Driving along a disused train track to a camp site to meet some friends, I go through a grass patch only to realize, a little too late, that it's actually a bog. Too late to go back now and no way to turn around I drive on though. Only there is a branch in the bog and once my front tire hits the branch the car stops and the wheels start spinning.
I'm up shit creek without a paddle. Getting out I can see there is no way to get out of the bog by myself so I set off walking back along the train track, back to the nearest town to look for someone who can help. The walk takes ages. The disused train track parallels a country road with the odd car driving past however there are vast long grass meadows between me and the road and crossing through those meadows means risking snake bite and some contain bulls. So I walk and walk finally coming across a meadow that has been used recently, there is a track where a truck has driven from one end of the meadow to the other. I cross that meadow then walk along the road until I come to the nearest farm house.
A woman is home and she goes off to fetch her husband. They drive me in their four wheel drive back to my bogged car and proceed to tie a rope from vehicle to vehicle. The husband is crouched down near the back tired of my car while his wife is over at their vehicle securing the rope. The husband tells me we need a knife because the rear mud flap is stuck in debris which will impede the car from being pulled out.
"I've got a knife" I tell the husband. Suddenly he sits up and looks at me wide eyed and fearful, looks back at his wife for a moment then back at me. When he realized I don't mean on me right at that point in time he relaxes a little. I fetch the knife from inside my console and pass it to him.
For a moment there he panicked and thought he'd stumbled across some psycho car bogging, husband and wife nabbing serial killer.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
sex with aussie guys
i've been told aussie guys are shit lovers. girls who have been with European men tell me this. i have had European boyfriends before and i have to say in comparison to them aussie guys are 'wham, bam, thank you man' types. except they forgo the thank you mam! it's more like wham, bam... see ya later.
my lover came around today not having had sex in weeks. me neither. at first he just wants to make out. i'm ok with that but dubious. so we're making out and he wants to take it further. maybe i should want to too, i don't know? but i don't. kissing him is not turning me on because in the back of my mind I'm thinking 'why me'? i want to know why he wants to be with me. what is it about me that makes him desire me. stupid too much thinking female brain.
while he was away he called me a couple of times and i asked him if he missed me and he said no, he's been too busy. though he must have if he's calling me right? guys, i don't get them.
suddenly he's back and he can't get enough of me. i figure he only wants me because i'm there, available. i try and tell my inner voice to shut up but it won't. so he's trying to get my pants off while i'm trying to pull them back up again. he's talking about how he really wants me, and after some minutes and me giving up the struggle he has his way. before he climaxes he tells me he feels guilty because I'm not getting anything out of it.
utter bullshit really! if he really gave a dam he'd fucking do stuff to me, for me, about me. he'd be giving instead of taking. so he climaxes and i'm left feeling used. a part of me thinks i shouldn't be thinking like that. i should be looking at it as giving something nice to my man because he hasn't seen me in a while. instead of looking at it as me not getting something, i should see it as being giving. i don't see it that way, in part because i hadn't wanted to have sex in the first place. fucking men.
i don't know who i'm more angry at. him or myself?
ok so not all our encounters are this shitty. sometimes they're mind blowingly you beaut and wonderful. every now and then this shit happens and makes me hate being a girl. some hole for a man to stick his dick in.
this morning he woke apologizing for what he'd done. saying he regretted his actions and wished he could undo it all so it never happened. me too.
later on he gave me pleasure as a payback, said he owed me an orgasm. he still wanted to get his rocks off afterwards but i held him to his word.
my lover came around today not having had sex in weeks. me neither. at first he just wants to make out. i'm ok with that but dubious. so we're making out and he wants to take it further. maybe i should want to too, i don't know? but i don't. kissing him is not turning me on because in the back of my mind I'm thinking 'why me'? i want to know why he wants to be with me. what is it about me that makes him desire me. stupid too much thinking female brain.
while he was away he called me a couple of times and i asked him if he missed me and he said no, he's been too busy. though he must have if he's calling me right? guys, i don't get them.
suddenly he's back and he can't get enough of me. i figure he only wants me because i'm there, available. i try and tell my inner voice to shut up but it won't. so he's trying to get my pants off while i'm trying to pull them back up again. he's talking about how he really wants me, and after some minutes and me giving up the struggle he has his way. before he climaxes he tells me he feels guilty because I'm not getting anything out of it.
utter bullshit really! if he really gave a dam he'd fucking do stuff to me, for me, about me. he'd be giving instead of taking. so he climaxes and i'm left feeling used. a part of me thinks i shouldn't be thinking like that. i should be looking at it as giving something nice to my man because he hasn't seen me in a while. instead of looking at it as me not getting something, i should see it as being giving. i don't see it that way, in part because i hadn't wanted to have sex in the first place. fucking men.
i don't know who i'm more angry at. him or myself?
ok so not all our encounters are this shitty. sometimes they're mind blowingly you beaut and wonderful. every now and then this shit happens and makes me hate being a girl. some hole for a man to stick his dick in.
this morning he woke apologizing for what he'd done. saying he regretted his actions and wished he could undo it all so it never happened. me too.
later on he gave me pleasure as a payback, said he owed me an orgasm. he still wanted to get his rocks off afterwards but i held him to his word.
Friday, March 22, 2013
supply and demand
 |
| supply and demand |
In the US & probably other countries, young girls respond to adverts saying actresses wanted. They phone up the number and get told a brief thing about the 'film' they'll be auditioning for. Example: there is a rape scene in the movie are you ok with that? Of course the girl assumes it's like a Hollywood block buster and the scene will be done professionally and no actually rape will take place.
When they go to the 'auditions' / casting calls they're dolled up with costumes and what not and are shoved into a room where they are set upon. All this is caught on film and there is the 'rape scene' they were told about. If not a rape scene, maybe the girls plays a nurse for jailhouse men who set upon her when she enters the room. Or she thinks she's playing the role of a girl who goes to a job interview and there is a sex scene with the interviewer only it turns out to be real non consensual sex.
This is how numerous porn movies are made and how many young girls get their first introduction to the porn industry. It is soul destroying. There is no one to prosecute or assign blame to and they're too embarrassed to tell anyone. And no matter what happens that movie is out there to circulate for all of time. With millions of people watching a girl who is forced upon.
There are other porn movies made with actual employed porn stars who make a living out of this industry, yet here's the thing. When you rent, buy, watch a porn movie you don't know which industry you just supported. Did you just support and buy into an industry that rapes young American girls for men's entertainment? Even if you watched a movie where the girls are willing participants your money still goes towards companies who practice porn rape. Not only that, when you rent, buy, watch a movie you create a supply and demand for porn rape.
So ask yourself this. Are you happy to support such an industry or do the girls in your country deserve better than that? Remember the girls in those movies could be your sister, your cousins, your nieces, your girlfriend or wife, even your mum or aunty. Is that ok with you?
Thai girls
My name is Ratana and at 18 I'm seen as old hand, past my use by date. The men here don't care about me much anymore but then they never did. When I was 13 my parents put me to work on Walking Street so that I could make money to support my poor farming family. Some girls are younger than that when sent off to work.
I had known for a long time I would end up on Walking Street. All the girls in my village know that. We all see the city men come to our village again and again, pay money to a family and leave with the daughter (and sometimes boys go too). One by one the girls disappear, sent off to work as prostitutes, in strip clubs or child brothels. To be raped and mistreated by rich white men who saw us only as objects to use and discard. To be the sexual entertainment of perverse men who find it entertaining to watch Thai girls smoke cigarets with their vaginas and all the other cheap thrill things they liked to see us do. These gross and careless men made me sick.
I was with a man when I turned 18. He was a fat repulsive white man who was loosing his hair and he smelt bad. When he met me he paid me lots of money to come and live with him in his hotel room. He paid me to be his girlfriend. He purchased outfits he wanted me to wear that revealed a lot of my body. Sometimes he took me out to dinner, other times I cooked for him and was his personal slave. Most of the time we had sex, rough and awful. When ever he was in the mood. He would just grab me and do his thing and I would pretend he was great and that I liked it. I was very good at pretending.
I didn't enjoy any of the things he made me do but some were worse than others and they made me feel unhappy about my life. Like trying to force me to go down on him while he had company just to prove he was the man and always threatening to get some other girlfriend if I didn't do what he wanted. On my 18 birthday he kicked me out because I was too old to be his girlfriend now.
It depressed me that this was my life and that white men didn't care that this was my life. They were getting something from me and that's all that mattered.
If only my family weren't poor and daughters didn't have a duty to support their family by selling their bodies to filthy white men. If only we were wealthy. If only I could save enough money to leave this place and support my family. If only my government would take care of it's people better. I would day dream about meeting a nice man who had money and would take me away from this life. Maybe take me to his country and I could bring my family there too and we'd all be happy and away from this place. I would also dream that one day my country was better and I could be what ever I wanted to be. But there was no better and there was no other way for me to support my family.
The men thought I was stupid but I knew a thing or two about the world. I knew they weren't treating women in their country this way. They weren't allowed. They came to my country because my government allowed it because they wanted to get rich off white man's money. Many of the men who came to my country were married and many of them had daughters, girls they cared about and would never want mistreated. When the men were doing things to me I would think about girls in their country and how these men wouldn't want this done to their daughters. Often they would lie to themselves and say they wanted to give us a better life by giving us money for sex. They would lie to themselves and say us girls want to be there because it's important for us to support our families. If they really cared about our wellbeing or thought they were saving us from poverty they would give us money without using us for their own sexual gratification.
No one really wants this life. No young girl or boys wants their first time to be with some gross ugly white man. We don't really enjoy the rough and horrible sex or being treated this way. It's not what we dream for ourselves when were young. We want to meet a boy and a fall in love. We want to raise a family and be happy. The same as what everyone else wants.
I had known for a long time I would end up on Walking Street. All the girls in my village know that. We all see the city men come to our village again and again, pay money to a family and leave with the daughter (and sometimes boys go too). One by one the girls disappear, sent off to work as prostitutes, in strip clubs or child brothels. To be raped and mistreated by rich white men who saw us only as objects to use and discard. To be the sexual entertainment of perverse men who find it entertaining to watch Thai girls smoke cigarets with their vaginas and all the other cheap thrill things they liked to see us do. These gross and careless men made me sick.
I was with a man when I turned 18. He was a fat repulsive white man who was loosing his hair and he smelt bad. When he met me he paid me lots of money to come and live with him in his hotel room. He paid me to be his girlfriend. He purchased outfits he wanted me to wear that revealed a lot of my body. Sometimes he took me out to dinner, other times I cooked for him and was his personal slave. Most of the time we had sex, rough and awful. When ever he was in the mood. He would just grab me and do his thing and I would pretend he was great and that I liked it. I was very good at pretending.
I didn't enjoy any of the things he made me do but some were worse than others and they made me feel unhappy about my life. Like trying to force me to go down on him while he had company just to prove he was the man and always threatening to get some other girlfriend if I didn't do what he wanted. On my 18 birthday he kicked me out because I was too old to be his girlfriend now.
It depressed me that this was my life and that white men didn't care that this was my life. They were getting something from me and that's all that mattered.
If only my family weren't poor and daughters didn't have a duty to support their family by selling their bodies to filthy white men. If only we were wealthy. If only I could save enough money to leave this place and support my family. If only my government would take care of it's people better. I would day dream about meeting a nice man who had money and would take me away from this life. Maybe take me to his country and I could bring my family there too and we'd all be happy and away from this place. I would also dream that one day my country was better and I could be what ever I wanted to be. But there was no better and there was no other way for me to support my family.
The men thought I was stupid but I knew a thing or two about the world. I knew they weren't treating women in their country this way. They weren't allowed. They came to my country because my government allowed it because they wanted to get rich off white man's money. Many of the men who came to my country were married and many of them had daughters, girls they cared about and would never want mistreated. When the men were doing things to me I would think about girls in their country and how these men wouldn't want this done to their daughters. Often they would lie to themselves and say they wanted to give us a better life by giving us money for sex. They would lie to themselves and say us girls want to be there because it's important for us to support our families. If they really cared about our wellbeing or thought they were saving us from poverty they would give us money without using us for their own sexual gratification.
No one really wants this life. No young girl or boys wants their first time to be with some gross ugly white man. We don't really enjoy the rough and horrible sex or being treated this way. It's not what we dream for ourselves when were young. We want to meet a boy and a fall in love. We want to raise a family and be happy. The same as what everyone else wants.
Even the sleep molesterer
If the only way you can get a girl in bed is to wait until she's asleep you're a LOSER!
Even was friends with my abusive ex. He seemed alright at first. Less aggressive and angry than my ex anyway so I thought he was ok. The three of us had hung at my joint a few times watching footy.
One night my ex and Even decide he'll stay over and we crash out in my double bed. I slept close to my boyfriend even though I was worried he might try sex stuff with me when his mate was beside in the bed. Then again he wasn't one for sharing, too jealous.
My boyfriend nodded off and I began to doze then his mate Evan starts trying to molest me. I move away. He keeps trying. I figure he better watch himself because all I need to do is wake my boyfriend and if he finds out Even will be dead. Even keeps trying to grab at my crouch and touch me. So I wake my boyfriend accidentally (deliberately) and Even stops. I turn to face Even and get my boyfriend to spoon me, putting a body space in between Evan and myself. Even tries to touch me again but my boyfreinds arm around me makes him stop.
I never spoke about it with my boyfriend. He would have gotten mad with me and abused me. I never let Even stay over after that either.
Years and years later I pump into Even with some of his mates at a night club. He looks much the same. Long black hair, nice face, lean. He still has that slightly creepy look to him though I shrug it off and put it down to the shit upbringing he had.
We all hang out together, his mates and mine and at the end of the night we all go back to my joint to party on some more. Actually we just talked until we were too tired then crashed out. No sooner is everyone asleep when Even creeps into my bedroom. I'm in bed with my best friend beside me. I'm awake and know he's coming. He lies beside me and starts trying to molest me. I'm shoving his hands away, rejecting him, pushing him off me. In the end I get up and leave my room to camp out in the lounge room with the others. Even picks me up and carries me back to my room and the molesting and resisting start again.
I get really pissed off with him because I want to sleep but I'm too afraid. In hind site I'd loved to have taken him outside and locked him out of the house. Instead I wrap myself up in a duvet like a cocoon and nod off. I wake moments later to find the guy has gotten his hand up the duvet and in between my legs. This time I whack him off me, shove him out of the room and find a way to lock the door.
Weeks later he knocks on my door and is met with a COLD reception. The house mates I live with know what he's done and who he is and want to go outside and mess him up. Even is aware of the fuss inside the house and becomes uneasy. I tell him he needs to leave and never come back.
And that is Evan the sleep molester who can only get girls when they're asleep. Gross.
Even was friends with my abusive ex. He seemed alright at first. Less aggressive and angry than my ex anyway so I thought he was ok. The three of us had hung at my joint a few times watching footy.
One night my ex and Even decide he'll stay over and we crash out in my double bed. I slept close to my boyfriend even though I was worried he might try sex stuff with me when his mate was beside in the bed. Then again he wasn't one for sharing, too jealous.
My boyfriend nodded off and I began to doze then his mate Evan starts trying to molest me. I move away. He keeps trying. I figure he better watch himself because all I need to do is wake my boyfriend and if he finds out Even will be dead. Even keeps trying to grab at my crouch and touch me. So I wake my boyfriend accidentally (deliberately) and Even stops. I turn to face Even and get my boyfriend to spoon me, putting a body space in between Evan and myself. Even tries to touch me again but my boyfreinds arm around me makes him stop.
I never spoke about it with my boyfriend. He would have gotten mad with me and abused me. I never let Even stay over after that either.
Years and years later I pump into Even with some of his mates at a night club. He looks much the same. Long black hair, nice face, lean. He still has that slightly creepy look to him though I shrug it off and put it down to the shit upbringing he had.
We all hang out together, his mates and mine and at the end of the night we all go back to my joint to party on some more. Actually we just talked until we were too tired then crashed out. No sooner is everyone asleep when Even creeps into my bedroom. I'm in bed with my best friend beside me. I'm awake and know he's coming. He lies beside me and starts trying to molest me. I'm shoving his hands away, rejecting him, pushing him off me. In the end I get up and leave my room to camp out in the lounge room with the others. Even picks me up and carries me back to my room and the molesting and resisting start again.
I get really pissed off with him because I want to sleep but I'm too afraid. In hind site I'd loved to have taken him outside and locked him out of the house. Instead I wrap myself up in a duvet like a cocoon and nod off. I wake moments later to find the guy has gotten his hand up the duvet and in between my legs. This time I whack him off me, shove him out of the room and find a way to lock the door.
Weeks later he knocks on my door and is met with a COLD reception. The house mates I live with know what he's done and who he is and want to go outside and mess him up. Even is aware of the fuss inside the house and becomes uneasy. I tell him he needs to leave and never come back.
And that is Evan the sleep molester who can only get girls when they're asleep. Gross.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
why i love gay men
I love gay men. Not because they're safe to be around, you know .. you can have male friends who aren't going to hit on you. Not because they're a mix of both male and female qualities, that is a bonus though.
I love gay men because
Heterosexual guys want to see sexy naked women (and sadly girls), preferably in sexual poses or sexual acts. And because men want this and the world is run by rich men who get what they want half naked sexual women are EVERYWHERE!!!!!! Mags, music clips, movies, billboards, facebook .. EVERYWHERE!!!!!!
Women like to see sexy naked men too but we're women, we're not in power and we don't get want we want. Instead we're told we're not as visual as men and we don't purchase with our eyes .. Therefore not so many sexy provocative men for us. We're not the big earners and therefore not the big spenders and there's no point catering to our needs, may as well hide this fact behind trying to convince us we are not as visual as men ..
HOWEVER ..
Homosexual guys want to see sexy naked provocative men and because they're men they too get what they want (more than women do anyway) and it is through them that I get to live vicariously and enjoy seeing handsome lovely men with beautiful bodies. If not for gay men I'd miss out on this opportunity and I might never see any hot hunky men anywhere.
Maybe one day things will be equalized and we'll see male full frontal nudity in movies, sexually provocative men in music clips, on billboards, in commercials - just the way it's done for men.
Until then .. Hallelujah and praise the Lord. I LOVE gay men.
I love gay men because
 |
| hot man |
Heterosexual guys want to see sexy naked women (and sadly girls), preferably in sexual poses or sexual acts. And because men want this and the world is run by rich men who get what they want half naked sexual women are EVERYWHERE!!!!!! Mags, music clips, movies, billboards, facebook .. EVERYWHERE!!!!!!
Women like to see sexy naked men too but we're women, we're not in power and we don't get want we want. Instead we're told we're not as visual as men and we don't purchase with our eyes .. Therefore not so many sexy provocative men for us. We're not the big earners and therefore not the big spenders and there's no point catering to our needs, may as well hide this fact behind trying to convince us we are not as visual as men ..
HOWEVER ..
Homosexual guys want to see sexy naked provocative men and because they're men they too get what they want (more than women do anyway) and it is through them that I get to live vicariously and enjoy seeing handsome lovely men with beautiful bodies. If not for gay men I'd miss out on this opportunity and I might never see any hot hunky men anywhere.
 |
| sexy man |
Maybe one day things will be equalized and we'll see male full frontal nudity in movies, sexually provocative men in music clips, on billboards, in commercials - just the way it's done for men.
Until then .. Hallelujah and praise the Lord. I LOVE gay men.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
vanity - short story
Doing her tricep curls in front of a mirror at the gym, she saw her reflection she nearly baulked. What hideous thing looked back at her. Something chubby and squat, with deep dark rings under the eyes making her look old and tired. Her recently acquired tan looked blotchy. It was enough to send a wave of instant depression over her and she wanted to run out of the gym so no one could see her.
The mood wasn't helped by the fact that her yearly membership was almost up and she couldn't see a single positive result from all that time at the gym. Ok, she only managed to go 2 or 3 times a week spending 45mins there doing the program her trainer had set out for her. She couldn't go at all over the school holidays so there were chunks of the year where she'd been inactive. Still, she thought she'd see some improvement by now. Some incentive to keep going. Instead she wanted to go home and drown her sorrows in a sweet bar of chocolate. Not that she ate chocolate much, it was just the principle of the thing.
After the tricep curls she moved to the push up machine that allowed her to sit while pushing weights that worked her chest. There was a man on the machine to her right, another on a machine opposite her, a couple of ladies working with personal trainers who were looking at her. The urge to crawl into a hole to not be seen was massive. Closing her eyes while she complete her work out, thoughts of her life came flooding in. She had a nice husband, nice kids, a nice home and car, money. Life was good. So why didn't she like herself? Why wasn't she content with her lot?
She was aware she wasn't the most hideous thing in the world and she didn't judge unattractive people harshly. No. Judgement was saved solely for herself. How did she end up this way? For as long as she could remember her mum had called her vain anytime she expressed an interest (negative or positive) in her appearance. In primary and high school she was aware that the more popular girls were not always more pretty than her and could never understand why boys didn't like her in that way. Until after high school when she realised the popular girls put out and she wasn't the putting out type. There were moments when she looked in the mirror and thought 'I'm not too bad, why don't boys like me'. While other times, such as now at the gym, she couldn't fathom having left the house to be seen looking this bad.
It's true, there were moments lately where she had feelings of hating herself (her looks and body) so much so she wanted to die. Best die now while things aren't as bad as they're going to get and the coroner is faced with a half attractive body instead of a baggy fat ugly body. Which took her back to the time she was a cashier and a woman around 50 or 60 came to the counter and was telling the young girl how your body loses elastin as you age. Giving a demo on her hands, the lady pinched her hands and showed how long it look for the skin to fall back down again. Shock! Horror! Something like that scares the life out of you when you're young.
Leaving the gym before the session was complete, she decided a cool shower and a good dose of moisturiser was what she needed. After her shower she looked at her self and thought, at least I have nice breasts. Gotta have something about yourself you like. The shower, the moisturiser, washing her hair, left her feeling more human. And yet, as always, she wondered 'when will I like myself?' Or better yet when will I realise looks don't matter and there's more to life and happiness, than how a person looks?
The mood wasn't helped by the fact that her yearly membership was almost up and she couldn't see a single positive result from all that time at the gym. Ok, she only managed to go 2 or 3 times a week spending 45mins there doing the program her trainer had set out for her. She couldn't go at all over the school holidays so there were chunks of the year where she'd been inactive. Still, she thought she'd see some improvement by now. Some incentive to keep going. Instead she wanted to go home and drown her sorrows in a sweet bar of chocolate. Not that she ate chocolate much, it was just the principle of the thing.
After the tricep curls she moved to the push up machine that allowed her to sit while pushing weights that worked her chest. There was a man on the machine to her right, another on a machine opposite her, a couple of ladies working with personal trainers who were looking at her. The urge to crawl into a hole to not be seen was massive. Closing her eyes while she complete her work out, thoughts of her life came flooding in. She had a nice husband, nice kids, a nice home and car, money. Life was good. So why didn't she like herself? Why wasn't she content with her lot?
She was aware she wasn't the most hideous thing in the world and she didn't judge unattractive people harshly. No. Judgement was saved solely for herself. How did she end up this way? For as long as she could remember her mum had called her vain anytime she expressed an interest (negative or positive) in her appearance. In primary and high school she was aware that the more popular girls were not always more pretty than her and could never understand why boys didn't like her in that way. Until after high school when she realised the popular girls put out and she wasn't the putting out type. There were moments when she looked in the mirror and thought 'I'm not too bad, why don't boys like me'. While other times, such as now at the gym, she couldn't fathom having left the house to be seen looking this bad.
It's true, there were moments lately where she had feelings of hating herself (her looks and body) so much so she wanted to die. Best die now while things aren't as bad as they're going to get and the coroner is faced with a half attractive body instead of a baggy fat ugly body. Which took her back to the time she was a cashier and a woman around 50 or 60 came to the counter and was telling the young girl how your body loses elastin as you age. Giving a demo on her hands, the lady pinched her hands and showed how long it look for the skin to fall back down again. Shock! Horror! Something like that scares the life out of you when you're young.
Leaving the gym before the session was complete, she decided a cool shower and a good dose of moisturiser was what she needed. After her shower she looked at her self and thought, at least I have nice breasts. Gotta have something about yourself you like. The shower, the moisturiser, washing her hair, left her feeling more human. And yet, as always, she wondered 'when will I like myself?' Or better yet when will I realise looks don't matter and there's more to life and happiness, than how a person looks?
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