<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345</id><updated>2012-02-16T13:29:38.132-06:00</updated><title type='text'>TELL ME EVERYTHING</title><subtitle type='html'>...a place where I can be honest with myself...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>165</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-7163246085042302594</id><published>2010-08-23T17:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T18:04:17.892-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THIS IS FOR YOU, JOHN SMITH</title><content type='html'>After all this time, to finally see you again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even more beautiful than before...your face...your smile....the way you look at me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had planned on leaning against you and just taking you in...your scent...your heart beating against my cheek...your very presence...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am selfish, and I want you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a thoughtful lover, you please me with your mouth and your hands...and I love everything you do, but I &lt;em&gt;want&lt;/em&gt; you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so selfish...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God...&lt;em&gt;finally&lt;/em&gt; you are inside me...so deep and hard...and I have no idea how often my body reacted to yours, and I don't care...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We fit so perfectly, don't we?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every slow, sensuous push...every deep, hard thrust...makes my body do things that only &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; can make it do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to please you...I want to drink you and watch you above me as you give in to my mouth, but I am such a selfish woman..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;em&gt;want&lt;/em&gt; you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You hold onto me as we lay together, connected together in more than one way...and I watch your face as you slowly move into me, telling me you are close...I love that look...so open and honest as you begin to grow even more, and the moans you make as you give me that gift from you that I have wanted for years...that warmth and wet that I feel as you push as deep as you can...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have you...such an intimate way to be with someone...and you lay with me for just a little while...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before you have to shower and leave me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally I can sleep...the smell of us and the feel of you wet and warm between my legs...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing you do the things you do to me, does it ever make you long for me again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you already, John Smith. It goes without saying...all you have to do is say...soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-7163246085042302594?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/7163246085042302594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=7163246085042302594' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/7163246085042302594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/7163246085042302594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2010/08/this-is-for-you-john-smith.html' title='THIS IS FOR YOU, JOHN SMITH'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-6568857572948917420</id><published>2010-07-21T08:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T09:09:23.628-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SINCE I MOVED AWAY</title><content type='html'>I have received quite an education.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know who my true friends are. I know who I can trust, and who I &lt;em&gt;thought&lt;/em&gt; I could trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my friends. I miss my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; miss him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing will become of it. I have learned that now. I have dealt with the tears, the depression, the anger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready to make a new life. New job, new friends, new everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since moving here, I have tried to meet others, tried to find someone I could enjoy being with sexually. Unfortunately, there haven't been too many that want the job, so to speak. It seems some guys just can't handle a lot of affection. I think they think I am getting serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not getting serious. I am not that gullible. I learned a long time ago that love at first sight is just some romantic notion, and that no matter how much you enjoy someone, you just can't get too attached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, lust is a totally differnt animal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lust will make you do things you wouldn't do otherwise. It will take over your senses (and sometimes common sense), and turn one into a sexual vampire. At least, that's what it makes me feel like. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get hungry...ravenous, even. I want and I want NOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is, of course, perfect when you have a partner you can share it with. How lucky can one be when the other has such a need to fuck and do it constantly? To meet someone you are attracted to and complete that meeting with a union of such intensity you can hardly breathe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it happens to be somewhere that other people may frequent at times, well then, so be it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be caught...just may be the ultimate thrill.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-6568857572948917420?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/6568857572948917420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=6568857572948917420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/6568857572948917420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/6568857572948917420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2010/07/since-i-moved-away.html' title='SINCE I MOVED AWAY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-8851227229573822944</id><published>2010-07-19T08:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T08:14:51.897-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THREE YEARS</title><content type='html'>Three years since I've been on here. I guess I was under the impression I had my shit together, so to speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone ever get it together?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have looked at posts from the past and all the people who used to visit me here. They, too seem to have found life a bit overwhelming at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope they find their way back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I am going to stay awhile...again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-8851227229573822944?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/8851227229573822944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=8851227229573822944' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/8851227229573822944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/8851227229573822944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2010/07/three-years.html' title='THREE YEARS'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-116753039179649940</id><published>2006-12-30T19:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T19:59:51.833-06:00</updated><title type='text'>WTF??</title><content type='html'>I have been trying to date once in a while, but any man that is even worth talking to seems to be few and far between.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again I've given my heart to someone, this man having been a friend for several years, now. Unfortunately circumstances make things difficult...plus the fact that I still assume things that aren't really happening...and that this man believe's he can't love again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So until I am able to prove to him I am the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, I will go on the occasional date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOWEVER...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it so hard to believe that I don't like being with someone that is always drinking?  I actually had one guy in my truck wanting to know if it was ok to bring a can of beer along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I look stupid? Do I look that desperate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to feel like a man wants to be with me and doesn't have to get blitz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have to tell me you don't get drunk, you just have a few...if you look forward to drinking every night...if you have to compromise as to how many you HAVE to have with your date...you have a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I seem to be a bit overzealous at my age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am more sexual than I have ever been...and if someone thinks he's going to get anything from me with a problem like that, he's mistaken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-116753039179649940?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/116753039179649940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=116753039179649940' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/116753039179649940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/116753039179649940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/12/wtf.html' title='WTF??'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-116426128966190630</id><published>2006-11-22T23:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T19:44:14.126-06:00</updated><title type='text'>WORDS OF WISDOM?</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Friendship may often end in love, but love in friendship, never.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lewis said that in his post of yesterday, and it has caused such a flood of emotion I can barely type this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been over a year, now, almost two. I was the one that broke it off, and it was the only time he showed how he felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was too late. Too many times he'd let me down. Too many times I was ignored and treated as though I wasn't good enough for his family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell out of that notion of love I'd held onto for years, always looking forward to the day when everything came together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now things are different, and although I don't want what we had, I want to be friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-116426128966190630?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/116426128966190630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=116426128966190630' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/116426128966190630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/116426128966190630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/11/words-of-wisdom.html' title='WORDS OF WISDOM?'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-116336386437127237</id><published>2006-11-12T14:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-12T14:39:39.353-06:00</updated><title type='text'>LONELY SUNDAY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6860/1148/1600/erotic%20sihlouette.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6860/1148/320/erotic%20sihlouette.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing I want more right now than to be touched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It could be a hand in my hair, lips on my throat, or something more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His body on mine, just looking into my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoying my begging...wanting him to enter me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he'll be patient...enjoying this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He will always know what I want...and yet make me wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will excite him, knowing I want him, need him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet I also have a way to tease...to make him want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will backfire on him, so to speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His push up into me, slow and steady, will make me moan, almost with relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't take me long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hardly ever takes me long to cum that first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always been that way, and I love the way it seems to take a lover by surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's the second, and the third, and that really intense, constant grip I get when I am so ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, of course, he is so deep and hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The look on his face, when he was in control just moments ago, but now, now he's lost it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now there's no one in control anymore, because no one is going to stop this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one &lt;em&gt;wants&lt;/em&gt; to stop this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I consider myself very fortunate to be able to do this...and to know my lover is enjoying it, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way he grunts, groans, gasps and whispers...how good I feel...how wet/tight/hungry I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I am cumming, my body beneath his as I arch and jerk and tremble, the sound of his voice when he tells me he's close...so beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feel of him growing, as he moans my name or maybe it's "oh fuck" or something, the way he thrusts into me harder and faster, or maybe slower, yet always deeper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wanting every part of me wrapped around him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing I want more right now than to be touched...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-116336386437127237?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/116336386437127237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=116336386437127237' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/116336386437127237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/116336386437127237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/11/lonely-sunday.html' title='LONELY SUNDAY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-116144463178312252</id><published>2006-10-21T08:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-21T10:35:22.600-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WHO SEDUCED WHO?</title><content type='html'>He took his time, knowing how much she was enjoying this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long, slow strokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Careful not to hurt her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing behind her as she sat on the bed with her legs crossed, he ran his fingers through her long, thick auburn hair after each stroke of the brush. Her head tilted back just a bit, eyes closed, she had a slight smile on her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he gathered her hair in his hand, the tips of his fingers brushed across her cheek. He saw her gasp, a slight intake of breath, then a quiet sigh as she relaxed again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He watched the rise and fall of her breathing, the way her full breasts filled the front of her shirt, slightly open at the top, and the way her nipples seemed to have become more pronounced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was getting hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He lay the brush down on the bed, and placing one hand on her shoulder, he gently traced a path down her cheek with the other. This time her gasp was more pronounced. Her breathing was becoming deeper, and she leaned into his open palm when he lay it against her skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was surprised when her hand came up to take his. She held it as she kissed his palm, making &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt; gasp as she brushed her lips over his fingertips. Once again she pressed against his hand, whispering "thank you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he was completely, painfully hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before he lost his nerve, he had taken her by her shoulders and gently pushed her down on the bed, close to the edge, one knee on the other side of her hip, still standing on the floor with the other leg, one arm next to her, holding him up as he leaned over her. She looked up at him in surprise, and maybe a little fear. His face close to hers, he also saw the longing she felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a couple of inches away, he looked into her eyes, and his hand started to unbutton her shirt. They never looked away from one another, and he deliberately brushed against her hardened nipple, making her whimper. He leaned down closer, his mouth a breath away, never taking his eyes from hers. This time his thumb brushed across that same spot, bare now. There was no mistaking an accident, and she closed her eyes and moaned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look at me.." he whispered, and she did as she was told, her heart racing, her breathing quick and deep. His hand came up and gently touched her cheek again as his lips touched hers, still looking into her eyes, and he knew he was going to be lost to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he felt her move up against him, when she opened her mouth just a bit and their kiss became more...when he pressed his body down on hers just enough for her to feel him, her arms reaching up to hold him, to pull him closer...and when he felt her open her legs to him, feeling her heat even through his jeans, he knew he &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't care if he ever found his way back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-116144463178312252?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/116144463178312252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=116144463178312252' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/116144463178312252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/116144463178312252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/10/who-seduced-who.html' title='WHO SEDUCED WHO?'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115971720825874988</id><published>2006-10-01T10:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T10:40:08.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>REMEMBERING</title><content type='html'>I have no idea where everyone has gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I truly miss them all. It was nice to see where someone has commented; a visit from a good friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid I haven't been at this as much as I was before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does that mean I'm finally getting what I want? What I need?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, it just means life goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish I could be the slut...the girl in high school who was very popular with the guys...the girl that geeks like me would whisper about...and sometimes be just a bit jealous about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will admit it...I've tried it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been less than cautious about who I was with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most I regretted almost as soon as it was over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One or two I actually enjoyed...very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; was in control...no frightened girl who'd recently lost her virginity to some drunk only because she thought she'd never get laid, but a confident woman who was on a mission to find out what it was truly like to be with someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met him in a bar...came onto him...and invited him back home with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was handsome, sweet, and had a very nice cock...and it was here I began to realize what I wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He seemed surprised when I asked him to let me watch him stroke his cock and cum for me..but he did it..willingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was then that I also realized how much I really loved having a man inside me...the feel of him moving deep...how hard he was...and how warm and wet his cum was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, I'd felt this before, but not like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He enjoyed me...as much as I did him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that first time I rode him...there is nothing like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115971720825874988?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115971720825874988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115971720825874988' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115971720825874988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115971720825874988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/10/remembering.html' title='REMEMBERING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115870802149273707</id><published>2006-09-19T18:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T18:20:21.523-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WELCOME TO THE CLUB</title><content type='html'>Somebody new has decided to join us...&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Silent Child&lt;/strong&gt;...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go read...she has plenty to say...and we have plenty to comment...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115870802149273707?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115870802149273707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115870802149273707' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115870802149273707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115870802149273707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/09/welcome-to-club.html' title='WELCOME TO THE CLUB'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115836398246076173</id><published>2006-09-15T18:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T18:46:22.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>PATHETIC</title><content type='html'>Go read Lewis' post...something wonderful has happened in his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say I'm a bit jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never claimed to be beautiful..but on my good days I can make a man smile, even laugh...I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't blessed with the perfect smile, (or body..or mind...but my tits are still popular) in fact, I don't like mine, but, at least it doesn't send them running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, most people are good at pretending...maybe they made it to the door and bolted as soon as they turned the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry...don't want to get on a pity roll...just tired, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I love sex, I would do almost anything to know that someone really liked me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes the sex so much more enjoyable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have friends that are finding their lives again...happier...wealthier (in body and spirit)...healthier because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so happy for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115836398246076173?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115836398246076173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115836398246076173' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115836398246076173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115836398246076173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/09/pathetic.html' title='PATHETIC'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115664946453196730</id><published>2006-08-26T22:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T22:31:04.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WORLD'S BEST ARCHITECT</title><content type='html'>Everyone should congratulate Andrew...new job, &lt;em&gt;better&lt;/em&gt; job, and the most exciting thing (to me, at least) is that I may finally get to meet this man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have known him for almost three years...he's been there for me when I needed someone to talk to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's given me advice, and always told me what he thought, altho sometimes not what I wanted to hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's become a good friend to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's no wonder I'm crazy about him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115664946453196730?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115664946453196730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115664946453196730' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115664946453196730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115664946453196730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/08/worlds-best-architect.html' title='WORLD&apos;S BEST ARCHITECT'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115577792317289396</id><published>2006-08-16T20:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T20:25:23.173-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THANKS NIK AND ANDREW</title><content type='html'>I'm craving an Oreos and Creme Klondike bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also craving a really deep, hard, needy, intense, deep (I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt;, but I like it) fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would gladly forgo the ice cream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115577792317289396?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115577792317289396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115577792317289396' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115577792317289396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115577792317289396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/08/thanks-nik-and-andrew.html' title='THANKS NIK AND ANDREW'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115577757949426022</id><published>2006-08-16T20:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T20:19:39.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'>STRANGER DOWN THE STREET</title><content type='html'>This man has lived down the street for as long as I can remember. He's quite handsome, rugged, and I'm pretty sure he's unattached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we pass each other, I notice he looks back, as do I. But no words...no meetings...just looks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder what he'd do if, in the middle of a slow, intense pleasuring of myself, I were to call him and just...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seduce&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would he let me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Betcha can't guess what I'VE been thinking about...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115577757949426022?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115577757949426022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115577757949426022' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115577757949426022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115577757949426022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/08/stranger-down-street.html' title='STRANGER DOWN THE STREET'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115352725444066557</id><published>2006-07-21T19:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T19:14:14.443-05:00</updated><title type='text'>DREW..</title><content type='html'>HEY YOU...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...you know I'm thinking of you and wish peace and happiness for you. Anytime you need to talk or just rant I'm here for you...I don't like knowing you're sad. I want to hold onto you so you know you're wanted and needed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are loved, baby.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115352725444066557?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115352725444066557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115352725444066557' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115352725444066557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115352725444066557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/07/drew.html' title='DREW..'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115352677016686665</id><published>2006-07-21T18:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-22T02:38:00.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LIFE GOES ON</title><content type='html'>Last weekend we went on a camping trip together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We still get together sometimes...we even fuck sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's all it is...a fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was ok with things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But last weekend pointed out something to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It reminded me of all the trips we took together when I was so happy just to be with him. That was when we were like a real couple. We talked and laughed and played...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't talk much on this trip. It seemed we were pissing one another off once in a while. Not quite arguing, but just...annoying each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday night I was hot and bitchy and tired of not hearing the conversation between the other campers that they seemed to be enjoying, so I went back to our tent to go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of sleeping, I started crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He's getting over me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides feeling those pangs of regret, this epiphany I seemed to be having was making things even worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that I want to be back with him, it's the fact that things changed...things I thought would be there for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We DID have fun times together...made great memories...and in spite of all the misery, a lot of those were the&lt;em&gt; best&lt;/em&gt; times. I guess it's like when you were a kid and you remember that feeling you got when you did a certain something that you can never get back again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He's getting over me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope we can stay friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115352677016686665?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115352677016686665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115352677016686665' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115352677016686665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115352677016686665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/07/life-goes-on.html' title='LIFE GOES ON'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115327971081406340</id><published>2006-07-18T22:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T23:57:44.393-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A GENTLE MAN</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;It has always amazed me how a man can be so tender...the way you touch me, your fingers fleeting against my skin, making goose bumps pop up...the way your mouth can take me and make me squirm...you play me so well...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then there are the times, like now, when you seem to be someone else...the look in your eyes when you grab my wrist and pull me to you, no words spoken as you turn me to face away from you, your hands rough as they pull at my clothes, and when I try to pull away you jerk me to you and then push me, making me brace myself against a chair. You have my jeans and panties down at my feet, and suddenly your hands have me by the waist as you thrust into my body, always a pleasant surprise when you do this, yet this is especially hard...when I cry out from the suddenness of your hard cock inside me, cry out from the pain you just caused when you hit the back of me, you groan and thrust harder, making me whimper...you thrust again, and I am so wet you can hear it. Faster...harder...every stroke seems to be deeper than the last, and I can't stop my cum..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You pound me now, this sweet, gentle man who earlier in the day made love to me, pound me as hard and as fast as you can, and I can't stop...you feel me...strong and tight...and my moans are constant as you pump my cunt faster and faster...your hands are on my shoulders now and you are pulling me to you as you fuck me, "my slut" said with every other thrust. I tell you "yes" because when you take me this way, I&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;your slut,  your little whore to be used whenever you want, begging you for more,  for your hard prick to make me bleed, and when you hear this it sets you off...so much force inside me, all that cum just pumping into me as you seem to growl the way you do, and you fill me again...your fingers hurting my shoulders now as you hold onto me...your cries louder than mine...the two of us...cumming together.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Standing against that chair, your body against mine as you hold onto me, your breath in my ear, I'm trembling, your cock still hard as it nestles inside my pussy, twitches and spasms making us jump, and this gentle man, the one who just took me so aggressively, so roughly, kisses my cheek and hugs me tighter...whispers in my ear, asking if he's hurt me...hugs me if I say yes, and hugs me if I tell him no.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I will do anything  for this sweet, gentle man. And he knows this.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115327971081406340?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115327971081406340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115327971081406340' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115327971081406340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115327971081406340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/07/gentle-man.html' title='A GENTLE MAN'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115283378230034309</id><published>2006-07-13T18:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T18:37:37.146-05:00</updated><title type='text'>FRACTURED FAIRY TALE</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time there was a girl who didn't want anything but true love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since she could remember, she always had a wish for that white picket fence, a happy home with the perfect husband and wonderful children that loved her and needed her very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was 19 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This girl is now older, and much wiser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No white picket fence, but there is a privacy fence in the back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes her home is happy, but almost always dirty and in desperate need of repair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The perfect husband happens to belong to someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the cats and dogs, the bird and the snake, and all the critters she's taken in through the years do love her and need her very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the fuck was I thinking?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115283378230034309?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115283378230034309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115283378230034309' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115283378230034309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115283378230034309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/07/fractured-fairy-tale.html' title='FRACTURED FAIRY TALE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115180842535517124</id><published>2006-07-01T21:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T21:47:05.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WELCOME BACK</title><content type='html'>Seeker has returned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yummy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115180842535517124?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115180842535517124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115180842535517124' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115180842535517124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115180842535517124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/07/welcome-back.html' title='WELCOME BACK'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-115103063696869560</id><published>2006-06-22T20:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T10:35:01.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SAFE</title><content type='html'>Maybe I'd become a little emotional, or maybe he'd thought I was hysterical. Contrary to what some may believe, I am not a drama queen. My ex was always that way when we argued. Sometimes I wondered if he wasn't acting a part when we fought. Needless to say, if I get upset enough, I can be a bit animated, and here I was, my back against my bedroom wall, tears in my eyes, a man's hand on my throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man so big in stature, strong enough to hurt me if he ever wanted to, he'd never caused me one bit of pain. Many times both of his hands had brought me much pleasure, and even though he may have seemed threatening to anyone looking in at this picture, that hand on my throat was holding me almost delicately, with his thumb gently rubbing along the line of my jaw, calming me down. He, too, was upset, and I could feel it, see it on his face. I'd told him something he refused to believe, and seeing how something that is supposed to make someone happy actually upset them, made me a little defensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw tears in his eyes, and my hands came up to touch his, gently covering him as I looked up into his eyes. I reached up to touch his face, and he took my other hand in his, squeezing as he told me "no."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt his hold on my throat loosen even more, and I slowly pulled his hand away just enough to hold it against my cheek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can't change it. Please just accept it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His grip on my hand and the pressure on my cheek grew stronger as he became more insistant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"NO. I can't return that..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why can't you just enjoy it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I held him against my cheek as I closed my eyes. I heard him sigh as I kissed his palm, and when I looked up at him again, he moved closer to me, both hands now on my skin. He whispered my name as he wiped away my tears, and slowly I leaned into him, opening his shirt just enough to kiss him, once, twice, soft kisses on his chest. I heard a quiet moan, and I stopped and spoke, knowing he could feel my hot breath on his skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I belong to you, now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard him almost gasp as his breathing grew deeper. I kissed a line up to his collarbone. His hands were holding my arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why can't you just enjoy this?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leaned back to look up at him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He held onto me tighter as I reached for him for a kiss, and suddenly he was holding me against him as his mouth covered mine. He could always take my breath away with his kiss, and this time was no exception, yet he wasn't as gentle as he usually is. I didn't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His hands slid down to my waist and against my back, pulling me against him roughly, and I could feel him, thick and very hard. He pulled out of our kiss, his hands starting to undress me, almost tearing, and when I spoke his name he shushed me. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall, enjoying the way he touched me. Then he seemed to jerk e towards him, and when I opened my eyes, he pulled me away and started to lead me to the dresser about five feet away. I saw his other hand unbuckling his belt, then the zipper, and in one long motion he turned to me, pulled me close, and picked me up, setting me on the dresser facing him. He spread my legs so he could stand between them, and looking into my eyes as he pushed his clothes to the floor, he finally spoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You belong to me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," I whimpered, and his hands pulled me to the edge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You want me to enjoy it...everything.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"YES"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one thrust...me being pulled onto him and he pushing into me, he was deep, and&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't stop the scream as I took him. His hands held my ass as he pushed into me, nothing tender about this, and the bruises I knew I'd have later would show that. All I could do was brace myself against the top of the dresser, and I started to cum on him, his moans telling me he felt it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's mine, isn't it?" he asked as he fucked me hard, and I barely managed a "YES" before I started to cum again. My moans matched his, and now we were just moving, no words anymore, moving hard and fast and soon he was exploding inside me...his hands holding me so tightly it hurt, his thrusts almost stronger than when he first took me. As he pumped into me, his arms went around me, and his mouth over my ear only added to my pleasure as I heard his moans and groans. As we stayed that way, me on the edge and him between my legs, both of us still throbbing, I told him not to let me go just yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hugged me closer, whispered in my ear, and I felt so safe with him, I drifted off for a moment or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; belong to you, baby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-115103063696869560?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/115103063696869560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=115103063696869560' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115103063696869560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/115103063696869560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/06/safe.html' title='SAFE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-114920464136455664</id><published>2006-06-01T18:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T18:30:41.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>APPETITE</title><content type='html'>Dammit...I get these cravings at such weird times of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I guess they always seem weird since I'm alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had someone...they could have me...any time of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It used to be that way...once in a while a whole day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost constant playing...all over the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fucking...sucking...fingering...until we lay exhausted...a little nap, then back at it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes he'd be so tired, I would ride his cock while he lay there...hard as stone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would get myself off again and again, until I had to stop and rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God I'm so fucking &lt;em&gt;hungry&lt;/em&gt;....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-114920464136455664?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/114920464136455664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=114920464136455664' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114920464136455664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114920464136455664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/06/appetite.html' title='APPETITE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-114888343869537666</id><published>2006-05-29T01:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-29T01:17:18.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MAKE ME</title><content type='html'>I have discovered lately that the thought of someone in authority can really get me going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;really...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;really...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;hot.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know a man, a good friend with this incredibly deep, sexy voice (all he has to do is say, "hi, baby," and I have trouble speaking), who showed me a picture someone took of him at a wedding reception. He's smiling, and his dress jacket is open. He looks like he could be an agent of some kind...CIA, Secret Service, whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I could think of (and still imagine) is his hands holding me down while he takes me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or better yet, on my knees...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's the cop thing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man capable of taking me to jail if I'm breaking the law..he has the authority.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe even taking me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere else...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To punish me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For being bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met a man last week...a fireman...we've seen each other a couple of times, but of course, since &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; like him, and since he's actually &lt;em&gt;nice&lt;/em&gt;, he's still not over his girlfriend, and although I know what he's going through, he's making me crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was hoping he'd wear his gear for me...the pants with suspenders, the boots, and the hat...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, well...you know..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life can be so unfair...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-114888343869537666?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/114888343869537666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=114888343869537666' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114888343869537666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114888343869537666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/05/make-me.html' title='MAKE ME'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-114815907117870754</id><published>2006-05-20T15:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-20T16:04:31.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>DESPERATION</title><content type='html'>There's no beating around the bush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so fucking horny I'd do just about anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And by &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; I mean &lt;em&gt;fuck&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need cock...over and over and over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to feel hands on me while someone is inside me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A voice in my ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to be fucked, boinked, tapped, taken, screwed, banged, drilled....whatever you call it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This really sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-114815907117870754?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/114815907117870754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=114815907117870754' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114815907117870754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114815907117870754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/05/desperation.html' title='DESPERATION'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-114765991748804777</id><published>2006-05-14T21:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T21:27:04.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I NEED THIS</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Nearly every morning I wake up with the same image in my head, and almost always hit the snooze for ten more minutes with him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm on my back with his face above mine, his body on me, my legs open to him as he slowly, gently moves into me, every stroke making me quiver, his hands framing my face, a kiss on my lips as he moves again and this time we moan together, so close, both physically and emotionally, and as I feel him grow even more, he tells me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I love you..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...and as a tear runs down my cheek, he wipes it away...and says it again...and again...and I realize this is what I wanted..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...but he has to mean it...pleeeze mean it...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-114765991748804777?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/114765991748804777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=114765991748804777' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114765991748804777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114765991748804777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-need-this.html' title='I NEED THIS'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-114757960968093357</id><published>2006-05-13T22:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-13T23:06:49.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'>AGAIN?</title><content type='html'>Sometimes things just don't seem fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You meet people on here all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some have become acquaintances, while others have become good friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You share lives and loves, dreams and fears, and sometimes you really &lt;em&gt;need&lt;/em&gt; someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some seem to be so far away, and some you just know you'd fall so hard for, so quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm a sappy romantic...it certainly doesn't help me make good decisions sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times that it has made a fool of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I &lt;em&gt;like&lt;/em&gt; being that sappy, loving romantic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me the kind of person I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have known men who really liked me...what I did with and for them, and how I reacted to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus the fact I'm fun to be with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some wanted to see me again; some wanted to see me for the first time, but being the sappy, romantic I am, I was in love and felt I should be faithful to someone even though he wasn't to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like being that way. I want to be that way again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to be there with you. I want to show you what it was like for him when he was with me, and know how fortunate he was, what a fool he was for losing me. You'll realize that not everyone is cruel and selfish, and maybe we can make a few memories that will always be special between us, before we go back to our lives apart.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God help me if I fall in love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-114757960968093357?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/114757960968093357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=114757960968093357' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114757960968093357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114757960968093357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/05/again.html' title='AGAIN?'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-114581470038281846</id><published>2006-04-23T12:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T12:51:40.406-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LEOPARD APPALOOSA..</title><content type='html'>Why is it that some of us are so proud we'd rather hurt than heal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes a person good...kind...bad...mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish I'd been born an animal of some kind...maybe a horse, a beautiful Appaloosa, or even a hawk like a kestrel or red tail...but I'm afraid of heights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine a bird that's afraid of heights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But people are evn more cruel to an animal than another human being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me years to realize I was in a no win situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are still days I'm pretty sad...pissed...miserable, even.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am officially one of those older persons that knows what they are talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wisdom sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-114581470038281846?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/114581470038281846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=114581470038281846' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114581470038281846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114581470038281846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/04/leopard-appaloosa.html' title='LEOPARD APPALOOSA..'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-114524789719157148</id><published>2006-04-16T23:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T17:38:06.863-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MISSING</title><content type='html'>I don't like sleeping alone at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;em&gt;do &lt;/em&gt;enjoy my time to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at night, when I lay my head on my pillow,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss having someone next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A warm body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That certain scent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way he breathes and moves in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I have to rely on memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But those get old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who wants me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who will lay me down beneath him and touch me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kiss me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taste me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want his weight on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want him to touch me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want him inside me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking my breath away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With every thrust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want his breath on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His moans in my ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want him romantic earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And an animal now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God I miss someone...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-114524789719157148?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/114524789719157148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=114524789719157148' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114524789719157148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114524789719157148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/04/missing.html' title='MISSING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-114479405092016191</id><published>2006-04-11T17:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T17:20:50.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>JUST WORDS..</title><content type='html'>The other day in conversation, someone said something that made me catch my breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said it after I talked back to him, both of us being sarcastic and a little playful in words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Atta girl.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may think it's nothing, but those two words, along with "That's my girl" actually get me wet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once my ex said those last three, right after I came for him, his fingers doing what they were so good at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea why, but the effect they have on me seems a bit strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I look forward to hearing them again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-114479405092016191?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/114479405092016191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=114479405092016191' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114479405092016191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114479405092016191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/04/just-words.html' title='JUST WORDS..'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-114463017319178738</id><published>2006-04-09T19:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T19:49:33.256-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SPRING...FINALLY</title><content type='html'>Everyone seems busy with life lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Including myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus the fact that nothing interesting seems to be going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've kept in touch with certain ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watcher will be up here next month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buffalo in the fall, I hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's good to have friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard when one of them is your ex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially when he still wants more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But life is good, as Buffalo says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guilt will &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; be living here anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-114463017319178738?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/114463017319178738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=114463017319178738' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114463017319178738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114463017319178738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/04/springfinally.html' title='SPRING...FINALLY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-114037851144733554</id><published>2006-02-19T13:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-19T19:25:33.750-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I NEED TO PLACE AN ORDER...</title><content type='html'>It's one of those days again where I seem to have this terrible craving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate getting like this when I'm alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's almost physical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feeling of pure sexual energy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Definitely the purest thing about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's something I enjoy possessing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if it does make me crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a fuck so bad...I can taste it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-114037851144733554?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/114037851144733554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=114037851144733554' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114037851144733554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114037851144733554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-need-to-place-order.html' title='I NEED TO PLACE AN ORDER...'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-114028799208837978</id><published>2006-02-18T12:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T12:39:52.326-06:00</updated><title type='text'>SAME OLD STORY</title><content type='html'>It's terribly cold outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm staying in where it's warm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I need is a good man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who has a weekend to kill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who has turned off his cell phone...his pager...his urge to work a little extra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who has this need to be needed...wanted...taken for granted...taken advantage of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who needs to take whatever it is he wants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who has this insatiable appetite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am ready for you....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-114028799208837978?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/114028799208837978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=114028799208837978' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114028799208837978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/114028799208837978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/02/same-old-story_18.html' title='SAME OLD STORY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113987014088692175</id><published>2006-02-13T15:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T16:35:41.096-06:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY DAY BEFORE VALENTINE'S DAY</title><content type='html'>I think I haven't really liked this "holiday" for several years now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It always meant another day of seeing the truth about my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately for some, it's always a great day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how many get proposals on this day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, more power to  you both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope that you both do it for the right reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope that you love each other and that you stay in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once, while working retail, I waited on a man who was a little upset because his wife actually got pissed at him for buying her a diamond ring for Christmas, or her birthday...something like that, and the diamond was too little. She'd told him to take it back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought he was joking, but he wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what divorce is for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do people fall for someone knowing they &lt;em&gt;are&lt;/em&gt; this way, or do they get this way later?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes a person so selfish?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is she beautiful? Are her blowjobs &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; good?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beautiful wife who will only fuck you about once a month, maybe give you the occasional blowjob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But doesn't swallow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe I'll be a bit depressed and pretend it's just another day. That's what I get for being such a sensitive fool, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But...I'm good...when I'm bad...which means there will always be someone who will think I'm worth something...maybe not the whole ring thing, but enough to warrant some affection...a fun night out...or in...once in a while a cozy night by the fire...or on the sofa...or maybe a trip somewhere together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like diamonds, gold...sapphires are my favorite. But I'd get more joy out of a kiss and a flower, than if someone spent a bunch of money on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also love to fuck....and I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; swallow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113987014088692175?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113987014088692175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113987014088692175' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113987014088692175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113987014088692175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/02/happy-day-before-valentines-day.html' title='HAPPY DAY BEFORE VALENTINE&apos;S DAY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113970279730887025</id><published>2006-02-11T17:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T18:06:37.373-06:00</updated><title type='text'>TO BUILD A FIRE</title><content type='html'>This morning I took the dog outside and there was a beautiful snowfall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard a bird in the distance, one that was very adamant about being heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could have sworn I also heard an owl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told myself I am going to get out camping more this year, and if there's no one that wants to go with me, it will just be me and the "boys."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This counting on a man to make my day (or is it night) makes for a lot of disappointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides, I can always take B.O.B.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can take care of myself; the dogs are great protection (at least great intimidation).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can build a fire and cook my dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just give me a bottle of premixed margaritas and I'm set.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's not so bad being by myself after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Valentine's Day is Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113970279730887025?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113970279730887025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113970279730887025' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113970279730887025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113970279730887025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/02/to-build-fire.html' title='TO BUILD A FIRE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113926192715526811</id><published>2006-02-06T15:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T16:54:39.126-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I REALLY NEED SOMETHING...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;There's nothing I want more than to be with him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes I can't stand it...my breathing becomes labored and my heart feels like it's going to beat right out of my chest.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;His arms hold me close to him, and I can feel his breathing, hear his heartbeat, and I'm lost in his embrace.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I feel his breath in my hair, hear him whisper those words I long to hear every day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;His strong hands lay me down and undress me, so sure of their purpose, exposing myself to him, and he sees my arousal.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;These same hands touch me, making me gasp and moan, just a slight touch on each nipple, yet it's his mouth I crave.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He teases with his mouth, his tongue, and I moan as he moves lower, knowing what he will give to me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The palms of his hands slide over my belly, then down each side just above my hips, and as he starts to hold them his mouth finds me, that center of me that has long been without attention, and as he brings me to him, I whisper his name...as he tastes me I whimper...as he licks I gasp...and when he sucks me in between his teeth, I surrender everything, everything that is already his.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Before I can make it back to this earth he releases me, and I open to him without thought...more in response to him, and he is so deep inside me, my soft wetness surrounding his velvet steel, holding him like a fist, even as he moves into me...then out of...again and again...as my legs wrap around him, my arms hold him to me, and his hands brush my hair back...his eyes never leaving mine. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Every stroke into me is punctuated with a moan, but from who? My whimpers join the beautiful sounds of our coupling, and as I release everything to him, so suddenly, almost violently, his moans seem to turn into a growl, and he is filling me with more than just his hardness...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There's nothing I want more....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113926192715526811?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113926192715526811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113926192715526811' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113926192715526811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113926192715526811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-really-need-something.html' title='I REALLY NEED SOMETHING...'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113883460809046154</id><published>2006-02-01T16:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T16:56:48.136-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I KNOW A BARGAIN WHEN I SEE ONE</title><content type='html'>Well, I finally did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally shelled out the money needed to buy something I've been wanting for a while, now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things can get so expensive, making it difficult to get what you need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's why I've been crabby lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I've offended anyone in my demeanor, I apologize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing now is, I'm not quite sure I bought the right one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think maybe next time, I'll just say what the hell....and buy the eight pack instead of the four pack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one may last me a month...if I'm lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I was lucky I wouldn't need the batteries at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113883460809046154?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113883460809046154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113883460809046154' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113883460809046154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113883460809046154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-know-bargain-when-i-see-one.html' title='I KNOW A BARGAIN WHEN I SEE ONE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113866591690449278</id><published>2006-01-30T17:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T18:07:40.290-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I WANT ONE</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Two bodies joined together&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deep&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So much hardness inside supple wetness&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Supple, yet suckling like a baby&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sweat on skin&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Arms holding as they slowly move&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No words&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just looking into one another&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Breathless&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deeper&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whimpers&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gasps&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tighter&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Moans&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Wetter&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He feels it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tighter&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She cums&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fuck she cums now&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Clasping&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He's closer&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Gripping him&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So close&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Her body &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;arches against him&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He has to now&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No stopping it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;NOW&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fuck he's lost in her again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113866591690449278?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113866591690449278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113866591690449278' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113866591690449278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113866591690449278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-want-one.html' title='I WANT ONE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113859292381361760</id><published>2006-01-29T21:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T21:48:44.066-06:00</updated><title type='text'>LEWIS</title><content type='html'>A good friend needs us. Please just go say hi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113859292381361760?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113859292381361760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113859292381361760' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113859292381361760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113859292381361760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/lewis.html' title='LEWIS'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113814275504395869</id><published>2006-01-24T16:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T16:47:50.700-06:00</updated><title type='text'>NOT AN APOLOGY</title><content type='html'>I won't apologize for anything on here..at least when it comes to something sexually explicit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're under 18, you need to leave. If you're a prude and at this moment thinking of writing me a nasty comment, you need to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I wrote before this is just how I'm feeling here today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to be the center of someone's very hard attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I want the neighbors to hear us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone help me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113814275504395869?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113814275504395869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113814275504395869' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113814275504395869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113814275504395869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/not-apology.html' title='NOT AN APOLOGY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113814219579951707</id><published>2006-01-24T15:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T16:59:32.526-06:00</updated><title type='text'>PLAYTHING</title><content type='html'>I like my toys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not as much as a warm body and a hard cock, but a good vibrator and fresh batteries can become your friend real quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the way I can tease myself and get off so easily, or just draw it out...slowly...almost cumming...then stopping myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I love the feel of a man inside me...more than anything, actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other toy that I like to keep close at hand is a black eight inch rubber dildo that my ex bought me when we went to the local adult bookstore several years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's thick enough...and stiff enough...and definately available whenever I want it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I need bad enough, I'll sit on the edge of the bed and slowly take it inside, and the feeling I get with being filled...&lt;em&gt;finally&lt;/em&gt;...is hard to describe. Any woman who enjoys a man knows what that feeeling is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I do this, I imagine it's someone I want...I need...&lt;em&gt;always&lt;/em&gt;. He lies beneath me as I straddle him, his cock buried deep inside me, touching me &lt;em&gt;there&lt;/em&gt;, making me squirm all over him as I whimper and moan, his hands holding my waist as I rock my body on him, never stopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he hears this, he thrusts up into me as hard as he can, and I cum...again...and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I can't imagaine anything but being filled, I lay a towel over a chair and sit on my rubber cock. The harder surface makes it stand straight up without moving, and if I just need to ride for a while, my eyes closed as my head is bent back, my body practically vibrating from the sheer joy and lust I feel, the moans I make part of my release.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now&lt;/em&gt; I can fuck myself, slowly and deeply, every orgasm making me want more, needing that constant current running through my hungry body, almost torturing myself with the need to have it. I have no way of stopping this...a craving that seems to take over everything, it seems to want to punish me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot get enough of my cum, and I just keep moving...riding it...cumming on it...over and over...until I'm nearly exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes...just once more...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113814219579951707?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113814219579951707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113814219579951707' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113814219579951707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113814219579951707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/plaything.html' title='PLAYTHING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113796148563543799</id><published>2006-01-22T14:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T14:24:45.670-06:00</updated><title type='text'>PERFECTION</title><content type='html'>I'm curious...what do you guys like in a woman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm talking looks, now, not that "she has to be sweet but sexy" bullshit that you like to say because you know it's what we like to hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amazing how guys who say that, still have the gorgeous babe on the arm, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The women can fess up, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you like in a guy, looks-wise?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, there are those of us who are just as shallow as some men, but I've also seen a &lt;em&gt;lot&lt;/em&gt; more not-so-gorgeous men with women than the other way around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C'mon, everyone, humor me...but you better be honest. Just for this one day...let's have a NO BULLSHIT rule, ok?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113796148563543799?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113796148563543799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113796148563543799' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113796148563543799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113796148563543799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/perfection.html' title='PERFECTION'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113794682079946136</id><published>2006-01-22T09:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T10:20:32.190-06:00</updated><title type='text'>ANOTHER BAD SUNDAY</title><content type='html'>I've never been married, so I don't know, cannot know, certain feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I do know what it's like to have a secret and what happens when it all comes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many times I sat here and wondered where the hell he was, what he was doing, and eventually got myself so worked up that I just &lt;em&gt;knew&lt;/em&gt; he was at home with the wife, doing his family thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, the wife he couldn't stand to be around, and who didn't like him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet when I called, hoping he picked up, it was amazing how things seemd so different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he did pick up, there was always an excuse of why he hadn't called in so long...why he was there (even though he also didn't like being there...you see, he liked being with &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did his best to be nice to me, trying to be quiet so she wouldn't hear, telling me he'd call soon, and that he had to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once he even called me from there, knowing I was waiting for him because we'd planned (sort of) on doing something together, and whispering that he couldn't make it...something had come up with the family...and how sorry he was and that he had to go.....and he hung up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The few times I would "fight back," it amazed me how upset he'd get. Probably the only times he'd show his true feelings to me (until recently).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, afterward, it was the same shit again. I was the one who just didn't understand how things were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I always forgave him. Some of you may think I deserved what I got. That I should have gotten rid of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I did. Maybe I should have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And anyone who is married, happily, or maybe unhappily, and wants to tell me what a bad person I am because I let myself get in all of this, don't bother. You obviously don't know what it's like, and I certainly don't need you to make me feel any worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that feeling of being dismissed, unworthy of someone because they have prior commitments, absolutely sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know how things are...how the world works...and I wouldn't really think well of a man who didn't take care of his business. Things happen and you get caught up in situations that you can't fix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what it's like to do something you wish you could do differently or not at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what it's like to hope someone will come around and realize everything they need is right in front of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that feeling still sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113794682079946136?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113794682079946136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113794682079946136' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113794682079946136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113794682079946136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/another-bad-sunday.html' title='ANOTHER BAD SUNDAY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113763743526371922</id><published>2006-01-18T19:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T20:27:33.550-06:00</updated><title type='text'>DARKER HOURS</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Chevy truck parked off along a farmer's field&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A chilly night, steam on the windows&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A coyote, looking for a meal, stops in his tracks when he hears a strange sound&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Another animal...something is hurt&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But he soon knows....it's human&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quickly he runs away from the direction of the truck, just as another cry is heard&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Two people...stealing a moment&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She astride him, moving slow&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Up&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Down&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So thick&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So fucking hard&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Buried deep&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She rides...moaning as he hits her core&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He groans as his hands hold her waist&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;His mouth on her...as if he's feeding&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tongue flicking...licking...mouth sucking&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;His right hand moves down between her legs...finding her clit&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;His left hand...slides back...holding her ass...pulling her&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She moans as he rubs..and he feels her pleasure tightening on his prick&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"PUSH," she tells him...and his thrust makes her cry out &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"MORE," she moans, and he pushes harder&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Oh fuck...fuck...fuckkkk," and he feels her beginning&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hands on her hips now as he strokes into her&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;One hand holding the back of the seat&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;One hand against the window&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I'm close," she whispers&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He groans as he feels it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Baby, I'm c-close," she stutters as he pushes up into her&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He seems to growl as he&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;moves faster&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Both of them...almost bouncing now&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She begins to whimper&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tighter&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Wetter&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;NOW&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She cums&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Yesssss," he hisses&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Her head back...body arched...gripping him&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She cums&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He is lost in her&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Giving her more of himself&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The coyote hears that sound again...farther away...but now there's two of them&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113763743526371922?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113763743526371922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113763743526371922' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113763743526371922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113763743526371922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/darker-hours.html' title='DARKER HOURS'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113735432179988694</id><published>2006-01-15T13:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-15T13:45:24.100-06:00</updated><title type='text'>LONELY SUNDAY</title><content type='html'>Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems to be happening again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe it's just been going on for a while, now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All by myself...and wanting badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a chance to be with someone Friday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the desire wasn't there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not for that person, I'm afraid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe if he'd been more...attentive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More...affectionate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes...I need to be spoiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not with money or gifts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to have that desire...to be enjoyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not grabbed...at least at first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it some guys think that grabbing your tits is some romantic notion that should make you want them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why don't they get the idea that the lighter touch, the softer kiss, will make you &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I communicate with whomever I'm with...so don't tell me I never say anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides, we women who are, shall we say, &lt;em&gt;seasoned&lt;/em&gt;, pretty much know how to suck a man's cock...how to start slow and make it feel oh so good (at least, most of us do).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why don't some men know that they should start light and slow?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, if you just need a quick fuck...that's different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's pretty obvious (at least &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; think so) when that's what you both want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess, until I find that someone, it's just B.O.B. and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me...he knows &lt;em&gt;exactly &lt;/em&gt;what to do....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113735432179988694?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113735432179988694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113735432179988694' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113735432179988694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113735432179988694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/lonely-sunday.html' title='LONELY SUNDAY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113728277445397290</id><published>2006-01-14T17:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-14T17:52:54.453-06:00</updated><title type='text'>BLADE IS BACK</title><content type='html'>It's about fucking time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Missed you around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glad you're ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glad you're back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So stop teasing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you knew that, didn't you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113728277445397290?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113728277445397290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113728277445397290' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113728277445397290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113728277445397290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/blade-is-back.html' title='BLADE IS BACK'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113728269113278219</id><published>2006-01-14T17:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-14T17:51:31.196-06:00</updated><title type='text'>TIME TO VOTE...SO BE RESPONSIBLE</title><content type='html'>Seeker is up for the BEST SEX BLOG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I certainly think he should win it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sexy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go to his site and he'll direct you on where to vote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C'mon...do something nice for someone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113728269113278219?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113728269113278219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113728269113278219' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113728269113278219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113728269113278219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/time-to-voteso-be-responsible.html' title='TIME TO VOTE...SO BE RESPONSIBLE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113704693101561720</id><published>2006-01-12T00:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T00:22:11.043-06:00</updated><title type='text'>THIS COULD GET INTERESTING...</title><content type='html'>Seamus is urging others to do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I thought, why not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113704693101561720?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113704693101561720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113704693101561720' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113704693101561720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113704693101561720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/this-could-get-interesting.html' title='THIS COULD GET INTERESTING...'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113642456639936778</id><published>2006-01-04T19:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T19:31:06.490-06:00</updated><title type='text'>ACTUALLY, I WAS REALLY THINKING ABOUT THIS..</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;You look up at me in the candlelight, hair in my face, my hands on your chest.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Straddling you, my legs spread to take you, buried so far into me it hurts.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your hands brush over my hard nipples, making me moan as I jump.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The look on your face...you felt that...and you loved it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your fingers caress my tits as your thumbs start to rub, and I tighten on your cock.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My body moves to your strokes, a perfect fuck rythm.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And now you have them between thumb and forefinger, gently twisting and pinching.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I look&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;down at your face...and you see it in mine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No more pain as you hit me deep center.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pure&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sexual&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Rapture.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fuck&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I need...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113642456639936778?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113642456639936778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113642456639936778' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113642456639936778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113642456639936778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/actually-i-was-really-thinking-about.html' title='ACTUALLY, I WAS REALLY THINKING ABOUT THIS..'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113642358097332557</id><published>2006-01-04T18:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T19:13:01.156-06:00</updated><title type='text'>THIS DIET ISN'T WORKING</title><content type='html'>If you haven't done so yet, you really should go to Seeker's blog and check him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latest post is quite something...I think a lot of guys won't want to admit it, but they'd like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for myself, I like a little...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dominance...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOT rape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rape has nothing to do with what I want and need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I'm with someone it's because we both want to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone should ever get the idea (someone once did) that I would want anything from him because of some crazy thought in his head (especially a stranger), he'll find he made a mistake (and he did).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoy the feel of a man's strong hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weight of his body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe even his hands holding me still...just a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His words...sometimes firm...telling me what he wants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who can bend me over the arm of my sofa, his hands rubbing and probing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe his tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, he'll know what I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I crave more than anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes he'll rub the head of his cock along my slit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teasing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoying my whimpers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then...a slight push.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I push back, he'll threaten to take it away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the while...strong hands on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hot breath in my ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pulls out completely...making me gasp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then back in...just a little more than the last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out again. Just to torture me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this time...I push back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He thrusts forward as if to push me away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he won't leave me until he's filled me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes he'll take what he wants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No touching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just thrusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grunting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A quiet sigh as he sinks into me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And maybe he'll pull me close and hold me against him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Short, deep strokes that make us both closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'll slow...almost stopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because he wants to hear me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I try to move back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'll finally take everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slamming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe a little whimper from him, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I grip him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clamping down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrapping around his cock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be taking him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113642358097332557?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113642358097332557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113642358097332557' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113642358097332557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113642358097332557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/this-diet-isnt-working.html' title='THIS DIET ISN&apos;T WORKING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113616354239776823</id><published>2006-01-01T18:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:59:02.426-06:00</updated><title type='text'>FEELS LIKE WE'VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOREVER</title><content type='html'>This year is already starting to look great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was lucky enough to get a call from Watcher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's as nice on the phone as on here, and she's planning on a road trip that will bring her by my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We plan on kicking back and getting a bit soused as we talk and laugh and maybe even cry a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really looking forward to it, girl!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buffalo may be taking a trip on his bike this Spring, writing about what he sees and who he meets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HE says he want to stop here, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so lucky that people want to be here with me for the sole purpose of wanting to know me better, to be a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also got a call from a certain someone, making me feel very special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, baby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113616354239776823?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113616354239776823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113616354239776823' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113616354239776823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113616354239776823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2006/01/feels-like-weve-known-each-other.html' title='FEELS LIKE WE&apos;VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOREVER'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113607676075184422</id><published>2005-12-31T18:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-31T18:52:40.780-06:00</updated><title type='text'>ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Happy New Year&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, everyone. I hope everyone has someone to be with tonight. And I hope if you do, they appreciate you. If not, maybe it's time for a New Year's resolution...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113607676075184422?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113607676075184422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113607676075184422' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113607676075184422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113607676075184422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/12/another-one-bites-dust.html' title='ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113589723793179713</id><published>2005-12-29T16:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T17:00:38.136-06:00</updated><title type='text'>IF IT FEELS GOOD THEN JUST DO IT</title><content type='html'>We used to play in some interesting spots whenever we got the chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several times in various parks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The front and the back of the other truck. I haven't "christened" my new one, yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once in the bathroom of my place of work; you could hear women in the changing rooms next door, so we had to be quiet. So while the boss was up front we were in front of the bathroom mirror, his cock pounding into me and I was cumming again and again, all the while trying to be quiet. It was one of the best fucks (that's what it was...a quick, hard fuck) I've ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once at a rest stop in the middle of the night in his car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, he wasn't the only one I'd ever been with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night I met up with someone I was "seeing." We took a drive and I ended up on the hood of my dad's Accord, my legs on this man's shoulders as he had me. I told my father that the dent in the hood was there for some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When that same someone brought me home late one night, one thing led to another and I straddled him behind the wheel of his truck, facing him as I rode him. He loved it when I did this, because I used more than just my legs to move on his cock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man that I really loved being with because he seemed to enjoy me, was all alone in a Caterpillar parking lot (I knew him before this). This was at a time when they were on strike for months, and he was on strike duty. He invited me to spend some time with him in his car (it was mid winter), and we ended up spending most of that time in the passenger seat with his cock buried inside me. I've never known anyone who could "recover" like he did. Plus the fact that he was so tender when it came to touching me, I loved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now some may think this makes me a slut..a whore or skank or whatever they call 'em. I'm no worse than a guy is. Having started doing such naughty things at a later age (not until I was 20),  I guess I'm trying to make up for lost time. The double standard that some have about whomever a woman fucks, she's a slut, but whomever a man fucks makes him cool, is garbage. I graduated high school several years ago, and I didn't enjoy it that much that I want to go back to that mentality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I doubt that anyone who visits here has that same pathetic idea. I think we're all pretty open minded. However, if you do feel the need to get on Maury and tell everyone how yo woman was doin' everyone, but yo wife AND yo girlfren' done&lt;br /&gt;knowed about it since yesserday...get lost, loser...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113589723793179713?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113589723793179713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113589723793179713' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113589723793179713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113589723793179713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/12/if-it-feels-good-then-just-do-it.html' title='IF IT FEELS GOOD THEN JUST DO IT'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113572221719810586</id><published>2005-12-27T16:03:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T20:13:54.963-06:00</updated><title type='text'>CONTROL</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Kneeling at his feet, she looks down at the ground as if in submission. Her long hair hung in her face, and when his hand gently pushes back a lock of auburn, she looks up at him, a tear slowly running down her cheek.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I'm sorry," she whispers, and now he feels that guilt trying to get through, but manages to stop it. His fingers touch beneath her chin, but she is already looking him in the eye, not quite defiant, but still proud enough not to look away. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She knows exactly what she's doing. No matter how firm he is with her, she always seems to break through. It doesn't help that she's dressed that way; his dress shirt, unbuttoned almost all the way down the front, full breasts that almost burst through the shirt, sleeves rolled up, long hair loose around her face and shoulders and down her back, so thick and soft, sometimes it makes him hard just to run his hands through it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;From the way she kneels in front of him, he can tell she has nothing on underneath.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He steps closer to her, offering his hand to her, and taking it in hers, she slowly stands, barely missing touching the bulge in his pants with her lips. She pretends not to notice the way he gasps as he watches her, and standing before him now, the shirt she wears opened a bit, just enough to show a little of each tit, a hint of each nipple, hard beneath the fabric.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just like his cock.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She looks up at him, another tear falling, and he wipes it away fron her cheek as he tells her to hush.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Ssshhhhhh," he says, and his thumb brushes over her lower lip, but before he can pull away she opens her mouth just so, taking his thumb inside between her teeth and sucks, never looking away, watching the way he looks at her for a moment, surprised...then hungry. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She continues to suck as she closes her eyes for a moment, and he can feel the low moan she makes on his thumb. He can't help but moan himself. He realizes she heard him, but it's too late to hide it, and she wears a slight smile as he pulls his hand away. She steps closer to him, her hands sliding up his chest as she presses against his body, her smile gone, lips slightly parted as she very slowly unbuttons his shirt, noticing how his breathing has become deeper, how his hands hold her waist tightly. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tenderly she caresses his skin with her lips, gentle kisses on his chest, and even though he groans at her touch, even though he's grown so hard he can barely breathe, he runs his fingers in her thick mane and pulls her head back just enough to make her gasp. She looks up at him in surprise, and when he sees that hurt in her eyes his grip softens, but he won't let her go. Suddenly he covers her mouth with his, a surprisingly tender kiss, and he's in control again.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ending the kiss, he can tell he's got her back by the way she tries to keep him, and looking into her eyes, his hand still in her hair, he tells her, "show me how sorry you are...get on your knees and suck my cock."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Without a word, she sinks to the floor... &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113572221719810586?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113572221719810586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113572221719810586' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113572221719810586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113572221719810586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/12/control.html' title='CONTROL'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113564414086902488</id><published>2005-12-26T18:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-26T18:42:20.950-06:00</updated><title type='text'>JUST ANOTHER SUNDAY....</title><content type='html'>Sunday is my least favorite day of the week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why, it just is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which made Christmas kind of sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be a lot better if there was someone here to spend it with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want presents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Affection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never known anyone who wanted to be with me &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who wanted to spend his holiday with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even after he moved in with me, he had plans with his kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That wouldn't have been so bad if I was invited along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that never happened, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be great to wake up with someone who &lt;em&gt;wants&lt;/em&gt; to be with &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt;, no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people take it for granted...don't know how lucky  they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shame on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a spoiler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take care of the one I'm with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've made breakfast in bed, given baths and massages (complete with candles, oil and a table), delivered lunch when he was too busy to stop working (once in a flimsy night gown), washed clothes til one in the morning, met him at his job and "hung out" just to be near him, picked him up when his car broke down and took care of him when he was sick (are all men such babies?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also called his son and managed to piss everyone off because he wouldn't go to the hospital and I had no choice and it turned out to be meningitis, stayed home during the holidays, weddings, and grandbabies being born, never got the phone calls that were promised when he went on his trips, nor was I ever told the seperation expired a long time ago, but I &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; told that I didn't ask, so that's why he never said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So next time, if someone is lucky enough,  I 'll do the baths and the massages (only after I'm sure he deserves it), the breakfasts in bed (and he'll be very lucky to &lt;em&gt;be&lt;/em&gt; in my bed), the dirty clothes and the nursing back to health, the hanging out together because I want to be with him, and he damn well better want me, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sex...sometimes sex that is so hot and intense, so carnal and full of lust, filled with moans and dirty words and thrusts of such power, that he will have to rest a while, and I'll walk a little differently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making love (he should know the difference), something two people do together that is very special to the both of them, filled with gentle touches and tender kisses, slow, languid strokes and words of affection and love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want bullshit anymore...no lies...no half-truths because I didn't ask the right questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like not trusting...it's caused problems between myself and others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can't help it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he'll have to be willing to prove to me I should...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113564414086902488?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113564414086902488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113564414086902488' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113564414086902488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113564414086902488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/12/just-another-sunday.html' title='JUST ANOTHER SUNDAY....'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113538455690133187</id><published>2005-12-23T18:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T18:35:57.256-06:00</updated><title type='text'>HO HO HO</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;MERRY CHRISTMAS everyone....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113538455690133187?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113538455690133187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113538455690133187' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113538455690133187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113538455690133187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/12/ho-ho-ho.html' title='HO HO HO'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113495102083099913</id><published>2005-12-18T17:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T19:44:40.946-06:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS</title><content type='html'>The Christmas season always makes me a little sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not like it has in years past, because I'm a lot happier than I have been for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, it's depressing seeing the families and couples together doing their holiday shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't forget the guy who is out alone (this always gets to me more than a woman alone...I guess it's because I know what they're shopping for) who is obviously looking for a gift for his significant other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only Christmas we ever spent together as a real couple was ruined by a fight the night before, foreshadowing the breakup that was coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We never did put up a tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just one time...to have someone next to me who doesn't have to leave later because of the wife he says he can't stand...a day of shopping together...wrapping presents...puting up a real tree and decorating it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That wonderful feeling of being tired because we had fun together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still finding the strength to make love in the only light there is, of that tree we just decorated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd love to have a fireplace here, with a nice fire, the sound of crackling wood, and the smell of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all of this all we'd really need is a thick blanket and some pillows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What started out as him laying me down on that blanket would eventually lead to me astride him, enjoying the feel of a man deep inside me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my mind I always see this...so much love and affection leading to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'll look up at me, his eyes half closed in that dreamy way he has when I am wrapped around him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His hands will touch me, but when what we feel together is that good, he'll hold my hips as I stroke him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll bring myself to orgasm many times, and when I do this he'll say things to me that will make it even better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how long I'll be able to do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe he'll cum inside me like this, holding onto me tightly and thrusting up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves to hear me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe he'll roll us over, plunging deep into me as he tells me he needs to cum inside me, looking into my eyes as he takes what is his, and my cum is stronger this time, because he feels so good inside me and I know he wants me...needs me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe he even loves me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He tells me he's ready, but there is no need to say it because I can feel it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he can feel me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After, when he's lain beside me for a while, his fingers on my skin, his kisses on my shoulder, my cheek and that one that tells me what I mean to him, on my lips, we'll drift off to sleep next to the tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it will snow outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe he loves me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is he wants to be with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now that's exactly what I need.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113495102083099913?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113495102083099913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113495102083099913' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113495102083099913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113495102083099913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/12/what-i-want-for-christmas.html' title='WHAT I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113391139947903441</id><published>2005-12-06T17:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T17:23:19.506-06:00</updated><title type='text'>CRAVINGS</title><content type='html'>I couldn't help it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing led to another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all it takes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get so wet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And soon it's past that point of no return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I lay on my bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I need a toy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But times like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I need...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And those thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when all I need is myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing else...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cum so hard...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So quickly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only someone else could feel it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113391139947903441?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113391139947903441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113391139947903441' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113391139947903441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113391139947903441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/12/cravings.html' title='CRAVINGS'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113362319079716325</id><published>2005-12-03T09:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-03T09:19:50.796-06:00</updated><title type='text'>BUFFALO</title><content type='html'>Seems Buffalo may FINALLY be getting ready to really write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I hope so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's so good at it, and I for one think he can be published.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So everyone go to him and tell him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all expect autographed copies, Buffalo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113362319079716325?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113362319079716325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113362319079716325' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113362319079716325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113362319079716325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/12/buffalo.html' title='BUFFALO'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113362304568972943</id><published>2005-12-03T09:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-03T09:17:25.690-06:00</updated><title type='text'>BADANDY</title><content type='html'>Seems another of our friends needs some comforting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Badandy could use a hug...a word of encouragement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's stubborn, and doesn't like to admit it when he needs it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he's a good friend, and we are good people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like Lewis, he'll be ok...it just feels good to know you have someone thinking of you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113362304568972943?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113362304568972943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113362304568972943' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113362304568972943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113362304568972943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/12/badandy.html' title='BADANDY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113362266542848579</id><published>2005-12-03T08:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-03T09:12:16.536-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"PERFECT FINISH"</title><content type='html'>Sex is a wonderful thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making love is better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a night (or day) of both, a beautiful gift you can give to one another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I truly enjoy is how a man reacts. Not just the orgasm, but the sounds and the looks, the way his breathing and his voice will change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the cumming, I don't think I have to point out to anyone here how that can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We women are very lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get wet almost immediately, and can cum several times before, during, and after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men, however, can only cum once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, they are the ones with the ability to take, to pretty much control most of everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, lucky for us, sometimes they seem so willing to be taken, sometimes even dominated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another gloreous aspect of all of this, is a man's cum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoy taking his cock in my mouth, using my tongue to taste and lick, my mouth to suck, until he can't stand it any longer, and he cums. Sometimes, most times, I will drink, because we both enjoy that. Other times he'll want to cum on my tits, and I will definately oblige him, telling him I want him to rub it into my skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like that. A lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the one thing I truly love, is the feeling of cum between my legs...afterwards, so wet from him. He may hold me while we may lay together and talk, and feeling that seeping out of me, making the bed beneath me wet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like that wet spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I lay on my side, I can feel his cum slowly running over one cheek of my ass; I just close my eyes and enjoy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I'll rise quietly for something to drink, and when I feel that trickle running down my leg, I smile to myself. If he's awake and hears that quiet moan of mine, he ask's me what that was for. He seems pleased when I tell him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeker says it perfectly. It's like "a little liquid finger in a final tease...a perfect finish.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's so right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113362266542848579?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113362266542848579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113362266542848579' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113362266542848579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113362266542848579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/12/perfect-finish.html' title='&quot;PERFECT FINISH&quot;'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113347344344731620</id><published>2005-12-01T15:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-01T15:44:03.493-06:00</updated><title type='text'>NEEDFUL THINGS</title><content type='html'>Lewis needs some good thoughts and prayers his way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's a sweet guy, always willing to help when he can, so , please, go tell him you're on his side, and thinking of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's done the same for anyone that needs it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113347344344731620?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113347344344731620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113347344344731620' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113347344344731620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113347344344731620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/12/needful-things.html' title='NEEDFUL THINGS'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113316289131344759</id><published>2005-11-28T01:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T01:28:11.316-06:00</updated><title type='text'>WANTED</title><content type='html'>WANTED:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man of many talents. Must be fun-loving, polite, good with his hands, and hungry.&lt;br /&gt;Must like animals, quiet nights at home, good conversation and know the difference between making love and fucking. Must be very talented in these, also. If you don't have a job, don't bother. If you &lt;em&gt;aren't&lt;/em&gt;: a romantic, affectionate, sensual, or smart enough to follow a decent conversation, again, don't bother. If you &lt;em&gt;are&lt;/em&gt;: mean, jealous, lazy, just an overall asshole, don't bother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you qualify, then &lt;em&gt;where the fuck are you&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113316289131344759?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113316289131344759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113316289131344759' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113316289131344759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113316289131344759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/11/wanted.html' title='WANTED'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113316233183212172</id><published>2005-11-28T01:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T01:18:51.833-06:00</updated><title type='text'>WELCOME</title><content type='html'>There's a new guy in town...and like a lot of the guys here he's very good at what he does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's at turbulentheart.blogspot.com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday maybe you can show me the fancy way to do this, Lewis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go read him. I will link him soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has his own style...mostly for the ladies, but that's ok&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We deserve it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113316233183212172?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113316233183212172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113316233183212172' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113316233183212172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113316233183212172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/11/welcome.html' title='WELCOME'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113307225828705106</id><published>2005-11-27T18:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-27T18:26:49.840-06:00</updated><title type='text'>DON'T BLAME ME...I CAN'T HELP MYSELF</title><content type='html'>Sometimes he needs me...and I do whatever I can to make him feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wrap my arms around him, a big man, one who sometimes let's his pride get in the way, always trying to do the right thing.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wake him from his restless sleep, and neither of us speak as his hands come up and touch my face. This is one way he tells me he needs me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I lean down to kiss him, intending to be tender, almost chaste, but he holds my head to him and the kiss becomes more.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Still no words as he pulls me back so that he can look into my eyes, his thumb rubbing my lip, then his hands slide over my skin, down my back and holding my hips, pulling me. This is one way he tells me he wants me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I climb up, one leg over, and sit...the length of him invading me, deep and hard, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;and as I moan and jump, his hands grip my waist as he thrusts up, and our coupling is once again almost complete.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Still no words as I stroke his cock with my cunt, my head back, body arched, his hands guiding my slow, steady fuck of him...I wanted to comfort him but he's made me feel....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;so...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;good...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I ride him faster...so close...wanting him...his hands pulling me down to kiss me...I whisper "baby" before his mouth covers mine and I am cumming...his mouth over mine as I moan...my cunt spasming as he thrusts up and into me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I feel his moans against my lips and he releases me, allowing me to sit up and take more from him, my pussy clamping and sucking. Soon we move perfectly together, and looking down at his face, the way he looks up at me, I realize I &lt;/em&gt;AM&lt;em&gt; comforting him, and I can feel him growing even harder, deeper...his arms holding me on him as he rolls us over, me on my back...and my legs wrap around him as he takes over.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thrusting...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hard...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fast...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He takes that spot....fuck it hurts but I want more...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now I'm lost...completely...and he follows me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fuck, baby....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113307225828705106?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113307225828705106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113307225828705106' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113307225828705106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113307225828705106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/11/dont-blame-mei-cant-help-myself.html' title='DON&apos;T BLAME ME...I CAN&apos;T HELP MYSELF'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113288044868312472</id><published>2005-11-24T18:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-24T19:00:48.750-06:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY THANKSGIVING</title><content type='html'>I wonder where everyone is today. Hopefully all of you have families and friends and someone special to spend today with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's someone I'd love to spend today with. But, of course, &lt;em&gt;that's&lt;/em&gt; not happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about him all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I don't enjoy it, but I'd prefer not to think of someone I want so much that I can't have here with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm greedy that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd love for him to know this...that certain thoughts of him bring on more certain thoughts of him...and of &lt;em&gt;us.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So do all you guys like being thought of in that way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not talking of some stranger's lustful desires.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean someone you know and are attracted to....someone that would do just about anything to be with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who would do anything you'd ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what, guys...we like that, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what else?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The touching. Very, very important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By touching I don't mean grabbing a tit and making a sound or saying something that tells us how great they are and how much you like them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We know that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I for one am very happy with the attention I get with mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there's a lot more to me than those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you really want to touch and suck and squeeze those two puppies, you better really know how to use your hands on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are other parts of you that can touch parts of me and make me give up everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just being next to me, side by side, your thigh or arm or hand touching mine. It feels good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warm breath on my neck, in my ear, the sound of your voice (that's a form of touch, I believe), your lips against my skin. The lighter the touch the more I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't have to squeeze or press down or pinch...just brush...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, there's &lt;em&gt;the&lt;/em&gt; touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ex was very good at that. He could take me between two fingers and have me squirming and moaning and cumming for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's the fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man's cock buried deep, hard and very anxious to take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fucking is great, necessary at times, but the making love is also necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right at this moment, though, I'd take either. Both would be even better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No need to ask you guys if that's something you enjoy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113288044868312472?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113288044868312472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113288044868312472' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113288044868312472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113288044868312472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/11/happy-thanksgiving.html' title='HAPPY THANKSGIVING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113227455227508357</id><published>2005-11-17T18:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-17T18:42:32.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>YOU MUST READ THIS MAN</title><content type='html'>Oh my God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies, Seeker is a must read. I should have told you before, but I didn't want to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BH knows how good he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could certainly stand to have someone here like him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The things I could be doing with a man like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go read..he'll make you so wet...and hot...and very hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't say I didn't warn you...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113227455227508357?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113227455227508357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113227455227508357' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113227455227508357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113227455227508357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/11/you-must-read-this-man.html' title='YOU MUST READ THIS MAN'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113149139553376248</id><published>2005-11-08T17:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-08T17:09:55.533-06:00</updated><title type='text'>FOR BH</title><content type='html'>I took the word verification off. It's getting tedious and BH made a very good point (a funny one, too. Thanks, girl. It was just the way you said it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I don't have any more of those unwanted visitors (this sounds like a feminine commercial, now. Or maybe a pest control one.).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113149139553376248?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113149139553376248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113149139553376248' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113149139553376248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113149139553376248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/11/for-bh.html' title='FOR BH'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113080473144769427</id><published>2005-10-31T17:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T18:25:31.493-06:00</updated><title type='text'>MORE REGRET...AGAIN</title><content type='html'>Well, I decided at the last minute I was going to give out candy for Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lit a lantern that holds a candle and sat outside with my pup, who was lucky to be wearing the scarf I found for him with pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns all over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was drizzling, but parents still brought their kids out, so I was able to hand out some Kit Kat bars, and play-doh to the smaller ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was fun to do something I hadn't done in years. The reason I hadn't was because I'd get depressed; watching little kids with their parents, knowing I wouldn't be a mother myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ex already had his quota...and he was fixed. So I told myself that was that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I got that feeling again tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll never have a child. I'm not one to go out and get pregnant just because I want to. I'm picky. If I couldn't have one with the man I loved, then I wouldn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I thought I'd at least &lt;em&gt;be&lt;/em&gt; with the man I loved. But that backfired I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't even allowed to be step-mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People think I don't like children. I have to admit, sometimes I don't tolerate people and they way they treat their kids, or the way they &lt;em&gt;haven't&lt;/em&gt; taught them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose it's a good thing I never had a baby. All the things in the world to worry about, &lt;em&gt;besides&lt;/em&gt; diseases and terminal illnesses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if I fucked up and my kid hated me...or hated him or herself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched a little girl as she came up to me, more enthralled with the dog than anything I had. She was cute in her fairy princess costume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched the parents with her, and wondered...what that must be like. They obviously adored her. She was so happy at that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is that like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate these feelings of melancholy and regret. With my family history, I'm glad I don't have to put a kid through that. In the dictionary, there should be a picture of me and my family next to &lt;em&gt;dysfunctional&lt;/em&gt;. Maybe another picture by the word &lt;em&gt;doomed&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I do wonder...what it's like...to give life to something, nurture it and hope you do the right thing. I envy anyone who has this. Who has a normal family. Someone to go home to. Take care of, and who will take care of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I was going to have at least a little of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry if I'm feeling sorry for myself. It's the weather...among other things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise I won't do this again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113080473144769427?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113080473144769427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113080473144769427' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113080473144769427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113080473144769427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/10/more-regretagain.html' title='MORE REGRET...AGAIN'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113065082179691558</id><published>2005-10-30T07:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-10-30T07:52:44.726-06:00</updated><title type='text'>EVEN BETTER</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;...his lips find hers as he pulls her closer to the counter's edge, so close she feels the heat from his cock next to her mound. His hands slide behind her back and he pulls her up against him, slowly moving his hips and rubbing his hardness against her. As he brushes across her swollen lips, she gasps, and he ends their kiss abruptly, his mouth now next to her ear as she whimpers. The feel of his breath there as his whispers something to her makes her moan, his hands grip her ass tightly as he moves ever so slightly, and in one smooth movement he's pulling her towards him again as he enters her, pulling her onto his cock as he pushes deeper into her velvety tightness, swollen from his taking of her earlier, again and again over the past two days, all the way to the back of her, touching her sex, hitting it full force, so sensitive she is cumming on him as he holds her against him, not moving, enjoying the way she is with him, the way she jumps and clamps down on his invading prick, welcoming the pain that he knows she feels just before it becomes pure pleasure.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As he looks down at her, it's difficult for him to keep control when she reacts like this. His moans match hers now as he slowly pulls back along the length of his cock, her sucking pussy eating him alive, almost completely free of her, but he won't allow that, not like this, and it takes everything he has to continue this slow fuck while she explodes on him, pushing forward, deep again, bracing herself on the counter as she takes everything from him. Her eyes half closed, looking like she is drugged, she trembles as he pulls back again, so achingly slow she cries out in frustration, begging him to stop teasing her, to just fuck her. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Is that what you want?" he seems to hiss as he nearly stops moving altogether. Her eyes grow wider and she cries out. Suddenly he does stop, so deep into her again, his hands come up to hold her face, a slight trembling in them, and smiles at her expression, one of surprise and lust, and anger. He touches her face, his fingers on her cheek, over her pouting lips, and kisses her, tenderly, seeming to calm her down. After this gentle kiss, he once again whispers in her ear, something that makes her moan and whimper, and he finally has her, fast and hard and deep. He feels her surrender to him again, and this time she screams as he pounds her, no holding back, no slow strokes, only the hard, fast fuck they both crave. He is taking her now, so close inside her, so hard yet so ready to fill her with something besides his cock. Her pussy is so wet they can hear it, and when she cries out his name as another wave hits her, he loses what control he has, suddenly emptying into her cunt, cumming almost violently, every thrust punctuated by a moan, his head thrown back as he holds her to him...thrusting. in. out. hard. harder. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No mercy....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113065082179691558?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113065082179691558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113065082179691558' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113065082179691558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113065082179691558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/10/even-better.html' title='EVEN BETTER'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113036711956096347</id><published>2005-10-26T16:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-26T17:54:51.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>GOOD MORNING</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;She watches as he shaves around his beard, a goatee, actually, that she loves on him. It takes him a moment to realize she's in the doorway, and seeing her in the mirror, he stops moving and smiles at her reflection. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She stands there, his dress shirt big on her, open in the front, the swell of her breasts making a very nice impression, the sudden patch of dark below, just barely seen, but he'd more than just seen it these last few days. This place he knows very well.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He watches as she walks up next to him, turns, placing her hands on the counter, and pulls herself up on top of it, her leg next to his. As she leans over and kisses him on his upper arm, he finishes part of his morning routine, washing his face over the sink. She hands him a towel and as he dries his face, she tugs him by the waist, opening her legs so he can stand between them.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She looks up at him lovingly, longingly, as his hands play with the seams on the shirt she barely wears. He gently pushes either side back, just above her full breasts, sending a shock through her, not an unpleasant one, and he bends down to kiss her tenderly on her breastbone. She can feel his lips on her skin when he asks her, "again?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She bites her lip as both of his brush across her throat and onto her shoulder; her whispered "yesss" is all he needs.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;His big hands grip each thigh as he pulls her closer to the counter's edge, his mouth once again at her throat. Her hands pull at the towel he wears around his waist, and she sees what this has done to him already. Not quite hard yet, but thick, she can't stop the sudden moan she makes when she sees this....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113036711956096347?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113036711956096347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113036711956096347' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113036711956096347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113036711956096347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/10/good-morning.html' title='GOOD MORNING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-113036421318866452</id><published>2005-10-26T16:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-26T17:03:33.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I BELIEVE I HAVE A RESERVATION HERE...</title><content type='html'>I wanted to thank everyone for wondering where I was. It's nice when people think of you; I consider all of you my friends, and I'm sorry I was away for so long. It just got busy here, but everything is cool. DB...thank you for asking....I hope you're ok down there. Please stay safe. Life is GOOD!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-113036421318866452?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/113036421318866452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=113036421318866452' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113036421318866452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/113036421318866452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/10/i-believe-i-have-reservation-here.html' title='I BELIEVE I HAVE A RESERVATION HERE...'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112829125144392071</id><published>2005-10-02T16:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-03T18:01:51.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'M FEELING VERY NAUGHTY TODAY</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;It was a surprise, of course...being pushed over that table, but having not had any sustenance in quite awhile, it caused the desired affect.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was wet. Very wet.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I felt his hands sliding up my legs, up my thighs, underneath my short skirt. Bracing myself over the pool table, I dropped the stick I was using, sending balls everywhere. Even though we were the only two in the back pool room, the front of the bar was full of people. Between the two rooms was a small hallway with access to the bathrooms. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So far, no one saw.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;His hands under my skirt on my waist, he suddenly pulls me back against him, pressing up against me with a hard cock, making me gasp at the feel of something so big. I felt his breath on my cheek, and his mouth on my ear as he whispered to me, "I want this.." as his fingers slid under my panties, down between my legs, and over my hard clit. I cry out and he starts to rub me, his other hand under my blouse and moving up to hold my full, rounded breast. His fingers take my nipple between them and gently squeeze. I moan and he whispers for me to be quiet.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Others will hear...and I'll have to let them have some, too."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I look over at the doorway . Strangely enough, no one seems to notice what's happening. His hand is starting to move, rubbing my hard clit, and I can't help but jerk back against him as I feel my body respond the way it always does, and a lot quicker than usual.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I cum. My moan is muffled by his other hand over my mouth. My body bucks against his as my orgasm reaches it's peak, and when I nearly scream into the palm of his hand, I hear him groan.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Fuck yes....my little cunt...take my cock out...."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I fumble to unbuckle his belt, but the aftershocks make it hard to do anything, and I can't seem to do it fast enough. He takes his hand away from my mouth and I catch my breath as I feel him moving behind me. His wet fingers between my legs move to hold my waist, and I cry out, but he tells me to be patient.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;All of a sudden I feel my panties being pulled to the side, and he pushes against me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I feel him, so hard against my wet slit, so wet he could take it very easily. I can feel how big he is, and I gasp as he thrusts forward, entering my swollen pussy, pushing into me hard and fast, making me take the force of him over that pool table, my hands on &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;the green felt, holding myself against his thrusts, every one bringing me closer to another intense cum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;His hands hold my waist now, and as he pushes into me I hear him moan. My cunt tightens up on his hard prick, and he starts to pull me towards him as he pumps me. His cock hits the back of my cunt, and when I jump from the pain, he seems to get closer to what he needs.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Suddenly he breaks his rythm, slowing down his strokes. I start to protest, but he shhh's me and tells me..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"We have an audience..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bent over this table while a man fuck's me, I glance over and see a couple of men standing in the doorway, watching everything. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's all I need to set me off.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I feel it building fast, and when I look over at two men who both have hard dicks in their hands, stroking as he fucks me, I can't stop anything anymore. This time there is no hand over my mouth when I scream, and I don't care. I demand that he fuck me faster, harder, and I lay down across the table, my back arched so that he can get deeper.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;He does....and so do they..... &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112829125144392071?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112829125144392071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112829125144392071' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112829125144392071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112829125144392071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/10/im-feeling-very-naughty-today.html' title='I&apos;M FEELING VERY NAUGHTY TODAY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112803417727914502</id><published>2005-09-29T15:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-29T17:49:37.303-05:00</updated><title type='text'>UH OH</title><content type='html'>It's gettin' to be a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somethin' I can't prevent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Sorry, my southern got out for a moment.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who knows me knows what I'm feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who's here for the very first time and &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; is the first post you read, don't let it scare you off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please stay and start at the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just have to get it out sometime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need it very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to feel a man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to feel his weight on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to hear him moan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need him to speak my name with much affection and a little bit of awe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want him to take me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make love to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Touch me constantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eat me alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want him to tell me how much he loves my cunt wrapped around his cock as he takes his time fucking me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want him to feel me cum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want him to cum so hard inside me that he nearly passes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want him to time it the way he likes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I want it to take him by surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to fuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112803417727914502?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112803417727914502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112803417727914502' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112803417727914502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112803417727914502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/uh-oh.html' title='UH OH'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112795902433965123</id><published>2005-09-28T20:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-28T22:18:37.126-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A DAY AT THE OFFICE</title><content type='html'>&lt;/em&gt;At one time or another we've all had an instance where you see that look on someone's face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprise...then joy...the joy of seeing you walk towards them when they least expected it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was once the one who was surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone once told me how I lit up when he came towards me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be the one to do that to someone else....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He looks at her as she sits back against his desk, so close to him. The skirt she wears allows only so much room for her legs to spread, and he can't stop looking at the way the necklace she wears moves with the rise and fall of her breasts. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Hey you.." she says quietly, and as he looks up at her, she steps closer to him. Before he can open his legs to her, she steps on either side of his knees, his hands barely brushing against her skin. His fingers run just underneath the hem of her skirt, and slowly start to push it up over her thighs. She moves closer to him, and as the skirt goes up she asks if anyone else is in the building.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As he says no she unzips his jeans.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As his hands go farther, she groans and holds him in her hand once again. His moan tells her how much he loves her touch.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As his hands discover she wears nothing on underneath, she feels his cock twitch in her hand...and grows even harder. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;As his thumb finds her clit, he relishes the look on her face when he starts to rub...the way she seems surprised, the way her beautiful mouth opens a little as she closes her eyes and lets out a low moan. She releases her hold on him, but his cock is so hard it stands on it's own. He can feel her against it as she moves against his thumb, trying to make him move on her faster. Her wetness makes him impatient, and he suddenly holds onto her waist as he pulls her down on his cock, impaling her .&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;THIS is the look he loves to see on her.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Complete surprise...lust...hunger...need...surrender...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And he feels it...from her cunt to his cock. The way she grips him...the way she sucks him. Just as she did the night before. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;With her skirt high upon her thighs, she starts to ride him. Slow and deliberate she fucks him; he watches her face enjoying him this way, but his body is already threatening to lose the control he is so proud of having. His hands slide back and grab her ass, pulling her onto him hard, and when she jumps and cries out, clamping down on him, he nearly explodes into her. He tells her to slow down, and she looks at him as she very slowly strokes him with her wet pussy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Up slowly, almost to the tip, her cunt muscles grabbing and holding as he slides out....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112795902433965123?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112795902433965123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112795902433965123' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112795902433965123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112795902433965123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/day-at-office.html' title='A DAY AT THE OFFICE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112761030753450116</id><published>2005-09-24T19:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-24T22:59:30.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THANKFUL</title><content type='html'>After all these huricanes our tornados don't look so bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just thankful my friends haven't been hurt in any of these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I consider all of you my friends...so when I say I worry, at the risk of sounding like a mother or a wife (that'll be the day), I &lt;em&gt;mean&lt;/em&gt; it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if anyone gives you a hard time about what you're feeling and doing to survive this ordeal, tell them to do their own thing, then see how they like being alone in all of this. That's an even worse feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone handles it their own way. Andrew could have used a little more support; just remember, baby, I'd stand by you all the way. But you knew that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buffalo was in some bad storms, but you know him by now...the tough guy with a soft heart (don't deny it, Buffalo...we've already seen that side of you). I'm sure he could have used some company during all of that. Maybe he wasn't as scared, but still, it would have been nice to have someone to talk to. I would have loved talking to you if you'd wanted to call. I'm just sorry I didn't think to call you first. I didn't realize about the storm til after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd stand by you, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope DB made it through and it looks like Watcher did, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just remember guys, through your lives and through here you have people that look forward to knowing you, knowing what you're up to and dreaming about you and wanting more, not to mention the fact that they care about what happens to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so glad you're all safe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112761030753450116?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112761030753450116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112761030753450116' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112761030753450116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112761030753450116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/thankful.html' title='THANKFUL'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112682754256028696</id><published>2005-09-15T18:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-15T22:13:39.243-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SERVE ME</title><content type='html'>Lately, I've found I have a certain attraction to men in uniform.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not just any uniform.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Policemen, firemen, and military.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason, especially the policemen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I read something by Blade, I try to imagine what he looks like. I know he doesn't wear a shiny blue jumper, nor does he run around barefoot. (If you're curious, go check him out)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From there he links his friend, Jack, who writes fantastic stuff about his experiences on the force.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I try to imagine him, also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw that policeman again the other day. The nice one. Who is also quite handsome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed he has big hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to imagine what he does with those big hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I try to imagine what a man of authority can get away with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what if I knew a man like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Handsome. Big hands. An authority figure. Someone who could bend the rules a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone who would want me so bad at that moment that he would take the chance that he may be needed elsewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he is with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The neighbors would wonder what was wrong. A police car in front of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They would keep watch until the car was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A policeman went into her house again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wonder what happened."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe someone tried to break in or something."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something &lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt; happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seduced him. Or maybe he seduced me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't really matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because the officer who stopped me for speeding one night loves how I look up at him when I'm on my knees and sucking his cock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves how I make him feel when I touch him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves how I spread my legs for him so that he can push into me and fuck me until he cums.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He especially loves how I sit on his cock, looking down at him as I take him so deep I almost scream, his hands on my hips guiding my body, or sometimes on my full tits, squeezing and rubbing, making the nipples as hard as he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards he'll be in a hurry to leave and I just might get a kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More often than not, he'll forget the kiss and tell me he'll call soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More often than not he's married...has kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More often than not there will be something about me that won't let him leave me alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it won't matter to me. He's nice to me, likes what I do for him, and makes me feel good when &lt;em&gt;I &lt;/em&gt;need to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe one night I'll find him and give myself to him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll fuck him while his radio is on, while he answers someone's question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'll tell me not yet...but I'll feel him grow...he'll tell me we should stop...someone will be by soon if he doesn't answer...and I'll feel him grow harder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'll make that sound he makes when he's past that point of I-don't-care...and I'll slow my strokes just to hear him groan...holding onto me tightly...looking me in the eye as if I've done something naughty...made him do something naughty...and he loves it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll make him cum like I always make him cum...better than his wife does...better than the last time. And he'll already be planning the next time he has me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, I'll be the one with the authority...won't I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112682754256028696?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112682754256028696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112682754256028696' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112682754256028696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112682754256028696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/serve-me.html' title='SERVE ME'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112657242954427431</id><published>2005-09-12T19:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-12T19:47:09.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'M STILL WAITING</title><content type='html'>I was thinking of a certain someone last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I could think of was how I wanted to fuck him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes life is terribly cruel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You want someone so bad it makes you crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's getting to be that way again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so &lt;em&gt;hungry.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck, fuck, fuck...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112657242954427431?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112657242954427431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112657242954427431' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112657242954427431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112657242954427431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/im-still-waiting.html' title='I&apos;M STILL WAITING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112632973267586580</id><published>2005-09-09T23:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-10T00:22:12.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'>NO MORE...I PROMISE</title><content type='html'>This is going to be an actual bitch rant, so if you don't like it...keep going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to say this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of things happening to me, whether they be good or bad, and no one's here to hear about it when I come in the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of bills that sometimes pile up and there's no one here to help me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of being the only one that does the laundry, the dishes, feeds the animals and takes care of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of hearing a nice rain or thunderstorm outside and the only one to enjoy it with me is a cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of being sick enough to stay home and there's no one to take care of me...all I need is a glass of water, a hug and to be checked on .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of holidays and birthdays and weddings and babies being born...and never being included.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of going to bed alone, sleeping without a man next to me, and waking up alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You damn fool...you never really wanted me until I was gone. Now you play these little guilt trips, making me feel like I'm doing something wrong. You don't remember how many times you left me to go home and "take care of something there," "it's still my house," "she doesn't want me anymore....I haven't slept with her in years," "I don't know what I want," "it's not the kind of love you want."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You fuck...telling me how much you love me and gave up everything for me and funny, she didn't feel the same way you said she did...you hurt her, too. You still love me, but your kids tell you what you should do...you know, the ones that only call when they want something from you, yet play the same guilt trip on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You fucking threaten me...to hurt yourself...subtle little hints about how much better off everyone would be if you just parked the car on the tracks or stepped off that bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men wonder what the fuck women are thinking when they do some of the shit they do...&lt;em&gt;they remember&lt;/em&gt;...just like you guys do, because it's happened to you, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just need to stop taking it out on the next nice person we find. It's like a fucking cycle...break it.  'Cause personally, I'm getting sick of all of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the last time I'll ever talk about this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112632973267586580?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112632973267586580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112632973267586580' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112632973267586580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112632973267586580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/no-morei-promise.html' title='NO MORE...I PROMISE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112624115995443520</id><published>2005-09-08T23:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-08T23:45:59.963-05:00</updated><title type='text'>OLDER..WISER...OR BOTH?</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I miss being twelve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that mattered to me at that age were horses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lived, breathed, ate and slept horses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I went to my grandmother's house, she spoiled me terribly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad wasn't as sick as he is now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was getting an idea about boys and what some of the fuss was about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But only enough to make me happy that there were better things in the world...like horses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing up I was awkward and insecure (yes, even worse than I am now) and I envied all the popular girls in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a virgin until my twentieth year, but believe me when I say it wasn't anything special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have waited until I was older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I would have learned a little more and not been so naive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learned to ask questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learned to speak up for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learned to not put up with so much just to get some affection.&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder how my life would have turned out differently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;**&lt;/span&gt; Not to be confused with &lt;em&gt;fucking&lt;/em&gt;...two &lt;em&gt;different&lt;/em&gt; things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112624115995443520?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112624115995443520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112624115995443520' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112624115995443520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112624115995443520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/olderwiseror-both.html' title='OLDER..WISER...OR BOTH?'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112614634894066317</id><published>2005-09-07T21:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T21:25:48.946-05:00</updated><title type='text'>BIRTHDAY BOY TOO</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow is Outdrlvr's birthday...he'll be a whopping 34 (sorry, you're younger, so I am allowed to do that).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope your birthday is a good one, honey....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112614634894066317?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112614634894066317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112614634894066317' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112614634894066317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112614634894066317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/birthday-boy-too.html' title='BIRTHDAY BOY TOO'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112594466889636712</id><published>2005-09-05T12:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-05T13:27:58.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MONDAY MORNING</title><content type='html'>A beautiful day out...birds singing and a nice breeze blowing through the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, I'm alone...and I'm hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stretch...long and languid...thinking of someone already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This isn't the usual feeling I get when I'm craving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I touch...my hands and fingers on my hard nipples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A low moan...and I slide my hands down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No waiting...no teasing....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm starving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slip between my legs...and my finger finds that spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm already very, very wet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rub, slow at first, and the feeling I get is almost unbearable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moan and arch my body as I do to my clit what a man would be doing with his fingers...and his tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ready to let go, I could cum almost immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm craving something more this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slow my hand as I reach with the other one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My other toy...long and stiff...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I open the drawer that has become my own little toy box, and find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least eight inches..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slide it between my lips, making it wet, teasing myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want so much now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once more, the length of it along my clit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spread my legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Accept it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Completely...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deeeep....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gasp...close my eyes...and with another hard thrust...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stroke my cunt now...fucking me...taking all of it...and wanting it to be him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want this to be his cock...his thrusts...his hardness...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want his weight on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want him fucking me hard...fast...deep...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I move faster...fuck I need this so much...each stroke...bringing me closer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I whisper to him...telling him how good he feels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pushes deeper...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thrust up on him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deeper....he hits that spot...my sex...and I explode...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't stop moving I can't stop pumping and I keep cumming and cumming...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So strong...so good...I cry out as I release more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stroke it more...fuck I can't stop...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;em&gt;won't&lt;/em&gt; stop...until I can't do it anymore...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look up and see no one above me...just the ceiling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stop moving, feeling my pussy still grabbing...sucking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If he only knew what I have for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My breathing...heavy...beads of sweat on my brow, between my breasts, on my belly...the sheets are wet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cum between my legs...but only my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I hate these mornings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112594466889636712?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112594466889636712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112594466889636712' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112594466889636712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112594466889636712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/monday-morning.html' title='MONDAY MORNING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112594172587685962</id><published>2005-09-05T12:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-05T12:35:25.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LINKS</title><content type='html'>I don't want the Seeker or Angry Android to think I'm not going to link them...I tried, and the look of their names was totally different from what's on here now. I will have to ask the genious that is Lewis to help me once again..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112594172587685962?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112594172587685962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112594172587685962' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112594172587685962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112594172587685962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/links.html' title='LINKS'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112586501497234366</id><published>2005-09-04T14:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-05T10:45:42.730-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SOMETHING MORE</title><content type='html'>While reading some of my older posts, I've discovered that at times I may seem to be a bit whiney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never wanted to be that way, and to those who also noticed, I apologize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blogged to help in my quest for understanding and closure, and maybe to tantalize some of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never wanted pity. I &lt;em&gt;hate&lt;/em&gt; pity. I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; want understanding, and it seems I've found it here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that I am very grateful. It helps me, more than I thought it would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may be fucked up a little, but I'm still a good person, and well worth knowing (a little pep talk there..).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am afraid that some will think I'm not worth the risk. I don't want to scare off anyone. Everyone has had bad times, some more than others, most more than they ever deserve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may be a little selfish sometimes, especially when it comes to sex...I like what I like and I want it when I can get it. I try to be more giving (and I can be &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; giving), but please don't blame me if I love the feeling I get from being the receiver a lot more often than the giver. Isn't it supposed to make you men feel good to know you can do that to a woman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can be stubborn about things; if I know I'm right and you know you're right, we can debate about it all you want. Instead I'd prefer to admit we're both right. I hate arguing, and I hate yelling even more. Besides, it's more fun to be giving &lt;em&gt;and &lt;/em&gt;receiving...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I do things that may make you shake your head. I love my animals and that is something I will never give up. If you can't stand the thought of me taking in a stray, either get used to it or leave. It may seem foolish, but I've also been known to take one in to be destroyed because even &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; know when it's a hopeless cause, and I would appreciate a hug after doing something like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do admit, at the risk of sounding like the whiney ass I feel like at times, that a lot of the time I don't feel as smart as a lot of people around me. Going to school and getting a degree helped me realize I was better than I thought I could be, but still, I admire someone who is intelligent. So don't let me feel stupid...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Badandy said in one of his comments, that the man who falls for me will be very lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's not vanity talking. It's truth. I will be the best thing that's ever happened to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be loyal to him, not afraid to tell him how I feel. I will have to call him sometimes just to tell him I love him. I'll spoil him terribly....baths and massages...breakfast in bed...I'll cook for him, and if I should screw it up (sometimes I just do....), he'll be understanding and we'll start over together or go out. He'll give me time alone with a good book (which would be a great way to spend time in bed together...him asleep and me reading...always touching him somehow...even if it's just snuggled up against him) or my friends, and I will worry that he makes it home safe when he's out with his friends. His coming home will be something he looks forward to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He'll talk to me about anything and everything, and when he's upset I'll leave him be for a while if he wants me to, I'll hold him when he needs me to, and if he needs to cry I'll be there and cry with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we love, he will do things to me that I will cherish...things that will make me smile when I think of them, and things that will make me moan and scream and cum for him and on him. Sometimes he'll wake me with his fingers or his mouth or his cock, and sometimes I'll wake him....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he's inside me and he's looking into my eyes, he'll see what I feel for him, and he'll feel it as my body reacts to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we'll just want each other, no asking, no foreplay, very little tenderness, just a passion so strong you have to take what you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be so nice to have someone here, just knowing they were in the other room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I showered this morning, so I'm clean and my hair is shiny and soft. It's warm outside, but the fan in the other room makes a nice breeze. We could spread a blanket on the floor, a nice quilt on top of that, and I could spread for you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate being wet and alone...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112586501497234366?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112586501497234366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112586501497234366' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112586501497234366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112586501497234366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/something-more.html' title='SOMETHING MORE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112579647047558780</id><published>2005-09-03T20:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-03T20:14:30.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A HARD MAN IS GOOD TO FIND</title><content type='html'>The men who come here are very talented writers. I'm jealous. They say things better than I can. But, I love what they say....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep it up, boys....I know I'm not the only woman that gets wet reading you....and I'd be happy to give you my address...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112579647047558780?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112579647047558780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112579647047558780' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112579647047558780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112579647047558780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/hard-man-is-good-to-find.html' title='A HARD MAN IS GOOD TO FIND'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112570182812104279</id><published>2005-09-02T17:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-02T17:57:08.126-05:00</updated><title type='text'>BIRTHDAY BOY</title><content type='html'>To day is Badandy's birthday....happy birthday, sweetie....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112570182812104279?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112570182812104279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112570182812104279' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112570182812104279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112570182812104279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/birthday-boy.html' title='BIRTHDAY BOY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112561358245731377</id><published>2005-09-01T16:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-01T21:17:43.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ROAD TRIP</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;He watches the way she moves on him, slow and deliberate, her body almost vibrating from the pleasure she's feeling. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Her pussy is wet, tight, and at the moment sucking his cock, every stroke she makes makes him gasp. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eyes half closed, her hands on his chest, she slowly rides him, enjoying the feel of him buried inside her. His hands hold her to him, guiding her thrusts, yet he is overwhelmed by what she does to him. His hands slide up her body and over her full breasts, and when he holds them and rubs his thumbs over her hard nipples, she moans, her head back, her cunt tightening on him. It feels as though she's grabbed him, and he cries out as his body jumps, thrusting back into her.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;For a while, now, he'd wondered what it would feel like to have her, to possess her body this way. He'd arrived the day before, and they'd been in this bed ever since. Having been friends before this, it was a pleasant surprise for the both of them. She was very affectionate, almost loving at times, and he knew it was genuine. He felt the same way. But God, how she loved to fuck. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He wasn't disappointed at all.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;From the moment he held her tits in his hands, rubbing and squeezing, he could feel her get tighter. Her thrusts seemed faster, and the look on her face told him how much she loved this. She was looking down at him now, her long hair in her face, biting her lower lip and moaning, her hands becoming claws as she claimed more of him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He took both nipples between his fingers and gently twisted, pushed, squeezed. From the reaction it caused, he knew he'd just claimed her, and now there was no turning back. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She clamped down on his cock, making him moan, and he pushed up into her so hard it made her gasp. Now they were moving perfectly together, his fingers playing over her nipples, making her whimper.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Fuck, yessss..." she moaned, and he felt her twitch.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Look at me..." she whispers to him, "look me in the eye, baby"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Their eyes meet, and he sees it...all the tenderness and kindness she'd given him, but also so much passion and pure lust it was almost too much.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Almost.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He feels his cum building. Faster than he wanted, he knew he couldn't stop it and he didn't even try. She fucks him so completely, and now they both move into each other hard and fast, his cries mixing with hers, and suddenly she explodes on him, gripping his hard dick with that hungry cunt mouth, making him surrender to her, his hands holding her tits tighter as he bucks underneath her, his cum pouring into her. She speaks his name as she continues to move on him, milking his cock as much as she can, feeling it jump inside her dripping pussy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She lays across his chest, the two of them still joined, her breasts flattened against him. He runs his fingers over her back as they try to breathe again, and soon he's put her to sleep, content to be with him just like this. With his arms around her and as gentle as he can, he rolls them over on their side. She wakes as she releases him, but he holds her close and whispers for her to sleep.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He never imagined it would be like this.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;He might have to stay longer than he'd intended.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112561358245731377?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112561358245731377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112561358245731377' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112561358245731377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112561358245731377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/09/road-trip.html' title='ROAD TRIP'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112544872639585698</id><published>2005-08-30T18:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T19:42:15.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SHAVING</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;My eyes....see you before me, standing tall in a pair of old jeans, the belt undone, barely open at the top, as you shave around the goatee I love to feel against my skin when you do those wonderful things that you do to me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My nose....can smell your scent, freshly showered, that cologne you wear that I bought you, knowing it makes me crazy...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My lips....slightly parted as I run my tongue over them, tasting us still...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My breasts....full and heavy, slowly rising and falling with each breath I take, nipples hardening at the thought of you sucking on them...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My hands....needing to touch you again, to feel you sleeping next to me, standing beside me, and to hold onto you as you love me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My cunt....so wet, full of the two of us, from the whole night before, sore from the way you took me, the way I surrendered to you...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My ass....promised to you before you leave me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My legs....not as willing to part as some would believe, but for you, always.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My feet....several times since we've been together....flat on the bed as you begin to devour me, but soon stretched in throes of ecstasy...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My soul....bared to you, at times too soon, it seems...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My heart....slowly...within your grasp...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I walk up to you and wrap my arms around you, my eyes meeting yours in the mirror, and you smile at me as you hold my hands to you. I kiss the back of your bare arm, my gaze never wavering, and you pull my arms away as you turn around to face me. You smile at me, your fingers trailing along my cheek, but I sink to my knees, my hands undressing you, enjoying the look on your face as I pull you out, hard and ready, and I take you inside my mouth, your gasp making me groan on you, and your thick cock almost making me choke.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I suck you as if I'm starving for your cock, hungrily tasting every inch you have. I don't let you wait, I want you now, I want you to lose that control you have and cum down my throat. Your hands in my hair, pulling me onto you, as you fuck my mouth, surprise and lust and need all over your face. I watch you as you enjoy my tongue, my lips, my teeth, all making you harder with each thrust...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your moans make me want it all the more, and suddenly you're there, close and ready and very willing, and your cum hits the back of my throat, hot and creamy, and I barely manage to drink. I watch your face as you empty down my throat, and I moan on you, loving how you enjoy my mouth, how your big hands pull my hair as you make me take all of you...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112544872639585698?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112544872639585698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112544872639585698' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112544872639585698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112544872639585698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/shaving.html' title='SHAVING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112537609059949156</id><published>2005-08-29T23:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T23:28:10.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>AMAZING</title><content type='html'>A certain someone asked me if I wanted some TLC tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't feeling well, tired and wanting a shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at him and I could see that he was serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where the fuck were you when I asked for it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Practically begged you for it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112537609059949156?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112537609059949156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112537609059949156' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112537609059949156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112537609059949156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/amazing.html' title='AMAZING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112535995107538296</id><published>2005-08-29T18:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T19:03:42.750-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SEVEN THINGS I'M THANKFUL FOR</title><content type='html'>Outdrlvr started this one...and BTW..go read his blog...he got some great news this past week....congratulations, sweetie...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven things I am thankful for...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) My health...I was very sick a couple of years ago...but I was very lucky...there are those a lot worse off than I...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) My friends...all who know me and like me (and some who love me) for who I am...my life is all the more richer for this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) My love of nature...I don't do it as much as I'd like, but to walk in the woods or watch a spider on it's web...to watch my dog being happy because he is a dog...people don't realize all this is a gift...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) My country...I was never that patriotic until all the recent events...even though we still need a lot of help for our society here, we are still the greatest country in the world. We can do things a lot of people are not allowed to do in their own country...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) People in my family...my sister and my niece..I miss them so much...my dad and my cousin...I could have gotten a lot worse...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) My ability to learn...I have never thought of myself as being very smart...but my school later in life and my jobs that I have acquired after the fact...I'm not as dumb as I thought I was...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) My pets...they remind me that no matter how bad it may seem (especially when it comes to the opposite sex), there are those that love me &lt;em&gt;unconditionally&lt;/em&gt;...maybe we could all take a lesson from them...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112535995107538296?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112535995107538296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112535995107538296' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112535995107538296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112535995107538296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/seven-things-im-thankful-for.html' title='SEVEN THINGS I&apos;M THANKFUL FOR'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112523676645523266</id><published>2005-08-28T07:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T19:44:19.580-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SUNDAY MORNING</title><content type='html'>I woke up in one of my moods again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I wake up like this a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's nothing bad, unless you're in bed alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'm able to overlook it; especially when I have to be at work by a certain time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on the weekend I can usually sleep in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had a certain someone here we could stay in bed all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this morning, no one was here, I was alone, and I was hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hungry, I had to do it. I had to satisfy my hunger the only why I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stretch, arms above my head, legs slightly bent at the knees, whole body arched, a low "mmmmmm."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once in a while, I can curb my appetite after that and either fall back to sleep or get out of bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The swell of my breasts, and the hardness of my nipples made it quite obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that the old shirt I wore, buttoned down the front when I went to bed last night, was completely unbuttoned and opened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to touch them. Slide my hands over them. Feel how hard the nipples were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was like a current running through them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gasped and closed my eyes, enjoying that feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I took each nipple between two fingers...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gently twisting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carefully pulling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making them ache, not from pain...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But to be licked...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sucked...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moaned...aching for a man's mouth to be on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't help that I was very wet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed to cum....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112523676645523266?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112523676645523266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112523676645523266' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112523676645523266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112523676645523266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/sunday-morning.html' title='SUNDAY MORNING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112519930943100479</id><published>2005-08-27T21:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-27T22:21:49.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I WANT A BETTER REASON THAN THIS TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT</title><content type='html'>Seems lately I've been having some really weird dreams, many of them short of being nightmares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night's were pretty vivid, things about dead people coming back, but there were &lt;em&gt;good&lt;/em&gt; dead people and &lt;em&gt;bad&lt;/em&gt; dead people, and I was learning how to kill (again) the bad ones. Sort of like Buffy the Vampire Slayer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, I said they were weird, didn't I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every once in a while I have a period of time where I have these dreams; once I woke from one where the image of all these teeth and fangs were still in front of me when I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there are the times I've woke up and felt so frightened I had to turn a light on, but I don't remember dreaming anything. Those few moments between waking and touching the light switch are almost as bad; I think that maybe, just maybe something is going to grab me before I can reach the light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate these (who doesn't?), because it makes me feel helpless and foolish, especially when I wait for that hand from under the bed, or that person standing in my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he was here with me, and I woke to one of those, he would tell me to go back to sleep and change my dream, because &lt;em&gt;he&lt;/em&gt; could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or he would get a little mad for waking him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't ever remember him trying to comfort me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would have been nice to get that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would have been nice to get hugs more often, kisses &lt;em&gt;much&lt;/em&gt; more often, talking to me until I went back to sleep. It would have been nice to be included in a lot of things in his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hated being behind him when we walked into somewhere. It was almost like he was embarrassed to be with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately guilt has been a constant companion, it seems. But I'm slowly getting away from that. I just remember all these things and how they made me feel. Especially the walking in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the next time someone does that, we'll see how much &lt;em&gt;he&lt;/em&gt; likes me turning and walking away from &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112519930943100479?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112519930943100479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112519930943100479' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112519930943100479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112519930943100479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/i-want-better-reason-than-this-to-stay.html' title='I WANT A BETTER REASON THAN THIS TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112503245749785871</id><published>2005-08-25T22:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-26T00:00:57.503-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THE SEVEN THINGS...</title><content type='html'>Watcher did this on her blog...she asked me to do it, so here goes....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seven things I plan to do before I die:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Love someone completely again...&lt;br /&gt;2) Ride a horse the way I used to...&lt;br /&gt;3) Play my violin wonderfully...&lt;br /&gt;4) Become a better lover...&lt;br /&gt;5) Try parasailing...&lt;br /&gt;6) Become more self-confident...&lt;br /&gt;7) Live in the North Carolina mountains...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seven things I can do:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Make people laugh...&lt;br /&gt;2) Make someone very happy if given the chance...&lt;br /&gt;3) Give great baths...&lt;br /&gt;4) Give great massages...&lt;br /&gt;5) Cum many times...&lt;br /&gt;6) Be very sweet...&lt;br /&gt;7) Fall too easily...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seven things I can't do:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Swim...&lt;br /&gt;2) Be rude...&lt;br /&gt;3) Turn away an animal...&lt;br /&gt;4) Sing...&lt;br /&gt;5) Be quiet in bed...&lt;br /&gt;6) Stand up for myself when I should...&lt;br /&gt;7) Get rid of guilt when I need to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seven things that attract me to the opposite sex:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) A nice ass...&lt;br /&gt;2) Hands...the bigger...mmmmmm&lt;br /&gt;3) A beard...&lt;br /&gt;4) Deep voice...&lt;br /&gt;5) Attitude...&lt;br /&gt;6) Humor...&lt;br /&gt;7) Smile...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seven things I say the most:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Ya'll&lt;br /&gt;2) Shit&lt;br /&gt;3) Fuck&lt;br /&gt;4) Thank You&lt;br /&gt;5) Baby&lt;br /&gt;6) Yes&lt;br /&gt;7) I'm cumming&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven celebrity crushes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Ray Liotta&lt;br /&gt;2) John Cusack&lt;br /&gt;3) Sam Elliot (it's that &lt;em&gt;voice&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;4) Rob Thomas (very nice ass)&lt;br /&gt;5) Randy Owens (Alabama)&lt;br /&gt;6) Vin Diesel&lt;br /&gt;7) Jon Bon Jovi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112503245749785871?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112503245749785871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112503245749785871' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112503245749785871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112503245749785871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/seven-things.html' title='THE SEVEN THINGS...'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112473818754003315</id><published>2005-08-24T19:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T18:28:13.030-05:00</updated><title type='text'>FORBIDDEN</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;He stands behind me as I start water to boil for our supper. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;With strong hands that I fell in love with the first time they touched me, he slides them around me and across my belly, his mouth over my ear, whispering "hello."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I lean into him as he kisses my neck, soft, gentle, making me close my eyes and groan. He knows where to get to me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't notice his hand reaching out to turn the fire off on the stove. His lips nibble at my earlobe as his hands slide down, over my belly, my hips, and down between my legs. He rubs against me over my shorts, and I push back, wanting him to touch more.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Suddenly his fingers are underneath my panties, and he is between my lips, a little rough, but I enjoy him like this. One hand starts to push my clothes down as the other, with more room to rub my swollen clit, begins to move over my hardness, and his groan in my ear urges my legs to open for him even more.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I feel his stiff cock behind me, and I brace myself against the stove top as I push my bare ass back, trying to feel more of him. I moan as he pulls his wet hand away, bringing it up to my lips, urging me to taste. I take it greedily, tasting our cum from that morning, when he made love to me before leaving for work.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't hear the sound of a zipper being drawn; suddenly I feel him bare, big and hard pressing along the crack in my ass. His hands grab my waist, pull me back, and he enters my cunt, the sudden feel of him inside me making me cry out.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I grip the edge of the stove as he fucks me, slow and deep, his cock so full inside me. All I can do is thrust back against his strokes, wanting to take every inch he has, his grunts and moans making me feel so hot, his hands holding on to me as if he might lose me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm lost in this. The only thing I feel is him. My eyes half closed, glazed over it seems, my lips slightly parted, trying to breathe with every thrust into me, I am lost. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;He slows his movements down, almost to a stop, and when I feel him pull out of me, I whimper and tell him no. His mouth is next to my ear.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Never doubt that I need you...want you so much..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;His dick, almost dripping from my hungry cunt, slides between my ass cheeks.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I love you, baby..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Suddenly his arms pull me closer as he takes my ass, carefully but completely, all the way inside me. Being relaxed because I wasn't expecting this, it almost doesn't hurt when he pushes into me. I gasp and, completely buried, he holds me next to him and stops moving, letting me adjust to him. Feeling me tremble, groaning from the pain he just caused me, he soothes me, telling me it won't hurt for long, that he couldn't help himself. He knows I'd do anything for him. He knows he has a certain power over me. His fingers find me again, and he touches me the way I love to be touched as he begins to fuck my ass.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Clamping down on him, I cry out at the pain, but his words and his fingers make it easier; his breath in my ear telling me how good I feel to him, his words assuring me, and slowly I get used to his cock, sliding in and out of me, and soon we are in our rythm, the pain is gone, and I urge him to go faster.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;He has me in the kitchen, up against the stove, his cock deep inside my ass. His fingers are rubbing my clit, and soon our moans are as one, that perfect rythm of ours. I am able to take him completely, and when I tell him this, he grips my waist with both hands and starts to pump me. I can hear him whimper as I push back and contract on his dick. I feel him getting bigger, and I know he's close.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I can hear how wet I am with every thrust, feel how close he is, and I feel myself doing the same. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Cum inside me, baby.."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;He moans, fucking me faster, harder, and I can't help myself...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I cum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I arch my back as I cry out, almost screaming at the force of it. Now his hands are on my shoulders, holding me as his orgasm takes him, his cries mixing with mine as his cum pumps into me, so wet, so hot, so much, spurting deep inside me. I feel his twitching, along with my own.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Suddenly his arms slide underneath mine, hands on my belly, and he pulls me against him, riding his cum out as he fucks my wet ass, his head next to mine as he gradually slows his strokes, trying to milk his cock. His ragged breath in my ear, his low moans and whimpers as he starts to shake, tell me how intense this was for him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;We stand, or at least try to, in front of that stove, his arms around me as we both catch our breath. He kisses my cheek, his cock not as hard but still inside me, and tells me he's sorry if he hurt me. His right hand pulls back a strand of my hair so he can see my face better, and I hold it to my cheek, turn and kiss his palm.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Ssshhhhhh," I whisper....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112473818754003315?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112473818754003315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112473818754003315' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112473818754003315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112473818754003315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/forbidden_24.html' title='FORBIDDEN'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112463304474220465</id><published>2005-08-21T08:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-21T09:08:41.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SPECIAL PEOPLE</title><content type='html'>I hope that everyone is doing well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I don't see them here for a while...I'm greedy about the comments I get...I love knowing people like coming here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read everyone's blogs, but I guess like them I don't comment everytime (although Badandy and Narcman could post more often).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BH is always fun to read...she has some really cool opinions and I've decided that I want to be a lot like her. She's that girl in school that at first you were afraid of because she was so tough, but you later learned she's fair &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; tough. She'd defend her friends and if she saw something wrong she'd speak her mind. Plus her sense of humor is a bit wicked at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watcher is very lyrical in the way she writes, which makes her sadness even more profound. I hope that when she writes it helps her, and I hope she knows she has friends here to listen to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aphrodite has a good take on her return to dating (like I would know about &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt;...). I'd be willing to bet that pretty soon she'll be too busy to blog much anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ER has a lot of neat stories about work. If you haven't read any of his stuff you're missing out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frustrated Writer doen't seem to visit often, but he has a way of telling about his life, which seems very full and happy. I envy him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seamus and Narcman are two very interesting men. Seamus is always in a great frame of mind. He could make you feel good about anything, and I love how he loves his dog. Narcman has some interesting stories to tell...too bad he doesn't live nearby. I think I'd be tempted to call the police a little more often, but I'm sure that if I kept asking for him, it could be a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lewis doesn't come here much, but if you want to read someone who will one day be published, go read his blog. He's fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angry Android has been here a lot and I am going to link him when I get the chance, if he doesn't mind. He's got some interesting things to say, and he's good at saying them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Seeker has stopped by a couple of times, so of course I checked him out. He seems to have a lot to say about, particularly we women and how wonderful we really are (wink).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buffalo. A man who is rough and learned and speaks his mind, but has a beautiful heart and soul. He'd defend you in an instant, and the way he tells a story makes you wish you were there to hear him speak it. He'll be published one day, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outdrlvr and Badandy. Both of you know how I feel. These two men were always there for me when I needed to talk to someone, long before I started this blog. Since this has helped me deal with certain things, we have better things to talk about now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outdrlver is doing what he wants in his life and I am so happy for him. I want to see what he gets to see everyday. He's wise beyond his years, and isn't afraid to say what he means. The fact that he's a sweetheart doesn't hurt any, either. I'm so happy he's my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Badandy sometimes tells me he's not who he seems. I think he's just too humble, and is overwhelmed by the attention he gets. He better get used to it, because he's got a lot of people around here who like him. I adore him, and I am so glad I found him. If you haven't read him yet, please do. Oh God, yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all of you, my friends and soon to be friends, please remember that I am always around, even though I don't say anything at times. Thank you for being here with me. I feel better just knowing you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112463304474220465?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112463304474220465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112463304474220465' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112463304474220465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112463304474220465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/special-people.html' title='SPECIAL PEOPLE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112451868838061896</id><published>2005-08-20T01:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-20T01:18:08.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>PERFECT</title><content type='html'>It's storming...raining with thunder and some bad lightning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told someone I was going to bed, but I wanted to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm  going to lie in my bed and enjoy this weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to think about a certain someone and let my fingers drift where they may.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to make myself cum, then I'm going to drift off, wishing he was next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep well, baby....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112451868838061896?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112451868838061896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112451868838061896' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112451868838061896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112451868838061896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/perfect.html' title='PERFECT'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112423763136295828</id><published>2005-08-16T18:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-16T19:13:51.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'>BOILING WATER</title><content type='html'>As I stood out on the porch this evening, a gentle breeze blew through the windchimes I have hanging overhead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sound...was beautiful. Not too loud...perfect...and I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the coolness of the air on my skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was almost a perfect night. The birds you hear near dusk, the chirring of the locusts...no one outside that really made much noise. You could hear children playing in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I needed...all I wanted......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strong arms to hold me....gentle kiss on my neck...whisper in my ear..."what are we making for dinner?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We&lt;/em&gt;...when we were together, all those years, only once did we actually make dinner together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always thought it was so romantic to do that...whether it was a nice full course meal or macaroni and cheese...extra cheese, of course...no matter the mess afterward, no matter that it may just be a pizza that was delivered...getting ready with plates and drinks while we talked and laughed...how can that &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; be romantic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear the man that is lucky enough to open a box of mac and cheese for the two of us had better be romantic...or he will learn...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case he's reading this....daisies are my favorite...I love the color blue...I like having my hair brushed...and I love it when you touch me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~sigh~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112423763136295828?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112423763136295828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112423763136295828' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112423763136295828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112423763136295828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/boiling-water.html' title='BOILING WATER'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112415100416582296</id><published>2005-08-15T18:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-15T19:10:04.173-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WORDS TO LIVE BY</title><content type='html'>One of my favorite words is "fuck."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprised you again, huh? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to admit it, but sometimes I say it outside of the bedroom (or dining room, or bathroom..), when I get angry . I shouldn't, I know, but I can't help it. It's a bad habit. I'm trying to break it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, when I'm with someone...or even when I'm all alone and having to take care of that sudden urge...I will say it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's then that I love to hear it...love to say it, and definately love to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My other favorite word is "cock."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't particularly like the word "dick," although I'll use it when I write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also use the word "prick."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I prefer..."cock."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the one word...that all women hate...I won't call my worst enemy this...but I love to say it...at a certain time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cunt"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It appalls me when someone uses it as an insult. It's the worst insult you can give to someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But&lt;/em&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When in the throes of lust....I use it...to give direction...so to speak....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other words...don't call me that....but I sure want you to fuck it....with your cock...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh yes....right there...mmmmm...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...just...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...like...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...that&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...fuck...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...my cunt....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112415100416582296?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112415100416582296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112415100416582296' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112415100416582296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112415100416582296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/words-to-live-by.html' title='WORDS TO LIVE BY'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112414097975073744</id><published>2005-08-15T16:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-15T16:24:50.860-05:00</updated><title type='text'>FRIENDS</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watcher is feeling bad about herself, even more so lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never met her in person, but from what I can tell from here, she's a great woman with a beautiful heart. I'm glad she comes here, and that I can go to her site...and I hope to meet her someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's just getting tired of people shitting on her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't blame her. That shit is for when you're growing up (although I couldn't understand it then, either.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes an adult do such bad things to hurt another?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You guys who are what we women crave to meet, to know one day, should be disgusted...these men she talks of make &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; men look like assholes. Maybe we should send BH down there to kick some ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet she could do it, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you don't mind me bringing this up, Watcher...but I want everyone to go to your site and say hello...to prove that you have others thinking about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And by the way...you may not believe this, but I look up to you. I don't know the whole story of your life, but I do know it's a bad one at times. Some day I hope you tell me about what's happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admire how strong you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please just stay that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone...click on her name up there on the left...be nice...she needs nice right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I bet some chocolate wouldn't hurt, either...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112414097975073744?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112414097975073744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112414097975073744' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112414097975073744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112414097975073744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/friends.html' title='FRIENDS'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112413608833630368</id><published>2005-08-15T14:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-15T15:03:43.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MMMMMMM...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Gripping the table...trying to hold on...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thrusting...hard...fast...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Each slam into me makes me slide over the surface...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My breasts flattened against the wood...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hands holding my hips...tight...hurting...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pulling me back on him, as he pushes deeper...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I try to raise my ass higher...want more...fuckkk....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Be still..." he says.."just take it..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There...he finds it...sudden pain...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I cry out as he moans....."yessss..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now every stroke...that spot...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I jump with each hit....gripping him...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Harder," I whimper....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Riding me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pumping...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stroking...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fuck...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;After fuck...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Moan...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;After moan...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I gasp I'm cumming...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He twitches....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Harder...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fuck so big.........&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cumming.....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cumming now baby...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Growing...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deep...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Owww....holding me...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;OHFUCKYESSSSSSSSSS..........&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112413608833630368?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112413608833630368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112413608833630368' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112413608833630368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112413608833630368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/mmmmmmm.html' title='MMMMMMM...'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112408377087015719</id><published>2005-08-15T00:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-15T00:29:30.870-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT A SURPRISE</title><content type='html'>Fuck.......I'm hungry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112408377087015719?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112408377087015719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112408377087015719' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112408377087015719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112408377087015719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/what-surprise.html' title='WHAT A SURPRISE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112408332977763145</id><published>2005-08-15T00:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-15T00:22:09.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>IT'S QUIET HERE</title><content type='html'>I'm missing someone tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was kind of shitty to him when I felt he was shitty to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need to realize that I can't be special to anyone, really. That's what I wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try not to be so anxious about things, but a little attention feels &lt;em&gt;so fucking good&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to stop being so needy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to stop wearing my heart on my sleeve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to stop expecting so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I need to get a digital camera.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112408332977763145?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112408332977763145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112408332977763145' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112408332977763145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112408332977763145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/its-quiet-here.html' title='IT&apos;S QUIET HERE'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13178345.post-112380238982087655</id><published>2005-08-11T17:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T23:58:46.406-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A GOOD MORNING</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;She wakes in the early morning light, realizing it must be close to six...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Her arm over his waist, she snuggles closer to him, breathing in his scent, and he sighs in his sleep as she kisses his shoulder very lightly. Her hand begins to run over his belly, lightly tracing lines over his skin. Now she moves to lay her head on his chest, and for a moment it seems he might wake up, but he settles down to more sleep. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She lays there with him, her hand lazily caressing his body, and she can't help herself, she has to touch him. Her hand slowly moves down&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;across his&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;stomach, her fingers gently tugging on his hair, being careful not to hurt him. She raises her head to look back at his face, satisfied she hasn't woke him....yet.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She moves down on the bed, leaning over to plant a kiss just above his belly button. Her tongue flicks into that little hole, and she hears a faint groan from him. Looking up, she sees him stirring, but still he sleeps.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now she turns her attention back to where it was. For a moment she stops to just look at him. His body, which just a few hours earlier was on top of hers, so beautiful, so strong. She loved the way he was so tender with her, yet sometimes &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;she saw an uncontrolable part of him that he was able to keep in check. She knew that somewhere, deep inside, he kept things hidden, from everyone. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's why she loved watching him, why she enjoyed the way he came. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;It was the one time she knew she saw how he really felt.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;One arm held her up on the bed while the other slid farther and farther down the length of his torso. Her legs were beside his chest, her feet almost to his shoulder, and when she bent down to kiss where his pelvis ended and his cock began, he groaned again, his hand finding her leg and moving up on the side of it, barely gripping her. He was still asleep.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She leaned down and kissed the tip of his cock. She could taste the two of them. It was almost completely hard, and when she licked a circle around it, his hand grabbed her ankle and she heard him moan. When she looked back at him, his eyes were still closed, but his breathing was deeper and faster. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now she turned around so that she could see his face as she tasted him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She licked him again, and this time both hands came up and slid into her hair. She took the tip of his head into her mouth and began to suck it, and his hands pulled her to him. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now he was definately awake.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She took more of him in her mouth.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;He quietly moaned her name, and as she took more of him, he thrust his hips, wanting her to take him as deep as she could.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She accommodated him very well.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She took more, making him gasp as she swallowed every inch he had. His hands were guiding her head, but she didn't need any direction. She knew what he wanted, and when she sucked his cock, her tongue and her mouth working to make him squirm beneath her touch, he was hers. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She teased him, enjoying it when he started begging her to keep sucking it, enjoying how this made him hers. This was the power she loved to have over him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She moaned on his hard dick, making him jump.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"fuck, baby...such a good cocksucker," and she slowed down her strokes enough to slowly...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lick...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nibble...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Suck...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Swallow...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;When she swallowed his dick, the head of him nearly down her throat, he cried out and started to move into her. His hands held her head still, and his strokes soon became faster and a bit more rough. But she would take him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;And she did. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Soon he was fucking her mouth, the same way he fucked her cunt when she straddled his cock, thrusting into her, his moans more frequent, his cock so hard, so big. She was able to take all of him, but sometime he seemed to grow even more. She had to be careful...she wanted so much to please him.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;And she was thirsty....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now she managed to slow his thrusts down...she wanted to be the one to make him cum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She was gentle with him, but knew when to rake her teeth across his skin or take a nibble; she knew he loved having his cock sucked, but this is the first he'd ever been woke this way. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Her mouth did everything he wanted , everything he needed, and soon she knew he was getting close. His cock, so hard inside her, was getting bigger, and she heard the way his breathing changed. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;He was so close, now.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Thirsty baby, aren't you..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She moaned on him and sucked harder.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Fuck baby...drink me ohfuckbabyhereitisfor you...ohhhhfuckyessss.."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She barely managed to swallow that first spurt of cum. She drank as fast as she could, his thrusting making it difficult, but she swallowed as much as possible.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;It seemed he would never stop. Hot cum at the back of her throat, she enjoyed every drop he gave her. His hands held onto her now more out of necessity than to guide her. He couldn't let go, his whole body reacting to her touch. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;All too soon his orgasm began to fade, but it had been so intense that he could only lay there, trying to catch his breath. He was able to let go of her hair, and his arm fell to his side as he closed his eyes, his breathing slowing down, along with his heartbeat.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Very gently she pulled off of his cock. He hissed and grabbed her arm, but was too weak to be able to do anything more. He released her, and when she moved up to look into his face, he slowly slid his hand onto her back. He looked up at her, almost dreamily, a slight smile on his face. She kissed him, whispering his name.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Good morning..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Looking up at her, he laughed, making her smile, and she kissed him again. Then she lay down beside him, her arm over his belly, her mouth close to his ear, and she whispered to him, things that only the two of them would share, until they both drifted back to sleep.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13178345-112380238982087655?l=thisisyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/feeds/112380238982087655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13178345&amp;postID=112380238982087655' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112380238982087655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13178345/posts/default/112380238982087655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thisisyours.blogspot.com/2005/08/good-morning.html' title='A GOOD MORNING'/><author><name>Wanting</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01279868250979932458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry></feed>
