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Chat - Write - Another "Whatever" Thread

It stared at me, calling to me, taunting me. My mind was strong but the flesh was weak. Closer and closer I stepped to the table, my mouth watering in anticipation. It had been years, a decade or so, since I last tasted its sweetness, but now I was so close.

The voices in my head screamed, some reminding me that to taste it would lead me down a path from which there was no return. I told them it wasn't going to be that bad.

"Just one bite," I told them as I reached out for it.

http://erickadukes.com/site/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/beignet.jpg
 
RedHairedandFriendly said:
*chuckles* Love that water cooler. :D

and that other photo - delicious too. :D
Click to expand...

Beignet, fried dough topped with enough sugar to make me go into a diabetic coma just staring at it!!!

Now I need to road trip to the family homestead in Louisiana to get a couple or dozen....
 
Ah, BBQ night! :)

Jett fired up his big-man-BBQ wondering if he could entertain his friends. Hell, why not! Nothing beats steak on a hot summer's night.

It seemed like the girls were interested, but what to cook? Steak, of course (goes without saying). Perhaps some sausages?
Nah, maybe not. Just don't feel like them tonight.

The ladies were certainly keen for some meat, but Jett was a little concerned about fire safety.

Then someone suggested we should spice things up. Get a bit saucy. 'Why don't we hang loose a bit, you know, have a naked BBQ?'
Jett wasn't sure but, what the hey. So he entered into the spirit of the evening and donned a humorous apron. It got some laughs and one of the girls interpreted it as an invitation.

It all went a bit downhill from that point. Corny gags were the order of the night. Butt (aha) everyone seemed to be having a good time. Just chillin' by the grill, lounging in the pool, drinking a cocktail or a glass of bubbly (the permanent marker was quickly confiscated from Mutato) or enjoying a bite to eat. There weren't too many complaints about the food either. Things got a bit wild towards the end, but one mighty good time was had by all! Everyone agreed it had been f**king fantastic.

Perhaps we'll have to do this again some time. :rolleyes:

If we recover from this one ... :eek::D

(and no, you can't have the pen back Mutato)
 
All that talk of cream this morning made me go hunting for more images of Dolores Erickson (the girl on the cover of the Herb Alpert album). Did you know she was 3 months pregnant at the time of that shot?

And I found this.

It's not her of course; just that the article - which was about the reprisal of Woodstock-inspired fashion - contained the search words.

Where else does a story with a redhead belong if not on this thread? :)

So, once upon a time ...

---------------

The ring looked ridiculous, but Angharad loved it.

It was actually an old broach of Nan's. She'd discovered it in the attic of the old house in a box of old mementos and treasures. The sunlight streaming through the narrow dormer window picked out the dust motes that she'd disturbed. Lifting things out one by one, the old broach had caught the light and lit a fire deep within the stone's heart.

Angharad was entranced. She passed it in and out of the light. A much deeper red-brown in the shadow and speckled with black, the stone responded instantly to the sun with a warm glow. She put it carefully in her jeans pocket while she explored the rest of the contents of the box.

Her breath caught. An old photo of Nan and Poppy. She'd never seen this one before. They were formally dressed for a special occasion, but it wasn't their wedding. Their engagement perhaps. Nestled at Nan's throat was the broach, lit - even in the faded siepa - with the same ember she'd just seen. A light that was mirrored in the eyes and smiles of the two young lovers.

A tear ran down her cheek. She'd only seen Nan smile like that once. Angharad had been very young when Poppy had passed. Years later, Nan had been telling her a story about him and that smile had spread across her lined face, crinkling her eyes, as she lost herself in the memory.

And now Nan was gone now too. Angharad carefully repacked the box, except for the broach and the old photograph. The rest of the cleanout could wait for tomorrow.

The local jeweller had smiled when Angharad asked whether the old broach could be turned into a ring. A week later it adorned her hand. She loved it and wore it often. That it didn't go with many of her outfits was of little consequence, for the flame deep within the stone was the same that fired the lights of her flowing mane of auburn hair.

An heirloom in truth.

---------------

PS: Now I'm not a gemstone expert, but I'm guessing it's mahogany obsidian. Or perhaps a sunstone oligoclase? Maybe one you ladies can enlighten me ...
 
Jett_73 said:
All that talk of cream this morning made me go hunting for more images of Dolores Erickson (the girl on the cover of the Herb Alpert album). Did you know she was 3 months pregnant at the time of that shot?

And I found this.

It's not her of course; just that the article - which was about the reprisal of Woodstock-inspired fashion - contained the search words.

Where else does a story with a redhead belong if not on this thread? :)

So, once upon a time ...

---------------



---------------

PS: Now I'm not a gemstone expert, but I'm guessing it's mahogany obsidian. Or perhaps a sunstone oligoclase? Maybe one you ladies can enlighten me ...
Click to expand...


I have no idea what it is, but it was a good story.:) Loved the BBQ!!
 
http://cdn6.fotosearch.com/bthumb/CSP/CSP813/k8134234.jpg

Ella bit her lip, watching the seconds ticking away on the clock Soon. He would call soon. What if he was angry? She closed her eyes, willing away the panic. He wouldn't be angry, she was just being silly. It wasn't her fault the street maintenance guy had managed to cut through the cable. She knew him better than that by now, even if she was new to being so submissive. But she was sorely disappointed herself. He'd kept her aroused and ready for 2 days straight, and tonight he'd promised they'd play and he'd let her cum. She bit her lip harder, scowling. What rotten timing! She couldn't get on the internet...and she really, really wanted to cum.

The phone rang. Her heart jumped and began to beat out a fast rhythm as her pussy clenched. That always happened these days when she knew it was him on the phone. Her hand shook as she reached for the receiver.

"Hi," she said, twining the cord around her finger, a nervous gesture she'd had for years.

"Hello, my beautiful pet, " he said, making her shiver.

"I can't get on the internet!" she blurted, her voice rising. "They cut the cable out in the street! It's not my fault!"

There was a pause, a silence on the other end that made her catch her breath. Was she wrong? Was he angry?

"That's all right," he said, and then his voice took on that tone, the one that made her blood sing in her veins. "All you need is my voice."

He was right. She settled back onto her pillow as relief flooded her. And then he was talking, instructing her, and her body flushed with heat and anticipation.
 
Angellica1612 said:
The phone rang. Her heart jumped and began to beat out a fast rhythm as her pussy clenched. That always happened these days when she knew it was him on the phone. Her hand shook as she reached for the receiver.
Click to expand...

I liked the story Angel.

We went to the mall today and you know what I thought, don't you, when I saw women with mobiles ... ;):devil:

This is how not to do it!

http://www.cheerupemokid.net/comic/2009-03-01_phone-sex.png

http://www.coupledtogether.com/vibrate.png

:cool:
 
Nice work everyone - very colorful story there Jett. My apologies for not getting here early to post and comment.
 
http://static.ddmcdn.com/gif/knight-3.jpg




Sir Lancelot looked at the horse's ears in front to him. The ear would twitch right, then left, then right a few more times. He wondered if the horse knew what he was doing. they had been away on their journey for 4 years now. A quest for the Holy Grail, the noblest for quests. He knew it was banishment for his dare to love a married woman. Guenevere's visage appeared before his face again. The same image of her face as he told him to leave her side and begin this horrendous quest.
For years he sat on hundreds of horses traveling, conquering, loosing men to disease, wanting to turn his horse around and head back to home in the highland hills. Yet he traveled on alone, broken, and getting older. The visage of his one true love always in his minds eye.
 
http://privateinvestigatorslist.com/048.jpg

I walked into the room, a feeling of foreboding rushed over me. It wasn’t the first time that I had that sensation, and I hoped not the last. Yeah, she told me no one would be there, and the darkened room was empty, or was for as I could see, but the nagging feeling that someone was watching me was with me.

She told me that the statue would be in the man’s desk, the upper left hand one. I flushed out the key out of my pocket and unlocked the desk. I opened the drawer and took a step back.

It was empty! The bitch lied to me! I closed the drawer quickly, relocked the desk and tried to rush out before I was caught.

“So sorry, Mr. Summers,” a familiar voice said before I could reach the door. “Again you’re a few moves behind me.”

“Son of a bitch,” I said as I felt a couple of toughs grab my wrists.
 
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