#hellbecomingwriting

You try to tame her, tie her down and take her to the places only you want to go, disregarding her needs. And you wonder why she doesn’t respond. You sit back in your frustrations, gazing at her in all of her beauty, wondering why she won’t let you in on her secrets and the treasures that lie beneath. You ask yourself, just how do I find the key to it all. It really is simple. Treat her as you wish to be treated yourself. Love and care in any form is always appreciated, valued. She will let you take her but you must be willing to be taken as well. Surrender to this woman and who she is. You will not lose yourself, she still needs a man who knows himself and what he wants. If you do this, she will hand you the rope and beg you to tie her tight, and ravish her, over and over again.

Merry Christmas all.

It was torture how he kept her at bay, but she had become a victim of her own salacious fixation. Yes, he stroked her hair and whispered her name and plied her with an aura of impending pleasure, but beyond that she was resolved in her mission. With no question as to what her need had driven her to do, this time, every time, any time she got near to his wonderfully beautiful sex she simply sunk to her knees and fell away into him. She worshipped him here at this altar and would do anything to accept an offering from his vessel if it would give her exactly what she desired. Dammit but she was single minded and focused on her duty to please him. I want this, she thought, I want his cock.

We all dream, we’ve all had that dream, we’ve all been vulnerable, we’ve all imagined ourselves naked against the crowd, publicly exposed in splendor or in horrid repose, chained in a hell of our own making. But the thrill is always there, the adrenaline of fear, the excitement of danger, the realization that we secretly want to be caught and not so much humiliated as perceived as an innocent in need of shelter. We wish only to be punished by the loving embrace, brought into a place of security where these thoughts of being exposed and left behind will be met with acceptance. The hope is that a flood of pleasure will pour into the dream and our desire will be that it never end, that the ecstasy of release will never wash away.

Endless summer, don’t take me away, leave me on the beach where the young girls play. Feed me some gelato and a corn dog with cheese. Throw me in the sea when the ninth wave appears. Finish with a sunset on a blanket and a beer. Leave me with the girl and the cool night air.

Another mother's sorrow will fall like rain, another father's vision will cloud with bloody stains, and all those bouquets of flowers will never bloom again.

We teachers never entered the profession to protect children against violence. We became teachers to protect students against ignorance. We want schools with open doors and windows, open minds and open hearts. We don’t need John Wayne and the stockade, just pencils, paper and the freedom to let children add and subtract, read the books that need to be read, understand why the apple falls from the tree, and study history so we don‘t repeat the mistakes of the past.

Pick a leaf, any leaf, then wish upon that leaf, forget about those stars. Black and white is fine at night but autumn hugs the earth, it’s spell forever brief.