nicotine rush in the morning, still asleep, thinking about the dream, at an ikea-type place, where this girl at the checkout counter was being exceptionally friendly, took me to the back, showed me her goods, introduced me to her friends, showed me more goods, and the next thing i knew, i didn't wanna leave that goddamned place. their bodies were so hot, and i took so many pictures and when i woke up, you know, they were gone.

If you want a cheap thrill, scroll down slowly. Okay, this is what Nerd Girl aka Pervert Girl looks like. Nothing overtly sexy, not even vaguely slutty. Very girl-next-door, right? Right. Now scroll down slowly.

    And this is how Nerd Girl/Perv Girl looks like down there. A friendly reminder: scroll down slowly.

    Meaty and very hairy. Next, she's going to spread herself wide for our visual benefit.

    And here's a closeup for those of you who need it.

    Absolutely yummy-looking, isn't it? Everything about her and her cunt reminds me of those Playbird images that I fervently jerked off to when I was still a punk. And it's still a little shocking to see how such a girl-next-door like her has such a meaty and horny-looking cunt. The mismatch and incongruence is almost rude in its implication. I remember clearly that look on my friend's face, when I showed him some vulgar pictures of a hairy cunt. We were both nine at that time, and having been exposed to smut two years prior, I remember feeling envious of his innocence which I've just broken.

To me, bossa nova is the ultimate soft drug of music. It has never failed to bring on those evening moods of a good dinner in a civilised restaurant where the attentive service stops short of just being annoying; where a short and relaxing stroll through the neighbourhood will yield sights and sounds that define the beautifully artificial nouveau rich; where the passing of time remains impeccable till the next working day.

You know, it's true what they say about how when it rains, it pours. And then I understood, for the first time, what that silly Milli Vanilli song meant.

   
    I'd love to tell you why I'm so smitten and enamoured by the Barberini Faun, but frankly I'm too drunk and tired right now to do that.

It's especially bad in the mornings. My hand wants to caress my bloated cock, my eyes want to watch porn and my imagination wants to wreck her body with pleasure. I turn on the tv and everything starts looking like a porn film right before the actual fucking starts. Everything looks like a fucking prelude to sex. I light a cigarette, and go to the can for that early morning dump. As shit slithers out of my ass, my mind goes autopilot and does the porn deejay thing.

   I think about Neko and how creamy her cunt is, how her ass felt especially round yesterday when we were fucking upstairs while the relatives were downstairs filling the air with banality. We had a porno flick playing silently on the screen, and as we fucked I had another flick playing in my mind, some randomly thrown together mix with tabu video in my head as a template. She has told me before that often, when we are fucking, she would imagine that there are people watching us, and so I threw this into the mix, picturing her bare ass and cunt exposed to the world with my cock deep inside. My cock twitched involuntarily, and she reciprocated, and with this we both knew that a few more of these we would soon be there.

In an alternate reality, Nina Persson is the queen of topnotch vampire rock band, The Rorschach Blood Test.

in between our emails, she roused me from my restless sleep, sucking and smelling me, and feeling drugged and stoned it felt like we were cave dwellers again, going at it like we were trying to start a fire with only a handful of dried twigs and leaves, a couple of rocks. and as her mouth kept spelling pain and pleasure for me, the bonfire starts, and as our desire sizzled and crackled we get a little scared, the eternal in-out, in-out motions drawing involuntary grunts and moans from our throats, leading us to the moment when she implodes and i pop, spilling everywhere like a wasted bottle of celebratory champagne.

 

On some nights, masturbation is a great time-saver. Instead of brooding over writing a post that would satisfy me and the imaginary readers in my mind, all I have to do is play with my cock, switch off the pc and go to sleep.

you're mugging all silly, i'm puffing a philly, amidst the eternal applause i had you cornered with your back against the metal door. look, there goes snarky, running past us with its dick dragging behind, sparks flying everywhere, tearing the purple, badly written erotic skies asunder. "muddle your speech," i whispered, "the clarity confuses me."

    "don't you have anything worse to say?" you replied sotto voce, and that was when the sweeping herds of virginal wolves slipped past us, through the night, into the sunlight.  

As we sat there on the couch watching Mario Salieri's neorealist smut unfolding on the screen, she kept a running commentary going, deriding the women as sluts and how awful and huge the men's cocks were. As usual, I kept my mouth shut, for I knew that she was doing that to turn herself on even more. I took a quick glance at her, and she was all grimace and furrowed brow, an ugly face. But I knew that down there, where it counts, she was already soft and buttery. And in a flash her panties were off and she had her legs spread wide beside me. "Lick me," she said, "eat me out before I go crazy."

    Had you walked in at that moment you would've caught us savagely attacking each other's genitalia with our wet mouths. As she tried her best to swallow me whole, in my mind's eye I was fat as an European cock. When I tried to be a man, she smiled and then shouted at me:

    "YOU'RE NOT STICKING THAT THING INTO ME!" and hiking up her nightdress, invited me to ejaculate all over her. I averted my eyes and looked at the tv instead, and within seconds I emptied my balls all over her belly and pubic hair, leaving me with nothing but the nagging thought that I should've sprayed all over her nightdress instead.

It's funny, but a rump such as this always reminds me of someone.

I couldn't really remember if she was pulling it on or pulling it off, but seconds later, the skies were filled with armada upon armada of flying saucers.

It's amazing, fascinating and probably mind-boggling to some. Through words and only words, our souls can hang out without the burden nor yearning to see each other in the flesh. (because we are past that)

You are Melissa, and you are my postmodern Victorian fantasy come true.  

At the back of my mind there is yet another hidden track, the vague suggestion of an idea to construct and reconstruct a doll. A doll made out of my favourite elements, juxtaposed, reiterated and emphasised, combined and recombined over and over again...endlessly. My own personal doll, its parts made out of words and images, its joints lubricated by smoke. This, in a way, is the incomplete exposition of the anatomy of a fetish.

Melissa and Anna spot him at a sidewalk café.

“See that man sitting there by himself?”

“Where?”

“At the sidewalk café.”

“The one in the faded orange t-shirt?”

“Yeah, hunched over a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette.”

“Mmm, the one with the wolfish grin and goatee?”

“Yeah, he saw us. C’mon let’s go over.”

Later that night I felt someone lower herself onto my face, my cock being tugged and sucked. The room was completely dark, save for a blue, flickering light which I soon realised was the television. I took a glance with hazy eyes and saw a girl sucking on a big cock in extreme close-up. Then a huge cock pounding into a wet, meaty hole, moist and sticky, all dangling flaps and drooling. I had the impression that I was watching some war atrocity footage, material from some violent sex film. 

    Dangling meat was being lowered into my mouth, my cock getting bigger and bigger; a wet sucking sensation, my balls being gently nudged and toyed with. I had the strangest feeling of being overpowered, my entire body paralysed except for my mouth and tongue. I opened my mouth and sucked on the meat with an unusual hunger, faint moans coming from high above me. I turned my eyes back towards the screen and saw an assortment of pierced nipples, round shiny nipple rings glinting crazily at my eyes, silver protruding from painfully textured nipples, pierced clits, (I was in agony from being roused from my drunken, restless sleep, the assault of the pornography dancing on the screen sending eerie shivers through my body), pierced cuntlips, cocks with studs, his and hers, white cream on tap. A petite Asian girl being gangfucked by three cunts with monstrous dildos, grabbing her hair and repeatedly slapping her; I watched her tears flow as they ate her out like hungry animals, spitting on her cunt, chewing pulling on her clit-ring, their face all nasty and scary (I felt teeth on my cock, nipping and scrapping along its length, the pain making me crave for more), making her scream, delirious, my cock feeling like a balloon getting bigger and bigger and bigger...

    I awoke with a start, the way people do in the movies after a particularly nightmarish dream sequence. The room was dark, and looking out the window I saw the blinking red dot of a helicopter flying high above keeping an eye on the city. And sound asleep beside me --- was the girl with the kamasutra eyes.

(This is dedicated to Miriam A. R., wherever you are, and wherever you may be.) 

After the devastation, a porn movie looks like a war movie. a penis feels like a cumbersome and messy appendage. an orgasm feels like an impulse purchase. and the soul feels like a factory of self-pollution.

 

Fuck me, and you really gotta give it to the Japanese for thinking up something like this. And you know what? If I were to join, I'd be the champion for the air fucking category cos' frankly, air fellatio is not my cup of tea.

We call them green apples here of course, but what many didn't know was the fact that "green apples" were actually the severed cockheads of a race of alien green men harvested by Granny Smith, the intergalactic barbarian whore. Pictured above is her favourite granddaughter, the apple of her eye if you will, posing for the ad campaign of their latest line of jewellery made from mini green apples, or severed baby alien dicks, depending on how you choose to look at it.