Valentines Box

I sat looking at the package she said would be arriving to my room at some point this week.

"Really? How big is the package?""
"Mmm, not big. Medium sized."
"Shoebox size?"
"About that, yeah. Hehe!"

It didn't feel very heavy, and the return address was discreet. Carefully, I opened it up.

...

WHAP.

WHAP.

WHAP.

I had gone into her bedroom unannounced, to find her indecent, and, telling her so, proceeded to tell her to suck my cock, which she did, and yet, somehow, never once gave the impression she's being obedient.

Now, fully in the throes of post-orgasmic chill, and her head lying my my chest, I suddenly move her head down, further, so that her waist is equal to mine and facing away, slowly pulling off her underwear and casting it aside. A beautiful, stunning view.

WHAP.

The first stroke of the back of my hand lands perfectly across her ass and her body tenses from the surprise. She's breathing heavily now.

WHAP.

Her fingers dig into the bedsheets, and she tries to turn around to look at me. I hold her legs fast in place.

WHAP.

Across the other cheek in a beautiful backhand, and she lets out a small yelp and tries to turn around again, but I hold her fast.

WHAP. WHAP. WHAP.

She moans this time and, shaking slightly, turns around and lays on my chest, clawing at me slightly.

…

Gods, where does this woman shop, I wondered. Toys with obvious and alarming purpose bulged in the package, and at least one with battery requirements. Several batteries, in fact. I make a mental note to add this to my shopping list.

...

She had decided not to join me when I finally told her the real extent of my nocturnal weekend exploits in London; in fact watching her face closely in the few moments that followed she showed almost no shock or surprise, and still has yet to.

Ah, the escalating games that we played, always trying to shock the other or get them to back down, opening each other's doors in the house without knocking in the hopes of catching them in an undressed or otherwise compromised state. The time I caught her knelt by her bedside with one hand down her jeans and breathing hard...

Though vanilla she had tastes that rivalled my other friends, and both a libido and imagination to equal them. If nothing, a proud girl, casually post-feminist and utterly feminine in her own right.

They are not won easily.

Punk Rock:

Original Gzowski Interview with a rather drug-fuelled Iggy Pop


"I'll tell you about punk rock: punk rock is a word used by dilettantes and ah... and ah... heartless manipulators about music that takes up the energies and the bodies and the hearts and the souls and the time and the minds of young men who give what they have to it and give everything they have to it and it's a... it's a term that's based on contempt, it's a term that's based on fashion, style, elitism, satanism and everything that's rotten about rock 'n' roll.

"...I don't know Johnny Rotten but I'm sure... I'm sure he puts as much blood and sweat into what he does as Sigmund Freud did. You see, what sounds to you like a big load of trashy old noise is in fact the brilliant music of a genius, myself . And that music is so powerful that it's quite beyond my control and ah... when I'm in the grips of it I don't feel pleasure and I don't feel pain, either physically or emotionally. Do you understand what I'm talking about? Have you ever felt like that? When you just couldn't feel anything and you didn't want to either. You know? Like that? Do you understand what I'm saying sir?"

"You're pretty popular; are you happy to be popular? Do you get a big kick out of that? Everyone knows all these bands, who, who do encores, try to be popular. Well, I don't get that much of a kick out of it, really. I, I've... I've worked very hard, for a very long time, to try to make something that's beautiful"