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Solo play

Blonde slut lala plays it solo
What had started out to be just an afternoon of wandering around in the Colorado foothills was turning out to be an experience that was not pleasant at all. Perhaps you would understand a bit better if I filled you in on what was going on. All of my life there has been a burning deep inside me to seek adventure. I want to, no I need to, find out what is over that next hill or around that next turn in the road. If I look at a map and see all the nice freeways and byways that are designated as "I" this and "I" that, then boredom sets in and, yawning, I put the map away and choose some other route. Any time I have headed out on vacation the tug of adventure has caused me to abandon the proven route and, literally, forced me to drive down the forbidden or undiscovered path. Oh, I suppose there is a psychological reason for this or, perhaps, I'm a reincarnation of some ancient explorer or, maybe, it is just born into some people and they can't help it. I know I can't. I joined the merchant marine when I was quite young, simply because I had read somewhere these ships wandered all over the world; I wanted to see the world. When we were in port and loading the ship, I was like a caged tiger pacing from rail to rail and bow to stern hoping we would get underway before I went bananas.

Chocolate Whore Beads


With all this new knowledge, I focused my attention on sports and stopped hitting little girls. I felt thought if someone I was competing against in a sport hit me, I could justifiably and probably hit them back without the threat of retaliation from a Big Brother. From the age of 7 until I turned 16, I ran up against a whole different set of problems, though. Not to appear boastful, but I was pretty good at almost every sport I tried out for. I didn't have any silly dreams of becoming an All American. I just wanted to be good enough to make everyone forget about Johnny Unitas, Wilt Chamberlain and Sandy Koufax. But again, those dreaded girls came out of the woodwork. Thankfully, they had retired their Mohammed Ali like jabs and, more importantly, their brothers were chained up in basements, or in jail where they belonged. The girls now began giving me these strange looks instead of hitting me, and started to ask me to walk them home from school, like I was some kind of bodyguard. A few even suggested we do our homework together. Boy, these frilly little things sure were dumb. I could take the garbage out at home by myself! I had to be told 8 or 9 dozen times, but I certainly didn't need their help doing it. Little did I know all of their kindness made these girls even more dangerous. To be fair, they weren't this way intentionally. Anyway, this was when I enrolled in my second extracurricular studies; 'The Disposition of a Jealous Boyfriend'.

Men are lazy


Men are basically lazy. Let's face it, who do you think invented the remote control for the television? It was a married guy who didn't have any kids to change the channel. We're also not the most patient of God's creatures. How many guys out there have, at one time or another, wanted a pocket knife while trying to take your girlfriend's or wife's bra off? Especially the ones with the hidden front clasps which, by the way, I believe are also used to secure the engines to the wings of a Boeing 747. Most of us become grunting animals with a sports game on the television in a bar too. Hell, if it weren't for the beer and car commercials, we'd probably piss in our pants before a televised game was over. As it is, I've seen some guys do just this, only because they didn't want to miss any of the action. Also, God forbid that a rational thought ever enter our head while we have a hard-on. I'm not really sure, but I think this is the criteria Catholic's use to elect a new Pope. I don't mean they pick a candidate who can still think with a hard-on, although this in itself would be a miracle, but that the new pontiff must be past the age of even getting a hard-on!

Nuclear End Of World Masturbation

She streched out, naked, across a lawn chair, high atop the
roof of the 64 story building.
This was it, the realization of all the science fiction movies
for so long, and she intended to enjoy it to max.
Her city was getting nuked.
Plain and simple. The government had given 20 minutes warning
to the public of a 90 megaton nuclear warhead headed straight to
detonate right over downtown.
Well, that was it. There was only one option to avoid getting
killed- get out of the city.
Unfortunately, a 90 megaton bomb does not just take out a
portion of a city, it takes out the entire city. Suburbs and all.
Highways were backed up for miles on end. If you were real lucky,
you might manage to get out of the city by speeding on the local
roads, but to get out of a sprawl is not as easy as it seems. 20
minutes, she suppposed, would have saved you from not coming into
the city. But it was too late for everyone else. It was about 6
minutes until it would hit right above the city. And she was
alone. Everyone was going crazy on the streets below. Read the rest of this entry »

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