Ban Extreme Idiocy

The reason for my not updating the past two weeks is that I have been busy preparing a submission to the House of Lords and the House of Commons. Yes, dear kinksters, I'm drafting legislation in direct response to the awful example of idiocy detailed here. Fortunately, it has already provoked Backlash, but stronger measures are needed.

My new law seeks to ban extreme idiocy. It would make illegal and punishable by fines, directly payable to local literacy programmes and schools, the four following activities:

An act which threatens or appears to threaten a person's intelligence.

An act which results in or appears to result in serious injury to a person's sense of history, logic and liberty.

An act which involves or appears to involve interference with the freedom of tastes, pursuits and expression.

An idiot performing or appearing to perform an act of idiocy with an animal.

I shall rely on your support when I write to my member of parliament.

In the inbetween

I looked at her in the stillness of anticipation. Beautifully folded over on herself, knees tucked in and arse out, she had buried her face in a pillow.

We stayed like that in the inbetween for just a little while.

My finger, drenched in lubricant, circled the anxious pout of her rectum. Knowing it was impossible, I felt the deep desire to look straight into her eyes as I sunk my cock into her.

Instead I watched the swirl of her hair, and the low, low sound she made was enough to let me know where she was, riding on her wave of sensation.

Manicure

For the past week or so I've been paying a lot of attention to the state of my hands, meticulously clipping my nails and moisturizing carefully morning and night, noticing the wear and tear of life on my digits. There's a faint burn mark taking forever to vanish, dry patches around the base of the nails, sometimes frayed from distracted fingers absentmindedly picking at the hard skin. There are newly formed wrinkles, folds and scars from recent misadventures involving car maintenance and sharp kitchenware. Next to the persistent burn mark is the faint trail of last week's paper cut, the product of an exciting, life-threatening business meeting which I was fortunate to survive with only minimal blood loss.

My fingers have ambition. They aspire to softness, smoothness, to minimum abrasion and maximum pleasure.