Belted

[sweepthefloor]

I keep my back to my lover, and feel the air before the belt, I hear the sound coming, and for one moment in fear, I change my mind. I get on tiptoe, and try to lunge forward to escape. It is to late. My arms are reaching forward, but my lover is pulling my feet and my backside into it. I get crashed hard. The sting hits my ass that is rigged into the air, and my chest is shoved into the sandy pelvis. With a mouth full of salt I am choked as my face takes a sand burn from the ocean bed. Then I am covered, like a blanket for a minute, before it recedes quicker than it came. I am left on the beach, washed up, like a seashell, with my hands, in the sand wanting more. The ocean did not come to my house; I went into the water willingly, and I will do it again.

 

[YourCaptor]

I keep my back to my lover, and feel the air before the belt, I hear the sound coming, and for one moment in fear, I change my mind. I get on tiptoe, and try to lunge forward to escape. It is to late. My arms are reaching forward, but my lover is pulling my feet and my backside into it. I get crashed hard. The sting hits my ass that is rigged into the air, and my chest is shoved into the sandy pelvis. With a mouth full of salt I am choked as my face takes a sand burn from the ocean bed. Then I am covered, like a blanket for a minute, before it recedes quicker than it came. I am left on the beach, washed up, like a seashell, with my hands, in the sand wanting more. The ocean did not come to my house; I went into the water willingly, and I will do it again.

News headline: girl gets ass swatted by the most powerful body on the planet.


Subs, I'll never get it.

By the way this reminds me of a great documentary on instaview, (morning light). Something about sailing at break neck speeds on the turbulent and unstable ocean just kicks ass. Theoretically it's so simple, yet realistically you're just a cork in the water between earth, moon, and weather. All you can do is claw on for dear life. I wanna be the guy in the crows nest.

 

[sweepthefloor]

News headline: girl gets ass swatted by the most powerful body on the planet.


Subs, I'll never get it.

By the way this reminds me of a great documentary on instaview, (morning light). Something about sailing at break neck speeds on the turbulent and unstable ocean just kicks ass. Theoretically it's so simple, yet realistically you're just a cork in the water between earth, moon, and weather. All you can do is claw on for dear life. I wanna be the guy in the crows nest.

It was a good experience for me. If the ocean wanted to be a cruel lover, it could have hurt me. We are all just really pieces of sand being tossed around.

 

[Essene]

It was a good experience for me. If the ocean wanted to be a cruel lover, it could have hurt me. We are all just really pieces of sand being tossed around.

But all this -the mysterious, far-reaching hairline trail, the absence of sun from the sky, the tremendous cold, and the strangeness and weirdness of it all -made no impression on the man. It was not because he was long used to it. He was a newcomer in the land, a chechaquo, and this was his first winter.

The trouble with him was that he was without imagination. He was quick and alert in the things of life, but only in the things, and not in the significances. Fifty degrees below zero meant eighty-odd degrees of frost. Such fact impressed him as being cold and uncomfortable, and that was all.

It did not lead him to meditate upon his frailty as a creature of temperature, and upon man's frailty in general, able only to live within certain narrow limits of heat and cold; and from there on it did not lead him to the conjectural field of immortality and man's place in the universe.

Fifty degrees below zero was to him just precisely fifty degrees below zero. That there should be anything more to it than that was a thought that never entered his mind.

-Jack London To Build a Fire

 

[sweepthefloor]

But all this -the mysterious, far-reaching hairline trail, the absence of sun from the sky, the tremendous cold, and the strangeness and weirdness of it all -made no impression on the man. It was not because he was long used to it. He was a newcomer in the land, a chechaquo, and this was his first winter.

The trouble with him was that he was without imagination. He was quick and alert in the things of life, but only in the things, and not in the significances. Fifty degrees below zero meant eighty-odd degrees of frost. Such fact impressed him as being cold and uncomfortable, and that was all.

It did not lead him to meditate upon his frailty as a creature of temperature, and upon man's frailty in general, able only to live within certain narrow limits of heat and cold; and from there on it did not lead him to the conjectural field of immortality and man's place in the universe.

Fifty degrees below zero was to him just precisely fifty degrees below zero. That there should be anything more to it than that was a thought that never entered his mind.

-Jack London To Build a Fire

Thank you for this breakfast. I will go today, lay on my back, in the yard, stare at the sky, feel small, and wonder about the divine.

 

[Essene]

Thank you for this breakfast. I will go today, lay on my back, in the yard, stare at the sky, feel small, and wonder about the divine.