Paige Davis (from trading spaces) Needs to have her ass-hole eaten by me.Also Kat Von D from Miami ink.

I confess I love this shit. You Limey British cunts always love to talk about how fat Americans are. Suck on this:

Fire crews demolish walls to release Britain's fattest teen from house. BRITAIN�S fattest teenager was in a mammoth rescue operation to get her out of her own home with 30 builders, scaffolders, police, fire service and ambulance crew.

Georgia Davies, (19), had to two walls in her house demolished to get her to hospital after reaching a reported 63 stone. Thats over 700 lbs to us Americans. Fish and chips anyone?

Hey guys- it's me! The city worker who is taking advantage of worker's comp to get back at my boss. I've been on worker's comp for about four months already. I work about 1/3 less the hours that I normally do but I get full pay. I went to a specialist today and got some great news that I wanted to share with you all.
He said my injury is far from serious. I asked him how long until I fully recover and he said it's up to me. He said that it's all about how I feel and there is no deadline. It can take a whole year. He told me to get some physical therapy but I told him that I was denied more because they only give you a certain amount. He said to check into having my health insurance pay for it but that won't work because I have to get a referral from my doctor and he's doesn't do worker's comp.
I called the physical therapist office and asked how much is a session if paid with cash. They said $90. I then went into work and my boss asked me about the doctor visit. You see, the shit has been hitting the fan since I blamed my injury on work. He's struggling. I told him what the doctor said and then asked him for $270 every week for the next ten weeks. He asked me what I was talking about. I said that I needed physical therapy and I can't afford $90 a session, 3 times a week with the low wage that I get. I told him that he surely could afford it and I knew he really wanted to get back to work. I even backhanded his liberal ass by telling him that he was one of the 1% and I was one of the 99% of taxpayers too.
Karma is a bitch. It's funny- I was watching this interview with Bette Davis where she was saying that had her bosses treated her with more respect and gratitude then she wouldn't have been such a demanding bitch and her bosses would have saved a lot of money. So true.

Hi I am Officer Davis with the Florida Metro Police Department,
Everyone's ISP's have been contacted and are logged into our database.
Anyone distributing child Pornography can and will be prosecuted.

Georgia death row inmate Troy Davis, convicted of the 1989 murder of a Savannah police officer.Georgia's Board of Pardons and Paroles is slated to meet Monday to consider whether to stop Davis' execution by lethal injection because "key witnesses in his trial have since recanted their testimony." what i want to know is ARE THEY GOING TO CHECK TO SEE IF THERE HAS BEEN WITNESS TAMPERING HERE!!why are they recanting their testimony!?

Fuck nigger's I'm glad they killed. That nigger troy davis. He better had made his peace with god.

It's Thunder and It's Lightning (Find You, Find Daddy)

A wise and patient mentor/teacher with whom I've recently become acquainted expressed an interest in what I truly enjoy; what satisfies me in the deepest way, sexually, perversely-- what my kinks are. Words and phrases occurred as thoughts developed, as usual for me. As I continued to free-associate and add more, it dawned on me that the seeds of my contentment were planted with my first sexual experiences. Only one person has heard this story and this is the first time I've written it down. This is for you, my inspiring new friend. Thank you. Everyone else, I hope this helps you (Daddies and their Good Girls) get to the core of your and your partners' kinks, too.

---

First Time: Start of a journey in search of a permanent Daddy

Our fatherless house (he was gone by the time I was three) was packed for the High Holy Days one year. My cousin (distant, by marriage of his grandmother to a sibling of my grandfather) was sleeping in the twin bed across from mine in my room, and this thrilled me because I had a mad crush on him. In my inexperienced head he was Davy Jones. He, of course, was oblivious to my crush, though he did treat me sweetly, just... well, as you would a cousin you'd known since birth and thought was a pretty good girl.

I woke up late one night to the kind of Louisiana thunder and lightning and crashes that sounded... instead of foisting some fraught simile on you, I'll just tell you that thunder and lightning frightened me for a brief period early on in my life, and so I leapt into his bed, startling the crap out of him in the process. I clung to him like Velcro and he stroked my back and whispered inconsequential, comforting sounds and words into my hair and onto my face and neck. He was lovely and tender, as one would be with an irrationally frightened girl. He was also strong and reassuring-- his touches confident and protective (and completely paternal in the moment).

Feeling him hardening under me as I rocked on him, I was completely unaware of why he would be. I'm certain, now, that his physical response was at first involuntary. In a cotton nightgown and panties, I'd thrown myself onto him, straddling him with my face buried in his neck, my hands grasping and arms wrapping as best I could around him, and I'd been slowly, subtly rocking up and down, forward and backward. He wore shorts and an LSU t-shirt, so there was little between my body and his. And, perhaps he'd already been semi-hard. Most of the men I've slept with become tumescent during their sleep, off and on throughout the night. Anyway...

The awareness that my little pussy was resting and rubbing slightly off-center on his hardness grew in my fevered head as the fear started subsiding. The rocking was making me feel so surprisingly good, I shifted a bit so that the hard thing was between my little lips, and then intensified my movements. His big, strong hands tightened on my body where they rested; his warm, sweet breath quickening and washing over me in bigger waves; his words lost in soft, unintelligible whispered moans.

Suddenly, I felt his arms tense up in a different way, as if he were going to push me away and in instinctive reaction, I clung tighter to him, moving faster and harder against him to make the pleasure come more acutely for me. I didn't understand what was happening, but I did not want this to end, nor did I understand why he was thinking about moving me off of him or what he might be feeling.

His hands moved down to my buttocks and he began sliding me vertically with more pressure, elongating my movements, pulling and pushing me along his hardness. The new, intense sensations became almost excruciating for me in their perfect, delicious pitch. His voice, whispering familiar words and words I'd never heard before; the subtle scent of his cologne; his smoky sweet breath on my hair and face; the warmth of his lithe body and sheen of sweat... God, just writing about it, now pulls me under and I'm drowning in the heat.

My first orgasm spread out of the center of me, suddenly, unexpectedly, shockingly, oh so sweetly right there on his hard cock (I now knew what the word meant). Overwhelmed with sensation and emotion, tears flowing down my face, I didn't realize what it was he was experiencing in the moment, but he followed shortly, his fingers in my mouth, his hand holding my head so he could see my eyes, his soft moans whispering my name, breath washing over my face, and filling my mouth, nose and lungs. I saw what I at first thought was fear, and maybe some of it was... and then a kind of sneering joy (he smiled, but the way his lips curled, it looked like a sneer, but his eyes were so joyful and ecstatic)... and then the release, as if someone let him up from under water and I was his little life raft.

---

Still, to this day, I prefer this kind of sex-- regardless of position, I love to feel my lover's cock between my lips, but not inside of me, though I do love that too. I'm that girl in those moments. Yet, I have no desire to revert or to pretend or to babytalk or to be that girl. I just am, inside. Sometimes older, sometimes just the age that I am. But always, that me in utter ecstasy or arousal... on the inside of the inside. And, still, to this day, I return to this memory (and others of him) often, when I masturbate.

So much of everything I am is wrapped up in my relationship with him. For example, the reason music and sex are so deeply intertwined for me is that he owned a record store downtown and would bring me cutouts and new records he thought I'd like or that he wanted me to like. He spoke with me about music the way one would speak with a peer. He's the reason I discovered Creem and Rolling Stone, and the reason I later owned two music magazines, my own label and booking/management company. And, still many of my friends are musicians or are in the music industry.

Our sexual relationship (friction, masturbation and oral sex, only) ended about 3 years later when he married. He was adorable, really. He lifted me up onto a table and explained to me how things were going to change, but that he would always love his "little old lady."

With him, I'd always felt safe, secure, protected and cherished, which in turn made me feel brave, strong and that I could do anything-- be anything. He treated me always with affection and kindness, and I realize now that I wanted to please him in every way-- even when he wasn't around-- in return for his love and attention.

I was devastated and heartbroken by the loss of him, when he finally returned from his honeymoon. It was only then that I realized he would never be alone with me, again. Subsequently, I began running away from home, hitchhiking to New Orleans and back and then around the country-- never knowing for what precisely it was I was searching, but experiencing adventures that most people never experience in three lifetimes.

With retrospect, these experiences and this ever-evolving long journey eventually helped me know that I need a Daddy. Learning where my desires began is helping me define exactly what I require from a man, should he step up-- and more importantly, to be able to recognize him, when he does.

XOXOX,
Rain

PS: The title is pilfered from We Were Promised Jetpacks.

Some adult literature for anyone interested in reading.

So there he sat, staring out his window as he had for almost three weeks straight since his wife had left him. Davis, an average Joe mechanic with barely a cent to his name, had been spiraling down into an alcohol based vortex, to which he couldn't find the means to free himself of. So instead of getting on his feet to find inspiration for life, in his chair, beside his window, is where he would sit.

It was odd, how the remaining thoughts and memories of his late wife had been reduced down to nothing but flash backs of their most passionate sexual experiences. He often found himself growing hard within his pants, but too depressed to do much of anything with it. He couldn't find the motivation, even to get himself off, which was fairly rare for a 27 year old male.

Beside the house that Davis was staying in, was a moving truck. Davis gazed with bored eyes at the graphics on the side of the truck box, leaning his head into his hand. It seemed that the movers were unpacking a few loads of random pieces of furniture and kitchen appliances. He shrugged off what ever entertaining thoughts that were trying to process in his mind, and glanced away for just a short moment.

His eyes darted back with curiosity, seeing a woman, who couldn't have been more than seventeen years old, step out from a small black hatch-back. She wore shorts that exposed the majority of her pale thighs, a form fitting comic book t-shirt, and flats for shoes. Her hair was a dirty blonde, and she wore thick, black rimmed glasses.

The town was small, so after losing his wife, Davis didn't really have much of a choice of women around. They were either too old, or under-aged. He didn't want to risk a sentence in prison, so even entertaining thoughts of pedophilia had been out of the question. This girl however, seemed to catch his attention, just by stepping out of her vehicle.

Davis continued to watch, seeing the girl walking up to an older man, presumably her father, and embrace him with a hug. Davis got a good view of the girls round, firm backside in those short-shorts of hers, as she stood on her tip-toes, her back facing Davis' house, to hug her father. After a few short words, she turned back towards her small black hatch-back, giving a glance over her shoulder slightly to see Davis in the window. Not even a double take was given. Just that single glance. But that glance had David aroused.

Davis let out a slow breath through his mouth, watching the girl open the back door of her car, and bend over to grab something from the floor of the back seat. Her backside was a sight to behold. Especially in those shorts of hers. After admiring the curvature of her ass, he heard her father call over.

"Sarah! Hurry up, we only have this truck for another two hours!" The girl grabbed a few more small boxes from the back of her car, and then turned, using her hip to bump the door shut before starting back. "Sarah.." Whispered Davis to himself, who had found his hand rubbing at his hardening shaft through the front of his low rise denim pants.

Almost as if she had heard him, Sarah would pause, turning to look at Davis through the window. Davis felt his heart sink, watching her kneel down to set the box on the paved drive-way, and start to cross his lawn. Davis shut the curtains in a panic, hoping that she wasn't coming to his place. He hoped hard. Harder than anything he had ever hoped for. Did she see him rubbing himself? Did she hear him call her name? Why was she walking towards his house?

A knocking sound rapped at the wood of his front door..

(More to come if you guys want. This was just the intro piece. Let me know what you think!)

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