Toys

oh santa, hear my plea

How I would love to venture into this delightful little store on the internet.

Oh my, yes I would.

A Polite Decline

Houseparty. Wine. Tequila. Vodka. Dance Music. Cigarette Smoke.

She walks into the room, wearing a denim miniskirt and cardigan. Ripped stockings and far too much eyeshadow. Skinny and bags under her eyes. Long brown hair that is neglected. She is a rose with browning petals.

She is 19, and a mother of one.

She has taken any gifts that God has bestowed upon her and thrown them carelessly away, preferring instead to drink away her youth, smoke away any potential she ever had and submit herself instead to a life of poverty and indulgence.

Burn it all away.

How I envy her. How I wish I could kill my conscience, drown the inner voices in alcohol until I stop hearing them tell me to keep studying, working towards a better future, and forego indulging myself for the greater good. Unleash myself from self-servitude and be free to pursue my own selfish ends, and then gleefully laugh at my own expense.

She walks into the room I'm in, a bitch in heat, and performs the human equivalent of lifting her tail to the side and spraying pheromones. Her body language invites me to fuck her, and her eyes confirm this. I am flattered to be the first one she makes this offer to, aware as I am that it hardly has anything to do with my wit or charm. In fact, I realise, it is probably solely due to my possession of a penis. Regardless, reckless abandonment of moral fibre beckons to me, and I decline due to the polite company in which I reside, and due an obligation to my brunette.

I want her.

I want her because I am not allowed to want her. I want her because I shouldn't want her. I want her because of the social confines dictating what I am and am not allowed to do dictating me to be turned off by such an offer.

Due to the consequences of submitting to such thoughts, I answer her reply. She understands the signal I send her, a polite decline to her and her body, and moves on, unperturbed and undaunted, to the next suitor.

What a difference a quick jerk made

never make decisions until you've rubbed one out

How strange that the little blonde nymph could actually make me confused about whether I wanted her or not.

After she found out about the little brunette nymph, I knew nothing could ever happen between us again, and I gave her last week to cool off after she declared her undying love for me. Definately thought the better of seeing her again. At the same time, the brunette decides to go on holiday, and thus your host Vice is left without women for a while.

Hell, maybe I needed to cool off. Since I've come back from holiday I've felt so oversaturated with sex that I've barely remembered what it was like for a whole month this summer not to get any action. Hey, it's all good, women are hard to come by in the middle of the ocean, and I've been warned against mermaids.

I never trust a pussy that smells like fish.

Anyway, back to today, when I talked to the blonde for the first time in a week. Lo and behold, she seems to jump at the chance to mention that she's planning on sleeping with another guy when he gets to her house. Unexpectedly, I actually felt... what? Jealously? Confusion? Conflicting emotions? I'm not entirely sure what. I think a part of me was reluctant to give up what I saw as a consistantly viable source of action, and another part was sad to see her go. I mean, it's been a while since I've had someone care about me as much as she did, and I guess a part of me was getting used to that.

Then, after a week of absent-minded abstinence, I pull it out and whack one off.

My God, my head feels like the clouds have left. My thoughts, so clear! All of a sudden it all became so clear again. She's a psycho; a very nice psycho who I like hanging out with but not someone I should be seeing by any stretch of the imagination. The brunette is right down the street from me and is far more intellectually sound; thereby a much more viable option for action.

I feel so at peace with myself. Thank you, masturbation god, for accepting my sacrifice of 120,000 innocent sperm on your altar of penisdom.

Make him wait

ladies...

Let me impart some knowledge to you, before I forget again.

If you're ever planning on getting serious with a guy, if you think he's more special than the other dudes and you want to get busy with him, make him wait.

What I mean is, go as far as you like, just don't sleep with him on the first goddamned date, for crying out loud. The man will go as far as you let him go, he will test his boundaries because he wants to see what kind of a girl you are, not because he's trying to play you.

And by all means, sleep with him. Just don't do it on the first damned date. If you give it up early, he will lose all respect for you, and you will officially move into the 'fun' zone forever.

It's kind of like when a guy moves into the 'friend' zone; there just aint no getting out of there.

Of course, if he's just a fling for you, then by all means go for it, but I just wanted to offer a simple suggestion in case you were unaware.