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3 Days of Crying & Prayers

“The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones”

Mark Anthony/Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 2

It was the dump truck that made me cry first.

I just dropped off a pitbull puppy at ACS here in San Antonio, Texas, and I’ve been crying since I let her off the leash to the handler there. She is (I can’t use ‘was’ yet; or maybe it’s appropriate since she’s no longer mine.) a wonderfully sweet and tame creature, a ball of fur and teeth. She is good with people and house-broken, and has maybe a year to a year and a half of age under those big paws.

And she has 3 days to live.

San Antonio is trying but failing to adopt a No-Kill Policy for their center but the dumb-ass, back-water stupid-fuck people here have NO clue how to tend for an animal and they’re of the Michael Vick’s persuasion, meaning they think dogs need to ‘fight’ to be worthy of life, or ‘bred’ to insure they have a sense of worth in having a litter of dogs.

Thus, many dogs are not spayed or neutered.

Sometimes … depending on the day or time of year, you’ll see a mother bitch with a line of pups walking down the road, or crossing the street, or find a lost puppy who was separated from the moving pack and is either dinner to something else or will die from exposure to the elements.

Sometimes you just find the remains…

I cried as I sent her into the office with the animal control worker, and I cried out the door, down the highway and all the way back home. Knowing her fate I am trying not to vomit or cry again. My own dog Blondie is a comfort to me.

As I waited to be processed, a young man came up, wearing dirty clothing, a sweat-soaked shirt and filthy boots.

“Hey”, he said, “can you sign off on my truck?”

The worker taking care of me asked, “Is it ready? I gotta go soon.”

“All the bodies are inside. I just gotta get it going.”

When the word ‘bodies’ hit my mind, I was reeling. I could feel my stomach swirling, and the nausea was creeping into my spine. The man looked at me, and then the puppy looked up at me as we signed papers and answered questions about her disposition and well-being. I told him she was friendly, and her stool was clean and her pee was clear. I paused, and he took a picture of her, and then asked if I wanted to adopt her.

“If not in three days she’s going to be destroyed.”

I could feel the tears slipping out of the corners of my eyes: “If I could I wouldn’t have brought her here. But I just can’t afford her and … three days? I thought they had longer than that.”

“No sir. That’s all. Just three days.”

I started weeping, calmly, then wiped my face and led her into the office to await a kennel, and then to await her fate. I made a sign-of-the-cross over her eyes, and as I pulled the leash off her neck and wound it in my hands, I could see her trying to follow me. A small push and she stayed in the office, and I walked out quickly, waiting to get in my car to let the tears flow.

As I strode out, I whispered to myself, “That’s one of the shittiest things I’ve ever done.”

And like I said, I cried all the way home. At the Valero store, the staff didn’t restock hotdogs, chili or cheese, so it took a while to get a snack to calm my nerves. But eating at my feelings won’t bring back that wonderful dog.

I didn’t have the balls to keep her in the first place. I don’t have the money to adopt her out of the ACS facility, and I didn’t have the nerve to say the second I heard her fate, “Fuck it. I may live on bologna, but you’re gonna live with me.”

Someone who loved me once promised to live with me, even in poverty, and now I am living in poverty alone. I wish I had that love again, and I am heart-broken. I have no sense of up or down, and feel that all I am is a shadow of my former self. All my wounds are self-inflicted, and refuse to heal. But that’s my own problem, and for it I should either be treated or die.

Right now I want to die. I couldn’t save a dog my less alone my dreams, and I am falling apart, little by little, wishing there were more to my life than the agony in my heart and soul. I live a losing battle to chase my dreams, and I hope that IF that dog doesn’t find a home, that God sees her to the Gates of Heaven. She deserves that much if nothing else; if no family here then a place with God above.

A lot of people worry about their fate.

I’m not very concerned.

In all honesty, I’ve been a very bad man for a very long time. I’m dishonest, a liar, a habitual deviate and pervert, and unworthy of the Love the Almighty has stored for us in Heaven. But that dog didn’t do the things I did and deserves a chance to be happy, running until Time ends with other dogs, playing and enjoying her afterlife.

Personally I think I do my best towards God and His wishes. I’m kinder to a lot of people than I can imagine, even without a cent to my name or the hopes of a better job. Personally I always hope to be the kid everyone wants to be around, and maybe even after all these decades, I still feel like that: the last one picked, the one they’re ‘stuck with’, the one who can’t be chosen or fun or happy. Nothing I do ever came out right, and I am a train-wreck in my own feelings and heart.

I am sad, and have a headache.

This blog, this unending death, feels the same way. It should have slipped away, and yet refuses to die, and I hate the world for it. I wish they’d absorb every vowel, every syllable, every thought and construction of the ego and heart I care to spew into the air and through the power of words. I really wish I knew I could change the world somehow making other people happy with my expressions and ideas, voicing change, making them think twice, be aware, and maybe say ‘Thank you Julian; you helped me see something I never knew about myself.”

Fuck it – that’s a goddamned wish that won’t be fulfilled with two lifetimes.

Goodbye puppy. I’m sorry I can’t do anything more than cry and pray.

I wish I could fix it, fix the world, fix my world.

But that’s another impossibility.

Like being loved, and being honest.

Bullshit on top of bullshit.

I’ll add the pictures later. I’ll cry for now & have some Wild Turkey.

Maybe that’ll ease the pain.

Maybe …

Ciao.

A New Though

I was wandering about the web & found this little item:

It may not cheer me up but it may help me become me again.

Blessings,

Julian

What Women Endure For Us

Brazilian Waxing - The funniest videos clips are here

Women do many things for men, and I have to admit THIS is probably the worst of them: the Brazilian Waxing. Now I know there's another video with a more graphic nature to it, and I am going to include them but just melding the music with the facial expressions makes it all worthwhile.

At least for me it does.

Luckily I can shave myself so there's no worries there.

Blessings,



Julian

Click here for More Free Porn Movies

I Got An "H" - maybe

Okay,

Dammit!

I shoulda made a screen grab when I saw it but my story got an "H" rating last night. And I told my writing partner about it making us very happy.

And I was going to post some art to account to the situation ...

But now it's gone.

And I don't know what to think or do so I'll just have hope this wicked story continues on.

Blessings,

Julian

Ashly's Adventures - The Wedding

Okay Gang & Readers,

THIS is my return to erotica/pornography. I was asked recently to create a story for someone and this is what came of the ideas. The character of the story will be travelling back & forth in time, different eras & different men/adventures.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Blessings,

Julian

-------

Ashly’s Adventures: Chapter 01 – The Wedding (2004)

Ashly was just the kind of girl every man dreamt of, except for one thing: she loved sex. She drank it in like a fish in the ocean. She has more curves than the autobahn and makes supermodels look sickly. Her breast stick out too far, and her ass was made for power-fucking while on her back or on her hands and knees, something a man couldn’t help but to bounce off every time he made contact with it or pumped down into her sweet, tight, closely shaved almost-bald-and-constantly-wet pussy.

Her life had been the adventures men read about in Letters to Penthouse and she was more obscene than the nastiest porn starlet around. Life, like sex, had few limits or taboos, and at her friends’ wedding, she knew she’d make another adventure occur. Her escort, a tall, hulking gent named Dave, was cheerfully moving about with her in his rented tuxedo. His grey vest, tails and striped trousers reminded her of the Ask Jeeves logo from the internet. And he couldn’t help staring at her ample curves wrapped up in a Grecian style gown, tapered at the waist, flowing to her feet in spiked heels, the slit on the leg showing creamy skin and a wonderful muscle tone from swimming and dancing. She alluded to having danced on a pole or stage, teasing Dave, making sure to grind gently against the handsome man when the bridal party was called out for the march into the center of the dance hall.

Dave had trouble not staring at Ashly. Her gown had dipped low in the back, showing off her spine as well as the curves, making her skin glow under the romantically dimmed lights. The dress cut low at the front, and her natural figure kept the breast high, the cleavage a noticeable item, her body swaying like maracas in a samba singers’ hands. As they moved closer for the dance, spinning her gently into his arms, Dave whispered, “Ashly, you look great. But … what are you wearing to keep your boobs so high?”

Ashly blushed, her coloration almost unnoticeable in the room, dancing close, keeping her arm around Dave and grinding gently against his belly, making his trousers tent gently with inner excitement.

“Actually”, she purred, pressing herself as close as humanly possible on the dance floor, “I’m only wearing pasties. And those barely cover my nipples. The harder they get the more likely every man will see I am braless under this gown.”

Still dancing, Dave gulped hard, gasping under his breath. Then Ashly moved tighter, hugging him and letting him feel the 38 double-D’s barely contained in her gown. She whispered, “Oh, and I also forgot my panties too.”

Stock-still, Dave stood, watching Ashly move and sway to the gentle beat of the music, and then turn, rolling into the crowd of other bridesmaid’s, walking off for the toast with the bride and groom. Dave finally moved slowly, but after her, when his cock calmed down and he was able to move without poking anyone with his blunt spear. His eyes blurred, burning as he noticed her amazing figure encased and wiggling like a stripper on stage, shaking, and he wondered, whose attention was she trying to get?

A glass of champagne later, and Dave and Ashly were wiggling and moving to a disco beat, enjoying themselves immensely. He moved, spinning her, then bringing her back as often as possible, making sure she landed square against his body. And every time it happened, she groped his neck and arms, amazed at his biceps, purring softly, grinding her pelvis against his, and trying to encourage another hard-on. As the song ended, and the band announced a break, Dave took Ashly by the hand, walking them past the bar, and getting a red wine and beer for their thirst.

The DJ came on, and the kids poured onto the dance floor, wiggling and grinding, dancing and spinning like mad creatures. Many of the adults watched, giggled and even joined in with the pulsing madness of the wild unfettered motions, the gyrating and wanton, but (somehow still) innocent displays done by the teenagers.

As Dave sipped his beer, Ashly leaned close to him, whispering, “I’d love to suck your cock right now.”

Her fingers danced along his leg, making him spit a little brew, and then gulp down the rest, trying to stay calm amid her arousing touch. Ever so calmly, she sipped her wine, watching the cavalcade of teens and others moving about badly, trying not to giggle at their dancing and his reaction. She whispered, “I love dancing Dave. Even when I was on-stage I loved dancing for a crowd, hearing their reactions, seeing them loving my movements.”

“Ballet?”

She smiled. “No. Definitely not ballet.”

The band came back, and Dave found himself, taking Ashly by the hand, creeping past the dance floor and down the hall of the convention center. Another turn down the halls and the music dimmed into the distance. Ashly hung on to his hand, feeling the strength, the urgency, admiring the fact he never asked her a thing; he just took her with him. No questions, no protest, just immediate flight, and possibly, gratification. Dave pulled a small padded envelope from his jacket, removed a feeler and tensor, and began working to open the lock of the small closet.

“Aren’t those burglar’s tools Dave?”

“Aren’t you a cock-tease Ashly?”

Both smirked, and Ashly said, “Only when the lights are on.”

The lock snapped open, and Dave tugged her into the darkness, saying, “Then don’t bother touching the switch sexy.”

A twist and Dave found Ashly pulling the door closed behind them, the lock snapping shut. She moved against him hungrily, kissing his mouth, reaching down, her hand squeezing his cock through his slacks, groping the growing hard-on and sliding her fingers along the length. She moaned, pressing her amazing tits on his chest, his hand moving back under the long dark hair, reaching into the snaps of the halter top, opening it, and releasing them to his mouth. His head dipped down, licking then biting one nipple, before switching with the other one. As his hand left the wet nipple, his fingers pinched the previous one, making it turn and twist gently in his grip. Ashly dug her nails into his neck, groaning loud, holding his head against her breast, feeling his tongue wrapping itself all over her beautiful breast, loving how the skin tasted on his mouth. With a practiced precision, her fingers unzipped the standing man, making him need to lean back against the shelves of cleaning products and excess materials. A few bottles shook and clattered down to the floor, but neither one cared. All that mattered was that passionate embrace and the pleasure they could gain from one another.

Dave felt his cock freed, her long fingers stroking the shaft from the underside, making him moan, releasing the nipple from between his teeth. Ashly loved having a man lose control, placing her in charge, making him putty in her hands. Pulling the slit to one side, she knelt down, kissing the tip, licking the precum off the cock head, making Dave moan again. His fingers stroked her head, running through her hair, moving her closer down the shaft. Ashly loved the feeling of a man trying to get her to choke, but this time, with his dickmeat, Dave may be one of the few to make her actually gag. She opened her hungry mouth, a small suction bond made on the length, keeping him inside her, the drool and saliva stroking and massaging the length of his dick again and again. She bobbed up and down quick and hard, moving fast, the balls on her chin, his base against her palm, trying to jack off and stimulate what she couldn’t immediately suck down her throat. Slurping noisily in the small closet, Ashly tried getting Dave off in her mouth, making him her pet, his loss and the thrill of the somewhat dull wedding.

“Ohhhh”, shivered Dave, his hips rolling to fuck her mouth as deep as possible. “You’re a practiced cocksucker aren’t you Miss Ashly? Former stripper, dick-sucker and all-around wanton slut. Your pussy runs the show doesn’t it? And I’ll bet it’s gotten you into some tight fucks hasn’t it, you wicked naughty girl?”

Ashly could only mouth a gurgled affirmative. She knew he’d figured her out, and he was pumping himself down her hungry throat as quickly as possible with each stroke of her wet tongue lapping the sides, slurping the saliva back, tasting his precum on her palette. She moaned, and with her free hand, began stroking her own pussy, rubbing the clitty in small, smooth circles. Ashly was in heaven: a man who knew her desires and had the cock to fuck her into a stupor, and the nastiest mind she could imagine next to her own.

Within moments he lifted her quickly by the arm. She was worried they’d been caught or he was going to give her the bum’s rush after cumming, so she let her mouth linger on his length before it finally slid out with a ‘pop’ sound as the wetness escaped her sealed lips. She stood up, her dress half off, the pasties on the floor, chewed up by his hungry mouth, her slick fingers still moving between the petals of her labia, fingering herself. In the sparse light, Dave could see her masturbating, his cock jumping without any contact, the scene erotic beyond all belief. She moved closer, then pulled the fingers from her wet hot cunt, and lifted them to her mouth. A steel grip caught her wrist, and she watched Dave pull the fingers away from her lips and into his starving mouth, licking the fingertips, sucking the nails, keeping her aroused and breathing faster, the double-D’s bouncing against her ribcage as she watched him devour every drop of her sex sauce on his lapping tongue.

Quickly, he pulled her against him as she had on the dance floor. Dave kissed her hard, sucking her tongue into his mouth, licking her neck, plastered to her body. His hard-on fought to stay in his trousers, and Ashly kept trying to grope him, getting him a little more anxious with each bit of contact. A smile, and she noticed the glimmer in his eyes even in the graying of the room. “Hands on the wall bitch. You’re not getting off without getting me off.”

She moved past him quickly, feeling his hands grasping the flimsy material of her gown, tossing it over her ass, spanking her once quickly on the right cheek. SMACK! Ashly moved to comply with his immediate need to fuck her, bending at the waist, leaning back, the perfect tits drooping down and hanging like fruit on the vine. Dave grasped her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, his cock rigid and thick, aching for this bridesmaid and cock-tease. He wasn’t going to be denied anything she may think of at that moment, and longed to sheath himself inside her hot pussy.

A second later, Ashly tossed her head back, looking over her shoulder. Dave lanced her in the first stroke, his cock slipping between the buttery cunt lips, moving inside her, pumping, fucking. His stomach and shirt tails slapped against her full, round ass, the skin jiggling with the smack-smack sounds they were making fucking like mad. Ashly held on, moaning softly, whimpering between strokes, aching for more. One hand braced against the shelves, her hair moving with the pendulous breast, bouncing back and forth in the rhythm, moans filling the room along with the scent of unmistakable sex occurring in the darkened bit of paradise they shared.

“Oh Jeezzus Dave! DAVE! Goddamn! FUCK FUCK FUCKKKKK!!” She was growling, a total animal, unleashing the stored fury inside her body, the need to cum greater than she could have hoped for with this escort. Dave’s fingers dug deeper into her hips, his chest on her back, his free hand groping and pinching the hardened nipples. Another moan and Dave twisted and tugged them, pulling them and making her squeal again. “Oh FUCK! Goddamn DAVE!”

Dave leaned in, kissing her neck and bare shoulder, hearing his cock sliding in and out of the wetness, making her moan, his balls slapping the clitty with every fuck stroke she got at that moment. He pinched tugged and twisted the amazingly hard yet sensitive nipples again and again. “Maybe my sweet fucktoy wants to cum? Do you want to cum Ashly?”

She growled again, moaning, kissing him back her tongue lapping his drool, trying to consume his liquid words and lust. She felt him bloating inside her, pumping back, bouncing his stomach off her ass, riding as deep as possible inside this wicked woman. “Or does my sweet fuckslut need to cum?”

Dave was playing Ashly like a fine fiddle, strumming her ego, touching her lust, making her sweet music pour from her pussy, mouth and hands. She couldn’t help reaching back, stroking his hairy balls, making him need to fuck her faster again and again. The sounds of skin-slapping-skin reverberated in the room, keeping the pair riding each other like mad, groaning to take him deeper, moaning to make her more pliable to his lustiness. He hissed, “If you’re such a hot slut and need to cum, maybe you need to play with this sweet pussy? Do you want that Ashly?”

Every emphasis made her shake and wiggle a little harder, moaning louder, biting his hand when he tried covering her mouth, making her wince and fuck as desperately as possible. But Ashly wanted her pleasure too, and began moving her fingers past her stomach, keeping one arm braced, letting Dave fuck her as recklessly and hard as possible. She lifted her gown as much as possible without removing it, and began stroking and rubbing the clitty as quickly as possible. Her manicured nails kept touching his balls, stroking then poking them as she worked harder, getting herself closer to her own orgasm. She hoped Dave would join her as they continued fucking like the world would come to an end after their climax. It was wild, desperate, but necessary, lustful and the most pleasure she’d had in some time.

Dave pegged her right, but she loved the adventures, varied and many.

And so far, this was her favorite. A broom closet, a man she met today, and the bridal gown that couldn’t keep a bra and the thong she didn’t want to wear anyway. After all, underwear sometimes gets in the way when it happens like this.

The pounding continued at a maddening pace. Dave pounding, fucking all he had into Ashly, his thick, fat cock riding her delicious sweet tight cunt as hard as possible. His fingers digging deep into the soft flesh of her full round ass, holding her in place, moaning and whispering “You’re a sweet fuck Ashly. Maybe you need a cock like mine all the time!”

“Oh God!” She muttered as he spoke, low and seductively, moaning his delight of her bucking and fucking his absolute delight and paradise. He continued the verbal barrage, making her remember all the wicked moments, the rendezvous, the many men and places, the moments and pleasure, the countless lusty times her body gave whenever possible.

Dave gripped hard, keeping her against him, and suddenly, he burst. His cock spewed, shooting stream after stream of cum into her clingy tight pussy, the kegel muscles milking him of every drop inside the heavy testes. Ashly could feel the motion of the orgasm racing through every muscle, making her gasp, groan and grind hard, keeping Dave buried inside her.

Suddenly, her mouth went slack. She threw her head back, hair flying in all directions, moaning, crying out in lustful delight.

“Oh GOD! SHIT! FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKK!”

Dave held tight, grunting, pouring all his cum out into her, making her squeal again, leaving all he had inside her gorgeous body. His balls empty, her body lacking any strength, he wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her pulling her back against his stomach. Ashly reached back, kissing his mouth softly; lapping his tongue with hers’, showing her appreciation for the outstanding orgasm. He was thrilled and amazed she’d followed him, and loved her responses to each of his aural outburst. Another grope, and he whispered, “Should we go back for the last dance of the night?”

Ashly giggled, then the both redressed. Peeking carefully into the hall, Dave and Ashly went down the corridor until they heard music again. They ran into the groom, who said, “We were looking for your two. Group photo is next.”

Dave smiled, “Thanks. We went out for a smoke.”

“You must have gone some distance. You both look out of breath.”

Both giggled, and Ashly replied, “Yea, we went all the way out … for a smoke.”

The groom shrugged, noticed nothing about the rumpled clothing in the darkened room, and waved them in with the rest of the bridal party.

Only a while later, during the last slow dance of the night, did Ashly speak again to Dave. “Are you taking me home for more of our fun?”

“Maybe”, he teased, knowing full well he’d beg if necessary. “Are you horny for more already?”

“But honey, it’s been almost forty minutes since we were together. And I can feel your cum running down my leg. I think some of it dripped onto the floor.”

Dave decided to not let his date continue leaking onto the dance floor, and took her hand and led her past the party outside. Just as they left the doors into the cool night, someone said, “Looks like the bride slipped on something … “

And hand in hand, giggling, they ran off into the night before it could be discovered what the bride really slipped on.

Mourning Coffee

Just feeling a little blue today. Life has turned around & not for the better.

More later.

Ciao.




Julian