My First Ever ‘Real’ Valentines Day (And Why I’m A Rubberhead)

My First Ever ‘Real’ Valentines Day (And Why I’m A Rubberhead)

Can you remember your first real Valentines Day – that one where you got something or gave something for the first time?

Our family has never done this crap where your Mum sends you a card.  Aside from hearing the ‘Deliverance’ banjo’s in my head even thinking about that, I suspect it cheapens real love and its meaning, and no doubt turns you into some cold selfish monster, with no appreciation of love from a partner.

Hehehe – how many readers has that lost me then??

Seriously though, the first time…

In the Summer holiday before I started Middle School (which made me 9), I met a girl who lived in my village, and fancied her straight away.  Her Dad raced karts, and she showed me her garage with his kart in – err, that sounds really bad!  Anyway, when I started school, I saw her again, but she was in a different class.  Being young and stupider, I admired her from afar, and never approached her.

A few years later, I finally spoke to her, and it turned out that wasn’t the same girl I’d met before school.  In fact, maybe I dreamed that whole thing, because I never saw a girl near that house again (and I rode past a lot on my bike that Summer!!!).  Spooky, but back to the point we must go:

It was the fourth and final year of Middle School when I finally plucked up some courage.  We were in the same class the year before and also for the fourth year, so I had spoken to her.  I used to piss her off and she’d smack me in the balls – it was true love!

I decided to use my Ninja skills and send her a Valentines Card.

I carefully cut all the letters I needed out of a newspaper, and like some kind of demented kidnapper, used sticky tape (we didn’t have glue) to put them all in an anonymous card.  It was probably something a little like this:

It seemed like a great idea at the time, ok?  It’s only looking back now that I’m surprised she didn’t report me to the Police!!!

I snuck the card into her desk unnoticed, and watched and waited as she discovered it and puzzled over who had sent it.

She didn’t know I had a major crush on her, and my friends knew even less!

Still, later in the day she confronted me with it.  She looked a bit surprised, but really happy with it (bet she’s into bondage and kidnapping fantasies now), and asked me to my face if I’d sent her it.

*groans*

And so I point-blank denied it!!!

I still kick myself for that today!  I was terrified at the thought of admitting that to her, so I didn’t!!!

Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t… either way, I’m a -ing rubberhead.

A few months later she ended up with someone else at a school disco, and that was my first heartbreak….

A very hard lesson learned, as we went to different high schools, and I never saw her again – apart from one weird psychic dream incident that I saw her after, but was too shocked to speak to her and she never saw me…

7 years later I still thought and dreamed about her.  I like to think that after all that time, it taught me NEVER to sit and say nothing again.

Tell them!!!

Get out there, and send that girl or boy you fancy a Valentines Card – and SIGN IT from you!!!

What have you got to lose?  You’ll regret it if you don’t!

Umm, I wouldn’t recommend doing it in kidnapping style though… although… maybe there’s a great idea there for some ‘holding my heart hostage’ comment…

Hope you all have a great day, and send SOMEONE a card – it’ll make their day!

***Special Note***
The girl concerned in this is now a friend on Facebook.  This blog is actually a repost from a few years ago, and I DID come clean and even gave her the link to this blog!  She said she always suspected it was from me!

My First Ever ‘Real’ Valentines Day (And Why I’m A Rubberhead)

My First Ever ‘Real’ Valentines Day (And Why I’m A Rubberhead)

Can you remember your first real Valentines Day – that one where you got something or gave something for the first time?

Our family has never done this crap where your Mum sends you a card.  Aside from hearing the ‘Deliverance’ banjo’s in my head even thinking about that, I suspect it cheapens real love and its meaning, and no doubt turns you into some cold selfish monster, with no appreciation of love from a partner.

Hehehe – how many readers has that lost me then??

Seriously though, the first time…

In the Summer holiday before I started Middle School (which made me 9), I met a girl who lived in my village, and fancied her straight away.  Her Dad raced karts, and she showed me her garage with his kart in – err, that sounds really bad!  Anyway, when I started school, I saw her again, but she was in a different class.  Being young and stupider, I admired her from afar, and never approached her.

A few years later, I finally spoke to her, and it turned out that wasn’t the same girl I’d met before school.  In fact, maybe I dreamed that whole thing, because I never saw a girl near that house again (and I rode past a lot on my bike that Summer!!!).  Spooky, but back to the point we must go:

It was the fourth and final year of Middle School when I finally plucked up some courage.  We were in the same class the year before and also for the fourth year, so I had spoken to her.  I used to piss her off and she’d smack me in the balls – it was true love!

I decided to use my Ninja skills and send her a Valentines Card.

I carefully cut all the letters I needed out of a newspaper, and like some kind of demented kidnapper, used sticky tape (we didn’t have glue) to put them all in an anonymous card.  It was probably something a little like this:

It seemed like a great idea at the time, ok?  It’s only looking back now that I’m surprised she didn’t report me to the Police!!!

I snuck the card into her desk unnoticed, and watched and waited as she discovered it and puzzled over who had sent it.

She didn’t know I had a major crush on her, and my friends knew even less!

Still, later in the day she confronted me with it.  She looked a bit surprised, but really happy with it (bet she’s into bondage and kidnapping fantasies now), and asked me to my face if I’d sent her it.

*groans*

And so I point-blank denied it!!!

I still kick myself for that today!  I was terrified at the thought of admitting that to her, so I didn’t!!!

Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t… either way, I’m a -ing rubberhead.

A few months later she ended up with someone else at a school disco, and that was my first heartbreak….

A very hard lesson learned, as we went to different high schools, and I never saw her again – apart from one weird psychic dream incident that I saw her after, but was too shocked to speak to her and she never saw me…

7 years later I still thought and dreamed about her.  I like to think that after all that time, it taught me NEVER to sit and say nothing again.

Tell them!!!

Get out there, and send that girl or boy you fancy a Valentines Card – and SIGN IT from you!!!

What have you got to lose?  You’ll regret it if you don’t!

Umm, I wouldn’t recommend doing it in kidnapping style though… although… maybe there’s a great idea there for some ‘holding my heart hostage’ comment…

Hope you all have a great day, and send SOMEONE a card – it’ll make their day!

***Special Note***
The girl concerned in this is now a friend on Facebook.  This blog is actually a repost from a few years ago, and I DID come clean and even gave her the link to this blog!  She said she always suspected it was from me!

EROTIC STORY: “Just Friends”

EROTIC STORY: “Just Friends”

https://i0.wp.com/i.myniceprofile.com/530/53004.jpg

It was always asking for trouble.

A bed is to friends what the apple was to Adam and Eve.

As they traded laughter for a quick kiss, he was a little surprised when the gentle lip contact became suddenly and unavoidably deeper.  But only a little surprised.

Their tongues found each other, and she pulled at his shoulder, virtually dragging him on top of her – not that he needed too much coaxing.

Funny though it was, ‘Family Guy’ was lost to a world filled only with them, his arms sliding underneath her body in a fierce embrace.

Still he had to know that this was what she wanted, so he held back, merely matching her kiss until she was lifting his shirt over his head.  As she ground her hips hard up against his, he finally relented to her, pressing his hips back down on her, his hardness making her moan out load as she worked her body.

Her top was gone – he couldn’t remember how or when, and as his lips kissed at her naked shoulders, and he realised she’d slipped off his jeans, he didn’t need to know the answers.

He eased his weight off her, laying to her side and running a hand down her beautiful face.  She kisses him again, hungrily, and his hands fumbled with her own jeans, the wetness that embraced his fingers telling him this was not the time for gentle foreplay – she wanted him right now.

Back on top of her, he slid his length against her, feeling her shudder as she pressed herself against him.  He wanted to tease her like this, but didn’t think he’d last if he did.

As his tip slowly entered her, he could tell she might not last either.

He pushed into her a little, then drew back again, making sure he was slick with her juices as he pushed a little further and then drew back again.  She bit the side of his neck hard as he finally filled her with his whole length, and he held himself as deep as he could inside her as she squirmed her hips, her muscles locking him tightly inside her.

Running his fingers through her hair as he gazed into her eyes again, he took a moment to steady himself, realising almost instantly that those hungry eyes, and her full lips wouldn’t help him.  Pulling her tight again, he nuzzled his nose against her hair, flicking his tongue over her ear, biting slightly as he slowly worked his hips.

In his head he knew he should be trying to think of baseball cards or something now to slow down his climax, but the moment was too good.

She bucked her hips up to meet his thrusts – no time for kissing now as they clawed and pulled at each other.

Suddenly, he pulled out of her, and as if she’d read his mind she moved with him, pushing him onto his back before sinking down onto him again.

She sat up, and his hands cupped her breasts, then he pulled her forwards slightly, sucking and kissing at her nipples as she rode him steadily – a pace that was perfect for both of them.

She stopped with a gasp, and arched her back as she felt him twitch inside her, but he wasn’t ready to end it yet.

Teasing him, she inched off him as slowly as she dared, grinning wickedly as she finally released him, and then he was behind her – inside her again.

He pulled her hips back onto him and held her there hard, whilst very lightly running his tongue from the nape of her neck to her shoulder.  He retraced the route lightly with his teeth, and the hair on her neck stood on end as he bit down gently on her neck, then placed hard kisses up to her earlobe as he pinched her nipples hard.

She turned her head so their lips met briefly, then dropped her face to the mattress in ecstasy as he pulled back and sank into her again.

He thrust harder, and she met his movements eagerly.  He pushed her forwards, taking his weight on one arm as his other hand moved between her legs.

He felt her cum as he was right on the edge, and knew he should pull out of her, but it felt too good.

She was cumming and trying to pull his hand away from her clit, but he kept the pressure there as he came hard inside her, feeling her juices running down over his fingers as she cried out with him.

She fell forwards, and he moved with her, still inside her and kissing her shoulders as they rose and fell with her breathing.

At last she lifted her head and twisted around to look at him with a smile.

Maybe they weren’t just friends anymore…

https://i0.wp.com/2.bp.blogspot.com/-bi5dGaR9RYA/TdXwJI3eECI/AAAAAAAA4Tk/0zVloxiklNQ/s1600/friends-with-benefits.jpg

Putting ‘BIKER’ On The Census As Your Religion

Putting ‘BIKER’ On The Census As Your Religion

It’s coming around again soon – the Gubbinment will be sending you a load of questions at great expense to the taxpayers so that… umm… they know more stuff about us?

https://i1.wp.com/www.questoverseas.com/assets/images/Sept%2010/census_logo.png

Whatever.

The important thing this time around is that when they ask me what religion I am, I am going to say it loud and proud that I am A Biker.

The road is my God, and the pathway there, too.

When I ride my bike it is a spiritual experience.  It’s a comfort to me when I feel lost or down.

Riding ‘in the zone’ is like a form of meditation.  It’s Zanshin – total awareness – as I try to see my surroundings before they happen, listening to every roar and click from my bike and trying my best to make sure as I execute my religion that nobody else is adversely affected by it.

We even have Priests – the mechanics who will fix up our trusty steeds and get us back on track.

A lot of us even just ride on Sundays!  And we have those living Gods amongst us:

https://i1.wp.com/www.superbikeplanet.com/image/2008/MGP/laguna/tim07/p02.jpg

And think of the benefits or getting our religion recognised!

Would a petrol station be allowed to force us to remove our helmet if it’s religious clothing?

Could they continue forcing us to pay such high tax on petrol – essentially taxing our religion?

It is my form of worship.  Being a Biker means I enjoy life, and get more out of it because of my choices.

We’re family out there – nodding a greeting as we pass total strangers simply because they’re on a bike.  Sure, there are different faction within the Biking religion – the Sportbikers have some hostility towards Harley Davidson riders, and everyone dislikes Scooter riders.  Motard riders are just thugs.  We’re not going to go to war over it, though, and many of us treat everyone under the Biker banner equally, as it’s something that unifies us all.

https://i1.wp.com/lichfieldlive.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/Bassets-Pole.jpg

If you ride a bike, I bet you’ve put more effort into that than you have the made-up-deity, war-causing, only-when-it-suits-you religion that someone decided they’d choose for you before you were out of nappies!

It’s got to be done!

It is the time to show the World what we REALLY believe in!

Just put that single word as your religion: Biker.

—-

***EDIT***: There is now a Facebook group for this, so get theeself joined and spread the word: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=group_169227299791835

The Dark Place

The Dark Place

Funny how everything can be brilliant, and then within the space of just a few months your whole life can be utterly devastated.

Generally, I’m a Lucky Bastard.  The flip-side to this is that when things DO decide to go wrong, they do it in a biblical way.

I thought being made redundant was pretty much a death sentance.  There are no jobs, and the only things I want to do in life are my girlfriend and motor racing and bike riding – and all three cost lots of money!

Anyway, when things turn to shit you need to surround yourself with people who are positive and support you.  I’m not needy, so one person will do for me!  Disaster didn’t happen, there was still fun to be had, and the Sun on the horizon appeared to be rising, and not sinking as I’d thought!

Jobs are coming back on the market, and I have money in the bank, so I wasn’t too concerned to hear that The Fucktarded Government have denied my claim for benefits.  Well, not totally – they have decided that I can pay all my rent and bills with just over £100 per week, and so they will give me £65.  Assuming £100 a week WOULD be enough to live on (it isn’t), where the fuck am I supposed to get that extra £35 anyway?!  OK, so I’m not planning on living on benefits, but it would be nice to think that after working all my life they’d be able to help me out a bit during the hard times, right?

Wrong.  I get NOTHING towards my rent and they won’t even reduce the horrendous Council Tax.  The real irony being if I hadn’t worked a day in my life I would have been given everything and had every bill paid.

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Then out of the blue the lights go out again.  Total eclipse.

Those standing by me turned their backs at that very moment.  Gone.  And even worse as a parting shot I’m assured that it’s all my fault and I’m a worthless loser and I’ve ruined THEIR life!?

*sighs*

Way to motivate…

I have an interview in the week, and have been speaking to a friend about more possible work but the question now is can I really be arsed?

Find some way to get excited about getting a shit job to pay for every other cunt to do nothing whilst I struggle, or…

Or what?

Why make the effort when it’s just ignored?

Why bother when it’s just about betrayal and kciking the puppy dog as it drags it’s snapped back away from the car that just ran it over?

The probably is a light.

I just hope it’s not another train.

https://nastyevilninja.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/light-on-door-at-the-end-of-the-long-dark-catacom.jpg?w=300

Being Gay Is A Choice!

Being Gay Is A Choice!

I’ve written a blog about this in the past, and obviously it was controversial back then as much as this will be.

It always amazes me how strongly people fight this one.  But then I realise that the gay community fight very hard all the time, for everything, and if I’m totally honest that’s part of the reason why they piss people off.  That’s not to say I don’t support gay rights etc – in my opinion I’m straight so why should I stop the gays doing whatever they want?  Hell yes, give them equal rights!  It’s not going to affect me, is it?

Anyway, I read this blog by someone totally new to me:

I Can Choose

Now, I’m in the camp (pardon the pun) that thinks being gay IS a choice.

Why shouldn’t it be?

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The linked blog mentions that often turning out to be gay can be related to past abuse etc, but I don’t think even this should be a factor.

By claiming people are either born gay or it happens through abuse, isn’t that being really defensive, and maybe even guilty?

It shouldn’t be like that! I think people get far too worked up over this stuff and try to find reasons and excuses which simply don’t exist – and don’t have to exist, either.

I’ve heard the argument before that “Nobody would choose to be gay!  Nobody would want to go through such a hard time growing up!”, and whilst I do sympathise with how cruel people can be towards gays (Yes, I’ve been one of those filled with hate and ignorance), you’ll have to pardon me if I cry bullshit.

I bet most of the fetishes we have as adults would have brought about just as much anger, hate and ridicule from our peers.  We still chose them.

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As I addressed most of the above to the readers and writer of the blog, someone came back with the excellent question: “So when did you choose to be straight?”

I thought for a while on this.

Could it be that it was conditioned into me NOT to be gay from an early age?  If that is the case, then it’s a wonder that I haven’t ended up as a monster raging Queen just to rebel!

They say (well, I think it was Ice-T, actually…) that if you take a load of newborn babies and put them together in a sandbox, they will all play happily regardless of race etc… I wonder if the same would be true of sexuality?

Entire civilisations before our own had less of a problem with which side you swung the bat at. I forget if it was the Romans or Greeks who are best known for (at the very least) bisexuality, but I’m sure someone will know.

Another argument against my views is that animals are gay in nature.  Again, this doesn’t really prove anything for either side, as, yes, they are ‘naturally’ homosexual, but it should also be noted that any peer pressure or societal judgements have also been removed in their case.

Having had the fact put to me again, I would LOVE to know exactly which animal is the gayest species, if anyone can find that info?  I’m betting it’s Meercats.

So I still don’t see a convincing argument as to why it can’t be a preference, just as I could choose to go for overly hairy women or bakers who smell of fish.  It’s just a choice – and that only gets labelled as ‘Good’ or ‘Bad’ when someone thinks you made a bad one…

And don’t get me started on where this ‘choice’ or ‘birth’ argument goes to when you throw it at paedophiles…

I also feel that I should spell it out very clearly here that I do not believe this blog or my views are in any way derogatory – it’s just my opinion based on the evidence so far.

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The Romantic Passion That Women Dream Of…

The Romantic Passion That Women Dream Of…

Lowering his hand back to his side, he waited eagerly at the door to her house.

How long had it been?  Three weeks?

Whatever – it felt like ten times that!

His heart started to race as his mind flashed to the near future.  She’d open the door to him, and they would fling their arms around each other – an embrace tight enough that it would be as if they were physically trying to rejoin their souls.

He’d force himself to slow down, to pull back and look at her face; into her beautiful eyes.  He take in that smile, and the burning desire in her eyes.

Cupping a hand to the perfect line of her jaw and cheek, he’d be helpless to put his lips anywhere but to hers.  He’d relish the soft warm texture of her, the taste of her making him soar almost out of his body.  She always made him high.  Even if his last kiss had been two minutes ago.

She’d run the fingers of one slender hand through his hair, pulling him closer, and he would trace his fingertips down her back, maybe feeling her shiver and sink against him.

Then they’d reluctantly break off the kiss, the welcoming smile now gone from her gorgeous mouth, and replaced by the dark-eyed need of passion.

Without a word, she’d take his hand and lead him inside, and he’d already be there with her – no place he’d rather be, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her deeply again as the door slammed shut unnoticed.

She’d want him, right there, right now – and it would be like a three-legged race (in more ways than one) to get up the stairs, neither even aware of the journey until the soft bedsheets were beneath them, and buttons were popped open – zippers unzipped.

The first shudders of delight as private flesh felt a brief glimpse of the cool air, before more warm skin enveloped the area, kissing, sucking, fingers playing softly over what was now hard.

The race would still be on, and the first sign of slowing pace would be as he slid inside her for that first time – that first time that they both relished so much, holding there, open-mouthed in pleasure, kissing once more before moving with each other.

Their cries of ecstatic release would be the first wordless exchange between them, followed by the unspoken “I love you” as they nuzzled together, breathing hard, now kissing softly and wanting to wrap around each other forever…

The door opened and snapped him back to the present.

She smiled.

He stepped forwards to take her in his arms.

She stepped aside, letting him inside the house, a tender hug and a quick delicate kiss.

“Don’t mess up my lip gloss!” She said, smoothing out imaginary creases in her dress from the hug.

“Go and sit down.”  She motioned him towards the couch as she carried on getting ready.

Here’s the reality of romance, he mused, heart hardening like a lump of discarded clay.

Here’s where all their dreams of romance and passion really end up.