Someone on a foodie facebook page I'm on just posted a picture of a beautiful walk-in larder that looks like some sort of ye olde grocerie shoppe. Yes, it's gorgeous, and yes, I'd like it, but a commenter gasped 'OMG it's like women's porn!'
I'm writing this here, instead of commenting there that while I like it a lot, and would love to have it, it's perhaps porn for women who don't like porn, as opposed to 'women's porn' - for example, it really wouldn't help me come much - there's not enough fucking or spanking in it, for starters.
Human beings, we're funny creatures. I was in the social welfare office the other day, eyeing my stuffed-to-bursting folder of temporary sign-ons that run back to 2007. 'Don't worry, it's the same with all seasonal teaching work', the nice girl said, as I gazed at the tangible symbol of my failure in life. While I was waiting, I glanced over the graffitti on my side of the window, toland on a scrawled proclamation,
Mary Moorehouse gave me a blowjob and she swallowed my come
I'm not sure if it's triumphant or denigrating. Both, quite likely. The need to boast is strong, though I'm pretty sure getting sexual favours from a Moorehouse isn't much to brag about. Let's just say they're a well known family with transient roots, infamous rather than famous. I was impressed that he wrote come not cum.
It's happier than the last one I saw, which was a more poignant 'warm in here, cold at home'. I'll leave you to ponder that while I ponder where I fall between pantry-porn and blowjob broadcast.
I'm writing this here, instead of commenting there that while I like it a lot, and would love to have it, it's perhaps porn for women who don't like porn, as opposed to 'women's porn' - for example, it really wouldn't help me come much - there's not enough fucking or spanking in it, for starters.
Human beings, we're funny creatures. I was in the social welfare office the other day, eyeing my stuffed-to-bursting folder of temporary sign-ons that run back to 2007. 'Don't worry, it's the same with all seasonal teaching work', the nice girl said, as I gazed at the tangible symbol of my failure in life. While I was waiting, I glanced over the graffitti on my side of the window, toland on a scrawled proclamation,
Mary Moorehouse gave me a blowjob and she swallowed my come
I'm not sure if it's triumphant or denigrating. Both, quite likely. The need to boast is strong, though I'm pretty sure getting sexual favours from a Moorehouse isn't much to brag about. Let's just say they're a well known family with transient roots, infamous rather than famous. I was impressed that he wrote come not cum.
It's happier than the last one I saw, which was a more poignant 'warm in here, cold at home'. I'll leave you to ponder that while I ponder where I fall between pantry-porn and blowjob broadcast.
1 comments:
Aw!
Great little-slices-of-life post!
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