Voting Time


Which poster do you like best??

Version 1

Version 2

Version 3

Not to influence any decisions, but my favorite is 3. =)

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Valentines Day is for Lovers


I hate Valentine’s Day. Not just because it’s a trite little Hallmark holiday but because it’s a pain-filled forceful reminder for those of us who are single that we are, indeed, single. It seems to say if you don’t have someone to love there must be something clearly wrong with you. I know there are a lot of single people who just don’t care, but Valentine’s Day has sort of also been a series of tragedies for me as well, further driving in that nail of romantic doom. My favorite dog in the whole world even died on Valentine’s. Some people become overly depressed during the Christmas holidays—but for me it’s Valentine’s Day.

I had recently come to the conclusion that I should just give up on love and sex. Romance never works for me and sex always seems to end tragically. It never goes well for me, not ever. It makes me wonder if fate just enjoys playing cruel jokes on me. I’m tired of holding out hope. I think my knight in shiny armor must have fallen off his horse at some point and has rusted to the ground somewhere. I know real love exists, I know it’s out there. I’ve seen it in others, I’ve watched it with my grandparents. I just didn’t think it would ever happen for ME.

So I wrote this huge blog last night with details of some of my most intimate failures. Nothing like writing it all out in black and white to make you crawl in bed and cry yourself to sleep. I woke up this morning with a headache and a puffy face, utterly defeated. I think if everyone knew the details of some of the things I’ve been through you might wonder how it is that I’ve survived with (most of) my sanity intact. My therapist once told me she thought I was amazing. I’d forgotten that part last night. I don’t feel amazing.

I made myself a tea and sat down in front of the computer again this morning, scrolling through my Tumblr and catching up on everything. A friend of mine had posted a story about Tura Satana. I’ll be honest, I’d never heard of her although her photo looked familiar. I reblogged the story here on my Tumblr if you want to read the whole thing. As a small child she was imprisoned in an American “relocation” camp during WWII. In elementary, she was tortured by other students for being different and at the tender age of 9 she was gang raped—her assailants arrested but never prosecuted. Tura was sent to reform school for “enticing” them. She learned self-defense and came back fighting. (Subsequently kicking the asses of all her former rapists.) Married at 13, divorced by 15 and on her own. She was briefly Elvis’ lover and eventually became a cultural icon all her own. She died a week ago, February 4, 2011. I didn’t know her until today. I read her story twice with tears gathered in the back of my throat, understanding (and identifying) a little too well with the tragedies she had to deal with. It made me think.

I need to learn how to fight back and not admit defeat. I need to learn how to overcome the fears that overwhelm me and threaten to consume me. I’m reminded of something I blogged about several months ago and recently repeated to a friend of mine struggling to overcome alcohol addiction. You choose in every minute of every day who you want to be. How you want to react to any given situation. The past and the future are intangible things that really don’t exist. Right NOW exists. Who do you want to be RIGHT NOW? Make that choice and act accordingly.

I choose to be strong. I choose to accept the things in my past as my past and to do my damnedest to fight back against that defeatist attitude. I choose to stick a picture of Tura Satana to my cork board so I will see her everyday and remember that anything is possible.

Thanks for sending me the sign, Universe. I have a lot of work yet to do.

The James Sprong Chronicles part 7


WARNING: this story contains adult situations and explicit material. If that bothers you, please don’t read it. Thanks and have a fucking great day! Literally.

Vixie was pissed. She couldn’t believe Sprong had just left her here. LEFT HER! And just when she had started thinking he was a decent guy, too! Ok, granted, she’d started thinking, “decent guy” right about the time he’d started spanking her, but still… usually her instincts were pretty good about these things. She had a sudden vision of her cat tearing into her dead flesh as the weeks went by and no one heard her desperate cries through the recently sound-proofed windows. Saving energy costs had seemed like such a great idea only a few weeks ago. Her body twisted as she tried to get a good look at the lock on the cuff.

She twisted the other direction as she heard a soft sound and saw Sprong leaning in the doorway holding her yogurt and a bear-shaped bottle of honey. “Fat-free yogurt and sugar-free honey?” Sprong said in revulsion before Vixie could do more than make a frustrated sound. He held up the bear-shaped bottle, shaking it, “Faux Honey? Is this faux real? I didn’t even think there was such a thing!”

“I’m on a diet,” Vixie sniffed as Sprong walked to the edge of the bed. “Why are you eating my honey anyway?”

Sprong grinned down at her as he wiggled his brows and shook the honey again.

“Oh hell no!” Vixie said, “you’ll get that all over the sheets! Do you know how hard honey is to get out of sheets?”

“No,” Sprong laughed, “but apparently you’ve done this before!”

Ridiculously, Vixie blushed and suddenly felt very naked and self-conscious in front of him. Scowling, she tried to roll over. “Arrrgh!” she muttered as the cuffs bit into her tender skin.

“Poor baby,” he purred, slipping out of his jeans. “All tied-up are we? Seems to me I’ve seen you like this before… Only last time, you snuck off before I could finish the job.”

Vixie snorted. “Oh you were plenty finished, pal,” she said as he straddled her. “In fact, I believe you were all AAaarrrahhhghhhhh!” she said, rolling her eyes and flopping a little.

Sprong stopped as he was leaning over her to grab the yogurt from the night stand. “Are you mocking me?” he said in slight indignation.

Vixie narrowed her eyes, “Well, if the orgasm fits…”

Sprong leaned over her and running his tongue along the edge of her ear whispered, “Lady, you are really going to pay for that.”

Her breath hitched as he nibbled on her ear lobe. “Promises, promises,” she whispered just as she managed to finally slip a hand out of the handcuffs. Grabbing his hair with her freed hand, she arched and before he could blink she had him on his back, knees pressing his arms to his sides.

Sprong’s heart fluttered as she got the drop on him yet again. Her golden-red hair flared around her head, a slight halo standing up with static electricity and her blue eyes flashed. He felt like he’d been sucker-punched as he stared at her face, memorizing the lines of it, eyes tracing her mouth as she licked her lips. “Very impressive, Tritten,” he drawled in feigned nonchalance.

She grinned down at him as she drizzled the faux honey on his chest, watching the amber substance as it gelled into his chest hair. “Oh hell no!” Sprong exclaimed, “Do you know how hard it is to get honey out of chest hair?”

Vixie chuckled as she leaned down and began licking the too-sweet goo before it could roll down his side, nibbling as she went. She tightened her knees as she felt his arms start to move. “Oh no, pal, it’s my turn to have you tied up.” she said.

Sighing with a half smile, he said, “I’m trembling in anticipation,” and gasped as she bit down on his nipple, sucking the honey from his skin.

Suddenly, a loud klaxon began to wail, nearly shaking the walls with its violent outburst of sound. “Omigod! B.O.B.!” she yelled, he felt the bed bounce as Vixie leapt into action.

Tumbling backwards, Sprong reached out and managed to grab the nightstand drawer handle just as his back hit the floor. Continuing the motion, his arm yanked the drawer out and the contents went flying. Sprong opened his eyes in just enough time to see the large, purple dildo as it aimed straight for his eye, and felt the rubber tip gouge his eye socket half a second after he’d slammed his lids shut again. He felt the rest of the drawer’s debris rain down upon him like a fine dust of snow.

Vixie stood transfixed as she watched her dildo, Barney, bounce off Sprong’s eye and began to laugh, her breath coming in gasps. The confetti/glitter mix, that had been in an envelope in the drawer, floated down, covering him in tiny metallic hearts, rainbows, balloons and sparkles.

Rising up on one elbow, Sprong threw her a narrow-eyed look, “Who the hell is Bob?” he yelled back. Still laughing, Vixie grabbed sweat pants and a t-shirt off the bed post and dashed from the room, dressing on the run, Sprong hot on her heels, glinting like a disco ball.

The noise was louder in the hall and got louder as Vixie flung open a door to a room down the hall and dropped to her knees—Sprong nearly tripping over her in his haste. She depressed what looked like an ordinary floor vent and started tapping a series of numbers into the keypad that flipped up. Sprong raised his eyebrows at the high-tech panel in the floor. Suddenly, the hardwood floor in front of him began transforming into a stairway leading down. Before his mouth could even open, Vixie was at the bottom, eyes front to the retinal reader at the door. She glanced behind her and yelled over the deafening roar, “Shut your mouth, Sprong, and shake a leg!”

Leaping to the bottom and going through the doorway, Sprong felt deafened by the sudden silence of the alarm and the clickity-clack of Vixie’s hands flying over the keyboard in front of her. He looked around the room, shocked at the state-of-the-art surveillance systems.

“Liam!” Vixie began yelling, running towards the back of the room. “Liam! Ohmigod! Are you ok?”

“Liam? Who the hell is LIAM?! And who the hell is Bob?” Sprong grumbled as he stomped after her. He found her at another keypad, typing in more numbers. Branch Operations Bunker floated and bounced around a monitor next to her in screen-saver mode. Oh. B.O.B., right, he thought. His gaze drifted to the guy standing in the thick, plexi-glass booth at the end of the room. Nondescript, was his first thought. average height with the sleek, thin build of a runner, his mousy-colored hair a distracted mess. His only distinguishing feature his bright-blue eyes, nearly the same color as Vixie’s.

The plexi-door popped open and the nondescript guy sauntered out, “Hey, Vix, next time warn a guy before you change the codes, huh?”

“Oh, honey! I’m so sorry!” Vixie gushed as she flung herself into his arms. Honey? Sprong thought and narrowed his eyes. Who was this little twerp? Why the hell was Vixie hanging on him? He took a step forward.

Liam’s eyes began to sparkle and he smirked as Sprong stepped out of the shadows. “Oh babe,” Liam said to Vixie, “I can’t wait to hear this one!” Laughing softly, he slung his arm around her shoulders, not missing the flash in Sprong’s eyes and the twitch of his upper lip—or the multi-hued sparkle of the glitter and confetti mess matted on his chest, Liam’s gaze dropped lower—and the lack of pants.

::::: stay tuned :::::

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One of the greatest things about humanity is our ability to change who we are if we so desire. I’m not just talking the physical changes we can make to ourselves, although our ability to do that is also amazing.

I’d recently run across an old Billy Joel song I’d never heard before and the lyrics sort of struck me.

And he’s never been able to learn from mistakes,
He can’t understand why his heart always breaks.
His honor is pure and his courage as well,
He’s fair and he’s true and he’s boring as hell!
And he’ll go to the grave as an angry old man.

It made me sad. Such futility and pain in those lyrics. But the truth of the matter is, we choose who we want to be on a daily basis. Just as the character in this song has chosen not to learn, not to change. Forget yesterday, forget tomorrow, those things don’t actually exist. Think of today. Who are you today?

What have you done today? How have you acted? How have you treated others? Did you love someone today? Did you tell them? Show them? Hold them? Did you lash out in anger? Did you apologize?

I always forget about the NOW. I’m always so busy living in the past or in the future. Not that I shouldn’t PLAN things for the future, or contemplate things from the past. More so, that I tend to forget about TODAY. How did I earn someone’s love or respect today? Did I remember to tell the people I love that I love them? Have I tried to be the best person I can be today? Hell, I’m not perfect, I have bad days. I have days where it feels like I’ve fallen on my face, days were I want to throw things around and yell, days I want to curl up and cry. But I made a decision not to let those days rule my life. Choosing to be happy doesn’t mean I’m going to actually BE fucking happy. It means that I am consciously trying to change the way I think, or how I behave.

I’ve always thought that you earn someone’s love and respect a little bit each day. I’m also learning how to have patience every day, and how to forgive, everyday. One thing I have learned is that you have to be willing to open yourselves to others, learn to trust when it terrifies you and communicate honestly. I sometimes have a hard time communicating honestly, especially when I expect my heart to be trampled or my back to be stabbed but it’s something I’m trying to work on everyday. Like today.

What did you do today? How did you change who you are today?

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The James Sprong Chronicles: Part 6


WARNING: this story contains adult situations and EXPLICIT (this time, VERY explicit!!) material. If that bothers you, please don’t read it. Thanks and have a fucking great day! Literally.

Sprong watched her take the stairs up to the house, her pony-tail swinging behind her, and had a quick fantasy of wrapping those silken strands around his fist as he took her from behind. Shaking his head, he adjusted himself as he got out of the SUV and took the stairs 2 at a time. It didn’t help his frustration to see her standing in the doorway, hip cocked, eyes rolling, as she turned around and pointed to the living room and told him to make himself comfortable. With hooded eyes, he watched her walk down the hall and into her bedroom, the loud slam of the door making him grin.

His quick assessment of the sparse room made him feel slightly cold, there was absolutely nothing personal in the room with the exception of 3 frames on the mantel above the fireplace. This wasn’t home, or at least, not the home he imagined she would have. We walked over and looked at the pictures in the frames: two landscapes and a cat. Hearing a soft noise he whirled around to see the same cat staring at him from across the room. Regally, she stretched and dismissing him with a flick of her tail, walked out of the room as Sprong chuckled to himself. Clearly, she was much like her master.

Speaking of Vixie, where was she? Surely, she should have been changed by now. Sprong silently crept down the hall and quietly opened the door to her room. She was standing there in black bra and panties, her back to the door, staring at the contents of a very messy closet, right hand resting on a vanity chair. Sprong’s previous fantasy flashed in his mind as he slipped behind her, wrapped her hair in his left fist and pulled.

Vixie found herself tumbling backwards into Sprong’s arms, his mouth covering hers before she could even take a breath. The taste of him set her on fire. She moaned as he pulled her head even farther back. He ran his hand down her side, pulling her hips in tight, and she felt his hard cock settle between her ass cheeks as he began to gently thrust himself against her. Her head spinning from the sudden erotic onslaught, Vixie distantly heard herself making little mewling noises as she struggled to regain some semblance of control.

Sprong felt Vixie trembling against him and grew painfully hard. Moving her panties to the side, thrust his fingers inside her moist heat. She gasped and bucked around him as he stroked deeper, moving his fingers in concert with the thrusting of his tongue, in and out of her mouth. He felt her body begin to tense as she approached orgasm and he increased the speed of his fingers, his thumb making tight, fast circles over her clitoris. She came in a rush, holding her breath as the orgasm swept her away. She could see nothing, feel nothing but the motion of his hands and the pleasure pulsing through her body. Sprong nearly came himself as he felt her nails dig into the flesh of his arm and her body began to shake and go limp. Letting her go with his arm, he pulled tighter on her hair with his left hand and bit her lower lip as he struggled to release himself from the tight confines of his jeans.

The side elastic of her bikinis snapped against her skin, making her inhale sharply as Sprong ripped them off her. Her head rolled on his shoulder and she caught the reflection of herself in the mirror on the closet door. Eyes heavy, she barely recognized herself, or the man standing behind her. Vaguely, she noticed her bra was only half on, her left breast completely freed, the large nipple bright pink and hard. Her pony-tail had become completely undone and her hair was a wild, golden-red mess, trailing over her shoulders. Sprong caught her looking at them in the mirror as he kicked his shoes across the room and stepped out of his jeans. He rubbed his naked cock against her ass and her lids fluttered closed.

“Do you like to watch?” he whispered roughly in her ear.

Vixie trembled again as she opened her eyes. What was it about this man that put her in such a sexual daze? Arching her back as she bent slightly forward, she grabbed the chair from the vanity and leaning on it, rubbed her now wet pussy against him. “I like to DO,” she said huskily.

His slid his hand around her hip and with one thrust he was inside her. She gasped as he filled her, the size of him stretching her almost painfully tight, her breath hitching as he began thrusting. “Oh, God, faster,” she licked her lips, “Please.” She watched him as he slowly thrust in and out, one hand on her hip, the other on her back. ”Faster. Faster. Please, oh please, please,” she begged breathlessly.

He groaned, his fingers digging into her hip, as he watched her expressive  face in the mirror and slightly increased the pace. Watching her bite her own lip as he listened to the soft sounds she made was driving him insane and he shook from the control he had to exert not to come. Frustrated that he still wasn’t moving fast enough, Vixie started to push back just as Sprong spanked her left ass cheek and she gasped. His hand gently rubbed in a circle before he spanked her again in time with his thrust and she shuddered and whimpered.

“Ahh, you like that?” he asked.

“Yes!” she gasped as he smacked her ass again.

The combination of the soft rubbing and the sharp smack and thrust sent ripples through her and she arched her back, moaning, as he continued the rhythm. Suddenly she felt him grab a fist-full of her hair and pull back, just as he smacked her ass and thrust even deeper. The second orgasm hit her so hard she thought she’d gone blind and could barely hear the sound of her own scream before she lost her breath completely once more. Sprong groaned as he felt her spasm around him and thrusting wildly, began to lose himself inside her. Grabbing her hips with both hands, he thrust, balls-deep, faster and faster until he exploded his own release. He threw his head back with a deep groan and trembled as she continued rubbing against him in lightning fast strokes, as if knowing he couldn’t move.


Vixie slowly opened her eyes, realizing she was laying in her bed but having only a vague recollection of how she got there. She remembered the wave of the third orgasm hitting her, shortly after watching the serenity of his own bliss cross his face. She’d started to straighten just as he moved and the sensation had proved to be too much. Vixie was pretty certain she’d screamed his name just as oblivion overtook her.

His thumb circled lazily over her breast and she hummed in contentment, trying not to think about how easlily she had capitulated, surrendering to him completely. Gently, she ran her fingers over the soft dark hair covering his arm thinking how impossible it was that the sex was so intensely better the second time around. She turned her head to the left and watched him as he lightly slept. His face was different when not completely drugged, she noticed, it had much more character. A soft brown curl rested on his forehead, but he looked more like a devil than an angel this time. Slowly, his long dark lashes lifted and she found herself staring into his milk-chocolate eyes. Her heart pounded tightly as they laid there, staring at each other, and his thumb began flicking her tightening nipple.

Rolling up on his elbow, Sprong didn’t break eye contact as he leaned over her and took her nipple in his mouth, gently worrying it with his teeth. He watched her incredibly blue eyes darken as her breath quickened and he tried to ignore the pounding of his own heart. Sucking harder, he reached under the pillow next to her. When his hand touched the cold metal he hid his grin by biting down on her nipple, causing her to gasp and close her eyes. She slid her hands into his hair, fingers tightening as he continued to lick, bite and suck in an increasing rhythm. She barely noticed when he moved her hands above her own head until she felt the cool metal against her skin and heard the loud click.

Startled, she jerked back as Sprong began to chuckle. Realizing her hands were cuffed to the brass-bed headboard with regulation cuffs, she bucked her hips and began swearing. Sprong trailed his hand down her stomach and laughed in earnest, spanking her ass as she twisted.

“Well, isn’t this fun?” he drawled and rolled off the bed.

“Where are you going?” Vixie huffed, “You’re not leaving me here!”

Spong grinned at her over his shoulder as he tugged on his jeans and walked out of the room, whistling.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: TO BE CONTINUED ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::