe if he ignored her she would leave, or the store would fill and the odd moment would pass with the clack of DVD cases and the exchange of pleasantries.

How wrong he was to be ……


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Urban Dictionary

URBAN DICTIONARY Definition of the Day


Arseclown

One who, while exhibiting the outward affectations of substance, worldliness and sophistication, is in fact a rank amateur with a fondness for plagiarism & convincing surfaces.

"Did you see Anton James' entry for the International Arboritum Project? What an arseclown!"


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Song of the Day



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Thought for the Day

Thought for the Day : How do I feel at the moment .....

Right now, kinda stunned, like most of the country I guess, and anyone around the world with friends or family down in the Christchurch area. Watching the news coverage is surreal, scary and numbing. Buildings and places I've worked at flattened, fuck the buildings though, they can be replaced. I remember watching the 911 attacks live way back, we had an early morning business breakfast meeting and as people arrived it was just a stunned sort of watching. Not wanting to watch the live coverage, but almost unable not to.

Anyway, heres a link which says how things are, much better than I can .....

Latest Earthquake News 23 Feb 2011

Christchurch Earthquake Map. 51 yesterday, 18 so far today and its ony 9am.

Earthquakes since September 4


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