Friday, September 26, 2008

Rush Hour

She called in sick. She was not sick.

She told me she now had all day to torment me. I knew it was going to be a very unproductive Friday on my side of the screen. The pictures started coming in early; they did not stop until I went home. I sat there at my desk, hard and worked up, all damn day. Every trucker that I knew seemed to call, wanting to talk all fucking afternoon. I just wanted to get back to my inbox.


Frustration was boiling over. It was busy as hell over here and everyone was scrambling around with end of the week bullshit. I, however, had my head was in la-la land. I literally could not concentrate, she had me fixed. I would stand up to walk to the fax machine and have to hide my hard on. I get out of my seat about once every five minutes; yeah so…let’s just say it was awkward. By the time five o’clock rolled around I had a half dollar sized stain on the left side of my pants from the literal fountain of precum pouring out of me for the last few hours. I went to the bathroom and reached my hand in to discover that I was covered in it.

I reached for the paper towels.

I walked past 80’s Hair on the way out, she said to have a good weekend, and I don’t even know if I looked at her. I had a one track mind; all I could think about was tearing her apart. Had I been driving home to her I would have ripped her to pieces. I got in the car and waited for the phone call. At this point I was just praying that she would lay off the dirty talk for the next thirty minutes. I was begging.

I had one hour to get to work at the deli. I could not work four more hours with the hotties at the deli with these aching blue balls. Mercy…please.

I could hear the low tone and dampened breathing as soon as I answered the phone, no rest for the weary, I see. She was not letting up. I felt myself pressing on the accelerator harder and harder, I am going to go home and solve this, and I don’t care if I am late. It started to get really heated and I kept taking my hand off the wheel to rub myself through my pants. I was making good time, maybe I wouldn’t be late. The speedometer read 92…I would have plenty of time.

Until of course I come up over the hill into Hebron and see the line of red break lights.

Now I was pissed, there is never traffic on 275 on my way home. Why the hell was today any damn different? I wouldn’t have started talking dirty or playing with myself had I known this was going to happen. She didn’t seem to care, just kept moaning away; clearly delighted by my predicament. I could just hang up, let the blood rush back to my head and head off to work. That, however, was not going to happen.

Sometimes you get so horny that your better judgment just goes out the window. It causes some people to say I love you, others will fuck without a condom and others still will give up their hard earned dollars. No fair reader, I will not be doing anything that reckless…

…In my case I will be jerking off in a traffic jam.

With the phone on speaker resting on my shoulder, one hand on my cock and one hand on the wheel I listened to her tell me all the horrible things she was going to do to me in three weeks. The phone kept slipping off my shoulder and instead of taking my hand off my cock I took it off the wheel. I was having a tough time keeping my face straight, people kept looking over at me. She loved it.

We soon crept past the burned out wreckage of what looked like a Ford Taurus, I saw open road ahead of me and I hit the gas. I had twenty minutes left before 6:00 and a half an hour’s worth of driving left to get to work, I also had a little slut in my ear begging me to cum for her. By this point I was back on 71/75 north with three lanes of traffic moving 80 miles an hour all around me. There was no way that everyone I passed didn’t know exactly what I was doing.

“You are a dirty little cunt; all these people can see me jerking off.”

I was getting close. The combination of the speed, the public and the slut on the phone had my legs shaking and my palms sweating. I know that trucker just saw me, probably not what he was hoping for. I could feel myself slipping over the edge as she whispered and moaned in my ear, I struggled to keep my eyes from rolling back. I started squirting all over my shirt and pants…it…was…everywhere.

I listened to her get off and told her I had to go, you see, I did not think about how I was going to clean up this mess I just made with only 15 minutes to spare before work. Thank God for that extra T shirt on the floor in the backseat. I struggled to get the cum soaked shirt off without getting it all over myself and managed to get the clean one on. I looked out my left window and saw something on the inside of it. Yes, I came on my window.

I rolled down the windows and lit a cigarette, the wind drying my sweaty forehead and palms. I thought about that Friday and everything that we had talked about. That Friday was much more than sexy talk and dirty pictures.

Much…much more.

I pulled up in front of the deli at five minutes after six. Throwing out my cigarette, the door bell chimed as I walked in. The short blonde was working and happy to see me.

“Hey P! How was your day?”

I just shook my head with the biggest of grins.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Story Time Part 5

I am going to tell you a story.

This story is about a girl named Tobi. I met Tobi during my freshman year of college. She was two years older and much more mature than any girl I had known before. I don’t remember how we met, I was high a lot, but I do remember that night in the basement of 990 Dana. That was where it all began.

I was new to this town and I did not know a soul. I met and quickly fell in with a group of local kids so I was constantly out in the city, unlike most of my classmates. Tom lived in the room next to me and we became fast friends. He had me out every night showing me cool places, introducing me to new people and going to parties until all hours of the night. We were always with his older sisters and their friends, hanging out at their houses and sneaking into bars. That is how I met Tobi.

She was from Indian Hill, at the time I didn’t know why that was such a big deal, but it makes more sense now. She was always dressed to the T. She wore shoes that cost more than my entire outfit and drove a Range Rover. I had on dirty Vans and drove a Ford Escort. She was a snob, I knew it the first time I shook her hand, but I was drunk and overly confident. I had no idea the trouble I was getting myself into.

Tom and I were on fire at the beer pong table all night. We had it on lock down for a good two hours, which of course meant two hours of belligerent shit talking and shameless flirting…all depending on the gender of our opponents. Tobi and some unnamed snot stepped up to the table to take on Tom and myself. The game was half spent making fun of them and half spent flirting. I can still see the look on her face when we beat them, it was the first and last time I ever saw that look.

We ended up talking in the corner all night, me hitting on her shamelessly and her buying it…surprisingly. I never realized that this was just the beginning of her tactical and brutal decimation of your’s truly. She ended up taking me back to her place in Hyde Park (oddly enough it was two doors down from the deli I currently work at) and we sat on her stoop drinking wine until all hours of the night. We had been dancing around the one topic lingering in the air until she turned to me and knocked me off my ass.

“So are you going to take me inside and play with me or are you going to keep chattering away?”
My mouth was wide open but nothing came out. She stood up without looking at me and walked inside. I have not gotten up so quickly since.

She pushed me back onto the couch, making it very clear that it was her who was in control. She told me how much she loved my belt buckle as she took off my pants, exposing my hardness to the cool air. Holding it tightly in her hand she squeezed, forcing my precum down her hand, and then licked the mess up before swallowing me whole. I had been given head before, but not like this. She knew what she was doing, where to lick and how hard to squeeze. The girls in high school looked at it like it was a math test, but Tobi…she knew what she was doing.

I could feel the sensation building in my cock, “No no no no not yet, please GOD not yet,” I thought to myself. I could think of no better way to ruin my night with an older girl than to cum after getting blown for all of 5 minutes. As if she was reading my thoughts, or just feeling my leg start to shake, she took me out of her mouth and pushed me onto the floor. I was lying on my back as she stood up and took off her panties, lowering her pussy into my face. I was a little shocked by the fact that she was so forward about it, but by no means unhappy to have her shaved pussy grinding against my face.

She stayed in that position for long enough that my tongue started to hurt and her juices ran down my face, as if I had just bitten into a peach. She stood up, stepped back and without looking at me or saying anything she fell down onto my cock. She was up and down on it furiously; I was more concerned with the fact that I was fucking this girl without a condom on, that concern quickly dissolved. With one hand on her coffee table and the other on the couch she continued to pump me in and out of her. I had never had unprotected sex and was a mix of worry and pure pleasure, I never wanted to leave. Everything felt so much warmer, so much wetter and so much more sensitive. It was like seeing new colors.

I remember telling her that I couldn’t hold it in anymore so she sat down on me and played with her clit while my cock was speared deep inside of her. I could feel her muscles clamping and quivering around me as she came, never before had I felt that. Just as quickly as she stopped, she resumed her furious pace, moaning with increasing ferocity.

“Tobi, I’m going to cum.”

I said it at least five times, she did not even look at me, she just kept pounding away. I felt stream after stream of my cum shoot into her. As soon as my orgasm subsided, the feeling of total horror crept over me. I had just fucked a strange older girl with no condom on. She on the other hand did not seem to mind. Standing up and letting my cum coated dick fall back onto my chest, I will never forget the feeling of it dripping out of her onto my chest as she stepped over me.

That was the last time I would ever have sex with Tobi. Over the next three months she would manage to completely pussy whip me without so much as looking at my dick. I don’t know how she did it; I was completely taken by surprise. She would call me and ask me if I had weed, I would always say yes…I always did. I would come over and smoke her up, hoping that she would fuck me again but to no avail.

“Can’t we smoke just one more?”

I had no idea how badly I was being used. She and her friends would make fun of me constantly. Now I can take a joke and have a pretty twisted sense of humor, but these bitches were ruthless. I came over one night to smoke her up and hope for pussy and she had a fresh made batch of rice krispie treats covered in chocolate. I had a history test the next morning which I was only slightly prepared for so I told her that I couldn’t stay long. I sat there eating the large treat that she had cut me thinking that it really tasted strange. Within the next 30 minutes I was wondering why the weed was hitting me so hard and why they kept laughing me.

“You just ate roughly a quarter of mushrooms.”


“Those rice krispie treats had boomers in them.”

At that point it hit me like a fucking wrecking ball, the whole room started breathing. I thought I was going to fall down, never before had I been doped without my knowledge and I wasn’t really enjoying the experience. I took my pipe out of her hand and smashed it against the brick wall in her apartment, screaming in my tripped out daze. I ran out the door and so began the worst trip I have ever had.

I remember barely being able to keep my car in motion. It seemed like over ever sidewalk was a cliff calling me to fall. I was bugged out and completely tripped out of my mind. I can recall the lights in the lobby of the dorm and the people staring me as I walked in, looking like I had just walked out of Woodstock. I stared in the mirror that night for hours, watching my face change and distort. “She used me,” I thought, “I must not be used.” Over and over I repeated it…over and over.

I woke up the next morning and got a B+ on the test.

I never called Tobi again and I didn’t respond until she stopped calling me a month or so later. I saw her a few weeks ago at a party over on the west side. She looked as good as ever. She came over to talk to me, but I had since grown up. I had long ago forgotten about her, she however, had not forgotten about me. She looked genuinely pissed that it took me a second to remember her. She said that she was sorry about the mushroom incident five long years ago, “Eh, I got a B+ on the test anyways and the mushrooms were free, so I guess it all worked out.” She looked even more pissed. I told her I had to go outside and make a phone call and then promptly walked to the other side of the room and talked to my friends, simply so she could see that I blatantly lied to her. I could see the steam coming out of her ears.

The truth is that as much as I despise her for the way she treated me I was grateful for the lesson she taught me. I would never let a woman walk all over me again, maybe I would get my heart broken, but I would never be treated like that again. You know what, since that day, I never have been. She had effectively taught me the difference between a woman and a bitch, a user and a lover. I was never walked on again. Thanks Tobi.

I realized as I was leaving the party that she still had my damn Marlboro belt buckle.

Ah fuck it, I smoke Camels anyway.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008


It’s been lurking below the surface for some time now. A thought so often pushed into the dark. One not allowed to come up for air with its implications in tow. It is only now becoming blatantly obvious, only now does it show its true nature.

I have been growing frustrated with it for some time; it was not an unexpected occurrence. I struggle to find meaning in the impersonal encounters I have throughout the day. Friends I don’t want to call, parents I don’t want to talk to, girls I don’t want to fuck. I feel as if withdrawal from this space is imminent.

I have no career, only a job. I have few friends, mostly acquaintances. I have no ties to this ground. Money prevents it but my mind fuels it. I have never been satisfied in this space. There has always been something lingering in the dark at night, whispering. Denial is so much easier, it requires no effort. Change on the other hand…change takes will.

The sun will soon set for me and I will hit the highway, cool wind in my face, in search of a new life. My eyes do not dampen at the thought of leaving this place as they did the first time I left home. This time they know that the ones who matter will never fade away, no matter the distance.

I will never speak poorly of this city for it has been my home for five years. I have had five years of pain, fun, love, hate, fear and triumph in this city and it has made me a man. I have come to call this place home and it will always have a place in my heart but…the stone must roll on.

I left Milwaukee looking for a clean slate, somewhere people didn’t know who I was or what sins I had committed. I was ready for change but I knew I needed a new venue, for some reason I chose Cincinnati. I remember staring out at the skyline over the river from the bluffs and thinking that I could call this place home, and I have. But the time will soon be upon me; I will feel the wind at my back. Soon the road will call to me.

I don’t know where this wind will carry me, I don’t care. I will let it take me and I will not question. Someday, Cincinnati, I will leave you behind and I will call another my home but…

…I will always love you.

Monday, September 22, 2008

The Virgin

Wipe clean the slate. Start fresh. That is where we begin.

Do you remember the anticipation your first time? The knots in your stomach as your racing heart drowned out all inhibition. His breath was hot on your neck; he pushed his way inside your folds. It was painful, yet your mouth opened and you moaned. His hands roamed, unhindered by insecurity. You were his. In that moment you belonged to him.

Take that slate and wipe it clean.

Other eyes have gazed upon the same places mine will. Other hands have touched your body in the same places mine will. Other lips have left their soft wetness on you in the same places mine will. There have been others, but they have been erased.

No one has touched you like I will.

Words can never compare to actions, of this I am aware, but for now my words must suffice. I will take your virginity like it had never been given away. I am not interested in the shortcomings of your past, for I will wash them away. I am not interested in your insecurities, for you have nothing to fear. The time is fast approaching for me to show you what has been lacking.

You have never been taken.

You have never been touched by a man before in your life. The experiences you have do no justice to the way I will take you. I will be the first to enter you, and you will close around me with flustered excitement, knowing what’s to come. Look at me. Look me right in my blue eyes. Do not break our gaze.

The lack of fear in my eyes should tell you.

I am not afraid of this nor am I afraid of you. My slate is clear. No one has touched me. I am a virgin, waiting to have you rob me of it. We will redefine sex in each others eyes. You will see the way I look at you, knowing that no one has ever looked at you like this before. You will feel the way I touch you and know that I am the first. You will feel the way I fuck you and you will know…

…that I am the first and I am the last.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

The Itch

It has been almost four years but it still calls to me. Not everyday or every week, but it still calls. It may be less frequent but still as intense as it was the day I stopped. It comes without warning, always in the morning. An itch, a horrible itch…one that feels so good to scratch but hurts afterwards. It leaves you raw and it doesn’t satisfy, it just makes you want to scratch more.

I’m convinced the itch will never go away.

I woke up and rolled off the couch, my dreams had turned into nightmares. I pulled on a pair of jeans and made my way to the stoop for a cigarette, the cool air bit my shirtless torso. The déjà vu hit me.

The late fall air was cool, it gave me goose bumps. Jake was lying down in the grass, eyes closed, chest rising and falling ever so slowly. My eyes were watering for I could not blink. My breath showed white in the air. A small drop of blood between my toes gave me away. I lit a cigarette. I was high. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against railing. I was high.

It only took a second to remember exactly how it felt. Then came the itch. I sat down and put my head in my hands, wishing this was not happening. It was too late. I went back inside and ran the shower cold, forcing myself in and losing my breath to the frigid water. I turned it off and stood there, air flooding my lungs, staring down at my naked figure, the blue green veins contrasting against my pale skin. Memories flooded my eyesight and the hunger grew near, I felt it creeping up my spine.

I sat and stared through the television contemplating drinking it out of my system, but its time for work. I can’t get it out of my mind; I can remember the ritual so well.

The bite of the belt on my arm.

The stick of the needle.

The blood mixing in the syringe.

The slow drain into the vein.

The warm rush.

Mouth opens.

Eyes roll back.

The orgasm begins.

The feeling is never completely out of memory, it is always present. I can push it away but it will always crawl back and whispers to me. My hands shake as I fumble my lighter. Smoke billows out the window and sweat beads on my forehead. The music is loud but I can still hear my heart pounding, it calls to me the way it used to.

The haunting memories flow out of my subconscious and become my conscious awareness, they are so vivid. I remember smell as well as sound. I remember touch as well as taste and the feeling of it moving across my skin. The flashback lasts and lasts…the times you hate it always seem to last. It torments you on every level; every piece of your body calls out for it. They must be one. The liquid in the vein.

Times like these I don’t want to fight, sweet surrender seems so easy. It lulls you to sleep in its warmth and security, it feels so right. It convinces you to stay, caresses your face and whispers sweet lullabies in your ear. You are in heaven and you never want to leave.

But then its times like these that I regain the urgency to fight. When you are away from it, it will become your worst enemy. It will drive you to panic and to scream. You will pull at your hair and sweat through your sheets. You will curse your friends and claw at your skin. You will shit your pants, you won’t sleep, you won’t eat and you’ll throw up in your bed. The shaking and rocking in your chair will not subside until it has left you. The unfortunate catch is that it will never truly leave you.

There will always be that itch.

The itch that whispers.

The itch that moans.

The itch that cries.

The itch that screams.

The itch that you want so badly to satisfy.

The itch that haunts your dreams.

The itch that your body begs you to attend to.

The itch that you need to scratch.

The itch that you cannot scratch.

The itch that you must not scratch.

This itch is one that I will never be rid of. It is going to be a part of my life until my corpse is decaying in the ground. I am never able to let down my guard and I am never able to give in. I must be vigilant and determined. If I relax I will be subdued and the itch will have been scratched…

…and there is no such thing as, “just one scratch.”

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Not Much To Say

I've been busy as of late, got a part time job at a deli nearby my house so I've been working and working. The job is easy, the girls are hot, the food is free, the customers are cool and I can smoke cigs when I please. I'll go into more depth at some later date, if you even care.

I have writer's block. There is so much shit floating around in my head that I should be able to reach up and grab something to write about...but no. It drives me nuts that I don't know what to say, but I'm not going to force anything.

I am not obligated to you. I'm sure you're well aware of that.

But I do like sharing my music.

Stranded...lost inside myself
My own worst friend
My own closest enemy
I'm Branded...maladjusted
Never trusted anyone
Let alone myself

I must insist
On being a pessimist
I'm a loner in a catastrophic mind

Elected the rejected
I perfected the science of the idiot
No healing
Self loathing freak and introverted deviate

I must insist
On being a pessimist
I'm a loner in a catastrophic mind

Stranded...lost inside myself
My own worst friend
My own closest enemy
Elected the rejected
I perfected the science of the idiot

I must insist
On being a pessimist
I'm a loner in a catastrophic mind

I'm gettin' pissed
I'm a worthless pessimist
I'm a loner in a claustrophobic mind

"Armatage Shanks" Green Day

Monday, September 15, 2008


Just shut up and take it easy for like five fucking minutes, will ya? You have already said enough...maybe too much and its time for you to just shut up. When you talk as much as you do, you really aren’t saying anything…so…just…shut…up.

Stop obsessing and questioning and for God’s sake, stop fucking thinking about it.

Take a breath, smoke a cigarette and have a drink…most importantly just take it easy.

Don’t make me smack you.

Just hush.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Ask The Magic 8 Ball

If this is it then I think we both know it isn’t going to last. This distance is sticking a needle in my eye. A watched pot never boils, the days seem endless. I have my fears, you do as well.

Will we like each other?

Will it be weird?

Will we hate each other?

Will she punch me in the face as promised?

Will we not be able to keep our hands off of each other?

Will she tear up when I leave?

Will I have that horrible ache in my chest when I get on the plane?

Will we fall in love?

All these fucking questions floating in my mind. I feel like I’m doing us both a horrible injustice by constantly worrying. These fucking worries. Keeping me up at night, staring at the ceiling, smoking cigarettes, thinking. I swear this is the worst kind of torture. Not knowing if this is right or if we are just spinning our wheels. I know how I feel right now and I know how you feel, but who’s to say that we will still feel like this on that Monday.

I can feel it already. It is going to hurt badly, isn’t it, my dear? Bittersweet is so much worse than just plain bitter. That is if this is even the outcome, why am I speculating? I told you once before that someday if we both know that this is right, I will let nothing stand in our way. Not age, not distance and certainly not insanity.

I’m in love with someone I’ve never fucking met.

I am insane.

But then again so are you, so what’s the problem. I’ve been nuts my whole damn life and I think that’s one reason you are attracted to me. If all else fails, I have a lifelong friend. I value that, it’s how I sleep at night. But I have to be perfectly honest with you. That isn’t all that I want.

The frustration is boiling again, except this time I don’t feel like fucking it out. I feel like waiting for you. I am going to wait.

At least that way I’ll know.

You calm me down with a few keystrokes and I’m fine again, I’ll stow those thoughts away. We can joke and insult each other while talking about how bad we need to fuck, I love doing it and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m back to normal for the moment. Look I can’t help it that I get this way, its just who I am. I play hard and sometimes that causes bruises along the way. I honestly just don’t know how to properly process or deal with this, it’s all new to me. I think the thing that really screws with me is knowing what I stand to lose if I fuck up.

This is all speculation…all of it.

I will leave it be for another month…just one more god damn month.

Then shit is really going to hit the fan.

Thursday, September 11, 2008


Check out the new blog on the right. Cincinnati is a interesting and strangely beautiful city. It has become my home over the past five years and I must say, I have fallen in love. So visit this blog and get to know the place I call home.


PS. you might even see a few places where yours truly frequents and used to live.

United We Stand / Divided We Fall

I am not here to make you feel bad. I am not here to help you mourn. I am not here to help you forget, cope, deal, reason, rationalize, care or what-the-fuck-ever you need to do today. I do my thing and you do yours. Don’t you dare call me Un-American or think that you know me or how I feel about today.

Listen, you don’t know shit.

I am here to tell you something that you need to hear but you have your fucking blinders on and your god damn hands over your ears. You’re afraid of the liberal media or the religious right. You’re afraid of the warmongers or you’re afraid of pacifists. The one thing you all have in common is that you’re afraid of terrorists, bombs, chemicals and germs. The thing is…you are afraid. Your government wants you to be afraid because it makes you stupid and it cloud your judgment.

So when you want to tell me, “Fuck Obama,” or, “Fuck McCain,” on a day like THIS ONE, just know that all you’ll get me to say in response is, “Fuck you.”

How dare you politicize this day? Remember that it wasn’t just people who think like you that died that day. There were people who loved this country and ones who hated it. Ones who voted blue, ones who voted red and ones who just plain didn’t vote. Ones who were Muslim and ones who were Christian. Ones who looked like you and ones who didn’t. Don’t you dare trivialize their deaths by taking this day and politicizing it.

Both candidates took today off from bashing each other like little kids. Both candidates aren’t running TV ads. No one is sitting around saying, “Hey if Obama gets elected more buildings are going to fall.” No one is sitting around saying that, “If McCain gets elected nothing bad is ever going to happen to this country.” No one who matters anyway.

This day is about mourning and healing, not dividing and blaming. Remember how it brought us together, we stood together, donated blood together, gave money together, cried together and we started to grow together. “United we stand, divided we fall.” I drive through Kentucky everyday on the way home and their motto is the only one we should have right now. If we stand together we are invincible, but if we allow ourselves to be divided…we will die. Once we were united, but now we are falling back into our old ways, bickering like fools and it disgusts me.

But the thing that really disgusts me is when people turn this day into a vote getting political event.

For fuck’s sake.

Show some respect.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Two Men, Two Glasses And A Bottle

He came over around seven, I was sitting outside smoking, and I saw him coming up the drive. He had a liter or Makers in his hand and was looking straight at the ground. He sat down next to me on the stoop and lit up a cigarette, “I’ll go get some glasses,” I said. I came back out, sat down and started peeling the red wax from the cap of the bottle; the smell overwhelming me as I twisted off the cap. I poured two. Let’s get this over with/

We sat there on the street talking, working our way through the bottle and flicking cigarettes onto Dana Ave. The small talk subsided and we soon got to the reason we were sitting there drinking the bottle. The details are irrelevant; imagine what you would say to a friend who you stole his 3 year girlfriend from. Now imagine what I said back. There you have it.

As the evening went on and my eyesight became a blur, we talked about her. He kept apologizing to me over and over, finally I stopped him, “Dude, I don’t fucking care about her anymore, in fact the part that pissed me off the most was you…not her.” He told me that she seduced him (cunt) and that she was just too fucking hot to leave alone. I was drunk; I punched him square in the jaw. Something in me held back the full force. He just looked at me, knowing that I spared him…we went on talking.

I don’t know what to say about this whole thing at all, yesterday when I posted I felt like, “Oh yay everything will be fine again.” But when I sat and waited for him I kept thinking,

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…….

We really didn’t solve anything at all. He said he was sorry, he meant it. I told him I forgive him, I meant it. A few of my much less forgiving friends pointed out that I am playing. I have no idea what to think right now, Christ I don’t even remember much of the night (its 1630 and I’m still hung-over). I have decided one thing and maybe it is the only thing I need to worry about.

Don’t let him get close enough to stab you again.

I woke up this morning and the empty bottle was on the stoop when I went to work. I thought to myself, “Shit, it sure does feel better waking up with a bourbon hangover and not having a load of bad decisions to apologize for.” For once it was the other way around. Maybe I am growing up.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008


“You have three unheard messages. First unheard message sent today at 2:37 am. ‘Cheese, it’s…uh…well its The Mass. Look…um…I don’t really know what to say except…well, that I’m sorry, I’m outside of your building (he starts crying). I left your girlfriend, I couldn’t do it. I want to hang my fucking worthless piece of shit self from this tree so you see me in the morning when you go to work. I hate myself, Cheese, I am so sorry...I just, I don’t…I have no excuse and I don’t expect you to forgive me…I just needed to say it…Cheese, I’m sorry…You are my brother and I betrayed you.’ End of message, to delete this message press 7 or press 9 to save it in the archives.”

I pressed 9.

There were two more after it.

This puts me in a position that I don’t know how to handle. I heard the sincerity in his voice. I heard the pain. I want to say to him that it is ok, to tell him that I don’t hate him. I love the kid, even though he betrayed me, causing some of the worst pain I have felt. I took him in when he was homeless, covered the rent when he couldn’t afford it, sat with him when he cried about women, proofread (ok just plain wrote) his philosophy papers, took him to the hospital, walked him home drunk and took one too many shots to the face for him.

Why would he betray me?

That question I will never be able to answer and I don’t want his explanation. He fucked Meg because she is (and was to me) the hottest thing on this planet. There is much to be desired when it comes to her, that I do not blame him. I blame him for stabbing me, even though we are brothers. I harbor resentment for that. I love him like a brother, everything I have done for him; he repaid in full. It is because he is my brother that I will, against my better judgment, call him after work tonight.

He was the one friend who was the closest to knowing the real P. I slowly gained enough trust in him to tell him things I had never said, before this blog. He was one of my three closest friends, but the only one who I really worried about. I used to talk to his mom on the phone when I was still in school, tell her how he was struggling and how they could help. I mean it; I was his big brother.

I will give him the forgiveness he asks for but does not deserve. I will not give it to him on a condition. I will not make him feel bad. I will not say it without meaning it. I will not do it half-heartedly and I will not take it lightly. I am going to tell him one thing, and I am only going to say it once. He will know how serious I am when I say...

…I love you, you are my brother, but if you ever betray me again…I will kill you.

Monday, September 08, 2008

Stay Positive

With two eyes open, place your right foot forward.


Now place it on the ground and repeat with the left.


Progress, you’re making progress.


Do not ask foolish questions to which you know there are no answers. Do not search in the sky for what you can find here on the ground. The answers to your questions are simple, but you derive pleasure from their imagined complexity. You take pleasure from making things hard, you find yourself in your natural element when you are guilty. You thrive on your guilt, the faces in the past, forever in the past; keep you awake at night, your sweat soaking your sheets. You let the enemies of yesterday strike you. The only thing looking behind you does is slow you down.

You are not supposed to know where you’re going right now, you’re only 23 years old…there is plenty of time. You play Monday morning quarterback clear into the next Sunday, forgetting to prepare for the coming week. You let old wounds fester because you pick at the scabs. No one can see the scars you leave, so what’s the point.

Everything is simple, you just can’t see it. Open your eyes and let your one foot follow the other. Don’t look back but don’t look so far forward that you forget where you are. Climb the ladder, don’t skip rungs or you will find yourself flat on your back again. Small strides…small strides are the way to go right now. Keep your chin up and your head in the game. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. Know your enemies and count your friends, do not be defeated again.

Keep your eyes dry and stay positive.

You’ll be fine.

Cos this world swallows souls
And when the blues unfold
It gets cold silence burns holes
You're going mad
Perhaps you always were
But when things was good you just didn't care
This is called irony
When you most need to get up you got no energy
Time and time shit'll happen
The dark shits unwrapping
But no ones listening your mates are laughing
Your brethrens fucking and then you start hating
Your stomach starts churning and you mind starts turning.
So smoke another draw
It wont matter no more but the next day still feels sore
Rain taps on your window
Always did tho but you didn't hear it when things were so-so
You're on your own now
Your little zone you were born alone and believe me you'll die alone
Weed becomes a chore
You want the buzz back so you follow the others onto smack

Just try and stay positive

Feels nice and still
Good thing about brown is it always will
Its easy, no one blames you
Its that world out there that's fucked you
You know less of a person and if God exists He still loves you
Just remember that - the more you sink the further back from that brink
Maybe you've lifetime scars and you think tattoos might be more fitting
But who's picking?
Searching for yourself you find demons
Try and be a freeman and grasp that talisman
Cos your the same as I am
We all need our fellow man
We all need our Samaritan.
Maybe I'm better looking than you tho
Maybe I've got more do
But am I happier... no.
Get the love of a good girl and your world will be much richer than my world
And your happiness will uncurl

Just try and stay positive

Stop dreaming
People who say that are blaspheming
They're doing nine to five and moaning
And they don't want you succeeding when they've blown it
And you idols - who are they?
They too dreamt about their day
Positive steps will see your goals.
Whether its dollars or control, feel the gold.
I ain't helping you climb the ladder
I'm busy climbing mine.
That's how its been since the dawn of time
If you reach a cul-de-sac
The world turns its back
This is you zone, its like blackjack
He might get the ace or the top one
So organise your twos and threes into a run then you'll have fucked him son
And for that you'll be the better one
One last thing before you go though
When you feel better tomorrow you'll be a hero
But never forget today
You could be back here, things can stray
What if you see me in that window?
You wont help me I know.
That's cool, just keep walking where you go.
Carry on through the estate, stare at the geezers so they know you ain't lightweight
And go see your mates
And when they don't look happy
Play them this tape

Just try and stay positive

I hope you understand me
I ain't no preaching fucker and I ain't no do-goody-goody either
This is about when shit goes pear-shaped
And if you aren't or ever have been at rock bottom then good luck to you in the big wide world
But remember that one day shit might just start crumbling
Your bird might fuck off or you might loose your job
Its when that happens that what I'm talking about will feel much more important to you
So if you ain't feeling it, just be thankful that everything's cool in your world
Respect to bc


"Stay Positive," The Streets

Friday, September 05, 2008

Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

When you issue a challenge to certain people, you can pretty much expect them to fail. They have weak bodies, minds and most importantly; weak spirits. The one thing they do possess is a big mouth and a whole lot of shit to spew out of it. They talk big, act big and walk big, but when shit hits the fan they are out like a cockroach when the light comes on. Weak, pathetic flakes will talk big and cop out when the going gets tough.

When they are stared in the face by adversity, they wave the white flag.

I wave the black flag.

Surrender is not in my vocabulary and backing down is not my forte. A few years ago I was at a music festival in Milwaukee called Summerfest; I was walking out drunk and alone in a crowd of 80,000 people. I was smoking my last cigarette when a guy asked me if I had another, I told him no but for some reason he kept asking and asking. Eventually, quite fed up and drunk on bourbon, I said, “Yeah I have a cigarette, I’m just not gonna give it to your stupid ass.” He took a swing, which I avoided like I was in the fucking Matrix and I came back with a right that about knocked him off his feet. He took off to catch back up with his mates and I went on gleefully walking out like nothing ever happened. When he came back he was not alone, the fists from the three of them rained down on me like a flood. I remember hearing the wet packing sound as they smashed the bones on the right side of my face and I vividly remember spitting out my teeth. I did not fall down and I did not cry, in fact the reason they eventually left me was my hysterical laughter and taunts of, “C’mon, it feels SO good…more more MORE!” Now obviously it didn’t feel good, but I wasn’t fucking backing down from these cowards. Eventually I heard them say, “Fuck this douchebag, he’s nuts,” I spit blood at them as they walked away, which got me one more good one to the face, knocking me down to the ground…laughing hysterically. The people in the crowd around me just stared. In the end I had a skull fracture, a broken in half cheek bone (and now some fancy titanium holding it together), four missing teeth and eight fractures in my eye socket…I also discovered that I love pain and I love to push the limits. I don’t back down.

So think first before you decide to pick on the seemingly harmless smaller guy you see, because I am one horrible cunt and I pack a punch like a damn jackhammer.

When you get more than you bargained for…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When your friends can’t believe you got beat by someone my size…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When you can’t open your eyes in the morning…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When you can’t believe how fast I snapped…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When you have to explain your face at your job…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When you see me and get scared…don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Now you might call me stupid and you might call me crazy, but the one thing you will never call me is a coward. I will always step up to the plate and I will always rise to the challenge, even if it kills me. At first it stemmed from a fear of being called a pussy, I was afraid that people would call me weak. Once I got a little older I stopped caring about what people thought of me, but the reason I kept my “no surrender” mindset is because I see how pathetic the cowards and quitters are and I will not become one.

Let’s take this conversation to the bedroom (or bathroom, kitchen, floor, car etc wherever we happen to be fucking). Now, I am about 5’9” and a half (with shoes on make it 10 even) and I weigh about 140 lbs, I haven’t grown in 4 years but there is no fat on my body. The reason I say this is because I am small but I am strong and I am very tenacious. Issue me a challenge when I am between your legs and I will go after it with everything I have, even if it breaks me. “No one has ever made me cum going down on me before,” you say, but all I hear is, “You are about to be the first man to make me cum by going down on me.” Tell me I can’t keep up with your insatiability and I will fuck you until my dick falls off. Push me, tease me, push my buttons and fuck with my head all you want, but listen really closely, bitch, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

When you go home walking bowlegged…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When you have no idea how to hide the teeth marks, handprints and bruises…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When your nipples ache from my twisting…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When your pussy is raw and tender… don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When the next man you fuck doesn’t satisfy… don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When you think about me as he fucks away… don’t say I didn’t warn you.

You pushed and pushed until you thought I would give in, you should know me better than that. You got what you asked for; you got a dose of something mean, something tenacious and something you thought you understood. You had no idea who you were fucking with until he was actually fucking you. I don’t back down and I don’t cop out, you wanted your pussy dominated and that’s what you got…bitch.

Now there is one more thing from which I will never back down, possibly the most important thing. Make sure you know what you are in store for when you go after my heart. I’m warning you, my love is not something given lightly and it comes at a high price. If you challenge me to love you, I will not shy away…I will step to grasp the gauntlet you have thrown before me. When I give my heart I do it with every ounce of myself, I don’t do anything half assed…certainly not love. This is why I get hurt, when I give my love to you, I give it all. I will not back down from my feelings and I will not pull my punches, I say what I mean and I mean what I say. I will not hold back my emotion for fear that it will be laughed at or taken for granted, I will not be intimidated. When you tell me you love me, I know you mean it but you had better believe that I do too. I give all I have when it comes to the way I feel about you so don’t be scared and don’t act surprised. You know me better than that.

When you lie awake thinking about me…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When you reach for me when you wake up…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When you need my voice to tell you goodnight…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When you tell me things you have never said before…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When you want me to be yours alone…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
When you fall in love with me…don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Look, the point I’m making here is that I am no flake and when I do something, I do it right and I give it my all. Whether it be fighting, fucking or falling in love; when I do something, I give everything I have to give. You will never catch me waving the white flag of surrender. You will never catch me backing down. You will never catch me running away because I will stand my ground and I will stare the enemy straight in his eyes. This is me, and I am what I am. My drunken Irish immigrant father gave me his stubbornness and his temper and my Kentucky farm girl mother gave me her work ethic and strong will, I have put them to good use. They never taught me how to give up and I got beaten when I tried to surrender, they bred and raised me to be one tough mother fucker.

So when you make the decision, be it to fight, fuck or fall for me, make sure you know what you are doing and make sure you know who you’re dealing with. I will never wave the white flag and I will never surrender. So if you find you’ve bitten off more than you can chew…don’t say I didn’t warn you.

But you’re tough, you can handle it. That’s why I like you.

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

On The Boiling Point

"Only he without sin can tell me if my means justify my ends" -Jay-Z

My fingers smelled like pussy when I woke up this morning; they still do right now as I'm writing this, in fact. You are already wondering who, aren't you? You are asking yourself, "Who did he fuck last night; the Girl on the Phone is in another state?" Well, she had been calling and texting for three days now, leaving particularly nasty voicemails with the aim of getting me to give in to her seductions. I had been putting them out of mind fairly easily until yesterday, when the frustration boiled over. I had so many mixed feelings about the whole situation; I knew if I was with her I would be thinking about another. I debated it all damn day long, I’ll be honest when I say that reading sex blogs on the time clock didn’t exactly help. In the end I decided to wait her out, she would call…she always calls.

I was on the phone with a friend a few hours later, drinking a High Life and smoking a bowl when the call came in. She didn’t say much…

“Are you free?” She asked.

“That depends on what for.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m on the phone.”

“With who?” She was always asking too many questions.

“Do you want to come over or do you want to ask stupid questions?”

“Two hours ok?”

“That’s fine, I have to get pretty,” I said as I hung up the phone. By get pretty I meant, “I need a few more beers.”

I told my friend I had to go and I walked outside to smoke a cigarette, “Why am I doing this?” You are doing it because you sit there all fucking day thinking about a girl you can’t touch, taste, see or smell. You are doing it because you have had blue balls for the past two weeks. You’re doing it because ever since you lost your cunt of a girlfriend you have had the worst sex life you have had in 8 years. You are doing it because you need to get laid, so divorce your pussy feelings from your cock and get off.

Besides, you will still love the one you want when you’re done.

I had time; I took a shower and just stood there, the ice cold water running down my back. When I stepped out my teeth were chattering and my lips were blue, I stood there looking at the stranger in the mirror…he just stared back and smirked. The cold shower didn’t help, I felt myself growing in my towel as I thought about what I would do to her. The things floating in my head were vile, sinister thoughts. Things I shouldn’t be thinking about, fucking in ways that might scare you, shit, they scare me. I just kept thinking to myself, “Be careful, she doesn’t know what you are.” Where is this shit coming from? I drank one final beer and walked out to smoke a cigarette, she was pulling in as I opened the door.

There has never been a time when we exchanged a hello kiss, this time was no different. I made her gin and tonic and we sat down on the couch, “So, I haven’t talked to you in a while,” she finally said. “I know, my head has been a bit turned about lately,” I told her. “I still care about you, you know?” “That’s why I haven’t called; I’m in love with someone else.”

“I know.”

I told her that my heart belongs to someone else; she said that she didn’t mind. I told her that my cock belongs to someone else; she said she just wanted to borrow it. I nodded that it was ok, I was already hard…her hand moved to my crotch…I moaned.

She put the tip in her mouth and sucked it; I moaned…it had been too long. She responded to my moans, forcing it into the back of her throat with fervor. When she pulled it back out there was a line of spit connected from her mouth to the tip of my cock. I talk about that with Girl on the Phone constantly and from that moment onward there was another woman on my mind the entire time she went to work on me.

She licked, sucked and stroked it like it was the only cock in the world, she was like an animal. She was furiously pumping up and down my shaft and I could feel the tingling beginning in my ass. “If you keep doing that, I’m goi--,” she responded by taking her hand and cupping my balls, knowing full well that was going to get my load in her mouth. I closed my eyes and I saw her face, wondering what it would look like with her lips around my hardness. I heard her voice call my name in the back of my head and I felt myself let go. I put my hand on the back of her head and shoved it down into my lap, squirting the beginning of a massive dose of cum into her throat. I let go and she sucked it like she needed my orgasm for survival. I bit my lip, “don’t scream her name,” I repeated over and over in my head. I laid my head back on the couch as she sucked the last bit out of me, “Let’s get high,” she said, pulling my cock out of her mouth…she didn’t have any weed.

I was naked the entire time we smoked the blunt, I kept leaning over to pull out and suck on her tits while blowing smoke in her face (I’m always the asshole) until she finally grabbed me by my once again hard cock and squeezed it until I thought it was going to pop. “Listen you little fuck don’t think that--,” SMACK. Holy shit, she is staring straight at me I can’t tell if she is pissed or turned on, I just slapped her across the face…I didn’t think I had it in me.

“You’re lucky…very lucky that I haven’t had you inside me yet or I would get my shit and leave right now.”

“What shit, you’re wearing everything you brought with you.”

With that she pulled her shirt over her head and slipped out of her already undone bra. I reached over and undid the button on her jeans, unzipping them ever so slowly while letting my pinky finger pull down the top of her red panties. She had just shaved; I leaned in to lick what my finger had exposed to the light, she shivered. I stood up and forcefully grabbed her hand, leading her to my bed. I shoved her down, yanking her pants off and spreading her legs until her hips popped. I slid into her with a force that knocked my clock off my headboard…it has been too long. I closed my eyes and slipped into another world, into another’s arms. It was wrong, but that is exactly why it felt so good.

Fucking her missionary is her favorite, but that isn’t why she came over…she stood up, shoving her pussy in my face before turning back around and dropping to all fours. She shook her ass and I smacked it with enough force that today she texted me to say she had an imprint on it. She whimpered and I stuffed myself back into her, feeling my legs go jelly as I pushed my full length into her. I started talking evil to her as I fucked her. She looked back at me, clearly frightened at what was coming out of my mouth…frankly so was I. I fucked her relentlessly, my pelvis hurts from it today, I fucked her like she had been torturing me for months. I fucked her like I hated her.

Then again, it wasn’t her that I was fucking at all. I was fucking someone who was hundreds of miles away.

I used her when I pulled her hair back and called her a slut. I used her when I bit into her shoulder. I used her when I squeezed her sides. I flat out used her and she got off on it. I masturbated using her body, plain and simple…like it or not.

“I need to cum, slut.”

“Then cum.”

“It isn’t your’s, bitch”

“You know I like being a slut.”

I flipped her over and pushed in the last few nearly painful thrusts before pulling out and shooting all over her chest, stomach, neck and chin. She rubbed it in, licking her hands and greedily eating what was left over. I threw her a T-shirt to clean up, pulled on my mesh shorts and walked outside, lighting a cigarette. She came out a minute later and said goodnight.

“Goodnight, Jen,” I muttered as she walked away. I sat there staring as she drove away, flipping me off as she went.

My neighbor Anne came out shortly after, “You look like hell,” she said snidely.

“Meaningless sex will do that to you.” I knew she heard us fucking, she lives right above me. We didn’t say another word, just sat there watching the smoke from our cigarettes drift away into the hot night air.

Revisiting "Chess"

I was doing my morning blog rounds yesterday when I read a post on a topic I absolutely love. I have compared my love/sex life to my all-time favorite game, chess, in this blog and in real life and when I read this post, I was reminded why I love it. Chess is not simply a game, it is a metaphor for life.

So...go here and read this well written bit of fantasy(?) by a very seductive Briton.

Then come back here later tonight and I'll have a story for you