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World's Largest Adult Social Network and Sex Personals
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I admit, I like to be spanked
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According to maverick1255, my Cake Personality reveals:
"Lemon Meringue - Smooth, sexy and articulate with your hands, you are an excellent after-dinner speaker and a good teacher. But don't try to walk and chew gum at the same time. A bit of a diva at times, but you have many friends."
Scarily accurate, apart from the fact that I'd never try and chew gum any time, let alone while doing something else. I'm so poor at multi-tasking, you know, that I forget to talk during phone sex if my hands are busy....
Now, before that distracts you completely, don't forget to check out my blog (especially those filthy, filthy stories  ) ...
Oh, and if you're thinking about sex, please read Just fucking fuck me, already.. It encapsulates my thoughts and wishes very clearly.
This is a drama-free zone. Fakes, multiprofilers and people who write nasty comments about other people will not find a forum here.
CB_2
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| Gotta love Craigs List! |
Aug 3, 2008 5:12 pm
Mood: Reconsidering shaving, 1076 Views | Arti, you are so right about the material on there! I was contemplating what to do about my back passage, which is turning into a minor forest. In doing my research, I turned up this little gem
Don't Shave That Hair!!!
I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to you, that you may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me having trouble shitting.
No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of technique. It seems my ass-hair had grown to such a length that tiny grogans were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks. It led to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair dwelling. Eventually I would have to do two things: either reach down with some paper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover fecal matter before the toilet paper reached its Can't-Be-Flushed threshold.
I was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be a bright idea. "Hey! This is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from a keg!" I said to myself. It is a statement that will go down in history with a lot of other regretted statements. "How many Indians could there be?" said by General Custer. "Looks like a good day for a drive!" by JFK. "There! America On-Line now has complete Usenet access!" by some idiot system tech. Such was my anal shaving idea.
I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my ass of hair. Occassionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, which I did by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the between-ravine began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn baby. Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair. My ass was smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over.
Little did I know.
I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world God created, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks sliding past each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry.
Unfortunately, it did dry, but only after mingling with the microscopic shit- molecules lingering around my brown starfish. When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky shit/sweat combination. As I made my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. God-DAMN, did it itch! Felt like a swarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep from jamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm.
Unfortunately again, this exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finally reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry my ass off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled the room. Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl. I had it worst of all, as the ripe aroma of festering shit/sweat went into the fan and blew back into my face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my ass cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell of my own shit blowing right into my face, I had only one thought: "It will be like this until the hair grows back. Weeks."
Later on, trying to deal as best I could, wiping my ass at every opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for ass-hair - ventilation. I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks. Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result was a frustrating fart that slid up and down between my cheeks like a lost gerbil.
As if that wasn't enough, I am now enduring further torture. As anyone who has ever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble. Imagine your ass having the texture of a brillo pad. Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn't just jump out and get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constant agony.
Friends, DON'T SHAVE YOUR ASS-HAIR! | |
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12 Comments | |
| Stalking and Openness |
Aug 3, 2008 7:02 am
Mood: Pondering, 948 Views | This is a fairly half-formed post, so it might not come out. But it's always a good idea to get those thoughts in the pensieve while you can...
I mentioned that someone had recently tried to stir up trouble about my real life and my Adult FriendFinder life, and in fact had lied about what I do in real life (but close enough to what I genuinely do for me to know it wasn't a guess; they even mentioned the name of my business).
A number of Adult FriendFinder have got quite alarmed about this and started warning me about privacy etc. These are my thoughts on the matter.
Firstly, I don't give a fuck about who the person is. They are just trash who obviously have their own mental issues to deal with.
Am I scared of them? Hell, no! For one thing, they didn't actually say anything threatening. They just made it clear they knew of both my real life and my Adult FriendFinder life. And that seems to scare a lot of people.
It doesn't scare me because all my real life friends know I'm on Adult FriendFinder, and many of my Adult FriendFinder friends know my first name at least; many of them know what I do for a living. Being blessed (or cursed!) with not only an unusual first name, an unusual surname and also an unusual choice of vocation, it takes very little to Google me.
As one of my Adult FriendFinder friends did, just to prove she didn't even need my surname to find me.
So what? The thing is, yes, if you are a teacher called Sue Smith in the USA, you are pretty hard to find. Because there are loads of teachers, loads of Sues and loads of Smiths.
There's only one of me, and I got used to being recognised (from my name/job) a long long time ago.
Anyone could put this together and try to harass me in some way. The answer is not to try to make yourself invisible.
For one thing, that shows them they have some power over you, which might act as an encouragement. For another, unless you're prepared to go off grid and be self sufficient, it is pretty impossible to do these days.
I'm not prepared to go down the route of changing my name for email purposes etc, like a number of guys I have met have done. I am me. Deal with it.
Stalking is very easy to do. I know, because I've done it myself - got obsessive about someone, googled them, their family, followed up trails. In one case, I paid an investigator the grand sum of £20 to find an old boyfriend of mine. In another, a different old boyfriend of mine found me very easily by asking someone else what industry I was in.
Google is a very powerful tool.
But the point is that most "stalkers" (or information gatherers) have no evil intent. They may want to make contact, they may not. But why assume they mean you harm?
This is the same reason I get angry when my children are taught about Stranger Danger without being taught to assess situations for themselves: why should they be imprisoned by a fear of nameless strangers when the vast majority are well meaning towards them?
I too refuse to feel threatened just because one single person made a comment that could be threatening if interpreted one way. For all I know, it could be one of my mates got drunk and thought it would be a laugh (as it happens, I know it isn't, but that's not the point).
I refuse to overreact. I refuse to go off grid and try to erase all traces of me on the internet. I refuse to play the game of fear.
Instead, I'll enjoy my life, enjoy the interaction with my blogging friends and - if need be - enjoy getting a restraining order from the police against any loonies, if they really exist.
Do you hide your identity on the internet?
How?
And, if you have a loony following you (this is for Arti to answer!), what have you done about it? | |
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21 Comments | |
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