Relationships in the boy-girl fashion are a peculiar animal. They are, hard work, they are complex, but, unfortunately for many facebook users, they are never "complicated". You're either in one, or you're not.
A committed relationship is pretty well defined. It doesn't require hours of explanation or qualification. Its very simple, so simple in fact that there are only three criteria the couple is required to meet. In meeting all three, the couple, no matter how casual they try to act, is in a serious relationship. In failing to meet, any one of these, however, no matter how many "I love you"s are uttered, these two are still, in a sense, seeing how it goes.
Up until these terms are met, either party is at liberty to end the arrangement without explanation or prior warning.

The talk: Without the talk, in a sense, making it official, you have nothing solid. Man and woman, or boy and girl need to sit down and have a serious discussion about what the situation means to them and how much each person is willing to commit to the other person. In business terms, this is referred to as a verbal contract, in the absence of which neither party can be held liable for the dissolution of the arrangement. It goes without saying that both parties must be on the same page and whatever agreement is reached must be acceptable and of value to them both.

Exclusivity: There is no such thing as an open relationship. Once again I apologize for bursting the facebook bubble. A couple that defines themselves as being in an "open relationship" are simply fuck-buddies. Sometimes they are really tight fuck-buddies, but fuck-buddies all the same and the one who believes that they are more than that is guaranteed to get hurt. It is completely and utterly impossible to be committed to one person at the same time that you're blowing someone else's back out (sounds absurd when I put it that way doesn't it?) Contrary to what most people want to believe, there is no such thing as no strings sex; just that sometimes the strings are not as taut. We leave a little piece of us with each person that we sleep with, and that's a piece of us that we cannot share with the person we're supposedly committed to. Not to mention the risk that one person will start to catch feelings with some other person thats making them come harder than you.

The fight: The true test of the resilience and sustainability of a relationship is the first major blowup. I read somewhere that you never really know a person until you have a disagreement. I'm going to take that one step further and say you're never really invested in someone until you're with them besides their differences. Through the expression of emotion, our true nature, and especially, our faults are revealed; even moreso the expression of the extremely volatile emotion that is anger. Raised voices, bulging veins, surging adrenaline and a reduced ability to control words and actions: this is where the true animal is unleashed, hurtful things are said, feelings are disregarded and trampled on...It is the couple's ability to rise above and pull through this that solidifies their relationship. I believe you never really have a person till they feel sufficiently comfortable with you to show you their weaknesses and the fight is the perfect avenue.

Committed relationships are serious business. There is a level of surrender involved that is not to be taken lightheartedly and as such they are not meant to be entered into until both parties are doubly certain that they are ready to bear that responsibility.

That's my take. What's yours?

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

Or so I was told. To which I smiled and dubiously nodded my acknowledgement. But, come on ladies, we all know its LIESSSSS!!!!

And guys, if you didn't know, let me tell you. Your girl's ass is just as nasty as yours. Probably nastier even, from holding the farts in for so damn long. I have a sister, and many female cousins, and I can tell you this is fact. Not theory, not a hypothesis but a proven, observed fact!

Women fart. Period. Actually I'd like to think especially then..hehe..but I could be wrong.

Anyway, you might ask what provoked this sudden attack on women's stank asses. (Sorry ladies, I know your asses aint stank.) Well let me tell you.

Sunday evening, getting some of that sunday evening "good good". She's on top, holding on to me tight as our bodies spasm in sync. She goes to get off and... **frappp**. Silence. I arch my eyebrow.

"That wasn't a fart", she says

"Ok", my mouth says. "Riiiiiiight", my eyes say.

"It wasn't!!!"

"Ok!" I paused. "Although, if it was a fart it's not a big deal. Farting is natural"

At this point she starts to get indignant.

"I DIDN'T FART!!"

So I decided to have some fun.

"What's the problem? Everyone farts, embrace the fart. In fact, *sniff* it doesn't even stink so you have nothing to be embarrassed about"

She punches me in the shoulder "That's cause I didn't fart!!"

I can see the desperation in her eyes for me to believe her, but I was having way too much fun. She was so flustered by the thought that I could believe that she was capable of letting one rip.

Baffling really.

To tell the truth, she probably didn't fart. It was probably the sound of the vahjayjay suctioning off the condom. But I was just incredulous at her total and utter chagrin at the thought of committing such a totally natural act.

Why do some women submit themselves so willingly to the slavery of this inability to express themselves? I have a friend who swears she never farts, except when she's in fits of laughter..sometimes. That may be true. But the question I have is why.

Actually, I have a theory:

Guys, you know those days when you're with your perfect little lady, who never, ever farts and you let one rip. It's cool cause you're a man and a man's gotta be a man, right down to his smelly farts. Until you realise, it's not cool. The stink hits you so hard you get whiplash, and you're like "where the hell did that come from? That couldn't have been my ass!!"
Well, it wasn't. It was that lovely little Stepford-ian minx you have by your side. She took the opportunity of the cover of your willy-nilly fart to plant her stored up, 3 week old monster, framing you.

Poor, unsuspecting, you.

And now you feel like you have to apologize to her for the stink that you believe emanated from your ass. She covers her nose, punches you in the arm and gives you that disgusted "why do you do these things?" look.

Ingenious, really.

I have her in the palm of my hand
Clasped firmly but gently between forefinger and thumb
Stroking slowly, fluidly massaging as I whisper
Breathe
Her eyes close, her body relaxes, she breathes slow, deep
I immerse myself in my task
Fingers feeling, exploring, caressing
And I feel her body begin to tense
So I whisper
Breathe
And she relaxes that little bit
As middle finger joins forefinger and stroke speeds up
Rubbing against that spot, front wall, two inches in, you know the spot
Her breath quickens, her eyes roll back,
Fingers gripping the sheets
And I whisper my gentle command
Breathe
She whimpers
She doesn't hear me, her hips buck, her legs kick out at me
I dodge and deflect the blows, fingers still buried deep within her
And now she's lost control, tossing, turning
Popping, locking
She should be a break dancer the way she's throwing them shapes
Lurching forward, falling backward
Grabbing on to me as if for dear life
Trying to find a comfortable position
Trying to get away
Verging on pleasure insanity, she begs
"Please, stop"
I push her hair off her face, look her dead in the eye
"I will stop if that's what you really want"
At the same time, thumb lightly flicks her clit
The shudders tell, me its not
So I tell her to
Breathe
She collapses
In a heap of sighs, moans, gasps, little cries
Resigned to the fact that there will be no comfort
Only pleasure, at its most unbearable,
Legs jerking, back spasming, gushing deliciously around my finger
And I tell her to
Breathe
She screams

So, how was your friday night?

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

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

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

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

Know Your Audience

I hated studying French in primary school. I've never been a fan of the French. Or their language.

Still, I had to study it for 7 odd years. The moment I didn't have to anymore, I stopped. I've never fancied myself a speaker. Heck, I'm surprised when I hear some French and I can understand it, somewhat.

I surprised myself last night.

Two girls got on the train last night. One black, one Caucasian. The black girl was decent looking; tall, long legs, pretty eyes.

I sat and observed them for a minute, they were speaking French.

There is something remarkably sexy about French women. They seriously excite me. I don't speak French, but I thot I would go make an ass of myself in front of them.

I was a little surprised at how much I actually remembered.

Excusé moi, I'm sorry, je ne parle pas francais, but I had to come talk to you. Tu es tres belle. I smiled, I probably just murdered your language there, I'm sorry( I didn't say I was fluent)

She smiled.

I'm being rude. I didn't even introduce myself. Je mappelle Scribbles, comment t'appelle tu?

Vivienne, and you're not doing too badly she took my outstretched hand.

Enchanté. I kissed her hand

Life is a big stage and we're all playing parts. The key to success in many arenas is to know your audience. There are a few "gurus" out there who will say that a man should approach a woman within 3 seconds of seeing and being attracted to her. While I respect their reasons for that approach, I subscribe to a different theory.

A panther/lion/tiger or any other predator doesn't just bumble carelessly into a pack of gazelles. It will most likely go hungry using that approach. Instead the predator stalks its prey, watching, observing, looking for weaknesses within the group.

I follow the same principle. Watch a woman, observe the way she talks, carries herself; looking for my "in". And then, armed with a smile, charm, blackberry (she had one too) and that knowledge, I move in for the "kill".

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

...So my facebook status read a couple of weekends ago. *This is going to be a random post*

So, yesterday, a line from a song popped into my head ¶"When I fall in love, it will be forever..or I'll never fall in love"¶-Nat King Cole

I think it also features in Disney's Sleeping Beauty...not sure if that's the one. But this simple line made me come to a realisation about myself : I'm not a player, I'm just a seriously hopeless romantic... I keep my heart from love because if I'm going to give my heart to anyone, it's gunna be a forever situation... all or nothing at all, if you will. I just did a search on google for a quote describing the troubles a poet faces in finding love. I didn't find one. So I'm creating my own.

"It is easier for the village Idiot from Texas to become President of a world power than it is for a poet to find love."

Ok, don't quote me on that..that was rubbish. But you get my point. Poets, writers, artists, spend their time dissecting love, romanticizing it, putting love on a pedestal, making it an ideal, unattainable. Our imaginations run wild with impossible descriptions of women/men likening them to gods/goddesses and other lofty ideals. The fact that people tend not to measure up to these romanticisms causes us to turn cynic.

I was  on Dee Brighton's blog and a couple of things she said in her last post struck me. Like the paucity of good music these days. She's actually good, she goes searching. I don't remember the last time I uploaded my ipod with music, and I'm pretty sure when I did, I was adding classics like Teddy Pendi et al.

I also, by her inspiration decided to put my touch on shuffle and just listen (I've never done that before, I have moods, and certain music that matches the moods) it's proving to be quite a joy. One of the tracks I've listened to so far is something Your's Truly recorded a few years back. I might put it up soon, in all it's amateur goodness.

Zoe Saldana...hottie. I saw Star Trek over the weekend and I just couln't get over how hot she is (is it weird that I found the green girl in that hot too?) Zoe is the newest addition to my Celebogle list, joining the calibre of Megan Fox, the two Jessicas (Biel and Alba), and knocking Meagan Good off the list (sorry Meag, you're extremely hot, but this is just reflecting my tastes at the moment..you just might be back--yes, I assume she reads my blog).

I need new female friends. The past two weeks have proven to be massive disappointments. Following the sausage fest that was my friends bbq two weeks ago, I have to say I still was in no way prepared for what occured last friday night.

So a colleague of mine had a housewarming party. Cute little chinese girl with, presumably, cute little chinese friends. I arrived and saw...guys. Penises all around me. About 13 of them.  And chick was the ONLY girl. ALL NIGHT! I was severely disappointed, but I decided to make do. The chick was wearing this see through piece that i can only describe as a negligeé, white bra, black tights. I had been considering getting jiggy with her. This was the night.  This was also the night when I figured out that IT geeks who aren't getting any can be HUGE cockblockers. The boys were having none of it. She would come sit by me and we'd be talking and someone would come, holding their drink and stand over us. She kept dropping hints like "It's getting late..you guys are gna miss ur train"..and then she'd turn to me and say "the bus from here to your house is 24 hours right?"

But the boys were having none of it. Apparently, they had all been eyeing the prize themselves and they'd be damned if they let this black boy steal it from under their noses. Ah well, and I was looking forward to practicing my Mandarin as well.

Right. I'm going to stop there. Audio post should be up tonight.

Final Chapter

1. And once again, they made their way to the bar, hand in hand.

3S's

Her footsteps fell in immediately behind mine as I weaved a path through the maze that is a packed nightclub. I looked back at her.

Stop watching my bum,...you women, constantly objectifying, shameful!

And then she did something that surprised me. She grabbed my butt. Right there, in the middle of the club.

Ooh it's nice and firm! she exclaimed, a playful leer in her voice.

I have to admit that threw me for a second; in one simple move, one split second, she had flipped the script. The hunter had become the hunted. I decided to go with it.

I smiled. Now you owe me dinner. (Subtlety)

Haha, I'll tell you what. I'll get this round of drinks and you can buy me dinner. I was becoming increasingly aware that I had misjudged this petite beauty. She was a predator in her own right, skilled.

We got to the bar and she ordered the drinks; 2 JD and Cokes, on the rocks. She threw her head back, smiled at me and winked. She had just shown me two things, [a]she had been observing me and [b] she could drink with the boys. She knew the game well. I was impressed. I chose not to show it.

Be careful with that, I won't be kissing on no hairy chest. (Suggestion). She looked at me for a second, head cocked, a frown creasing her delicate features, and then a lightbulb went off. Oh! Joker! she giggled, and said no more.

As we waited for our drinks, I started to play with her tattoo again, running my fingertips along the lines and curves, grazing her skin (Sensation) while I told her about my day, the flopped barbecue, "Too many men" playing on cue...

Our drinks came and we left the bar. Some dude was in our spot (I was right to have taken her with me to the bar...damn scavengers). We found another spot behind a banister, and just danced close f0r the rest of the night, whispering things I cant start to remember back and forth, pulling apart briefly to take a sip of our drinks.

My back against the wall, her head on my shoulder, I said, I'm not going to buy you dinner.

She pulled away and looked at me. I'm going to cook you dinner, I said


You can cook? Ok then.


What do you um, what do you...if you don't stop staring at my lips I'm going to have to kiss you.

She smiled and leaned in.

Chapter 2

1. And she followed him to the bar. Scribbles beseeched her "What wilt thou drink?"

*

Amaretto and Coke please.

*

Oh you're a proper girly girl aren't ya? I teased. She laughed and leaned over the bar. The light caught her bare shoulder. I knew this move, I obliged her.

*

That's a pretty tatoo, when did you get it?

*

A couple of weeks ago, her reply

*

Oh, so it's still sort of brand new..., I traced a line with my thumb, classy.

*

Thanks, she smiled. I ordered our drinks and played my hand.

*

You can leave if you still want to, or you can come hang over there with me and my friends. I was helping her out. We need another girl to balance out the group anyway. She would be doing me a favor as well. We needed each other.

*

Oh, erm.., she looked skeptical

*

Like I said, you don't have to, but we're a fun group.

*

Ok, she smiled, can't hurt.

*

You should tell your friend where we'll be.

*

No, it's cool, I don't want to interrupt her. I'll send her a text. She handed me her drink and quickly rapped out a text message on her Blackberry (she got extra points for that). Let's go.

*

I handed her drink back to her and we made our way over to my friends. I made the necessary introductions.

*

Be nice guys, she just got dumped.

*

She rolled her eyes. I didn't get dumped, punched me in the arm with her free hand, my friend's just off with some man.

*

And I have to give it to my friends, they couldn't have played their roles better if it was scripted. The girls immediately made her feel like one of them (I have to give you women props on your ability to do that, only when you want to of course). Squeals of "I love your dress, where did you get your shoes" rang through the air. I let them have her for a few minutes while I went back to the bar and returned with another couple of drinks.

*

This served another purpose, she was inevitably going to try and find out things about me, and I trusted the girls to offer up niceties.

*

I wandered back into the group with the drinks in my hands and handed them to the girls, as a thank you and a peace offering, I was about to steal their 'fabulous'(their word) new friend away.

*

We retreated from the group and found a relatively quiet corner to talk. Your friends are nice.

*

I thought you might like them. They must really like you though, they're not usually THAT nice. A compliment to her.

*

After much small talk and banter, her hand on my chest she said, I feel like I've known you for years.

*

That was my plan all along, I replied, cheeky smile.

*

You are SUCH a player, she smiled as she turned around and settled into me.

*

Maybe I am, I wasn't going to lie to her, there's a few 'dos' I try to follow.

*

1. DO be honest and open, people tend to respond in kind, so if you're dishonest and closed off, she'll be dishonest and closed off and you will NOT be getting her number.
2. DO give her options, never make her feel like she has to do something, or she more than likely won't.
3. DO always make her feel comfortable. If she's at ease with you, she will be more likely to share her secrets with you, including her phone number.
4. DO make sure she laughs and has fun. That one speaks for itself
5. DO make it effortless, never try too hard, be yourself and simply apply your natural personality to the situation.
6. DO not assume at anytime that any of this is foolproof or guaranteed to work. If you fall flat on your face, dust yourself off, learn from it, improve your technique, and try again.

*

The DJ was playing some dancehall and then some r&b, seemed like he was playing it for us, as she wined (sp?) pon me?

*

Do you want another drink? I whispered in her ear.

*

Are you trying to get me drunk mister?

*

Never! I chuckled

*

Ok, one more.

*

Amaretto and Coke coming up, I took a few steps in the direction of the bar and then thought the better of it, before some random idiot comes and steals all my hard work. You coming?

*

She rolled her eyes and took my outstretched hand.

Chapter 1

1. And it came to pass, on the second day of the weekend, that Scribbles traveled a far distance to party with some friends.

*

Oh wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. I was invited to a barbecue by a friend of mine. She has a lot of fine friends, so I'm thinking 'correct'. WRONG! We get there and there's like 6 people there, 5 of which are dudes. The stereo was blasting away and as we walked in Boy Better Know's "Too many men" came on. We almost died with laughter.

*

After much chitter chatter, and filling up on hot dogs and burgers and the like, we decided it was time to move this party to a different scene, so we decided to go clubbing. Well, they decided, I obliged and since I didn't have a book, I decided to make the most of it.

*

We got to the club and it was packed...*sigh*...ah well, making the most of it, I made a beeline for the bar; got me and my friends drinks (surprisingly cheap for a London club- not that I was complaining). Then I decided to scope out my surroundings.

*

That's when I saw her, 'skankin out' on the dance floor...these British people and their skankin sef. Me I no understand o. This girl made it look good though. At the same time I saw him. I watched the both of them for a couple of minutes. Then I shook my head and chuckled.

*

I said before that I don't consider myself as having game. I am, however, really good at starting, maintaining and directing conversation. I'm also good at spotting opportunities. Finally, I have a few 'dont's' that I follow religiously.

*

1. Don't stand over a girl for longer than 2 seconds just staring at her dance if you don't know her. It's creepy and you will NOT be getting her number.
2. Don't subsequently lean in and say "I like the way you wine" (yes I can lip read). This only works if (a)she's desperate or (b) you are a celebrity or a splitting image of Tyson Beckford or Denzel in his prime in which case you can do whatever the hell you want.
3. Don't stand there for a full 5 minutes telling her inanities at 1 minute intervals.

*

I sipped my Jack and Coke and chatted with my friend, watching them out of the corner of my eye. Dude was persistent-I'll give him that. She walked away and dude made his retreat, head low. I downed the rest of my drink and excused myself from the conversation. I made for the bar once again, making sure to walk right by her. I placed my hand in the small of her back, ever so lightly

*

Excuse me. I met her eyes, I smiled. She smiled back. Hi, I'm Scribbles.

*

Melanie, was her retort.

*

You know you shouldn't come to places like this alone, weird guys tend to hover over you. My subtle indication that I had been watching her.

*

She laughed, I came with my friend, but she's over there with some man.

*

I looked over and sure as day, she was sucking some dude's face. I laughed, Seems like she's having fun

*

Yea enough for the both of us. I think I'm leaving soon.

*

Oh, but I just met you. Before you make that decision, let me buy you a drink, you look a little...hot.

*

She smiled, Okay.

"Who's is it?" I asked.

I knew it wasn't mine. I strapped up every time and that meant I was 99.8% confident that I wasn't the father. She was 100% confident I wasn't.

"Some guy from back home. He just moved here. I went over his house the other day and fell asleep. I woke up and he was already going at it."

"Oh, what the fuck? Did he rape you?" In hindsight, this was a pretty insensitive question

"No I didn't push him off or nothing. I was half asleep the whole time"

"Hmm, ok, if you say so. I thought you said you couldn't get pregnant"

"That's what I thought, that's what I was told"

My people, see me see wahala. Na Baba God I just dey thank. Scribbles would have been looking fatherhood straight in the eye now. Chick said she'd had some complications earlier in life due to getting raped and had been told she couldn't have kids, and as such (since she'd just got tested) it was cool to engage in sex without protection.

Thank God for Scribbles Scruple 2.1 "No sex without condom". I'm not ready to be a father.

"Did you tell him?"

"No, I texted him but he's not awake yet"

"Ok, so what do you want to do?"

"I can't have a kid, I'm a mess, that kid would end up hating me, besides, it would get in the way of me and you"

"Woah, don't base your decision on me...do what you need to do, but at the end of the day, I have nothing to do with this baby, so it's your decision, think about it and make sure you're doing the right thing"

"Ok, but I'm not keeping it"

"Ok"

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, just a little caught off guard"

This is the same chick that wanted to film us . I just have God to thank. Much much lower thanks goes to Durex. This chick has also said stuff like "we should get married" ,"i wanna have your babies" etcetera etcetera.I never even asked chick to be my girlfriend. Ask me why I still mess with her? The sex is amazing!

In other news, I've updated Entertaining Insanity with another audio post. Once again, ENJOY!

Also embedding this "Halo" cover by Ahmir...tell me it's not better than the original

Oneitis, I think, is what Neil Strauss called it. Matter of fact, let me find the actual definition for you.
*
From the Urban Dictionary:

Oneitis, is that social malady that results in a feeling that this person is totally special and unique and therefore one must not mess up anything with them. These confused "messed up" feelings then often mess up the chances of a person seducing their romantic victim because after all thier emotions tell them that they cannot be too careful, gentle, and that they cannot "act too foolish." Often, Oneitis also confuses a person by making them worry too much about what other people will think of them or worse what thier romantic victim will think of them, and thus they simply cannot do what is necessary to seduce thier romantic prey.

*

It goes on to describe what one must do to get over this "disease" and all that blah blah. For me, I just needed to realise that I was suffering from it. I'm now on the road to recovery, discovering, quite paradoxically, that we are all alike in our uniqueness and as such, we are all the same, ergo there's a few billion more of her in this crappyhappy old world.

*

And it is my mission to find as many of them as I can in my lifetime. I mean, I live in London, I run into at least 5 beautiful women on a daily. Victorian scientist Sir Francis Galton once conducted a study aimed at creating a "Beauty Map" of Great Britain; guess which city he found to have the best looking people. If you guessed Manchester, Birmingham or Nottingham, you guessed wrong.

*

There is such a diverse range of beautiful women that I run into daily. White(British, Polish, German, French, American, Australian), Black (British, Nigerian, Zimbabwean, Zambian, Ugandan, South African, Ghanian), Hispanic, the tall oriental chick with the never ending legs. The tall blonde in her late 20s on the train with no ring on her finger who wouldn't stop smiling at me. The beautiful African chick at Zara who I can't wait to see out of her work clothes or even the 100 or so 20something womanly distractions at church.

*

So, starting this thursday, with friday off work, giving me a 4 day weekend, I go on the prowl- bars, libraries, coffee shops, department stores, asdas, tescos, train stations, Oxford street etc- armed with nothing but charm, a smile and a blackberry. No place is sacred, no place is safe.

*

Smile ladies, Scribbles is back!

Uploaded by www.cellspin.net

haha...friday night stupidity..enjoy....had a couple of drinks in me at this point..still do...anyway..i'll put up the words to A Dozen Long Stemmed Roses

A dozen long stemmed roses, hope they brighten up your day
A dozen long stemmed roses, there's no thanks you need to say
Really, it's okay
A dozen long stemmed roses, hope these 12 may bring a smile
A dozen long stemmed roses, even if you wont be mine
A dozen long stemmed roses, at work, I know they'll make you blush
And I hope to God your colleagues take the piss and tease and such
I know you'll be embarrassed, but I'll know you'll love em too
Because a dozen roses do, what a dozen roses do
I send a dozen roses just to send a dozen roses
I did it cause I wanted to, not for what I want you to
So a dozen long stemmed roses, really hope they bring you joy
A dozen, that's 12, or 2 sixes from the boy

Ciao!

Botany, plant science(n), phytology, or plant biology is a branch of biology and is the scientific study of plant life and development. Botany covers a wide range of scientific disciplines that study plants, algae, and fungi including: PSYCHE!! Haha you know i'm not really gunna talk about botany.That one was for Mocha

There's quite a few things I do want to talk about. I have, however, forgotten every single one of them..lemme see, let me remember.


Right, numero uno! My mother called me on Sunday evening to say "Happy Resurrection Sunday" and to ask me why I hadn't called her to wish her the same. My response; Easter is tomorrow mom. Her; No, Easter is today, Jesus rose on Sunday....No, mom, if Jesus was buried on the evening of Good Friday, and was resurrected 3 days later, there's NO WAY it could have been Sunday.


Let's just say she wasn't too happy with my logical approach. Hehe



Second; bumight!

You don't know the half of it, my dear. Exhibits A and B:

• I regularly find a relatively quiet spot, when out clubbing, to sit down, pull out my blackberry and type up some poetry, a blog post, etc.


• The last time I went to a club, I mistakenly took a really captivating book that I'd been reading all day and hadn't been able to put down. I got bored of the scene, grabbed a chair by the bar and started reading. Best. club night. ever! I'm going to make that a regular thing

The most popular question I get asked these days, especially by my female friends, is

"*Gasp*, Scribbles, how come you dont have a girlfriend?". They ask it with a baffled and wowed expression on their faces. I'm like; I dunno, I guess I haven't found the right girl yet. Then they go, Oh I have the perfect girl for you, what kind of girls do you like. I'm thinking, Right, Ok, you probably don't, but I don't mind playing along, who knows. She's never the perfect girl for me.


My flatmate, the female one, has a certain aversion to clothes. She can be regularly caught casually skulking about the house in nothing but a towel. A couple nights ago, it was just a t-shirt. I asked her; Do you hate clothes. She goes; Yes, why should I have to wear clothes in my own house? I'm like, maybe because you have a vagina and you live with two guys? She isnt convinced. It's ok, I'm not attracted to her. She's not my type. I can't speak for my other flatmate though. Ah well, if yawa gas, I'll be sure to let y'all know

Sir Scribbles II of The Royal Scribbles...is not me. Just thought I'd clear that up. I haven't changed my moniker. I'm still scribble,me.free. I came across his blog after he commented on one of juiceegal's posts.


Finally, I went to a gospel poetry event last night, and was inspired out of my mind. It was a fantastic night with gifted poets, lovely atmosphere and beautiful company.


Oh right, before I forget, I was tagged in the One Word Meme by Abeni. Might as well do it now.


Ok, I just copied and pasted the questions and it was all jumbled up. Laziness, while being a bastardly bugger, is my faithful companion right now. So I'll do it later.

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

How strong are you? She asked me.
Strong enough. Why?
I want to try something ...different.

We were laying in the after glow now. I reckon blogville wants to hear the full story.

She walked in and took her coat off...

She threw it on the couch and bent over to turn on her stereo, just as I turned around from locking her front door. Her skirt was scandalous. I don enter am today. She walked back up to me and put her arms around my neck. She kissed me. Soft, sensual, but at the same time deep, hungry. She pulled my t shirt over my head. She was intent on getting me undressed this time.

I pushed back on her, pinning her to the wall and hiked up her skirt. *Did this girl ever wear underwear?* My flatmate might be home soon. Let's take this to the bed room. I picked her up and carried her to the bed, kicking the door shut behind me. I hurriedly stripped off the rest of her clothes.

I skipped her breasts this time, her nectar was already flowing freely and I was thirsty. Mmm, it's not fair, I'm totally naked and you're still wearing your jeans. I took them off. And your boxers? She tugged at them I pulled those off too and returned to my work. I buried my head in her wetness, my right palm putting light pressure on her pelvis, right above the clit, my left hand teasing her nipples. Her breathing was fast, strained, and she was a yeller. I liked that.

My tongue probed her clit, light flicks interrupted by direct pressure; soft kisses and gentle sucking, exploring deeper within her; her pronunciations were becoming progressively less intelligible. I looked up to see her eyes closed, head thrown back, both hands had a deathly grip on the headboard. I smiled inwardly. Then my eyes caught a picture frame. The picture was of them. Her and the boyfriend.

I stopped short. We shouldn't be doing this.
What?
I got up, paced the room and proceeded to give her a lecture (HEEDIOT!!). You have a boyfriend, this doesnt feel right. And we're friends. I don't want this to ruin the dynamic of our friendship..blah, blah.

I stopped when I noticed her eyes were following me, a glazed over look on her face. She wasn't listening to a word. I traced the path of her eyes. Mini-scribbles was rock hard and at attention. Ready for duty.

Me and him are not together anymore. I can't be with someone who hurts me this much. There is nothing to feel guilty about. We both have needs.Even as she spoke, her voice a soft purr, she took me in her hand. Let's just enjoy this. She worked her hand up and down the shaft.

Omo, body no be firewood.

I attacked her with a ferocity and intensity I wasnt even aware I possessed. We fell back into bed and I took her. Animalistic copulation ensued.

When we both came, she asked me to stay inside her. It's better that way. She was right. Her spasms caused me to spasm, which in turn...u get the gist.

And as we lay in the afterglow...

How strong are you?
Strong enough. Why?
I want to try something ...different. Have you ever done the 69, vertically?
Um, no.
Me either. She said with that predatory grin on her face.

*Dedicated to Repressed One. All this one na ur fault o!*

I'm having one of those days, few and far between, when Morality creeps in, let in by those traitors Reflection and Self Criticism. In my sleep they bound me, so I can't leave. And emboldened by the presence of his 3 compadres, Conscience starts to speak. Louder than usual.

We've brought you here today because you have a problem. And it's affecting all of us. Morality especially. Just look at him. Where did I go wrong? Awon ore e oni ise ku se yen(Those irresponsible children you call friends) have corrupted you. His voice is sombre and accusing. Preachy. He weaves his sermon expertly, exquisitely. He has had plenty of time to script it.

Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it. He quotes scripture with ease and eloquence. But you have departed my son. I am not his son. He is not my father. I am quickly getting fed up of his self-righteous condescending demeanor. I need to get out of here.

Like the prodigal son, you have gone away from home. Oh dear not the prodigal son analogy again. And you have squandered your inheritance on riotous living. I look at Reflection as if to ask "What inheritance?". His head is bowed like he is deep in thought. I can tell he is just avoiding my gaze. Traitor.

So I look over at Self-Criticism. She has no problem meeting my eyes. Her look is one of stern judgement. There's a knock on the door. She holds my gaze as she walks over to the door and opens it.

In walks Guilt with that self-gratifying smirk on his face. He's taunting me. I hate him.

Listen! Self-Criticism all but yells at me.

...and you have shamed this body. Do you not know that it is a temple? Blah blah blah, it's the same story everytime. I've heard it all before. Still, it's very valid. Shit, he's right. I really need to pull myself together. Conscience is getting bolder now.

What would your family say if they saw the way you lived? What would your mother think?

I'm sorry. I can change. I promis....

CRASH!

The door bursts open. Arrogance saunters in, that unruly gait and half cocked smile I've come to love. He looks Self-Criticism in the eye. Not today bitch, we've come for our boy. Vanity follows close behind him. He's been at the gym all day. He is looking "hench" these days. He picks up Guilt, throws him over his shoulder, and walks out. He throws him off the balcony.

I smiled. I should have known my boys wouldnt desert me. But by this time I was ambivalent. Conscience was right. I wasn't living my life right.

And then Smooth glided in, shoulder to shoulder with her twin, Seduction. One pulled up a chair in front of me (I think it was Seduction [she's the one that loves eye contact]- I could never tell them apart). She took my hand, and they spoke. They always spoke in unison. A little freaky really, but they always knew exactly what to say.

With Smooth's fingers effortlessly undoing the knots that bound me and Vanity and Arrogance keeping my captors at bay (Reflection was lost in thought, again...Morality too battered and bloody to put up a fight), the twins reassured me.

I know you love God, but you are young. You are full of life. You should share that life with those around you. We dont advocate broken hearts, and I'm sure that's not your intention. You are only living your life the way that comes naturally. No es problema, vive tu vida.(There's no problem, live your life)

They spoke in Spanglish sometimes, Seduction sometimes opted for German though. I was convinced. But then they were always persuasive. I wondered if I could ever defy these girls. I got up and shook off the rope.

Arrogance joined us, Vanity in tow. Now that that craziness is over, let's go find some fun. How about calling Sin up? Her body was sex, remember? I giggled, he always made me laugh. I thought he was a little phony, and maybe slightly unintelligent, but he was funny, so I kept him around.

As we walked out of the room, Conscience piped up. Dont go! You know I'm right. But as I turned to look back, the twins snaked their arms around my waist, and whispered in my ear "Vamanos"(Let's go).

You may have got him this time, but he will be ours eventually you know. He will repent! The girls looked back, a playful look on their faces.

We know big brother. Just not today, no ahora.


Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

We had been friends for over a year...and in the months leading up to this we had become best friends. Or so I thought.

We met on the second day of freshers week. I always missed the first days of these things. I needed to do my registration and my doting mother, the kind but overbearing woman that she is, insisted on coming with me. It was while we stood in line waiting for our number to be called that dear mom struck up a conversation with Ugochi.

I had looked over, she was kinda cute, but I wasnt about to start chatting her up in front of mom, so I allowed it. Mom had other ideas. She chatted her up for me, told her to give me her number and marched off. We still laugh about that day.

We were nothing more than acquaintances in first year, I was attracted to her, but she had a boyfriend (the girlfriend stealing Scribbles wasn't born yet). She read some of my poetry and would tell me how her flatmate/cousin was crushing on me because she loved the way I wrote (she was cute, but she also had a boyfriend). It was cool. I couldn't afford them anyway. They were high maintenance. I was a lowly student and even if I wasn't I'm not the type to impress a woman with money. Scribbles isn't one of awon gbogbo bigz boys you see. The boyfriends were.

In second year, we begun to hang out a little more...well much more. I was her closest friend at Uni and she started to confide in me. She suspected her boyfriend was cheating on her. I was there for her. I would offer her my shoulder to cry on. It never occured to me she might want more than that.

Then one day chatting on msn, flirting shamelessly (and harmlessly I thought) as we always did, she sent me a picture of her magnificent legs. So I sent her a picture of my butt. Then she sent me a picture of her top half, topless, an arm draped lazily over her breasts. Oh. I decided to come to the conclusion(oh crap she's calling me...brb..ok ..where was I? oh right) that she was just fooling around.

I went to visit her the next day, she was in one of her mildly hysterical states, she had found more proof that he was cheating and he was doing it with reckless abandon.

We sat and watched tv in silence for awhile. She flipped through the music channels. Head on my chest, her tears soaking into my shirt. Minutes later, she raised her head, her face levelled with mine, and she kissed me.

She had thick, kissable lips and after I indulged for a few seconds, I was able to pull away. And the excuses started to roll off my tongue.

We shouldn't be doing this. You have a boyfriend, we're friends. You're vulnerable and I dont want to take advatage of you.

You're not taking advantage of me. I want this. I want you. She kissed me again. I kissed her back this time. Hard. She was sexy and from what she had told me, a freak. I took her clothes off, one item at a time, and surveyed her body, expertly, with recklessly placed kisses and strategically placed bites.

As I teased her nipples with my tongue, my lips, my teeth, my fingers slid under the waistband of her skirt. She wasn't wearing any panties. I slid one finger inside her, she moaned. Her skirt quickly came off and my lips joined my fingers. Her moans were deeper and more drawn out now.

I kept my tongue circling her clit, intermittently slippping deep within her, soft strokes. She was moaning louder, gasping, thrashing around, grinding into my face....I kept at it till the last wave had hit her. And then I stopped.

I sat with her for a couple of minutes, she was quiet. Michael Jackson sang "do you remember the time....". She giggled.
You're not allowed to ever sing this song to me.
Haha, I hear ya.

More silence. After a few minutes..

I should go.
What?
It's getting late, I'm going to miss the last train, I should go.
Oh...ok

And I left.

I ran into her the next day at Uni. We talked for awhile like nothing happened. Then..
Can you walk me home?
Erm, I guess

We walked in silence until..
Why did you leave in such a hurry last night?
Err, I was going to miss the train.
You could have spent the night you know.
I didnt think you wanted me to...I thought maybe last night was a mistake
No, I told you I wanted you. I was aching for chrissakes, and you just left me.
I chuckled, I'm sorry about that. Maybe I'll make it up to you today?
You had better.

I held the door open for her. She walked in and took her coat off...

BEST CONDOM COMMERCIAL EVER!!!

*I remember high school, I had a crush on this one girl(Grace) for 3 full years (initially mentioned in Honest Scrap post), maybe more, I was never able to pluck up the courage to speak to her. 3 YEARS!! Well, sorta. She even flirted with me once in JS2

I like your hair, it's really soft. She touched my head

I blushed, said Thank you, and turned away. If that was me today, hmm..lets just thank God it wasn't

*Even my first year at Ann Arbor College, this girl asked me to "braid her hair"(the one I got naked from my 2truths and a lie post).
I hesitated, I dont know how.

She said, You can learn on me

I somehow chickened out sha. If that was me today,she woulda been sportin' jagged cornrows the next morning...and a limp.

I'm the guy who turned down sex with a beautiful woman because I perceived her as a "good girl" and I didnt want to disrespect her by taking what was offered. I was thinking, "She's a great girl, wifey material." She never spoke to me again. I think that's what changed me.

The guy who, at 16, didnt know what to do with a girlfriend. All we did was hold hands. The guy who had his first real kiss at age 20.

In high school, I was what you might consider a geek. I still am to a certain degree. I was never part of a 'crew' but I did have four close friends;

• MDD; he's my oldest male friend. Not very wise to the ways of the world. He was in his own video game playing, Man U supporting world. He wised up quick tho, even before me.


• PhatAl; poor guy was the new guy in JS3, so he got stuck with the geeks, us.


• Stan; massive Eminem fan, i'm actually no longer in touch with him. I hope he's doing well.

We were in our own world, oblivious to anything that occured outside our little circle.

MDD, the bastard(he gets a proper intro 2moro), was the one who leaked the secret of my 3 year crush to the entire school. Funny thing, Grace's best friend was also a friend of mine. Her advice, go talk to her. My response, well I didnt really respond, I was quaking in my loafers. Ah well, what could have been.

Since I left high school, emboldened by the protection of distance, a few girls have come forward and declared they had a crush on me, including a girl I sat next to for a year, and another girl I considered one of the high school 'elite'. Thinking back on it now, she made it pretty obvious; brushing her unmentionable bits against me when she walked past, standing quietly next to me at random moments. This girl was hot, debatably the hottest in our set. Yet, idiot teenage Scribbles was oblivious to it all, eyes only for Grace. More missed opportunities.

I guess I spent my shy years observing, learning (they used to call me 'The Sponge') and when my confidence picked up...well.... I dont know how it happened, but I became the Scribbles you know and love. Thing is, I dont really consider myself smooth, or suave (although I have been described as such). I just try to be myself no matter the situation, while at the same time working to improve that self.

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

• pple TDVA (nee teediva) is back! updating regularly again, so please show her some love here
• this post continues from here

She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled.

Did you really need to do that?

It would have gotten in my way. This body deserves a first rate experience. Can't have unnecessary obstacles like bra straps getting in the way of that.

Haha. Of course you'd say that.

Yea, now shush, relax and enjoy.

I rubbed the massage oil together between my palms to warm it up and spread it over her back, rubbing it into the skin, exploring her back. Her body was sex, raw and unadulterated.

I went deeper, rolling out every knot, smoothing every tense muscle.

Mmm. Right there. Yea. Mhmm. Aaaah. That's the spot.

Hehe, you keep making those noises and I'll soon be "massaging" you with something else.

Haha. Shut up! I'm not doing that with you! *said the half naked girl in my bed*

Doing what exactly?

Nothing.

I smiled.

The knots were gone now, but still the flawless skin of her back beckoned, so I kept at it; a little lighter with each stroke, following the curves and dips of her body. I could feel her body start to heat up now.

I looked down at her; eyes closed, lips slightly parted. I leaned in and whispered

I'm going to use my lips now.

Her lips curled into a mischievous smile, her eyes remained closed.

My lips followed my fingers along curves and crevices, injecting hot and cold at intervals, pleasing nerve endings and finding pleasure centers. It wasn't long until she started squirming under my touch, rubbing her legs together.

Turn over. I'm gonna do your front
No

I picked her up and flipped her over. She laughed. Somewhere in the craziness we had lost her bra. Her perfectly formed, unbelievably firm Cs rested to her sides, the way real ones do..inviting me. I obliged them...taking my time to appreciate every inch of her skin. I undid the button of her shorts and pulled at the zip with my teeth.

Her shorts and panties came off slowly...my lips following their retreat...stopping just shy of her feet, and then making their way back down the back of her legs..behind her knee...and back up to her lips...they were wet now.

Igot up and walked across the room.

Wha? Why did you stop?

I stopped at the mini fridge, opened it and smiled back at her.

Out came the whipped cream.

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device