The world's great though unfortunately populated, sau mula-n beige

Wednesday, 08 July, Year 12 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

As I woke up, one slave was just leaving, to have the car's oil changed and assorted other chores ; whereas the other one was sleeping, having had a hard night the night prior (which followed a day which we spent doing things starting at about four in the morning, as you'll soon enough see). So when she woke up, she was ordered to gather up her nice heelsi, blindfold herself, and tease herself to almost-cumming all over the place ; to pose and moan and show herself every which way ; to make such a spectacle of her sex and sexuality as ever could be made. That's exactly what she's been doing, too, for the past half hour I've been leisurely preparing the pics for this article, and writing now and again, and snapping shots of her, and teasing her, and well... you know.

We haven't had sex yet, not that she's not been begging -- geddit, the naked horny hottie in high heels and naught else rubbing herself all over the place has been begging for a while now -- but I just... well I mean... not yet, you know ? What's the rush, anyways. Let her enjoy blind slavespace, why not.

Actually, at this juncture I just took a moment to give her a nice tail, as she was rubbing herself on the floor. Picked up a nice soft plug with a pretty purple footlong tail, like for a whorse or a honicorn or something, lubed it nicely, and slid it into her slowly. I think she looks much better like this, and besides, did you know sexual paroxism is purely a learned behaviour ? Orgasm with a buttplug is possible just like speaking Swedish is possible -- not likely, no ; certainly impossible naturally ; but artificially... as much a given as lingerie. Or, for that matter, high heels.ii

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But let's move on from kitten's kitty, and look for birds instead. Honestly I find the arrangement quite conducive -- to writing, I mean. The slut's not on my mind at all, I can just as well write about birds with no sexual undertone whatsoever, I've not been sitting here for the past two minutes trying to make a dirty pun on "sulphuratus" or anything like it. (I did however add ankle bells to her, I think you remember them. I find it helps concentration as well as focuntass.)

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There's been a deluvional ammount of... Lol, she stepped on her tail. Keks an' high heels!

Anyways, there's been a lot of rain here, it being the rainy season and all ; the mountain rivers swelled, and carried alluvionary offerings with them. The locals are doing the best they can to manage the situation.

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Also, poles are a problem.

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So as I was saying... actually, I didn't get to saying much yet, have I. Neways, took the sluts out to Jaco, which is supposed to be ground zero of Costa Rican prostitution, or at least competitive feminity. A sort of University of Arizona (or I guess that other thing in Miami) campus or somesuch, if you're from the 90s (and if you're not from the 90s... well...). Needless to say...

The ride over, the young'un practiced her swallow skills ; because slaves are like birds even if people are like ferrets.

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I had the windows down most of the way, the weather's admirable and the honking amusing -- not to mention the staredowns from the local mulas, vehehehery fucking apt to imagine that they, in their meagre, opposite-of-noteworthy person and projection are the arbiters as well as the be-alls-end-alls in female behaviour, in spite of not having given the matter ten minutes' thought together let alone any fucking practice at all. Or even any practice plainly, without the fucking. So they fucking stare the sluts down, it's the lulziest shit imaginable, like conservation's not merely an instinct they don't possess, but they're absolutely barred from even considering such a thing could exist by the strenght of their stupidity instinct or something. Fancy that wonder, mice staring kittens down, the world's upended I kid you not.

Pro tip : if you're one of those cheese-cunted females that does not habitually cmnf etc, have some fucking sense of decency and of your own place in this world and kneel when you perceive sluts on deck. You don't belong standing, you half-ass abortion that there's no other, so go on the floor, eyes down, and stay there. Aite ?

Good, I knew we could understand each other.

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And no fucking panties, either!

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Oh, by the looks of the old decrepit church in Purriscal it occurs to me this wasn't the Jaco trip, it was the Purriscal trip a coupla days prior to that.

What can I tell you... deepthroating takes a lot of practice. Can youiii swallow a footlong sausage by the way ?

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Above : Mr. Horny, the beetle. He flew in, attracted by the delicious lights ; and drove the kitten wild with wildness so (as he wouldn't be deterred, but had to fly about bombardiering towards her head "like one of those 1920s airplanes in cartoons" in her own words) he had to go to jail overnight. We released him in the morn, discovering that out of the bevy of offerings intended to make his stay more comfortable he nibbled on the mango and perhaps took a bite or two off the coconut. He spurned the pineapple as best I can discern, which is unfortunate -- that might've been the best pineapple I ever had (which is saying about as much as ye olde Baron Rotschild discussing the best wine he's ever had).

Below : Sunset. Or no, actually, that's the sunrise not the sunset. My bad, I keep confusing these two.

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The manifest advantage of this entire "covid" meme consists in delivering that ancient hope beyond all hopes : the resection of you from this world.

And I hope to god they never let you out ever again.

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Above : little beach snails make these complicated paths in the low, tidal wake.

Below : poor me, post fall! I was ass-aulted at the beach!

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A perfect sand-dollar she found (sadly, it did not survive the trip). Goodbye, beautiful small thing ; and may your perfect shape be always remembered!

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Roadside coconuts, absolutely humongous, like a galon each ; and so soft they can be trivially punctured with a knife. And so watery I measured a whole quart come out of one. And so delicious as'd be fit of my having them. And none other.

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Above : Dingo Star & mariachi band. Or was it Mingo ?

Old men forget ; yet... all shall be forgot.

Below : bitch watchin' dat meat counter. I asked mine if they want to buy her something ; they didn't. No love for bitch from bitches!

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Needless to say, Jaco ain't doin' too well.

Even leaving aside how it's lost all of the competent womanhood that was camping there two-three decades ago, come from all corners of the world (from Kiev to Nairobi and so forth)... oh, ye sluts of yesteryear, delightful as competent, curious and daring, better men in their round and ample womanhood than any of these plaster "men" they have nowadays ever manage to seem to be (leaving aside how they never ever live up to the little they seem), meanwhile replaced with the mangy dogs the reprehensible gringo shawrmy is fucking simping...

Jaco ain't doing too well.

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The crowning glory pe cirnat : mula-n beige, ca doar ce pula mea.

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Above : triple order of mar-y-tierra with trims, right before. This place by the marina serves a most excellent steak, such as I regretted having the out-and-out phenomenal lamb oso buco last time we visited -- and so now made ammends.

Below : right after.

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And with that we... I don't know, what do we do ? Go to bed, I guess ?

———
  1. Howly she's got a lot! And fucking great ones at that!

    I don't think anyone her age has half such a collection. In fact, since that pinoy chick croaked it's more than likely nobody does -- excepting, of course, my other one. []

  2. Did you know, incidentally, how and for whom high heels were invented ? And when and wherefore ?

    Awww. []

  3. No, it's not a matter of anything but can you. Like "can you do multiplication", the matter strictly discusses your adequacy to this world and its specific, set and unchanging challenges. If you don't, it's because you can't, and for no other possible reason -- and bear in mind that the word for failure in meeting age-relevant developmental goals is "retardation". The deepthroating age is certainly no later than mid-twenties, so... seriously now, what have you been doing with yourselves ?! []
Category: La pas prin lume
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2 Responses

  1. Lest anyone get the far-fetched idea that Sunrise Breakfast is no more, they actually still cook in there, somewhere between the gutted insulation and the ongoing greasefire.

    Does that kiskadee have...drier lint?!

  2. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    2
    Mircea Popescu 
    Thursday, 9 July 2020

    Either drier lint or industrial heat exchanger insulation...

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