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| | mardi, août 30, 2005

She pushes her fingers in between my legs and I can feel water entering my cunt, its heat slowly spreading itself. Each time her fingers enter me, she pushes my head deeper under water. I want to resist, but I know that the more I struggle, the longer this will take. She wants to be the boss. I will make her think she has broken me.

She's fucking me rhythmically. Slow and deep. I try to concentrate on her fingers and the heavy pulsating beat of blood in my cunt. I try to relax and move with her. She reacts and pushes her hipbone against my lower back.

The water level is rising and she keeps pushing me under water for longer and longer periods. The more I gasp for breath, the more she seems to enjoy it. Her breasts sway with every move. She laughs at me and tries to push 3 fingers into me. Too short, bad angle. Does she think I can come like that? She doesn't even give me a fair chance.
I become frustrated and angry again. Suddenly I remember how she snapped at me in the bar. Bitch. I start to move faster and harder and rub my buttocks against her public hair.

Finally she starts to relax. I manage to get more air. She starts to moan and moves even faster. I can hardly keep up with her, but my arm is free now. With one big punch I can make her lose her balance. I hit her hard in the face. Her hands immediately cover her nose and cheeks. She clearly didn't expect this.

I push myself up, grab hold of her and throw her onto the bathroom floor.
She's still looking at me with astonishment in her eyes.

"So do you want to kill me or what?" I yell at her. "You don't even have enough feeling to commit a murder."

"Amateur!" She yells back almost immediately. Her eyes are shiny with anger, but the blow has weakened her. I grab her ankles and haul her through the living room, over the rough carpet, as far as the stairs. I use my shirt to tie up her hands above her head and strap them to the banisters. She doesn't resist and closes her eyes. She's saving her power for her next assault.
I fetch the whisky from the kitchen and quickly pour a sip into her mouth. That helps.

She starts coughing and slowly realises what situation she has gotten herself into.
The more she pulls and struggles, the tighter her cuffs become.
I can see her thinking. She desperately tries to come up with a plan, a trick that would make me release her. But if I would cut her loose now, she would humiliate me until I would do anything to make her stop.

(to be continued...)

| | dimanche, août 28, 2005

Early sunlight is seeping in through the kitchen window. She breathes heavily into my ear. I can't move. She has me in a tight clamp. Her knees are pressing into my thighs. She tightens her grip and contorts my wrist until I yell out with pain.

"I hate you." I growl.

She bangs her knee into my side and I fall onto the floor, panting for breath.
Then she throws herself on top of me and pushes her wet hair into my face. I can't breathe. Whisky stings my eyes and throat. I grab hold of her thighs and she starts to move.
She stumbles to the bathroom, pulling me along with her.
She opens the taps and tries to tear off her wet clothes. Meanwhile she pulls me by the hair and pushes me into the bathtub. I try to bite and scratch, but she's strong enough to push me under the tab. Ice cold water pounds onto my skull.

"You miserable bitch...", she breathes into my ear. "I should have known. Why the hell did I come with you..."

"This is why." I answer quickly and bite her earlobe.

She tries to turn her head away from me. I can see her large brown breasts bulge out of her shirt. She has goose bumps and big, rock hard nipples.
I reach out to touch them, but she grabs my hair again and pushes me deeper into the bathtub. Her whole body is leaning into me. I lose my balance and fall flat on my stomach. My head bangs into the bottom of the bathtub.

She crawls on top of me now and pushes me down with her strong thighs.
I can feel her toes drill into the back of my knees.
She turns the tabs open full blast. I'm stuck. Water is slowly finding it's way under and around my body.
She is going to drown me.

"Well now, what about showing me what you can do?" she snarls.
"And hurry up."

(to be continued...)

| | samedi, août 27, 2005

The city has become a maze of unhappiness and loss. I'm tired of going out. I'm tired of the dark sleazy discotheques, the hard stares of strange women, the smell of old beer and stale cigarettes in my clothes. I hate the lonely weekends.

It's late and I'm sitting at the counter in a lesbian bar, observing 2 angry butches pushing each other around. They're ready to start a fight any minute now. I'm thinking about going home.

As usual, just as I reach for my coat, I notice her walking in.
She is out hunting. She's tall and strong and moving gracefully. Her eyes lock onto mine and I try not to reveal the mixed up feeling of desire and fear inside me. She lures me out of the bar, into the black night. I can't help following her.

We walk through the small streets in silence. We enter late night clubs, spy around and leave out of restlessness. Bar after bar.
I know she hates to be alone. She’s always looking for company. I'm almost sure she will come home with me later, but first she will humiliate me for her weakness. There will be no way to avoid her stabbing remarks and her arrogant stare. She knows I want her and that's enough for her to despise me.

She wears me out. She throws her head back and laughs like a wolf. She snaps and bites and ridicules. I buy her drinks and the more she howls the less I utter. We drink until the last bar closes.

When we step outside into the shivering cold morning, I am broken and hurting and I don't care anymore. I want to go home. No more thinking or feeling. Just end it all.

“What do you want to end?” she asks. I can see the corner of her mouth curling upwards into an evil grin. Sheis sitting at my kitchen table and looks at me. Now that we are alone and after she’s humiliated me enough in front of everyone, she finally looks at me.

This is the confrontation.
If she wants me angry, she'll get me angry. I grab the bottle of whiskey on the table. Before she even realizes what I am up to, I empty the bottle into her face.
She's soaked and furious. The poignant odour of malt drifts through the kitchen.
"You smell." I tell her dryly.
She jumps up and tries to grab me. I have to duck to avoid her waiving fists.
"You nasty cunt!" she shrieks. "I'll teach you."

(to be continued...)

| | vendredi, août 26, 2005

"Hussain Osman, one of the men alleged to have participated in London's failed bombings on July 21, recently told Italian investigators that they prepared for the attacks by watching "films on the war in Iraq," La Republica reported. "Especially those where women and children were being killed and exterminated by British and American soldiers...of widows, mothers and daughters that cry."

>> Read Terror's Greatest Recruitment Tool by Naomi Klein


"94,000 people -- over half of them African American --were on a "scrub list" in Florida, resulting in their being blocked from voting in the 2000 election."

>> Read The Nazification of America

| | samedi, août 20, 2005

the end of the world


The end of the world. They have sheep there.

| | mercredi, août 17, 2005

( note: this story is not new, but it wasn't on the internet anymore...)


Sophie and I we had always been friends and she had always know that I wanted it to be more than that. We had tried to imagine what kind of couple we would be, but when I’d get too seriously wrapped up in it she’d laugh and say that she would never be able to have a relationship with a woman. Not a lasting one. And certainly not with the first woman she would have sex with. “I would feel liberated probably, once I’d taken the step and I would need to experiment more.” She had said. Who was I to argue. She had her career, her boyfriend and big plans for the future.

I had gotten used to the idea that what I wanted I would never get. But some nights we’d go out and get tipsy and while we were talking and laughing she would become more beautiful and sexy every time I looked at her. At moments like that I was painfully reminded of my position as the rejected lesbian friend. But I never could give up our friendship for it. We had a good time together. She’d cry on my shoulder, trust me with her secrets. That was more important.
When I was with her I just tried to numb out that part of my feelings that had to do with sexual responsiveness. The part of my feelings that went in overdrive from the moment I’d see her. One night I had been talking about a recent business trip to Madrid and how I had fallen in love with this big city of icy winds and thousands of shoe shops. And she had said “Let’s go there together.” And so we did.

We had 3 days and 4 museums to visit. On our first day, we spent hours in the Prado. I don’t know how we managed to get lost in the tube on our way back, but it was near dusk when we got out of a metro station that wasn’t the one we expected. Traffic was rushing by and people hurried into tapas bars for a glass of cava and fresh squid. I was stunned. The grandeur of the enormous buildings and boulevards, feeling completely lost and almost threatened by the ferociousness and speed of the city in full movement.
“Isn’t this wonderful” I said, looking at the cars speeding by in rivers of noise.
“It’s unbearable. I can’t breathe. Get me out of here.” Sophie said.
She panicked. I took her to the nearest bar, so we could ask where exactly we were and lift up our spirits.

The bar was noisy, littered with paper and food rests. We asked the woman behind the bar for a glass of wine.
“Tourist?” she asked. I nodded. She smiled and yelled something at a group of business women at the counter. They interrupted their animated discussion to look at us and laughed too. She gave us very big glasses.

“Go ahead, sit here.” She pointed to two high chairs at the bar.
After a while the woman sitting next to us, who had been previously engaged in the noisy discussion, turned around, facing us and said: “You lost the way, eh? You took wrong metro from Prado. Wrong direction. Where’s your hotel?” She talked fast and loud, with a raw voice. Her eyes were dark and beautiful, sparkling with laughter.
I showed her an address card from the hotel. She looked at it and showed it to her friends, commenting in quick Spanish words.
Then she turned back and said. “You can go with me if you want. For free. Taxi is very expensive. But first you drink some more,” she grinned and pointed at the bar woman, who had been observing us and quickly poured us two equally big glasses of wine. I didn’t know whether to be thankful or not.
“Don’t worry,” the bar lady said, leaning in to me confidentially. “It’s all right. She will bring you to Plaza España, in the city centre.”

It took a while before the woman was ready to go. We had been keeping an eye on her and commenting on her looks. I thought she resembled Victoria Abril, but Sophie kept telling me Victoria Abril would never have such a short haircut. She was getting tipsy after the second glass.
I put her into the front seat, just to be sure she wouldn’t get sick and finally we drove off for a ride through Madrid.
Although we took the big boulevards it took half an hour before I recognized the surroundings again. Colourful advertisements of movies and theatre shows. Saturday night. The streets were packed with people. The Spanish woman didn’t talk. She just smiled at Sophie once in a while and I noticed that she kept looking in the rear view mirror, even when we stopped in front of the traffic lights, observing me with her dark piercing eyes.

After a while she turned into a small street and then a still smaller one and then stopped, only barely missing some trash cans and parking half on the pavement, on a street corner.
“I am inviting you for a drink.” She said, looking at me, then briefly at Sophie. Your hotel is right behind that corner this way. She pointed into a dark street. But drinks is that way.” She smiled. “Come on, it’s Saturday.”
Sophie looked at me and hesitated. I don’t know if she expected me to decline the offer or not, but I thought, “what the hell”, and said “Yes, We’d like to go for a drink.”
Then I noticed how pale Sophie’s face was. She shook her head. “I’m going back.” She said. “I’m not feeling up to it.” Before I could say anything, the Spanish woman had taken her arm. “What’s the matter? You had too much wine?”
She started walking into the dark street with Sophie. “Come, we’ll help you to get to the hotel. What’s your name? Sophie? Ah, nice. Nice name. I’m Victoria.”

I felt useless. Victoria walked Sophie all the way to the elevator, while talking to her and putting her at ease. All I could do was notice her carefully manicured hands on Sophie’s sleeve and her stylish long coat. She even left her card, so Sophie would be able to call her, if she needed help. Then elevator doors closed and I saw Sophie’s confused face disappear. “She’ll be all right.” Victoria said. “Come on. I know a nice bar.”
I should have known what I got into, but I was taken by surprise when we turned the corner and suddenly we were in a small street with bars everywhere. Rainbow flags, red lights: the gay district.

Victoria looked at me. “You like it here?” she grinned. She led me into a small cosy candlelit bar. The slow beats of Massive Attack’s Mezzanine were pouring out of the stereo. Several women at the bar looked at us when we came in. They looked gorgeous, cosmopolitan, wild.
Victoria was talking to the bar lady, she was a regular here, obviously. She handed me more wine.
“Let’s dance”. She said and dragged me to the small dance floor in the back.
“I’ve never danced to Massive Attack before,” I whispered. But she seemed determined and started moving, closer and closer, forcing me into the rhythm.
Her body was slender and firm, like a dancer’s and when I saw her move I amazed at how much lust her movements provoked in me. She was beautiful and strong and sexual. And so different from Sophie. She was a dyke and she was seducing me and the way she danced up to me about knocked me off my feet.

“You look like you need a woman badly, am I right?” she whispered in my ear. “And you know what? So do I.”
What could I say? So, I moved closer and kissed her. Softly, playfully. I tasted her lips and her perfume and it made me delirious. So foreign, dark and sweet. We kept dancing for a while and with every movement I felt my body stir, as if it was reloading itself. Every inch of skin was coming alive, hot and cold and shivering.
“You want to go somewhere private?” she whispered in my ear, slinging her arms around me and grinding her hips into mine. “I have a key. We can go upstairs.“ She saw my questioning look and said grinning: “Rooms to let here, you know.”

The small room she pulled me into was cosy and surprisingly warm. It had a big bed and a chair and if there was more I wouldn’t really have noticed, because she pulled me in and kept her face so close to mine, the only thing I could see were her eyes and jaw line and beautiful collar bones.
Her body was undiscovered territory. I knew from looking into her dark eyes that underneath those layers of clothing her olive skin was burning to be touched. She kept kissing me slowly, tongue and lips thick and wanting and delicately searching an answer. We were already establishing a rhythm and every time her tongue slowly slid into my mouth I could feel desire flowing into me like lava. Through the pit of my stomach and lower still down between my legs.

She dragged me down onto the bed, moaning a little when I answered her kisses with long thrusting movements. I tried to contain myself. I wanted to make love to her slowly, give her all I had, make her beg me to fuck her. But before I knew it she had me pinned down on the bed, arms above my head and her body on top of me.
She started grinding into me, slowly moving her hips, one leg between mine. Her breasts touched mine and I could feel her nipples harden.
I desperately wanted to take off her shirt, but she wouldn’t allow me.
”You first” she said, and she pulled up my t-shirt and slowly took off my bra. I needed to feel her skin . And when, after she had pulled out my jeans, she finally did take off her clothes and crawled back over me, naked and warm, I realised how much I had missed it. The taste and heat of someone else’s body.

Her breasts had beautiful dark nipples and in between her legs she was wet and warm. But I wouldn’t let her come. Not yet. I started teasing her, sliding my tongue along her breasts, her belly and down along her cunt, but not just there were she wanted it. Her pussy was just too beautiful to let go off, too juicy and swollen to give in to it. She moaned, giving me hints about where she liked it. She pushed her clit into my mouth, sitting on my face, but I turned her over quick and held her down with my legs. I circled her cunt with my finger. “Can I go in?” I asked. She didn’t hear me, just moaned and shoved, pushing my finger in deeper. With every thrust she moved her finger along my clit, although I begged her not to. And then I gave in to it. I fucked her and fucked her, two fingers inside her, thumb on her clit until I exploded into orgasm. My mind went blank and I couldn’t even cry, just feel happy.

She put an arm around me and started kissing again, long and deep kisses and she whispered something in Spanish. Her hand slid down again, in between my legs and deeper into me. Then she crawled on top of me, thrusting in her finger while sliding her pussy over my hand. With every thrust the orgasm slammed into my body again like fire. I thought I would pass out. And then she started to come. She moaned and shouted and I felt her breath on my cheek. We were caught in a rhythm together. My body contracting with hers, until she stopped moving an buried her head into my hair and neck and pushed her body close to mine.

We fell asleep for a while. I don’t know how long we stayed into that room. But when I woke up she was sitting on the bed, already dressed holding up a glass of cava for me. “It’s on the house,” she said, with a beautiful grin. She looked stunning. “We need to get out here now. It’s 5 o’clock. The bar will close.” She told me. “I will bring you to your hotel.”
She did. She gave me one of those long kisses and handed me a card. ”Call me, if you are around.” She said. Then she was gone.
I was tired and sleepy and tried not to wake up Sophie when I slid into the bed next to hers in the sad, worn out hotel room.
“Is that you?” she asked, just when I thought I managed to get in quietly.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yes,” I sighed, “Yes, I did”, just before I drifted off in an oblivious after-sex coma.

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