Le chateau de vent

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. Bi...

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 a...

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...

"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

The end of the world. They have sheep there.

( 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 ...