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Upskirt.

People in public are fair game for the camera.

Remember that when wearing a mini that shows your monkey if you happen to sneeze.
 
I always look up women's skirts. In Prospect Park, there is this nice shady rise next to the big field, where beautiful women in sun dresses sit and eat lunch and have cute hipsterish conversations with their goofy bearded boyfriends. I always used to look up the valley between their sweet hipsterish legs hoping for the pantyless money shot. I never got one (there).

Right before I started dating my wife, I was going out with one of my string of mentally unstable but sexually deviant girlfriends. This one wore sun dresses and no panties and also, not that it's related to this story, liked me to beat the living shit out of her during sex. Pretty little proper blondie who only got off on extremely violent sex.

Anyway, one day we sat on that very hillside eating lunch, her in her skivvy-less sundress, me next to her, and a bearded hiptser walked by and looked right up her dress to her bare pussy. I thought, "Wait a fucking minute here...."
 
Sonny Limatina said:
I always look up women's skirts. In Prospect Park, there is this nice shady rise next to the big field, where beautiful women in sun dresses sit and eat lunch and have cute hipsterish conversations with their goofy bearded boyfriends. I always used to look up the valley between their sweet hipsterish legs hoping for the pantyless money shot. I never got one (there).

Right before I started dating my wife, I was going out with one of my string of mentally unstable but sexually deviant girlfriends. This one wore sun dresses and no panties and also, not that it's related to this story, liked me to beat the living shit out of her during sex. Pretty little proper blondie who only got off on extremely violent sex.

Anyway, one day we sat on that very hillside eating lunch, her in her skivvy-less sundress, me next to her, and a bearded hiptser walked by and looked right up her dress to her bare pussy. I thought, "Wait a fucking minute here...."
Click to expand...
PM me the blonde's digits?
 
Peregrinator said:
PM me the blonde's digits?
Click to expand...
She was insane. Little blonde thing with a rich dad and a nice apartment that she owned herself in midtown, proper on the outside, but if sex wasn't rape, she couldn't get off. If she even had to ask for it to be rougher, she lost interest for that session. We'd go get a coffee or something, and then I'd have to drag her back into her apartment by her hair and beat the shit out of her better for her to get off again.

We had threesomes with her also-crazy friend, who actually liked it kind of sweet and soft but had as her kink the fact that she liked watching her friend get beaten up during sex, something they'd been doing (tag-teaming/watching) since well before me.

She (the blonde) was fucking this other guy while we were going out. He wasn't rough enough for her--hence me--but apparently he spanked her right and was kind of a deadbeat, which she seemed to like.

She 'broke up' with me (used advisedly, since it's hard to call it going out, and also because we kept fucking for a while afterward) to marry him, which at first she didn't do, and then, according to her facebook profile, which I've seen because she recently friended me out of nowhere, she did.
 
Sonny Limatina said:
She was insane. Little blonde thing with a rich dad and a nice apartment that she owned herself in midtown, proper on the outside, but if sex wasn't rape, she couldn't get off. If she even had to ask for it to be rougher, she lost interest for that session. We'd go get a coffee or something, and then I'd have to drag her back into her apartment by her hair and beat the shit out of her better for her to get off again.

We had threesomes with her also-crazy friend, who actually liked it kind of sweet and soft but had as her kink the fact that she liked watching her friend get beaten up during sex, something they'd been doing (tag-teaming/watching) since well before me.

She (the blonde) was fucking this other guy while we were going out. He wasn't rough enough for her--hence me--but apparently he spanked her right and was kind of a deadbeat, which she seemed to like.

She 'broke up' with me (used advisedly, since it's hard to call it going out, and also because we kept fucking for a while afterward) to marry him, which at first she didn't do, and then, according to her facebook profile, which I've seen because she recently friended me out of nowhere, she did.
Click to expand...

*sniff*

This is such a sweet story. I need a Kleenex.
 
Sonny Limatina said:
She was insane. Little blonde thing with a rich dad and a nice apartment that she owned herself in midtown, proper on the outside, but if sex wasn't rape, she couldn't get off. If she even had to ask for it to be rougher, she lost interest for that session. We'd go get a coffee or something, and then I'd have to drag her back into her apartment by her hair and beat the shit out of her better for her to get off again.

We had threesomes with her also-crazy friend, who actually liked it kind of sweet and soft but had as her kink the fact that she liked watching her friend get beaten up during sex, something they'd been doing (tag-teaming/watching) since well before me.

She (the blonde) was fucking this other guy while we were going out. He wasn't rough enough for her--hence me--but apparently he spanked her right and was kind of a deadbeat, which she seemed to like.

She 'broke up' with me (used advisedly, since it's hard to call it going out, and also because we kept fucking for a while afterward) to marry him, which at first she didn't do, and then, according to her facebook profile, which I've seen because she recently friended me out of nowhere, she did.
Click to expand...

This is thee hottest post of the day. I could make a dirty comic book off this post that would get me banned in five countries and kicked off three international airlines.
 
IrezumiKiss said:
This is thee hottest post of the day. I could make a dirty comic book off this post that would get me banned in five countries and kicked off three international airlines.
Click to expand...
Zumi, that year was my rumspringa. Such crazy shit that I hardly even tell about it, because by the third story, people are like, "OK, you're making this up." But I'm not--it was a very strange period in my life. If I hadn't met my wife, I'd probably be dead of AIDS from fucking strippers with secret heroin habits, or of bullets in the head from the guys' wives I fucked, or from alcohol poisoning and lack of sleep, or most likely from whatever way it is that priapism kills you, since eventually the thing was going to get soggy if I kept using it the way I was and I was going to need pharmaceutical assistance.

By the way, I avoided using those particular words when I proposed to her. I thought it best to go with the "you're my density" thing and leave it at that.
 
Peregrinator said:
Th...thanks, man.

Hey, these beatings...are we talking clenched fist? Hard slapping? Gimme some details.
Click to expand...
The only real guidelines for her was that that side of her had to be kept secret. So no black eyes or fat lips or blood on the face, essentially. Could I slap her full strength--like, hard enough to knock a grown man down? Yes, yes I could. Could I choke her to the scary point? Yes. Could I force my cock down her throat, and slap her over and over if she tried to resist? Yes. Bring my hand down with literally all my strength to sting/abuse her pussy? Yup. Chase her, knock her down, spread her legs and fuck her ass and hold her there by squeezing her tits between my fingers and my palm (recall that I'm a musician, my hands aren't exactly weak) and biting full force on the skin on the back of her neck to keep her pulled back toward me, yes. (She had long hair, so that could be hidden.) Bite her nipples or elsewhere on her tits until they seemed about to literally pop off in my mouth, with my fingers down her throat so she couldn't protest, yes. Bite her pussy. Shove stuff into her. Duct tape her. Demean her. Step on her naked ass with my shoe to hold her down, lift her head up by her hair and slap the fuck out of her face over and over. You get the idea.

There was more, but I'll leave it there. Suffice to say that I had to ratchet it up each time, or it wasn't interesting for her, and that I did indeed do said ratcheting.
 
Sonny Limatina said:
The only real guidelines for her was that that side of her had to be kept secret. So no black eyes or fat lips or blood on the face, essentially. Could I slap her full strength--like, hard enough to knock a grown man down? Yes, yes I could. Could I choke her to the scary point? Yes. Could I force my cock down her throat, and slap her over and over if she tried to resist? Yes. Bring my hand down with literally all my strength to sting/abuse her pussy? Yup. Chase her, knock her down, spread her legs and fuck her ass and hold her there by squeezing her tits between my fingers and my palm (recall that I'm a musician, my hands aren't exactly weak) and biting full force on the skin on the back of her neck to keep her pulled back toward me, yes. (She had long hair, so that could be hidden.) Bite her nipples or elsewhere on her tits until they seemed about to literally pop off in my mouth, with my fingers down her throat so she couldn't protest, yes. Bite her pussy. Shove stuff into her. Duct tape her. Demean her. Step on her naked ass with my shoe to hold her down, lift her head up by her hair and slap the fuck out of her face over and over. You get the idea.

There was more, but I'll leave it there. Suffice to say that I had to ratchet it up each time, or it wasn't interesting for her, and that I did indeed do said ratcheting.
Click to expand...

So...about those digits...
 
Sonny Limatina said:
Zumi, that year was my rumspringa. Such crazy shit that I hardly even tell about it, because by the third story, people are like, "OK, you're making this up." But I'm not--it was a very strange period in my life. If I hadn't met my wife, I'd probably be dead of AIDS from fucking strippers with secret heroin habits, or of bullets in the head from the guys' wives I fucked, or from alcohol poisoning and lack of sleep, or most likely from whatever way it is that priapism kills you, since eventually the thing was going to get soggy if I kept using it the way I was and I was going to need pharmaceutical assistance.

By the way, I avoided using those particular words when I proposed to her. I thought it best to go with the "you're my density" thing and leave it at that.
Click to expand...

You've just intro'd me to the term "rumspringa." Never hoid of the woid before. I love learning new words and I give you mad dap for it. I can actually use that term for something I'm thinking about creating, actually. :D

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-99dGLrot07c/TmfKWZgpQAI/AAAAAAAAAi4/Hr-0rlVDdos/s640/rumspringa.jpg

I've had those feast periods like yours, that interspersed the famine years of my late 20s into late 30s. And they were wild enough like that, too, that I was grateful for the knob gradually turning down to a comfortable level.

"Comfortable" meaning I still hang out until five or six in the morning, but only one or two nights out of every other week!
 
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