Viewing the local antiquities

Riding my bike uphill 
on the way to the lawyer's, I'm gasping after ten strokes of the pedals; my thighs ache.

No endurance.


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Friday pussy blogging 

Nobody seems to have picked up the fallen standard (for example). Maybe I'll have to?

Past Friday Pussy Blogging here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here.


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1. Myself. Ex. What good sound she gives me, as I steady myself into a beat.

2. My cock. Ex. She puts me into her.

3. Any part of my body. Ex. She puts a gloved finger up me.

Cf. You.


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Take, eat 

I love it when Angel flops down on her back: She flops down bonelessly, just like that:

Eyes closed, thighs wide open: ready for eating: willing to be eaten. Could it be that she isn't eaten enough?


She knows what I'm hungry for. I grab her torso with both hands and yank her pelvis to the edge of the table, grab the pillow and shove it under her ass, put my hands round her knees and push her legs further apart, rest my palms on her thighs:

Kneel down between them: Before me, long peonycolored lips. I pull her apart with my two thumbs: Release her: She closes, prim:

I prime my tongue with saliva, then suddenly run up her slit, prod her apart: Raise my head: Pull her apart again with my thumbs:

There is her hole: A tiny nubbed shadow pretty in pink.

There is her hole: Surprisingly small, like the thruway tunnel mouths we'd see up ahead of us, driving East for the summer when I was a child: Tunnel mouths little more than the height of a VW bug beneath thousands of feet of the Alleghenies—

Digging to Thailand....

There is her hole: Slick like a colored plate in a medical textbook. Variety meat. Membraneous offal.

Closing my eyes, I search out fold after fold with my tongue: Tuck myself into each crevice: Wriggle against each wall: Follow each furrow: Comprehend for the first time the idiom mon petit chou

Pleat her sticky. Pry her apart. What does she feel when her lips part?

"So good. So good."

Her clit like a shy snail's small foot poking out of its shell:

I take her whole mound in my mouth and suck noisily, suck with intent:

I want her to hear:

I want her to hear me sucking her at the same time she feels my nose scraping her stubble: feels my inner upper lip smearing her clit: feels my tongue driving her open, swirling down to her hole, up her hole, up her hole, up her hole:

"I love you! I love you!"

Welcome, Fleshbotters. A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk...


All, all are sleeping 

The rattle and clutch of a doorknob: the creak of a bedframe weighted down:

I expect to hear bargaining; anticipate listening, in our bed, to the sounds they will make on the other side of the wall.

But silence. No they—

Perhaps she sleeps too.

"I was working until 7:30 this morning." Her hand caresses my thigh, rests there; she tucks her head into my shoulder.

Like breathing out and breathing in—

So still. Not to wake her.

"You are like a soldier, you can sleep anywhere."

"No, I am not like a soldier and I do not sleep with anyone. I can sleep with you because I am comfortable with you."


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By the numbers 


Welcome Fleshbot readers
It came as a surprise ...


Found in a cedar Arturo Fuente Hemingway "Work of Art" cigar box on top of the toilet tan (from the top):

1. One Estee Lauder Blush All Day Natural Cheek Color "04 Pink Cloud" compact (black)

2. One Maybelline Brush/Blush One "Seashell Pink" compact (black base, clear top)

3. Bonnebell Café Classics "Style" Eye Shadow Box (clear)

4. Two Bic Classic disposable razors (orange shaft, white head)

5. One 1000 Kisses Stay On Lip Liner Pencil "004 Indian Pink" (red)

6. One Bic Twin Select Silky Touch [?] twin blade disposable razor (black shaft, white head)

7. Elizabeth Arden Luxury Eye Color "Midnight Mauve" (black case)

8. L.A. Colors® Waterproof Mascara Hydrogue "Lot-7012" (black base, silver head)

9. Revlon Perfectweeze stainless steel scissors-style tweezers.

10. Maybelline® Expert Eyes® crayon "Chestnut Brown" (with gold plastic pen cap)

11. Estee Lauder compact, brand unknown (white case)

12. Handspun pencil sharpener (black)

13. Toothbrush (blue)

Next to the cigar box on top of the toilet tank (from right):

1. The Healing Touch "gingerlily therapy" smoothing body lotion (7 fl.oz.)

2. L'Oreal Hydra-Renewal Derma Expertise Continuous Moisturizing Creme (1.7 fl. oz.)

3. Aquage Finishing Spray Ultra-Fine (10 oz.)


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Crooning, she's lifted her legs and clamped her calloused heels to my cheeks: 

I look left to the wall mirror:

In the mirror, my doughboyish belly, twice her size, covering her: A great heavy sack dropped from a height, crushing her: Her arms, legs, neck and head splayed by the flattening impact:

In the mirror, my pelvis wagging though its minute arc: My semaphor cock wagging a signal:

Arm hidden between her thighs: Head secretly leaping inside her, there:

A signal transmitted over a great distance: A signal—my spasm felt through the latex the stop-bit—only she will ever decrypt. To her it might mean:

1. At last I can stop;
2. He got more than he paid for;
3. Now he'll get off me;
4. Make sure the condom hasn't come off.

The craft of being a whore is making a fat man come fast.

But she's loose, over-lubed; her crescendo of crooning won't do it.


All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."
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