Sleeplessness has been my muse for the past few days. So here I am again, rejecting the advances of nature's soft nurse, my thoughts laced with the foretaste of regret. So many thoughts and ideas, so little time to flesh them all out. Neko and I had some really hot, messy sex a couple of days ago, and I still wanna write a piece about that. Trouble is, I'm not exactly horny right this moment, and writing smut while not being in a horny state of mind is something that I am trying my best to avoid. But to be fair, I'll offer a teaser here. Suffice to say for now that the spark that led to our sex that day was this (non-erotic) dream she had the night before, which featured some sort of LizardMan.

I love leaving for long trips in the morning. It's the smell of freshly-brewed coffee, the sound of stereo music, but mostly, it's the sensation of being sucked by Neko in those wee hours of the morning, when it's all dark outside, and sunrise is a mere promise away. As I sit there rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, flicking the remote to my favourite track, she cups her lips over my morning wood and slides her mouth all the way down that length of me. As she hits the spot, I can't help but twitch and cringe. She watches her own performance in the mirror, and by then I'm so hard that all I want is to stick my cock into her and churn out some serious butter from her hole.

This afternoon I ate Neko out with the gusto of a starving Japanese man attacking a bowl of soba noodles.

While we were having breakfast that morning, Neko told me that she dreamed of this overgrown lizard that crawled out from this equally oversized cookie jar. When it started shuffling towards her in that sick, reptilian interpretation of the salsa, the terror was so intense and real that she was immediately jolted back into the waking world, thus abruptly ending the dream.

    Frankly I was more amused by the seriousness with which she recounted her dream to me than by the content of the dream, which was quite blatantly sexual. So I decided to kid her around a bit and told her that dreams of lizards are sure signs of horniness. First there was a look of disbelief, and within seconds that priceless expression on her face began to waver.

    Hours later she was slobbering and drooling all over my pole looking every bit like the wretched slut that she is whenever we were doing the dirty. As she went at it like there was no tomorrow, I whispered to her that later, she was gonna "regret" it for sure. For me, a significant part of sexual pleasure is derived sadistically from the very idea that she will soon get her "just desserts" for being such a terrific cocksucker. As predicted, she was practically bleating like a lamb as I mercilesly skewered her from behind. And as usual, she creamed so copiously that not only was my cock completely stained, but drops of that white stuff dripped onto the sheets as well.

    After we were done with our orgasms, she conceded that the bit about dreams of lizards being sure signs of horniness is true after all. When I told her that I was only kidding when I told her that, it promptly earned me a vicious bite on the arm.

These are the kind of amazing fruit-shaped breasts that I would love to have the good fortune of spying upon. Sometimes, a partially dressed woman is preferable to a completely naked woman. When I see breasts like these I often imagine them covered beneath her clothes, the way I often imagine what a porn actress's laugh would sound like when she's not fucking for money.

This morning I woke up and spied on my aunt again. As I stroked myself I imagined sticking my cock into her and fucking her. Though I really wanted to, I didn't come that way because I wanted to save my orgasm for later. I've learnt to prolong my pleasure for as long as I could. I suppose I didn't have to torture myself in this way. I mean I could always wank off while looking at her hairy cunt and ass till I shoot off in my shorts, then wait a few minutes and then I'm good to go again, but doing it this way always makes me feel sleepy. Plus, the intensity of the pleasure is somehow diminished whenever I go on a binge.

    But anyway, there I was, crouching so low my face was practically glued to the floor, trying my best to see as much of her hairy cunt and ass as I possibly could. It's amazing how I can't seem to get bored looking at the same thing over and over again. Her cunt was so close I could almost taste it. My heart was beating so hard and so fast I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

    For a brief moment I had wanted to give it all up and ejaculate my precious come all over the inside of my shorts, but there wasn't time for that anyway. She had started showering, and I didn't want to get my camera wet. I got off the floor and went into my room, closed the door, pulled off my shorts and jumped onto the bed. I browsed through some of my favourite images and videos in a hurry, and not intending to delay any longer, promptly ejaculated a huge load all over myself.

Meeting some cheerful, bouncy girls in the morning has put me in a breasty kinda mood.

Right now all I really wanna do is have a good jerk and go to sleep, but I reckon a pre-slumber post is in order.

    Neko's on the rag again, and last night, I was furiously jerking off when she walked in on me when I was just about to come. She promptly apologised and closed the door, and just as the door was clicking shut I spurted my load uncontrollably everywhere. I yanked the door open and told her that I was just coming when she walked in, and she rushed in and cupped her lips over my drippy, still-erect cock and greedily milked out the rest of my chunky load into her mouth.

    The episode reminded of a story I read years ago. It was about how this guy was screwing his girlfriend in her room when her father walked in on them, and he was so completely caught by surprise that he instinctively pulled out and ejaculated everywhere, right there right then in front of his girlfriend's father.

    In other news, that breasty mood from yesterday --- you know, the one that came about from meeting those cheery, bouncy girls? Well, it's still here. So here's a few of my favourite largemilk images. I like them because though she's not English, she reminds me of the girls in retro British girlie magazines like Playbirds and Rustler, the kind that I could jerk off to thrice in an afternoon.  

    Aside from those wonderfully large and deliciously horripilated areolas, I like how she's not even that pretty and has this "readers' wives" look to her; something about her tells me that she's one of those women who truly enjoys sex, who feels it in her deep heart's core. She has a paysite with some free images here.

   I'm so horny it's not even funny. But before I log off, here's a link to a blog of a rather stereotypically sexy French girl. The blog is en français, but with images such as these, it won't be a problem even if English and English are all you can understand. 

Once again, it's that ungodly hour when I feel that siren call to stroke my meat, when the dancing pixels seek to, yet again, turn me into a willing accomplice to the mock sexual coercion, simulated rape dynamics but utterly real passion on the screen. Try as I may, but I simply can't keep my hands away from myself.

    You have no idea how tough it was for me to write this post, to follow through till I'm done, when all I really want is to stroke myself silly till I spew my sweet load all over the place, to the tune of...

    ...a sweet, sweet girl and her slow, deliberate handling of a man's burgeoning cock,

    or else,

    an older woman with her large, pendulous breasts swinging and wobbling everywhere while being systematically drilled to the point of delirium,

    when he comes she opens her mouth wide to take it all, her body twitching wretchedly from post-orgasmic aftershock;

    a girl shy and nervous in the beginning now shamelessly begging to be fucked, and when she's finally getting her fill, you know it's all real because cream never lies.

    And more than the hardcore aspect of it all, it's the naturalistic reaction and body language that finally do me in. I mean, where would male masturbation be if pornography weren't so fucking filthy?

It was yet another busy weekend, but Neko and I managed to find some precious time for ourselves. I bought Birthday Stories, an anthology of birthday-themed stories selected by Murakami. Kafka on the Shore didn't seem so hot to me, but I'm giving him another try. But then again, the anthology features only one of his stories. It's funny how reading about him seems to generate more inspiration in me than reading his stories per se. Reading a Murakami short story or novel doesn't make me want to write, but reading about Murakami does.

    This somehow reminds me of Will Eisner and Moebius, and how they inspire me in different ways. Robert Crumb too, in a way. Some masters I admire from a distance their technical expertise, but for a guy like Eisner, just looking at his stuff is enough to make me want to draw.

    I was going to write about how porn inspires me, but then I bought some really kinky condoms this evening and Neko is itching for me to use them. If you really have to know, she's practically ripping my pants off right this moment. So, to quote a really old George Michael song, "it's late, time for bed."

I don't know about you, but I've always seen condoms as a form of sexual accessory rather than a form of contraception. Wearing a condom during sex just seems so, for the lack of a better word, kinky. I had wanted to capture some hot images of our creamy rubberfucking, but the furthest I could manage were these few shots of a truly cock-hungry Neko doing her best to make me spill my load prematurely.

An obstinate refusal to commit myself to sleep. (time)

Fleeting moments of an orgasm. (time)

Restless dreams. (time)

 

Being in the presence of those large breasts was a pleasure that I would never forget. Kate, the buxom English wife of Carl's brother was always cheerful, and more than generous when it came to offering us tantalising glimpses of her ample cleavage. I wish I could say that it was her smile that attracted me the most, but it wasn't.

    Like any other foreigner who had spend a great part of their lives under cold, gloomy skies, it was clear that she enjoyed every minute of the tropical heat and equatorial sunshine. In that two weeks that I was there, she was dressed in very little, and often braless. The sight of those protruding nipples and large heavy breasts swaying confidently beneath her thin dress lent a perfect tension to those sweltering afternoons amidst the endless supply of cold drinks and cigarettes.

I was rather tipsy when I took Jessy home that night. When you're tipsy, everything seems just a little off. Clearly, she was even more inebriated than I was, and soon as she entered my apartment she practically collapsed onto the sofa. It dawned on me, as I was taking off my shoes, that there it was, that great ass which I've been eyeing for close to a month now. And now, we had the convenient excuse of being drunk.

    But unfortunately for me, I'm never that drunk.

    Sure, a part of me truly wanted her, but something didn't quite fit in with the whole picture. Perhaps it was her face, or the way she laughed, or the fact that I didn't see any point in doing it. It could've gone either way --- and she has been teasing me the entire night --- either a  case of yet another good fuck, or just another good fuck. I sided with the latter, not because I'm holy or noble or good, but because fucking isn't something I throw around. But boy does she have an amazing tail. It's just too bad that it didn't come with a personality that I could relate to.

Do you want deep thoughts, bleak thoughts? Try listening to Radiohead's Kid A after masturbating yourself to an orgasm. The chasm that opens up is deep enough to make you think of Nietzsche and the evocative silence of eagles circling an abyss.

    It's amazing how we can find love when we are such victims of our own wretchedness.