...For the woman who just isn't taking any chances.

So you just got married, or you just got into a serious relationship. He's smart, funny, good looking, successful, loves you completely and he's a s faithful as he can be. And you love him more than you thought you could ever love a human being. He's "The One".

But he's still a man. And as long as there are pretty girls out there, you cannot be a 100% sure he won't wander. The XY chromosome in him has programmed his eyes to follow every long legged, smooth skinned, large breasted, badoonk-bearing woman they rest on and then it becomes a battle between his love for you and that thing that dangles between his legs. And let's face it, these days, your odds aren't great.

That's where we come in.

The Reverse beer goggle retina implants are engineered to make every woman that isn't you appear remarkably less attractive than she really is. Very much the opposite of the effect beer/beer goggles have.

Just think. When your man says "You're the most beautiful woman in the world", he will actually mean it. And not that rubbish cliché "mean it because I love you so much" but he'll mean it because its the only truth he knows.

So get him in today. It just might be the best decision you ever make.

Side Effects include:

-Him wondering why your daughter is so damn butt ugly

-A change in his perception of beauty if he's susceptible to pop culture

-Oily discharge (ok we're kidding about that one)

-Blindness

Available now.

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Synopsis

Starring...

Richard 'Dick' Dangles aka Penis
Tasha 'Puss' Yoordekvolov pronounced Touch her puss your dick fall off

A story about STD's. No, there is no point to the story. Its not a true story, just something my imagination cooked up in bed.

I'm actually quite surprised noone got the hidden meaning behind my Bedtime story. It was actually meant to end there, but I'm going to add a little bit to it. Look for the further hidden clues.

Dangles stared at her, not sure how to proceed. On the one hand, he was very interested in the high she offered.  On the other, he knew the risks of indulging her.

She sensed his hesitation. She leaned over and held out her hand.

Tasha. Tasha Yöordekvolov.

Ah, he thought, the Slovenian. He'd heard about her. 'Round these parts she was known simply as 'Puss'

His first impression of her had been accurate. And his resolve was made firm by this revelation.

He took her hand.

Thanks Tasha, but no thanks.

***

Surely you get it now...

In other news, I had the time of my life this friday night. I love london.

So I'm walking through Bank station, making my way home and there's a busker (musicians play at various stations around london). A guitarist, he plies his trade well, plucking out notes and tunes that are literally, music to the ear.

But he wasn't the one that caught my attention. There was this beautiful black girl sitting on his amp belting out some Ray Charles. Her voice, powerfully gorgeous, her eyes closed, mouth open, elegantly stunning. I couldnt help but stop and stare.

I watched them for a couple of minutes. Then she noticed me watching.

Look we have a fan! she giggled. Come, come! her accent was sexy.

I obliged.

You're going to sing with us *huh?* Yes, yes you will sing.

And thus began the best hour of music I've ever had, we went from blues to soul to neo-soul, she  even did a freestlye de la francais.

Unfortunately, it had to end. But not before she gave me her number.

That was my random act of the week. What was yours?

Earlier this evening I heard the news that's likely to be on the front page of the Metro tomorrow morning. "Michael Jackson dies from cardiac arrest". Within 5 minutes of hearing this news, I heard things that made me mad.

"Who cares about Michael Jackson man?" and the one that took the cake; "Really? That's great news"

I was in shock. People a man just died. I mean I've never really been a Jacko fan. But... A MAN DIED. A man like any other man. A man with a family, friends, people that loved him, people that he loved. And all you can offer is a "who cares"?

Legend or not, paedophile or no, his was a life still precious. As precious as any one of ours. His was a life.

And for someone to just dismiss, and even rejoice in his death. That's just foul.

A man is dead. Show some respect.

On the flip side, a man died. Life goes on. Why are people going crazy.

The only certain thing in life is death. Yet everyone is so surprised when it happens.

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So I'm trying something new. I've said I wouldn't be able to blog as often because I have to work. Well, I'm trying a work around to that.

From tonight onwards, for as long as I'm moved to do it and on nights when I'm not too tired to, I bring you Bedtime Stories by me, Scribbles

Brought to you by my Blackberry.

Basically, this will consist of me getting into bed every night and typing up a story, by the light of my Bold.

I will then post these (whatever it is unedited and uncensored). If the story isn't completed, I will pick up where I left off the next night. Comprende amigos? Si? Muy bien!

Disclaimer: these stories are written lying on my back, tired out of my mind and sometimes, inevitably drunk. As a result, I take no responsibility for them being inarticulate, incomplete or inconsistent.

Otherwise, enjoy.

...

Richard Dangles had seen a lot of things in his time. He had been in and out of a lot of messy situations, some might argue he had his part in creating the mess, but through it all he had remained upright. He had remained firm.

He once famously declared that all he had were his principles, his principles and his balls. And he would be damned if he let anyone compromise them.

That was until (and of course its always until a woman) she walked into his bar that cold and rainy Sunday afternoon. He knew she was trouble the instant he laid his eyes on her.

Yet he was drawn to her. He found himself channelling Bogart "of all the bars ...".

But he could tell she wasn't right. He knew she had been around the wrong crowd, he could smell them on her, they had soiled her, corrupted her with their generosity.

And she had graciously accepted their gifts, willingly bought into their corruption and when they knew that she was completely theirs, she became their dealer.

She strode determinedly in Dangles' direction and sat on the stool next to him. She lit a cigarette and turned to face him. In the dim light, she looked even more alluring up close.

She looked straight into his eyes and smiled. "Wanna have some fun tonight?"

*************************************************************

The sharp and carnally minded among should have noticed something by now. 10 gbosas for the first person that tells me what this story is really about (not you Miss Lowlah)

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I know, I know. Mr Dangles B M* Legs should have clued me to that fact a couple of decades ago.

But that's not what I mean. All my life I've prided myself on being a man working with a woman's mind chilling in a mans body.

Ok, that might need a quick explanation.

Growing up with 4 girls plus my grandma (making 5 females) and having the ever inquisitive and observant mind that I have, I learned to understand women, I learned to think like they think and I learned to understand their hidden meanings.

But most importantly, since I still remained unequivocally male, I learned to see both sides of the coin. Male issues from a female perspective, female issues from a male perspective and so on.

Most relevant to today, I prided myself on not being a subscriber to the double standard. Logic precludes it. And I am nothing if not conclusively logical. Until now.

It's LOML. Logic throws itself out the window when LOML walks in the room. Everything is different with her.

I find myself saying things I would never say, doing things I would never do, thinking things I would never think...feeling things I've never felt.

And now, as stupid as this may sound, I find myself starting to understanding the double standard where a man feels like he can do whatever he wants, but his woman needs to remain "pure".

Don't get me wrong. I don't think that way, but I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy when she told me this morning (about midnight in her time zone) that she had a male visitor over.

Those of you who have been reading my blog for any amount of time will know that LOML also reads this blog, and thus, knows all about my numerous...ahem. I can hear the ladies asking now "Ehen?! How do you think she feels reading the stuff u write about?"

Maybe you're right. Or maybe men are just made extra insecure. Or maybe..

Or maybe something needs to be done...forget all this "when the fates align" nonsense. Truth is, I love this woman.  I really do. Maybe I need to make a move, take a stand, make a decision.

Or maybe I'm just being a man...

*B M = Between My

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ebony beauty...lips pure..spread chocolate kisses
her soothing voice would cure this affliction
this love, this addiction, in addition
her skin, dark, clear, soft, firm, giving off
the aroma of passion, purely aphrodisiac
aphroditie, sovereign beauty, treat me, heal me
take me, feel me,
lift me, body soul and spirit, take me to cloud nine
using only ur lips, grace me with their supple kindness
engage me with intimate secrets, come into this secret place
i seek ur face, i want ur presence, in need of ur essence
possess me, let me possess you, undress you, let me bless you
lets take it slow, lets make it go all nite
let me show u me, show me you, tonite
let me show u how, letz do this now
letz share this elevation
letz have.... a conversation

I don't know how or when it happened. I don't know why or what caused it.

All I see is the effects. All I see is the results of this thing that happened.

Some of you may have noticed. A few of you might already know.

If you have, can you tell me why? Or what?

No, I haven't lost my mojo...or have I?

I haven't lost my ability to turn a phrase... or have I?

Is it writer's block when you have a topic, a theme, content, a plot, a sequence (a few of them too)...but no words?

Is it writer's block when you find yourself leaving inarticulate, unintelligent comments on other blogs?

Or just skipping the commenting altogether to avoid sounding like a total twat...

There isn't much I outrightly fear...but I fear this... God, I fear this (forgive me Lord)

I value my intelligence, my creativity, my wordsmanship...above any of my other qualities

And to lose that...my fingers tremble over the keyboard at the thought

Trepidation intensified by the fact that after years of soul-searching, I finally defined myself as a writer.

What is a writer who cannot write?

A/An 'r'?... I joke, but there is nothing funny here. This here be gallows humor.

This is not bloggaria. This is something worse. This is death

For if I cannot write, I cannot live.

I breathe through the words that leave my fingertips.

My heart palpates to the rhythm of metaphors (further problem; I had to look up the spelling of "rhythm"...wasn't sure)

Similes flow unobstructed through my veins

Familiar to white blood vessels, this is their home

So when they are gone, I starve for them

My heartrate slows without a rhythm to follow

My blood pressure drops... how else would you explain the ache in my fingers

Blood starvation, word starvation

I NEED TO WRITE!!!!

Five drafts, started...abruptly paused mid first paragraph, no further words come. FIVE!

Missing

Afro (Jun 1..15 days)

Confessions (May 18...29 days) <Nurse, dont u know that swine flu is going around...now is NOT the time to be disappearing>

Lady Koko (Jun 1...15 days) <you popped in for a  second and then disappeared again...sup with that?>

Miss Definitely Maybe (May 16...31 days)

Miss Love aka LovePaprika (April 9...68 days)

Padosh aka Phoenix (May 18...29 days)

Bond Girl (April 29...48 days)

Shona (Jun3...13 days)

Smaragd(May 9...38 days)

TDVA(May 27...18 days)

Wordmerchant(Jun 2...14 days)<You better go see a doctor about that foolish bloggaria>

If found, please return to blogsville asap. Reward: Riveting reading.

I have a surprise for you, close your eyes I'd said.

Ok.

I moved from my position, lips between her thighs, over to the bedside table.

She was already dripping..my face was covered in her juices.

I picked up the little pouch and opened it. I pushed the button.

Bzzzzzzzzz

OMG I love you!

Rewind..

1 week previous, in the afterglow.

Just so you know, I'm not looking for anything serious. Unprompted

Ok then, so just a bit of fun? My response.

Yea I guess.

Left it at that.

Fast forward to friday night..

I come home and she's asleep in my bed. Blue patterned chemise, red lace panties. I "wake her up" with my lips between her thighs, till she's dripping wet.

I have a surprise for you, close your eyes

I moved from my position over to the bedside table

I picked up the little pouch and opened it. I pushed the button.

Bzzzzzzzzz

OMG I love you!

I ignored it at the time and carried on; tongue, fingers...bzzzz. Her legs shook...her body arched...her vulva convulsed... but I digress.

I have a question to pose to the ladies. This is a casual thing, a B.U.D.D.Y as Mocha, and previously Musiq put it.

Should I be worried?

I'm going to talk to her later today..just make sure we're on the same page. I'm open to things developing, but if there's something behind that statement, things may be developing much too quickly. I'm not sure I can keep up.

Another question.

Should B.U.D.D.I.E.S be exclusive? Does exclusivity make it more than an arrangement? Is exclusivity the required criterion for graduation from "arrangement" to "situation"?

She's a great girl. On the surface of things, not nearly as crazy as previous engagements. And there's definitely the possibility. But not quite yet.

So I ask again.

Should I be worried?

I'm having trouble adding pictures to posts so I'm going to have to hold off on the Bunny Boiler story for now. In its wake, and as a peace offering, I'm going to put up the details of some of the techniques involved in S.O.M.E.

The Yoni Massage is something I learned and picked up fairly recently and have decided to make an integral part of getting  S.O.M.E; at no extra cost of course.

Please note that this makes up only a part(optional at that) and not all of the S.O.M.E, but can be conducted on it's own.

Yoni Massage

The girl should lie on her back with pillows under her head so she can look down at her genitals and up at her partner. Legs should be spread, with knees slightly bent and vahjayjay fully exposed (this is an extremely vulnerable position for the woman. The partner should be sensitive to this)

Begin with deep, relaxing breathing. It might help to have some soothing music playing in the background. Deep breathing and relaxation is paramount.

Pour a small quantity of oil on the mound;  just enough that it drips down the outer lips. Begin gently massaging the mound and outer lips. Spend time here and do not rush. Relax and enjoy giving the massage.



Gently squeeze the outer lip between the thumb and index finger, and slide up and down the entire length of each lip. Do the same to the inner lips. Take your time.

Stroke the clitoris with clockwise and counter-clockwise circles. Gently squeeze it between thumb and index fingers. Do this as a massage and not to get the her off. The woman will undoubtedly become very aroused but continue to encourage her to relax and breathe.

Slowly and with great care, insert the middle finger of your right hand into the vagina. Very gently explore and massage the inside of the  vagina with this finger. Take your time, be gentle, and feel up, down and sideways. Vary the depth, speed and pressure. It is important to remember that this is a massage in which you are nurturing and relaxing her. With your palm facing up, and the middle finger inside the Yoni, move the middle finger in a "come here" gesture or crook back towards the palm to hit the Gräfenberg. Once again, vary the pressure, speed and pattern of movement. You can move side to side, back and forth, or in circles with your middle finger. If you feel it necessary, insert another finger. Resist the urge to finger-fuck her. Remember, this is a massage; take your time and be very gentle


You can use your left hand to massage her breasts, abdomen, or clitoris. If you massage the clitoris it's usually best to use the thumb in an up down motion, with the rest of the hand resting on, and massaging the mound. The dual stimulation of right and left hands will provide much pleasure for the receiver. Continue massaging, using varying speed, pressure and motion, all the while continuing to breathe deeply.

If she has an orgasm, keep her breathing, and continue massaging if she wants. More orgasms may occur, each gaining in intensity. In Tantra this is called "riding the wave."



In ending the massage, slowly, gently, and with respect, remove your hands. Allow her to relax and enjoy the afterglow of the Yoni massage. Cuddling or holding is very soothing as well.

This massage can be given in conjunction to, or as a substitute to cunnilingus (yes, it's that good), so for you ladies who  (God knows why) are still suffering a dude that doesn't give head, make him learn how to do this. If he does it well, you won't be able to tell the difference between his fingers and his tongue.

Enjoy

sWeET DREAMS

continued from here

He had married the perfect woman. He was eternally grateful for her and he only hoped he was worthy of her. Everything he did, everyday he lived was for her, and the kids -of course he couldn't forget the twins. He had no idea what he had done to deserve her, but he knew he could never do anything to hurt her. He could never lose her.

These are the thoughts that made their way through Dwayne's brain as he looked down at his wife, on her knees in front of him. This woman, still stunning after two of his big headed children, pulling her hair back with one hand as the other pushed at him, guiding him towards the bed. There was no life without her. She truly was the flesh of his flesh, the bone of his bone...

He chuckled at the irony of that last thought.

"What's funny", she hummed

"Don't talk with your mouth full", he playfully commanded

She looked up at him, a sly defiant smile in her eyes, and pushed him back onto the bed. He was flat on his back now. She climbed onto the bed and took him in her mouth again, her ears primed, waiting for his reaction to her anniversary present.

She looked at him. His eyes were closed. "Damn". She would have to get him to open them. Good thing she knew exactly how to work his joystick.

She did the "thing".

Fuck *gasp* Cy? Shit, I'm cumming, Cy?

"M hmm." No way she was letting go now. His seed was hers!

He filled her mouth. She swallowed gleefully, not letting any of it get away. She could feel him trembling under her now. He was clutching the sheets, his legs tense, stretched out, his toes were curling. She had her payback.

She crawled up into his arms and waited for him to catch his breath.

"Cy"

"Yes baby?"

"When did we put a mirror on the ceiling?"

She smiled. "Happy Anniversary darling"

Here's a list of things that have peeved me off this week:

• London travel


• Furthermore, the tube strike


• Having to work at 7am tomorrow


• Having to work till 7pm on friday


• Having 3 conflicting (and impossible to co-ordinate) engagements this weekend. Some people are going a have to be disappointed


• Continuing to find stunning studios that I want when my lease isn't up for 3 months (you'd think I'd just stop looking right?)


• Writer's block


• Reader's block


• Mr Halitosis on the DLR


• Facebook releasing yet another Blackberry app without Facebook chat (really shouldn't be so eager, i already have MSN, Yahoo, Google and Blackberry messengers distracting me at work...not to talk of email, blogger, Twitterberry and text messaging)

...

Woosah...

...

In
other news, plenty rumu rumu this weekend. Unfortunately, you guys
won't be getting that gist. At least not yet (you know I don't blog
rumu rumu as it happens now) I'll say this though; kini yen gbono gan,
es muy calienté.

More news, I met this girl the other
day. Her vibe is one of a girl who is exceedingly aware of her hotness
and the power she wields over men. I won't lie, me sef I shook small.
But I had to check myself. After all, I'm ScribbleMeFree, Master of the
Game (ees a lie o! I'm just a student lol).

But I gotta try
though. This girl, the way that she smiles that makes me want to hand
over my wallet. If na jazz, e no go work. I'm not averse, however, to
some non verbal negotiation. Ahem.

Anyway, I know I
owe you lovely people a bunny boiler story. Don't worry, its coming.
Abeg una no vex. You still love me abi? Yes, its by force.

sWeET DREAMS blogville

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I suspected it for the longest time. The random "bang bang bang"s, the constant music. Like they were trying to drown out something. Like they were trying to cover up something.

It occurred to me the night I heard a crash, and then frightened voices and whispering outside my window at 3am one night (don't ask why I was up). I looked out the window and saw 2 tiny Chinese girls standing in the street. They looked scared. A second later something spooked them because they Bolted down the street (doubt Usain would have been able to keep up even). I contemplated calling 999 but didn't (I know, I know). Someone did though, because there was a ECILOP(See Roc) car outside in minutes.

After that night there were no incidents for a while, but I noticed that several cameras had been installed over their front door giving them a view of the entire street. I shrugged it off.

And then the floodgates opened. I figure they opened fully for business within the last couple of months. Either that or I just wasn't paying attention before. These days its a swarm of guy after guy after guy going in there.

To be honest, I thought for a while they were drug dealers (I heard about a Chinese "family" that rented out a house and turned it into a "greenhouse", if you know what I mean). I'm still not convinced they're not drug dealers. I think they're diversified. But I digress.

The clincher, for me, occurred one fateful spring night. Any hint of shyness they might have previously had was/is gone. The girls were performers. The guys were dirty, nasty pervs.

I was in bed, reading, as I do to wind down after a long day. I hear giggles. Then. Bang Bang Bang. Squeak Squeak. Bang Bang Bang. "Oh Mr Andrews you so biiig".

I almost died with laughter.

The thing about this place is that you hardly ever actually see the girls. They come out like once a month or something (prompting me to think they're in some kinda bondage).

So, yes, since that night, everytime I look out the window and see a flashy car pull up, and a paedophilic guy gets out and walks toward the house, I make sure he sees me give him the most disapproving stare like "mhmm, I know what you're here for"

My flatmate even joked about us going over there and getting the BBBJTCWS*. I'm not down with that. Not for any reason other than that I refuse to pay for sex of any sort.

So I told him to find out if they offer any introductory freebies. I'll let you know how it goes. Hehe.

* Bare Back Blow Job To Completion With Swallow

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