Cumming Together

Since her husband wasn’t interested
my wife a cold fish
together we came for the very first time
inside a motel room
comforted each other with the curves
of our hard bodies
utterly consumed by the intense flames
of forbidden passion
with our loins aflame with sexual lust
like melting wax
running down the stem of a candlestick
out clothes vanished
lay upon the floor completely forgotten
the orbs of her breasts
along with the honey of her femininity
my forbidden lover
presented to me on top of the motel bed
with my lips pressed
tightly against the opening of her pussy
she moaned so softly
a willing captive of the throes of desire
writhing beneath me
the tip of my tongue slipped deep inside
drove her into a frenzy
as the shaft of my manhood descended
down into her mouth
slid between the curves of her sweet lips
time stood utterly still
as we licked and sucked to our pulsating
hearts contentment
until as one we consumed each other

Wednesday 30th September 2009

 
 
 
 
 
WEDNESDAY 30th SEPTEMBER

 
 
I think the best blogs are when I’ve got something particular on my mind. Like when my blood is boiling. Like when someone has crossed me. Like when people are doing such ridiculous things. This week, however, I don’t really have much a beef with anyone or anything.
 
Yes, I was disappointed when Leicester City saw their unbeaten home run come to an end last Saturday – especially as they’d not lost at home for over a year – but then a largely unexpected win at Middlesbrough on Tuesday night soothed my football woes.
 
No-one has particularly pressed my emotional buttons in the past week although I do get rather irate when people who can’t drive properly do it right in front of me. It surely can’t be that hard to use the inside lane when it’s available or indicate at 300 yards from a motorway junction they wish to use or… well… you get the idea.
 
So it’s fair to say I’m not at my blood-pumping best (or worst, depending on your view) at the moment – hence why the blog is not filled with such hate and anger.
 
I do, however, enjoy and appreciate your feedback – good and bad – because if you give it, you have to be able to take it.
 
*****
 
There’s something wrong with my toenails. They’re all clean and clear. Yes, after four months of being pink, they are now as nature intended. Although not all my friends (and enemies) agree, I think it’s been a worthwhile experiment.
 
They’ve been a talking point – especially in Ibiza – and the subject of breast cancer awareness has been raised on numerous occasions. I may have them painted pink again in the future. The girls at Tantalize (the best beauty salon in Telford, by the way) have offered their magnificent services and I may take them up on it. It’s not like having a permanent tattoo which is with you for life and can be embarrassing if the design/name becomes obsolete for various reasons.
 
On the subject of which, I see that Jodie Marsh has further ruined her skin by adding a carrot on her arm. I’m not joking. She already has a sprig of broccoli as well as designs of Michael Jackson, Buddy Holly and Chuck Berry.
 
When I’m in full spleen-venting mode another time, I’ll tell you what I really think of tattoos and people who have ridiculous stuff on their bodies – although you can probably guess I’m not a fan of them.
 
*****
 
Decent telly alert: returning to ITV1 this week (Friday 9pm) is Benidorm. The first two series were excellent, as was the one off special earlier this year. Let’s hope they’ve maintained the quality – even if we have to again suspend our disbelief regarding the same people going back to the same hotel at the same time each year.
 
Then again, there are people who think EastEnders, Coronation Street, Emmerdale et al are documentaries rather than soaps.
 
But don’t try to convince me that Dr. Who is not real. The TARDIS can take you anywhere. I believe that. I’ve seen it on my telly box thing. Although I’m a bit baffled how Jon Pertwee could be Dr. Who AND Worzel Gummidge. It’s magic – I can’t explain it. Hey ho… that’s just the way it is.
 
(I’m assuming you realised the last paragraph was coated with a dollop of sarcasm but just in case you didn’t, press Alt+F4 on your keyboard now. Bye!)
 
*****
 
Further to last week’s suggestion of chartering a small boat and sending the oxygen thieves who choke our society into the sea without any aid, I would like to add Trinny & Susannah to the passenger list. Others will follow when they spring to mind.
 
*****
 
I’m well aware that most of you come here for the vicious stuff rather than for the clever bits or political satire or football chat – stick with it, you might learn something, stop skim-reading – but I had to laugh when Gordon Brown spoke at the Labour Party conference this week.
 
He told delegates: “We have changed the world before and we will change the world again.” Yes you are right, Gordon – it has changed for the worst since your mob came into power in 1997. [Opinion/fact]
 
Brown also said: “We will not stand by and see the lives of the lawful majority disrupted by the behaviour of the lawless minority.” Now that’s fine to say – but then you have to ask what the f*** have they been doing to sort out the scum of society over the past 12 years as it clearly hasn’t worked.
 
They’re such a morally bankrupt lot that Peter Mandelson, sacked three times from Government office, is now one of their chief flag bearers.
 
*****
 
I was further amused when ‘The Sun’ announced on the evening after Brown’s speech that it would ditch Labour and urge its readers to vote Conservative at the next election. They backed Marvellous Maggie [opinion] in the 1980s and even John Major in 1992 – every time they supported the winning candidate.
 
They changed allegiance in 1997 when the leading snake oil salesman Blair brainwashed the nation but now they too have had enough of Labour. Symbolically, it’s a big thing. Sun readers are essentially working class – so many will traditionally vote Labour – but supporting David Cameron could easily sway a few wavering voters.
 
Trust me… when this lot get their marching orders and we get a return to centre-right politics and the freedoms that comes with it, I will be first at the bar with a celebratory vodka or seven. I might even buy you one.
 
You’ll have forgotten I mentioned that come election time (probably May/June next year) but if you haven’t, I’ll get Derren Brown to come around and stick you to your seat.
 
*****
 
Rumour has it that Heather Mills is being lined up as a contestant for the ‘Dancing On Ice’ show. I’m way too lazy to write some gags about the one-legged, Beatle-leeching money-grabber being suited to a cold environment but I’m sure you can think of your own.
 
*****
 
Certain companies have started making a big deal about their products “not being on comparison websites” and I wondered why. Well that was until I was sorting out home and car insurance for my parents. I went to these companies (Direct Line and Aviva) and they were much more expensive than going through the comparison sites.
 
They may be cheaper for some people, of course, but they weren’t in this case. If they truly believe they offer the best service and value, then surely they’d have nothing to hide by being compared to other companies.
 
Right, let’s spend five minutes comparing Meerkats…
 
http://www.comparethemeerkat.com/my-movies  
 
Try not to laugh during the last of the out-take bloopers. I dare you.
 
*****
 
News from the Sugababes – Keisha has now left meaning all three original members have gone. It reminded me of Trigger in Only Fools And Horses winning an award from the council for a lifetime sweeping the streets of Peckham and telling Del Boy that he’s had the same brush for 20 years, adding: “This old broom has had 17 new heads and 14 new handles in it’s time.”
 
Maybe the original members – Siobhan, Mutya and Keisha – should reform in another band. This, however, is highly unlikely as they all left the band in the first place because they hated each other!
 
*****
 
I’m looking forward to the opening of our new club, bar and restaurant in Telford next week. I will be DJ-ing in Vox bar on Wednesday night but not under the guise of djwanker – I will be plain, old Geoff Peters, leaving the Tourettes at Pussycats. This is because the new place will magically attract a better class of clientele and they might be offended. And we can’t have that.
 
I will be ‘warming up’ for the main attraction – DJ Shuttsie in Club Crush – and I hope to see some of you there.
 
You’ll still find me being vulgar and crude (as well as playing all the big tunes you know and love) in Pussycats every Friday and Saturday night. Head to the gallery at www.djwanker.com for my latest selection of photos from the club.
 
The new Chinese restaurant looks bang on although I’m not into that kind of food. They’re bound to sell steak and chips to I’ll have a bit of that. If it’s on the menu, it’s in stock. If it’s in stock, it needs to be eaten. I’ve only ever had a Chinese meal once before – I was in the company of Nasty Nick from Big Brother and a couple of others in London about five or six years ago but that’s an anecdote for another time – and I didn’t really enjoy the grub.
 
I also got the breadsticks and chopsticks mixed up which was a little embarrassing…
 
*****
 
Stolen from the letters page of Viz magazine:

”The person who coined the phrase ‘as different as chalk and cheese’ obviously hadn’t tasted the cheddar at Asda.”

”If, as Freddie Mercury claimed, fat bottomed girls make the rocking world go round, isn’t it about time that the city of Wolverhampton received some recognition for its contribution to astrophysics?”
 
*****
 
And finally… you didn’t really press Alt+F4 earlier, did you?
 
 
 
 
 
Cheers for now,
Geoff / DJ Wanker
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The First of Many Trysts

It was in the bedroom where it all started
that Cynthia became my slave
gave to me the ripened curves of her body
slipped her arms about my neck
turned me on with a sweet kiss of passion
let me cup the orbs of her melons
ever so gently within the palms of my paws
from our bodies our clothes melted
like wax flowing down a lighted candlestick
until as naked as upon the morning
of our birthday more than twenty years apart
we lay atop the bed engaging in sex
like naughty bandits we stole from each other
the love that belonged to another
began an affair that would continue to outlast
even the energizer bunny rabbit
the torrid sounds of our intense sexual ecstasy
rattled my open bedroom windows
as we humped and rode each other mercilessly
right there on top of my unmade bed
for the first of many trysts in each others arms

My second quasi-threesome

Another bizarre, but not necessarily erotic, “threesome” story:

November 1990

It was my freshman year in college. I was sitting in my dorm room late at night, listening to the radio. The deejay, Houston, had a sexy, deep voice. When he asked for requests, I called in. Two hours later, we were still on the phone with each other.

Houston’s show ended at 2am, and he wanted to come to my campus afterward. I didn’t feel comfortable having him in my dorm room without having met him first so I suggested that we meet in the town outside of my college’s campus. He offered to bring his friend (and the most popular deejay at his station), Arnie, with him. My best friend, Emily, was willing to join us so it was a “date.” The fact that it was 2:20am didn’t seem to faze us in the slightest.

Emily and I met Houston and Arnie on College Street, and stayed there chatting for almost an hour. Houston was older (late 20s or early 30s) with brown hair and brown eyes. He was 6’1” with a little extra pudding in the middle. His smile was warm and genuine.

Arnie, on the other hand, was younger, cuter and a Boston Boy through-and-through. He had a cockiness that could be attractive if you liked him or an instantaneous deal breaker if you didn’t. He clearly used his professional success as a way to meet women and expected to be fawned over. *Yawn*

We all went back to my dorm room to talk more. Arnie was actually interesting and friendly, once he took off his “I’m the Best DJ in Boston” veneer. By the time the clock hit 6am, my eyes were starting to close. As the guys walked out, Houston kissed me goodbye. He had soft lips, and his sweet kiss left me wanting more.

The following evening, Houston and I talked during his entire four-hour show. He mentioned that he and Arnie were off work on Friday, and wondered if we would like to go out on a double date. Houston said that they wanted to get a hotel suite and make it a special evening for us. Emily and I thought that sounded great.

Houston and Arnie arrived outside of our dorm at 8pm in a black Porsche 944. The car was beautiful, and as we hopped in the back seat, we had a feeling that this was going to be a memorable night. We got to the hotel suite, and the guys had several bottles of Malibu rum for us. (I had mentioned to Houston that Malibu was my drink of choice so he won points for that.) We poured some glasses and toasted the evening ahead. Then, Houston said,

“I have some bad news. One of the deejays is sick so I have to go into the studio for a couple of hours.”

“Boooo!” I cried.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.”

On his way out, Houston kissed me goodbye and talked privately with Arnie for a few minutes. Once Houston left, Emily, Arnie and I sat in the living room to watch television and drink more. Arnie stopped us in mid-conversation to take notes on a cocktail napkin, insisting that he had come up with a great joke for his next radio show. The first time, it was amusing. But by the fifth time, though, it was annoying.

Emily and I couldn’t stop laughing at Arnie, and we also couldn’t stop drinking. I can’t explain the logic – or lack thereof — behind our next moves, though. Somehow all three of us ended up in the bedroom. We didn’t talk about it beforehand. We didn’t discuss any ground rules. We just went in the other room and got naked. Really quickly.

Arnie alternated between kissing Emily and kissing me. We took his cock out of his white briefs, and both of us gave him a hand job. I had never done anything like that with another girl. Then, we threw a blow job into the mix. I think that Arnie kept waiting for Emily and I to start making out with each other, but that never happened. (She’s beautiful and I love her as a friend, but we never questioned our sexual orientation or cared to experiment with each other for the fun of it.)

Emily and I kept working Arnie’s cock. When he was finished (note: not we), Emily and I headed into the living room. Neither of us felt bad about what happened. Rather, it just felt like we had another crazy Emily and City Girl adventure.

I went back into the bedroom, while Emily watched TV. Arnie and I started kissing again and then I got on top of him and fucked him. It wasn’t particularly good, but after such an…umm…eventful evening, it seemed fitting that we had sex.

When Houston got back to the hotel, we all were in the living room. Houston saw the unmade bed, his face got red, and he called Arnie over to talk. Voices got raised pretty quickly. Apparently, Arnie had agreed to wait to hook up until Houston had gotten back from work. And, they had also decided that Arnie would pair off with Emily, and Houston with me. Since that wasn’t how the evening went, Houston was very mad at Arnie and said that we all needed to leave the hotel right away. Within five minutes, we packed up our stuff, and Houston drove us back to the dorm. I gave Houston a kiss on the lips goodbye, but he was still livid at Arnie.

Over the coming months, I talked to Houston from time-to-time, but never saw him again. It’s not my most entertaining college story, but the story of my second quasi-threesome still makes me laugh.

The First Time

It all began with a so forbidden kiss
that led to an inappropriate touch
a slight graze of my fingertips
tap dancing across the forbidden flesh
of the curves of my Auntie’s body
the spark that began the conflagration
set our forbidden obsessions ablaze
with the desire to be intensely sated
between the sheets of my uncles bed
where upon the playground of our lust
my all time favorite Auntie and I
intentionally rocked each others world

Why Porn is Teaching Your Men Bad Habits in Bed

Why Porn is Teaching Your Man Bad Habits in Bed

by Charles J. Orlando

Porn. Is. Fake.

Here are 6 bad lessons men are learning from the porn industry:

1. Women are always ready.
2. All women want to do anything to/for the man, while he provides a bare minimum.
3. Foreplay is not necessary.
4. Everything on a woman is… uh… “accessible”… and she wants you to do whatever you want to her body.
5. Nipples are there specifically for men to abuse.
6. All women are naturally attracted to other women.

To read the full text of this article, go to:

http://www.bettyconfidential.com/ar/ld/a/Why-Porn-is-Teaching-Your-Man-Bad-Habits-in-Bed.html

or go to Orlando’s Blog: http://www.theproblemismen.com/

A Married Woman and a Young Detective

THE MARRIED WOMAN AND THE YOUNG DETECTIVE

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

A detective always remembers his first case. Let me tell you about mine.

This happened long back – more than thirty years ago – in the 1970s – when Pune was a salubrious pensioners’ paradise – a cosy laid back friendly town where everybody knew everybody.

And let me tell you – at the time of this story – I was not even a full fledged detective – but I was just a rookie part-time amateur self-styled sleuth – studying in college – skylarking in my spare time as a private detective – masquerading as a Private Investigator for my uncle who ran a private detective agency.

Dear Reader, please remember that way back then, in good old days of the 1970s, there were no cell-phones, no PCs, no mobile cameras, handy cams or digital cameras, no modern technology gadgets, not even things like email and the internet that you take for granted today and the only method of investigation was the tried and tested good old physical surveillance where one spent hours and hours patiently shadowing and tailing your target.

“A woman wants her husband watched,” my uncle said giving me a slip of paper with a name and the room number of a well-known hotel in Pune.

“That’s all?” I asked.

“He is a businessman from Mumbai…drives down to Pune very often…at least once a week…sometimes twice…ostensibly in connection with business…but she suspects there is some hanky-panky going on…”

One week later, waiting for the client to arrive at our planned rendezvous, I sat on the balcony of Café Naaz atop Malabar Hill sipping a cup of delicious Chai and enjoying the breathtaking sunset as the Arabian Sea devoured the orange sun followed by spectacular view of the Queen’s Necklace as the lights lit up Marine Drive.

She arrived on the dot at seven and sat opposite me.

I looked at my client.  She was a Beauty, a real beauty, 35…maybe 40… must have been a stunner in her college days…I tried not to stare at her.

“Okay…Tell me,” she said, getting to the point straightaway.

I started reading from my pocket-book, “Thursday morning at ten fifteen he left his hotel room…deposited key at reception telling them that he was going for work would return in the evening…started to drive down in his car towards Deccan…picked up a female who seemed to be waiting for him…she sat next to him…and as they drove off away from the city into the countryside they seemed to be getting amorous…lovey-dovey, you know, a bit of kissing, cuddling…”

“No…No…skip the details…just tell me…is he or isn’t he…?” she interrupted me.

She seemed to be in a hurry. Maybe she was not comfortable being seen sitting with me over here and wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

“I think he is having an affair,” I said.

“You think…?”

“Yes…I am pretty sure…”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well we look for three things – the three key ingredients which are required to have an affair – TIME, INCLINATION and OPPORTUNITY…”

“Time…Inclination…Opportunity…” she repeated looking quite perplexed.

“Well they certainly had the Time…they spent the whole day together in seclusion…and they certainly had the Opportunity…behind the privacy of closed doors in that lonely discreet motel hidden in the back of beyond…and as far as the Inclination part is concerned…well, the way they were behaving…I have no doubt about it….”

A smile broke out on her face.

I was flabbergasted – now tell me dear reader – what would be your reaction if you came to know that your spouse was having an affair – would you just smile…

Suddenly I remembered what my uncle had told me, so I asked the woman, “Do you wish to increase coverage?”

“Coverage…?”

“Photographs…receipts…documentary evidence…round the clock surveillance…full details….” I elaborated.

Of course all this would be handled in a professional manner by my experienced uncle and his agency…maybe he’d take me along as a learning experience.

“I don’t think so…” the woman said.

“No?” I said perplexed, “but you will require all this as evidence to establish that your husband is committing adultery…”

“Husband…? Who said he is my husband…?” she said grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“You said so…to the head of the detective agency…”

“No, I didn’t….I just told him that I wanted a man followed…”

“But we assumed…”

“A good detective shouldn’t assume things, isn’t it…?

“But then why did you want that man followed…?” I asked curious.

“Well that’s my private matter,” she said, “but since I like you, I’ll tell you…It is like this… One day, fifteen years ago, the day I completed my graduation, my parents showed me two photographs…the first photo was of the man you were following…the second photo was of the man who is now my husband.”

The woman paused for a moment, had a sip of water, and continued, “My parents told me to choose one…and I made my choice…but since then…during all these years of my married life… I was always tormented by the thought that I had made the wrong choice….now…thanks to you… I know I made the right choice!”

She took out an envelope from her purse and gave it to me. “Your fee…and there is a bonus for you too for doing such a good job…” she said and then she got up and walked away into the enveloping darkness.

Later when I opened the envelope and saw that the “bonus” was more than the fee, I wondered whether she had two envelopes in her purse, one for each eventuality.

I never forgot the cardinal lesson I learnt from this case – I never assume anything…and now…before I start a new investigation…the first thing I do is to carry out a background check of the client.

THE MARRIED WOMAN AND THE YOUNG DETECTIVE

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

vikramkarve@sify.com