Revolutionizing Fashion for Men.
Much though we hate to admit it, we as a race are sexist. Of course we are, there's no lying about this. We expect women to dress up as women, and we expect men to dress up as men.
When women dress up as their gender, it's usually quite simple--show off more flesh, strut their boobs, make sure their hour-glass figure is distinctive, et cetera. Some women would make noise and say "NO! We aren't doing this for men", but please lah, in terms of history, men defined women according to their own definitions of beauty. In like the Tang dynasty, men defined fat women as beautiful, and every woman desired to become fat so that they'd be more desirable. Now it's supposedly 'skinny is good' but whatever lah, it's the same principle behind it. Women get their definition of beauty from us, men, who judge them for their beauty.
In short, men define what beauty and attractiveness is to women. Women would go around competing with other women only because they feel that they are threatened by the offender's own dress sense, or physical appeal. These competitions are held because they want to show that they are the most desirable female, and that all men should go for them.
I conclude that women needs the attention of men (who in turn pays attention to whatever hand-held...device they can have, whenever they can).
I am not being sexist in the discriminatory sense here by the way. I do admit that women, in turn, now have a choice as to which male (or female) they wish to mate and produce offspring with. Women define men. In the past, hairier men were selected for as that extra layer of fur is a clear indication of an abundance of testosterone, and that translates to manliness in the past. Now, having that makes one look primitive and selected against, because males are supposed to be more 'metrosexual', 'sensitive', and whatnot in present day society.
Manliness is no longer appealing to the mainstream now, just as much obscenely fat women. Perfectly understandable, definitions change over time.
But then again, I haven't cut into what I wanted to say. Women these days are wearing clothes that accentuates their figure, and this emphasis they are placing on their looks translates into a desire of them to be desirable to other males. They can choose to wear cleavage-revealing clothes, they can choose to wear mini-skirts, they can choose to wear tight-fitting clothes so that every curve of their body can be observed and appreciated by the ogling men (who always ogle).
But what can men wear to make themselves more desirable? There can't be much more than formal, office attire. That we see in the office and other formal occasions all the time, and it's boring. Every man worth his salt wears those. It's boring, move on.
So this begs the question: What makes a man desirable?
Ans: Huge penis.
Now the little girls will shy and blush and say 'Nooooo', but that's the truth. Males with huge penises are selected for, no matter the hair or face or whatever negative attributes they have. Because women have needs. Don't argue with me on this: Women have needs, women are horny, and women are hornier than men.. Let's just say that in my mountainous retreat, whenever office hours are over, I can observe throngs of women walking around almost half-dressed. And that's in the CBD. All those mini-dresses, and aforementioned asset-revealing clothes, are all donned by women.
Why hasn't clothings designed to accentuate the figure of a man been made?
Batman has armour, and from what we see, his armour has got 6-packs smithed into them. Being and looking fit is one attribute men cannot miss out on, and this is probably what allows Batman to enter every girls' wet dreams:
Simply hot.
But 6-packs alone isn't enough. Like I've said, what makes women happy most is a big dick. Until now, no one has ever tried to do anything as novel, as radical as I have. Presenting to you a new fashion icon of 2010:
Huge. I know.
Yep, you got that right. Undergarments for men that can place extra emphasis on their man-meat, and pants that hugs around said undergarments such that everything comes to light. Women will now have to suffer from more moist-pangs while walking from Point A to Point B, as they would have to stare (because it's within their biological system to mate too) at wonderful samples of men surrounding them.
I call this the Penile Code.
Skimpily-dressed women are so common, and distracting, it's time men came up with something that is actually comfortable, showy, yet not ball-destroying. Men shouldn't wear women's clothes. Skinny jeans was created for women.
Another fashion icon I'd like to introduce to you guys is this:
Now let me get this straight. I am no fan of Crocs or whatever else they produce, and frankly speaking I think this pair of slippers suck, but I think that slippers could be as much of a fashion icon as the Penile Code.
Slippers have had a major role in manga too. Look at this manly picture of Shanks (you'd have to click this damned thing):
And here's a picture of Rayleigh:
Coincidence? I think not. One common misconception people have towards people wearing slippers is that they are slack. Well, to be honest, that's not a misconception, but that doesn't characterize all our actions, so don't be too judgmental against people wearing slippers :c
I think Oda's choice of this attire for such um powerful men is that slipper-wearers normally have a lot of potential, except that people can't put it past their appearance to realize said potential.
In conclusion: People wearing slippers have a higher chance of conquering the world.
Guys, watch me conquer the world with my slippers >)
-- 10/30/2010 01:58:00 AM
Teeth.
Yea well basically it was a boring movie.Not boring in the boring sense, but because I couldn't catch most of what they are saying. I can't afford earphones to connect to the computer, and I couldn't possibly blast the speakers for myself to hear and risk waking the entire family up. So when they murmured a bit, especially the males, I cannot fathom what they are trying to say, and I end up having to pass it off as something trivial. So it kinda sucked that way.
My mum kept walking out at the most inopportune of moments. She walked out to watch me watch a shower scene, in which the males were walking around strutting their stuff while towelling off. And then she walked out during the gynaecologist scene. That was WTF so I paused the video, changed the tab, and passed the noise from the speaker off as 'I was playing a song'.
The dick-chomp scenes were epic though, the males have this look of excruciating pain. HMm to be honest it wasn't excruciating. It looked more of...exaggerated, and because the thing that is happening to them is fictitious, we cannot relate to it as much and thus it is more of comical than of pain.
And really, "Teeth" itself is a name of the movie I just watched yesterday. It's about vaginal dentata, which basically means a toothed vagina.
Imagine having sex with a girl who has teeth lining her vagina. If she deems you lousy at sex, she can simply bite off your dick with her vagina, leaving you dick-less and unable to exercise your bad skills at sex on others.
"Teeth" was about a girl who was afflicted by this, but realizes soon enough that this isn't much of an 'affliction', since she can use it as a gift, as a blessing.
This is basically what happened in the story
_____________________________________________
Well she first dick-chomped her boyfriend who tried to rape her. She realized that the dick snapped into 2, and she was shocked, and she went to find a gynaecologist who decided that she's horny enough for him to finger, and subsequently got his fingers chomped.
She then realizes that her boyfriend died (drowned I think, couldn't make it past their accent) due to something as silly as a loss of his dick.
Then she wanted to turn herself in but wanted to go home to tell her mother everything that had happened, but found that her mother was unconscious on the floor while her step-brother was indifferent to her plight and was busy pummeling his girlfriend with his pierced dick (Prince Albert ring, whatever it's called).
Then she goes off to find another guy who was quite nice to her, and they ended up having sex. The guy, of course, thought nothing of her 'confession' that she has a 'toothed vagina', and just went ahead. The second time they did it, before she went to turn herself in, his friend called him and he proudly told her that he just won a bet about how he'd get into her pants.
Dick-chomp time.
Then she went to visit her mum at the hospital to find that she's already dead, and she got very angry with her step-brother for having neglected her mum when she was lying unconscious for a long time.
So she went ahead and seduced him and CHOMPed his dick off, and the step-brother's dog subsequently ate his dick, leaving behind only the Prince Albert ring and some remnants of 'dick' left behind.
Then she wanted to cycle away, but her bicycle spoilt and she hitched a ride from a cheek ko pek, who wanted some kind of service from her (coercion: locked the door so she couldn't get out) when they reached some weird place.
Then she smirked, and the movie ended.
________________________________________
I think this teaches men several very valuable lessons.
1) Never put your dick into any hole, however desirable, if you don't know the nature/content of that hole. I'm pretty sure all those diseases you can get pales in comparison to getting your entire dick bitten off, but still, don't adhere by the 'hump anything that moves' theory. It works only when your girlfriend is moving. Not the car, not the exhaust pipe.
2) Don't be a dick. If you're being a bitch and you make your girlfriend angry, the next time she offers you a blowjob you ought to refuse.
3) Well let's just start of with this joke. A little boy always competes with a little girl over silly little things like supremacy. The boy cycled up to the girl and told her 'I have a bicycle, only boys have bicycles'. The next day the girl bought a bicycle and cycled up to him and said 'I can have a bicycle too!'. So the boy bought a scooter and did the same, to which the girl responded with similar zest. Then the boy showed the girl his penis and said 'Only boys can have this!' and the next day, the girl showed him her vagina and said 'My mum said that as long as I have this, I can have as many of THAT as I want!'
Don't see the moral of the story yet?
Guys are usually under the thumb of women. There are nymphomaniacs and there are horny women but they aren't part of majority yet, and even if they are horny they don't show it, and it's always left with the guys shouldering the blame of 'overpopulation'. Women, it's time for you to know the power you have over men--their dicks.
This also teaches women some very important things, which include point 3 for the men.
1) Don't hesitate. Bite if necessary. Women are born with teeth for a reason. Heck, all humans are born with teeth for a reason. Bite to prove your point.
2) Males are naturally dicks. They think of all sorts of ways to get into your pants, and they are creative this way. It is game over if you think they are serious.
3) A little humiliation goes a long way. The seduction of the step-brother exemplifies this point, no further elaboration shall be given.
I am sleepy, I am sleepy, I shall sleep, I shall sleep.
-- 10/24/2010 03:46:00 AM
Move, go away.
I stared long at hard at my relatively clean keyboard. I don't know what to say. I have a lot of things to be angry about, but anger is an emotion that I don't want to experience this often.But circumstances calls for it, and I don't know how to react.
Anger is a feeling, and what we do based on it normally isn't rational. I'd always try to calm myself down by asking questions like:
What are you angry about?
Does it matter?
What would you do to express your anger?
What is your point in expressing your anger?
An alternative solution without turning angry?
And:
Who would you hurt by being angry?
Actions are never going to be forgotten. I never forget (but it's all water under the bridge if you apologize). And I can never forgive if due respect is not given to me.
I may laugh and smile with you but it'd never be the same again.
I know what you've been up to. I know I'm guilty for a lot of things. But this is the last time I'm going to make this statement:
I'd never be guilt tripped by you, and from now on I'd never feel guilty.
Because you did this.
I am never bothered by events. I'm bothered by the people behind the events, because events themselves is nothing new. It's the increasing trend of the events, thus the perversion of the people behind these events, that is disturbing this way.
And now I've seen this perversion of yours, I've seen how you can fall out so easily, and I can see this event and many more to come if I don't stop now.
I can't believe that I'm being talked about on such a public medium but am unable to come up with any replies because I don't want to aggravate the situation. I find it hard to believe that such a...personal thing is placed under the public eye. For whose purview?
Yea I may sound like a hypocrite since I'm also placing such personal stuff on my freaking blog, but you know, I've never named anyone and never would and you don't even know if this is referring to you or not. That's the difference. I know I'm being talked about, you don't, though you do by virtue of the fact that you're thinking 'me' when I refer to 'you'.
To be honest, right now I am angry. But I can never show what I'm angry about because I have to act like my age.
And I like to keep my posts open-ended, so if you inquire I'd simply name another person to protect your dignity, because:
"I may laugh and smile with you but it'd never be the same again."
I am a bitch.
Hate me.
-- 10/23/2010 01:39:00 AM
"Childhood Friend"
Prologue_____________________________
I was at my usual mountainous retreat, studying, when I chanced upon this couple. Well, my mountainous retreat really isn't much of a mountain considering the fact that it's in the CBD, but besides that, it's supposed to be a place for me to still my heart, think life through, reflect, meditate, learn to become ambidextrous, and ultimately, to study (note the list of priorities).
So as I was saying, I chanced upon this couple intruding on my quiet retreat. It didn't exactly infuriate me of course, but their actions were..interesting to say the least. So the guy leaned towards the girl, whispered stuff to her ear in which she giggled approvingly of, and proceeded to place her hand on somewhere which looks suspiciously near his crotch. Well either she's impressed or she's impressed, because she then smiled approvingly, something unimpressed girls wouldn't do.
The guy then proceeded to look around shiftily (trust me, I know that look on his face, I've done..shifty things before, like theft) before running his hand across the entire front of hers, boobs included, before resting that very same hand near her crotch.
Then they hugged and left, probably for a quickie before going off to work. Workers who are sexually frustrated are unable to do their job properly, they need to...get off well enough to proceed on with their otherwise mundane lifestyle I guess.
Well, this brings to mind several things. Why did they do it so publicly? I think it's for the thrill, the thrill of getting caught. It makes people want to challenge themselves, and is itself a way of spicing life up.
Is there anyone at fault between the 2 of them? Well, I think that it takes 2 hands to clap. There is this common misconception people have towards sex--that men are the only horny ones. That is not true. Females can be horny too. The view that only males can be horny is itself a very biased stereotype, because males are extensively proven to have a high sex drive. But females do have a sex drive too. Did you think that all erotic stories are written by males?
Move on.
There's this 'I don't want to read erotic stories, so gross' kind of sentiment around. I know, I've felt it. I don't get the point though, why shun it? There's no need to celebrate sex of course, but there's no reason to shy from it either. It's part of us, it's part of what we'd do in the future, and it's definitely what made us in the first place. To say that humans don't lust would be a fallacy.
Think of sex as like digging your nose. The finger is the penis while the nose is the vagina. Apparently the vagina gets to feel more stimulated as the penis enters it, like the finger-nose analogy. Females lust, but like the nose they can't bring themselves to keep appearing to want to be dug.
I celebrate this perversion of humans. I am a sicko. I am honest with myself -morally superior moment-, because I know that deep down everyone, there is a pervert. Sickos are just people who are exhibiting their perverse side and not just lusting and keeping their lusts in as something to be ashamed about.
I am not ashamed to be human.
Presenting: Childhood Friend
This story was written when I was in Sec 3. Yes, an entire 3 years back. I think I wrote it during History, because I was bored by..Ms. Gavin? That her name? I forgot, the boring one lah, I remember her making us kneel when we don't do homework =.= so this was, I guess, a way of 'doing work'. A rather defining segment of this story was inspired by "Ugly Betty".
Well, this is the exact copy of what I wrote back in Sec 3. Don't ridicule this piece of 15-year old writing :c
_________________________________________________
Looking at the numerous, fading photographs, Alex's face stood out in spite of itself. He was m childhood friend, my brother, my confidant, my everything. I could not help but feel a sense of bereavement as I flipped through the peeling, yellowed pages of the leather-bound photo album. If filled me with nostalgia. Tears welled up and I started shaking uncontrollably. I felt helpless, empty, as even my tears left me alone in the dusk.
Remorse filled me, as blinding realization of my past actions hit home.
I led to the destruction of my friend...
We were great friends, Alex and I. We did almost everything together, fooled around with our teachers, and even girls. We would bathe together, appreciating each other's manhood, comparing sizes, and joking around. He was more than a brother to me. If I were a girl, we'd definitely be romantically involved. But I wasn't, and so I stopped short of becoming homosexual. I'm straight.
But Alex could not. We were 20 then. I had already started going out with girls, while Alex remained withdrawn, cold to the world. Except me. I should have known then, that something was wrong. But I was slow, self-centered, conceited enough to think that I know him too well, that he was as normal as I am. I passed it off as a transition period for him.
But that was not the case. We were bathing together once, when he suddenly...stood up. There was an odd look of craving in his eyes as I stared into them. I was shocked, but tried to dismiss it even as he advanced towards me. Mortified, I watched as he tried to turn me around. My brain was fuzzy, and I had a weird buzzing sound in my head. As he was ready to sodomize me, something hit my brain: I'm not gay. I woke up from this subconscious state, and heard those 3 words reverberating through the bathroom. As though shot, Alex stood there. I'm sure I shattered his heart there and then, as he simply stoned there, incapable of motion, almost as if something that his life depended upon had just failed him. I ran away as his erection drooped. As I was fleeing, I could not help but notice as something disappeared from his gentle blue eyes.
I never heard from him since then.
5 years passed, and I graduated from university to become a full-fledged psychologist. The job was tough, but it was more than a job to me. It was my passion. I knew never to be romantically involved with troubled women. Until I saw her.
Alexis was simply beautiful. From head to toe, everything about her was perfect. Her facial features were skilfully chiselled, and..well she's just beautiful. Even her sitting posture, her way of crossing her legs, the way her gentle blue eye's twinkled as she laughed approvingly of my humour, and even the way her melodious carries...she captivated me. Her voice had this sense of warmth that I've missed for so long, and something about it was agreeable to me. Her voice washed over me as I sized her up, even though I'm not supposed to do this to my female patients no matter how desirable they are. Hour-glass figure, milk-white skin, and warmth and light seems to radiate from her entire being...
"Are you okay, doctor?" She smiled as she spoke. Apparently, she knew that my mind wandered off to her. She valiantly tried to cover her discovery, but failed miserably as we both blushed furiously. That was the spark of love.
Our relationship soon evolved from doctor-patient, to friend-friend. Her psychological problem was soon forgotten, as whenever we met, it's at the movies, or for meals, or crowded places. None of which was conducive for psychological assessment or help, and we soon decided to forget that she had a problem. Love between as blossomed perfectly, as normal as normal could be.
I went to her house one day under her invitation for dinner. The details became hazy, and the next thing I knew, we were kissing passionately. I slapped her ass and pulled her towards me, dry humping her along the way. Caressing her back intimately, I grew hard immediately. Eating into each others' faces, we both knew something we not wanted in common: MORE! With my masculine strength, I stripped her of those cumbersome apparel. The buttons of her blouse fell hypnotically onto the floor, as she reached the last button of my T-shirt. Too slow! I flung my shirt away as far as possible, as if it was not worthy of my skin, not worthy to be in, or to see, this intimacy of ours. My pulsating pole of muscle was rearing to escape from my iron-cages, the zipper. She had to get in the way! pushing me to her bed, she got on my. Humping my still caged Incredibly Hulk, I groaned. I wanted to get into her so badly, but she refused my admittance. Evil. The bristle of hair covering Wonderland's admittance started scratching against my pants. I thrust my hips to meet her, and she could not stand it anymore either. I heard my zipper going off, and my pants fell to the floor. Sensing freedom, my rigid pole broke out from my underpants.. It had attained a new level, that of titanium hard. Alexis' mouth was agape in wonder. Perhaps she had never seen a shaft that big and hard before. Her dainty hands worked in unison with her mouth, as they engaged with this huge encounter. Closing my eyes in pleasure, I released myself in her mouth. I can shoot, a lot. My turn at this sextion (action). I dumped her onto the bed, beside me. Sizing me up, she gazed at me expectantly. She can take pain huh. She shall not be disappointed! Pinning her to the bed, I shot my member between her legs. Her hymen broke apart, and a few warm drops of blood oozed out. Her scream of pain materialized instantaneously. I was too huge for her, and I forced entrance on her too quickly, too forcefully. Her body tensed up as its instincts were to minimize the pain. However, she screamed for more. Sado-masochistic. Pumping her mercilessly, as vigorously as possible, her body convulsed and her groans grew louder. Hugging her as tightly as I could, I felt her sharp breaths on my neck. My knees grew weak, as yet another shot of me came into being. Shooting within her, everything became stickier and the slopping sound of our various genital juices were soon overheard in spite of our groans of pleasure. More, more. Tonight we live, tomorrow, we'd never know.
I never tire, but Alexis' body seemed unable to take anymore. She went to sleep, while I was allowed to wander about. Her room was beautifully decorated and decked with ornaments. I was drawn to a leather-bound book, yellow with age. My throat went dry as pictures of my childhood days plastered the pages. Page after page, the pictures followed a chronological order and became more recent. I saw the 20 year old Alex and myself, on that very fateful day that he tried to sodomize me. Next page: Pictures of Alex in Thailand. Then..
Alexis in Thailand.
"Honey, what are you doing?" The familiar cadence of this suspicious voice suddenly hit home. I dropped the heavy photo album in shock. Looking at the album, then at me, her eyes dilated in shock.
His blue eyes.
Alex.
-- 10/21/2010 10:36:00 PM
Clarinet.
EDIT: Oh I edited the ending a bit. It was too abrupt previously. The main body of the story was edited slightly too.EDIT #2: Well apparently some people kept making noise at the 'capitan' typo I made, so I changed it =.=
It has been ages since I last wrote an erotica, and I know my skills at descriptive writing have deteriorated, but I still hope this story makes erotic sense, and sense in general, and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as the intended recipient of this story, whom I hope is reading this (;
Yes, it's you, C.
_______________________________________
Yea, I know I shouldn't be lusting for my captain, but when the dick strikes, what can I do? There was just this gravitational pull she had over me, and without meaning to, she had captivated my dick and all I could think of was what lies beneath her clothes and whether under all that tanned skin was a woman aching for what I want.
It was an out-of-the-blue bolt, much like all other bolts, and this one was worse because we were in the same CCA. She was my captain, and behind all that logic she had when conducting debate trainings, I couldn't help but think of her as a full-fledged woman--in every sense of the word. Her disposition was...intimidating to say the least, but there was just this thing about her intimidating aura that attracted me. I was very interested in her, and it was largely due to her that I joined Debate in the first place. And now that she's stepping down from the CCA I can't help but feel this sense of loss. I didn't want to live in regret, and I didn't want to join Debate for nothing. This was the very last day of her captaincy.
I didn't know how it happened, but I managed to muster my courage to approach her after her own work-out in the school gym. Well to be honest, I've never went to the gym before and when I saw her heading towards the gym I decided 'Hell, why not?' and just popped in.
I didn't greet her or give any form of acknowledgment to her presence though. I simply went to the dimly-lit area of the rather large gym, and just lifted the dumb-bells, which kinda resembled me at that time as I stared at her working at the treadmill. You'd think it'd be boring to watch someone jog, but this isn't so in her case. Every movement of hers accentuated her perfect figure, and I was jealous of every sweat on her body as they shared that physical bond with her that I could only dream of. Even as those beads of perspiration were duly removed by a callous swipe of her hand, I still felt that pang of longing, as that very callousness is in itself a form of attention--the kind that she'd never give to me (I was never outstanding in Debate, I was too..intimidated and my brain was in my briefs). And as usual, gravity and the gravity-defying act of jogging pushed her boobs to a new bouncing limit that wasn't to be trifled with. Her singlet threatened to fall off at one point, and she seemed oblivious to that fact and I was actually hoping for it to fall off, I needed to see more, I needed to see her in her entirely naked form, I needed so much more than what she had to offer, but she re-adjusted it after awhile. It did not stop her bra from protruding, it did not stop little patches of her well-endowed chest from making their appearance, and it didn't stop me from lusting for her.
So when she finally stopped after a gruelling 40minutes (yes, she lasted that long and at quite a fast pace too), I was totally unprepared for her sudden departure. When she turned around I thought she saw me, but even if she did I won't ever know--it'd be a miracle if she even knew I was from the very same CCA as her. I looked down at the dumb-bells I was holding onto in dejection.
When I heard the door opening, I chanced to take a quick look at her retreating back, that same seductive back I'd give my life to stare at for the whole day. I couldn't take this in its entirety, it was too surreal--a sweaty goddess, with her singlet clinging onto her very shirt. The lights illuminated her sweat-glazed arms, and those beads of perspiration was just too much for me to take. I just..didn't know how to react and my mouth was agape in wonder. The door closed behind her after what seemed like an eternity, and that's when reality hit home.
I'd never get her.
In a fit of anger, I threw the dumb bells I was holding. Well, technically it wasn't throwing since gravity worked better than I did, but it still remains a fact that I attempted to throw them. I picked up my towel and headed for the showers.
That's when I heard a familiar voice from the female showers. She was singing! I don't think she knew, but I was stuck there listening to her melodious voice, oblivious to the people walking around me wondering why I'm situated immediately outside the female toilet without movement. She was singing a..rather melancholic song, probably because today is her last day as the captain of Debate. Do women always sing in their showers?
Her captivating voice melted me though. I wasn't exactly 'stuck there listening', but more of recollecting the precious memories I had with her. It's probably not precious to her of course, seeing as I didn't make much of an impact in her life, but she doesn't need to reciprocate the devotion I have for her. It's a precious memory that I could keep for myself--and I'd be contented with just that knowledge that I've once dative-bonded with her.
I'd always remember the way she speaks, the strength in her tone as she proves her points when in a debate, how her eyes sparkles when she is amused by her teammates, how a gracious smile of hers can seemingly brighten up my whole day. I am content to know that she is happy, and I am content that I've witnessed her happy side. I do not need to make her happy--it is OK to remain status quo, if that means her happiness remains.
I'd always remember how she breaks out in cold sweat when faced with a tough opponent. I'd always remember how her shirt will stick to her body whenever that happens, and how..alluring it is when that actually happens. I'd always remember how I can almost see her delightfully tanned skin under all that clothes which have turned translucent by the sweat, and I've always marvelled at how her male opponents are able to press on with their point without any biological reactions. I'd always remember how she'd smile graciously after every defeat (which doesn't happen often) at the whole team, and encourage us to move on. To be part of her life in such setbacks but being unable to do anything to change the outcomes of such debates is certainly regrettable, but I'm just...somehow glad to know that beneath all that intimidating presence is a real human, and I'm glad to have been part of her life, no matter how insignificant my role is.
I'd always remember the quirks in her behaviour--from the way she flicks her hair and the way her hair can always settle neatly wherever she wants to place them, to the way her long, attractive legs fold whenever she's deeply engaged in a conversation. I like the way she changes the way she sits (to avoid pins and needles presumably), and the way her panties would always nearly make their debut when she does so. I like the way she can remain so innocently seductive, and it totally made me crazy.
Suddenly, I could hear the quavering of her voice as she ended the last few verses of that song. I could hear her breaking down. I don't know why, but the aforementioned courage overwhelmed me and I rushed into the (thankfully, and perhaps not-so-thankfully) very vacant female showers to find her collapsed in a heap sobbing uncontrollably and beating at the puddles of water on the floor. That naked sight was one I couldn't take in, because my neurones were flooded and I nearly fainted there and then by the magnitude of what I had done and what I'm about to do. I was so tantalizingly close to what I had wanted all the time--her attention.
And I did get it this time. She looked at me in my eyes and was quite shocked by my presence. Well, she looked shockingly pleased, and that is shocking itself. What was she pleased about? Why is she pleased with a peeping dick?? But those were questions left unasked, as she was seated cross-legged in the showers and she was resting sideways on the wall, and the whole picture of desolation was too much for me to bear and I took her in my arms without any further hints or explanations. In my arms, she looked so frail, so..weak, so in need of protection. Her slightly hair pussy was telling of how chaste she is, thus the lack of shaving, and as I approached her and as her head rested on my chest, I could see her nipples standing erect under the scalding shower. Yes, I was presuming a lot, I was presuming that she wouldn't mind, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to protect her from everything, and having her in my arms was all I needed to make my life complete. And I needed to make hers as complete as mine is.
I needed to make her feel better.
I don't know which warmed her better--the shower heater or my burning heart. But whichever the case is, she seemed to feel better in my arms. Her sobbing became more..controlled and she managed to smile at me--a seemingly complete stranger in her life. But if she's comfortable with that I guess I don't have the rights to complain. I never had the rights to complain. It is already...my honour to have this angel cradled in my arms, completely open, naked, to my purview.
It started to grow uncomfortable for me though, and the hot water wasn't helping. Never knew that the school invested so much in such effective heaters. I was still fully clothed, and certain biological reactions that should occur when a heterosexual male has a desirable female in his arms (even more dire when naked) occurred. She certainly felt a sizeable bulge forming in my pants, and she smirked and coyly suggested that she doesn't want to be the only naked person in the showers.
Basically, my response was to become like the incredible hulk in my pants--I ripped every shred of clothings off me.
Rawrrr.
And the inevitable happened of course. So there I was, standing (since you generally have to stand to rip off your clothes) proud and tall (and long, hopefully), when she looked at me with those glazed eyes, telling of her own state of arousal. She wasn't one to talk though, there's nothing much to talk about anyway, and ultimately she couldn't talk when her mouth was full (;
Yep, she had me in her mouth there and then, in one sleek movement. I've always wondered whether a debater's tongue would be good for such heavy-duty work, considering how glib and fast they can get, and let's just say that she didn't disappoint and I was making too many guttural sounds I thought I'd spoil my voice and future job prospects. It was erotic watching my Indiana Jones disappearing into her buccal cavity, and it was even hotter to see her eyes burning into mine, with desire for more.
And more was what I had to offer, and delivered.
I wouldn't settle for just a blowjob. I lifted her from her kneeling position, and pushed her back against the wall and thrust my fingers roughly into her sweet snatch. I needed to feel her down south, and I needed to feel just how aroused she can be. As I pushed past her folds, she started moaning and shivering uncontrollably, and I felt her pussy contracting around my fingers--I couldn't believe I brought her to orgasm just like that! She had either a very low threshold for such stimulations, or was already stimulated by my mere presence. She moaned for me to stop as it was getting too sensitive for her to handle, but I couldn't care less, I needed to have her and I needed her to know how much I wanted her. I thrust myself into her, and every subsequent thrust caused many little deaths in her. Her back was on the wall, and the shower just kept running, keeping us ever warm, ever painful, but our burning passion we had for each other isn't one that mere water, boiling or not, could stop. The soft pitter-patter of water further illustrated just how alone the 2 of us are, and this, this was our undisturbed sanctuary despite it being a public place, school shower, no less.
This, is where we'd first mate and hopefully, not the last.
As my thrusts gained speed, her moans gained volume. Her back scrubbed the walls of the showers diligently, as diligently as I would have it. Our lips melted in a whirl, and our movements hard to follow as we blurred into one, a fusion, an amalgamation of two bodies. That day, a single being was formed.
But all good things have to cum to an end. I was nearing the end of my rope, far longer than expected, because she stimulated me to no end, but I somehow managed to hold back the inevitable for as long as this fusion took to occur. But still, it had to end.
As I didn't have a condom, I was nervous about getting her pregnant, but she assured me that I could pull out and give her a huge facial under the punishing hot, scalding shower. Right when I was about to pull out, she wrapped her legs around me and yelled : "BE MY BABY'S DADDY!" I couldn't get out in time. FML.
Now I'm stuck with a baby whose parentage I'm not entirely sure of.
Now I know the reason behind her tears, her melancholy.
Now I know what I am to her.
-- 10/18/2010 12:17:00 AM
Out of AJail.
Yep, so today was farewell assembly, meaning we that by right, we don't have to go back to AJC until A levels, and any more school activities would be voluntary.I don't really know what to feel. After hating AJC for the past 2 years and now facing the eminent ejection from it, I feel this sense of emptiness. It's like what always happens--you want something but the moment you get it you're unable to do anything other than marvel at the fact that you've gotten it.
I don't know what to do now that I'm out of AJC, rightfully speaking. I don't know why I hate the school either. Why? The teachers are nice, except that they tend to treat us like second-grade students in the sense that they don't really treat us like geniuses, which is perfectly understandable considering the fact that people who go AJC are probably not geniuses..
..but that's not the reason to hate it so much right? So what's my beef with AJC? =\
Right now I'm just going to soak in this moment of...freedom? But naw I can't, because there's nothing to be happy or cheerful about, there's still A levels, there's still so much more shit to do.
It's like Stockholm syndrome all over again. What am I to do, what am I do feel, about JC life and AJC in general now that it's kinda removed from my life?
Would I actually miss AJC? Would I miss taking 86 home?
I have this tendency to write a lot, and thanks to liquid courage I've decided to end off just here. I don't know what to say after all. =\
Bye 17/09. I hope this doesn't mean the complete depletion of our affinity though. Much though I may bitch about the politicking within the class, I know I'd miss this.
Let's not be type 2 friends? Be type 3? (:
-- 10/16/2010 01:04:00 AM
Prove that you are sane.
LY told me about a teacher who told the class about a university lecturer who set this dumbfounding essay:Prove that you are sane.
The simplicity of the question and its seemingly obvious answer stumps everyone like the question:
Why is 1 + 1 = 2? Who defines '2', and who defines '1'?
Same question here, what is 'sane' defined as?
All of us have our quirks in nature, nuances in language, differences in perspective. It would make sense to say that everyone is sane by their own standards. When I was on the wheelchair after my cat-emulation incident, I once again emulated F1 drivers by steering my imaginary steering wheel while my mum negotiated the turns in the hospital from behind. I made this comment myself:
'Should others see me doing this, they'd know how I got injured in the first place.'
Which made perfect sense, and shows that I am insane to a certain extent, and this 'insanity' of mine is only because of the what is deemed as 'normal' in society--people don't normally treat being pushed around in a wheelchair as F1-material.
People don't normally jump around on tables either :c
If mine is the more extreme case of 'insanity' which is not 'incriminating' enough to get me sent to Buangkok Green Medical Park (IMH), then there must be other milder forms of insanity that are quite like mine, except that they are, well, milder.
We all do things that are logical to us, and what is logical to us may not be logical to others, thus making everyone 'insane' in that way.
Such a cheem question and I don't think I've answered it because I've only shown, slightly, that everyone is insane to a certain degree.
In games, whenever we get pwned in DotA or L4D, we always get up/respawn and fight again despite knowing that we'd probably get knocked down again. But why? Is it just to maximize our $2/hour expenditure? No! Another radical definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results. And we fit that description perfectly. We try to attribute our successes and failures to 'luck', which is quite an insane thing to do to be honest, but we feel better that way.
I've run out of steam. Is knowing that we are all slightly insane a proof to why I am sane because insanity is only defined as such by the general population, and thus by pointing the finger at the general population there is no such thing as insanity?
Well never mind that. What is this thing?
Well you probably guessed wrongly. Nope, it's not soup nor rice, it's actually...
...pizza topped with a bottleful of cheese.
And here's a cashier named 'Am Cashier':
How random.
Well I didn't get to do much today. I kinda ponned school because I didn't bother with coming up with any valid reasons to not go to school. I mean I do have a valid reason to skip school but that doesn't mean that I actually produced the valid reason to do so, thus I 'ponned' in every sense of that word. But then again what can AJC do to me now that we're all graduating on Friday? (;
Then WK and I decided to crash VJC, just because we were bored. OK actually it was more of my...persistence in that matter. So we had to smuggle ourselves in because we didn't want to bother to get a visitor's pass and all in all it was epic in the sense that we were walking around as inconspicuously as possible trying not to get spotted by teachers. It was fun in that way <3
Well I'm just going to talk about how successful we were and not how we failed because I don't want to uhhh trample on someone's feelings (;
Yea well all in all a day wasted, HOOOOOPS.
-- 10/14/2010 01:05:00 AM
10.10.10
It's supposed to have some kind of symbolic meaning behind that date. It's supposed to be a lucky day for people or something, either way it is supposed to be special.It is special today. Specially bad.
For me, I don't need special dates. I just want my basic amenities--privacy in the living room, porn, and the toilet.
My father is depriving me of all 3.
FML.
This is driving me nuts. I want to do what is in my right to do >(
And I'm even wearing my special underwear for occasions as such, to wish me good luck and good orgasms. Everything is not going according to my way, PERFECT TEN MY FOOT.
I give up this contest of wills. I'm sleeping. He's probably going to watch porn when I go sleep, and do what I cannot do now just because he is here.
And I'm considering patricide.
-- 10/10/2010 03:47:00 AM
How to understand Singaporeans =.=
You cannot hope to bring understanding through explanations. That's what I think, because I believe that my definition of understanding is quite different from what others define it as.
I feel that to understand someone, you have to completely empathize with him. You cannot have any different viewpoints, because to understand, you have to assume his concerns, and if his concerns have led him to adopt a certain paradigm, you as the 'understander' have to be able to adopt these paradigms from the person you're trying to understand.
And if you're able to do that and still retain your own views, if you're able to have 2 conflicting views in your head and be a walking paradox, you've succeeded in understanding, you've succeeded in life.
I feel that the word 'understand' is more of an emotionally charged word than a rational one. Like, 'You don't understand me! -sobs-' is definitely emotionally charged. It is weird to think otherwise (or at least for me).
That's why I don't think anyone can truly understand another person. We all have different things we hold true, and thus different concerns, different attitudes.
We always try to achieve understanding though. This is evident from all the stories we share with each other. We want the recipient of our stories to know more about us, and we want the the recipients of such stories to have a more educated/first-hand view of us, which would hopefully be very positive thus allowing us to mate. The stories we tend to share with each other is thus carefully selected so that such that the effect of making us look good is achieved, and thus a skewed understanding for others to have regarding our characters.
If I were to say that I'm not guilty of this, I'd also be guilty of this. That's why I'd rather dispense with all these stories. It's boring to the core, it doesn't help, and you can find out more about me if you want to, because I know you want to due to my charisma.
Sharing too much about yourself constitutes 'narcissism', something I'm guilty of but too shy to admit.
When every story your friend tells you is accepted as the truth, you've 'understood' your friend in that sense. You trust your friend enough to accept every propaganda he/she throws at you, your perception is thus skewed towards a perfect friend you have.
But trust is when you give up on trying to understand others (from Liar Game).
And I can only accept people in their entirety. I need to know every side of them.
I don't know how to end this conclusively. But I know that this:
is why Singaporeans can be such insensitive dicks. I fired a comment back, and that states my stand. If you guys know me you guys would know what my moniker is. But the fact that this thread of comments can be so vehemently vicious is a clear indication of how morally degraded Singaporeans are.
This is something I cannot understand, cannot relate to. I'm glad there are like-minded people around (like-minded to me) though. Something I can take heart in.
And I can't bring myself to 'like' the Facebook page of deaths =.= I can't see how to 'like' the passing of a person. We all bleed the same. I don't want people to 'like' my death, thanks. I'd want free beer for everyone who visits my wake, a lot of discotheque music, Happy Birthday songs played, and more free beer. And perhaps a striptease by hot call-girls for my soul and for the people who know me (and as for the people who don't know, they would come anyway).
But I won't 'like' my death =.= I can 'like' the wake though. I can't bring myself to 'like' my funeral. But on second thoughts...
..wouldn't it be great to be cremated via fireworks? I imagine the separation of my ashes and the firework-embers to be a great headache though =\
-- 10/03/2010 02:36:00 AM
Societal ulcers.
As everyone probably already knows, there's this ulcer under my tongue. Here's a picture of it, it's on the right of my tongue (for the slow: your left).Pardon my hair and bad complexion, because I don't really give a shit:
And yep, that's all you get to see of my sexy lips and manly retainers.
It's interesting how such anomalies find their way into our lives in such random ways. I don't like it one bit, it doesn't really hurt but I hate the fact that I can't lick it. I enjoy licking my wounds (ulcer is a type of wound, no?), and I don't know about you but when I lick my ulcer I can tell when it'd completely heal by (give or take 2 days). OK yea I know it doesn't sound specific at all, probably because it's not. But the point is, I like licking my wounds, it gives me some sense of ownership over those wounds which I can lick.
This ulcer however is screwed up because I can't lick it since it's on the thing I use to lick things with. It's a case of the doctor being sick himself--incapable of self-cure. Sad life.
And as everyone knows, my tongue is well-known for it's length and vitality. Now it's just a limp and painful dick.
Having ulcers always reminds me of the frailty of life and the possibility of losing what we take for granted--our own bodies. Whenever I get one of these growths (or lack thereof) I'd start hating life and the cumbersome process of trying to avoid the affected area while I eat. It's really tiring and probably a good dieting tool but manly men like me won't give a shit about diet?
The point is, life sucks now. Prelim results aren't helping, at all, but that's something all of us have to live with (the ones that sucked at least). Scant consolation today though, it's probably something most of the level achieved and thus not a good indication of our abilities. I don't like this kind of consolation marking. I don't like hard facts but to attempt to salvage any semblance of dicknity left after the horror that is prelims by the teacher would only trample on our pride even more. Bleh.
Here's something epic by the way. We were doing a survey about AJC since we're already graduating from AJC, and they asked an interesting question:
TYS? Seriously? I mean, what the fuck? OK I've decided not to use so much vulgarities because it desensitizes the word, but this is a case which calls for the use of expletives. Seriously, TYS?
It's quite normal if you just put the TYS part by itself: (e.g. returning lost items such as TYS).
Who can fault that statement? No one. But the fact that they placed 'wallet' makes the emphasis on the importance of TYS in AJC-ians' lives much more pronounced, almost as if TYS is as important as wallets.
One of my friends left her earphones and iPod in the AJC library once, and realized that they were missing only after a paper. She managed to retrieve her things--no one bothered to take away said items.
So we remarked that AJC people only steal notes. I haven't tried leaving notes around, but that'd surely be quite an interesting social experiment.
Let's try after A's (;
-- 10/02/2010 02:40:00 AM