Where has all the intelligence gone? I mean, at some point people gave a shit enough to be independent thinkers.

Instead people are all up in arms over TV, music, and other shit that doesn't require you to think, and instead require the simplest thing a human being can have. A sense of taste. No matter how bad, simply having one qualifies you to enjoy and judge TV and music. The simple fact that "Cult classics" exist means that nothing can ever truly be bad, because shitheads will watch it anyway and it'll get deemed "Special" because a few select people have absolutely atrocious taste.

People piss me off at their lack of intelligence, and their lack of an ability to have an interest in learning. Like ricers and musclefags for example. Two non-interchangeable sort of folk who do the exact same shit. They obsess over their tastes, completely put away any rational thoughts, and hate each other blindly. Little import cars are manuverable. Muscle cars have eons of torque. Neither 'suck', as both are incredible on their own terms, and yet these... primates cant be intelligent enough to console their differences and get the fuck along.

It's why i like to use guns and ammo as examples. As my brother says "A bullet to the brain has the same effect regardless of the person struck". And yet we've got people arguing that the slightest difference in weapons and ammo makes one vastly superior to the other. BLINDLY projecting their versions of the truth, instead of simply admitting any firearm or ammo type is deadly. Durr 1911 is betteer than glock, 9mm is superior to your dum dum .45's. You get shot with either, in the face, and you gon die.

I dont even want people to get along. It's this fiendish disease known as ignorance that kills my faith in humanity. How anyone can blindly ignore whats right in front of their faces is beyond me.

The best possible example i can think of is Russia Today's fans on youtube. You wont find more insanely biased and ignorant folk than them. They're the sort of people that truly believe that the US is one big crumbling tent city, just because the kremlin's mouthpiece tells them so. And that Russia is a prospering country, with no debt, starving, disease or crime, because the kremlin's mouthpiece tells them so. And when you go to point out something that so much as grazes the thin line of their competence, they immediately attack you, calling you a sheep, a slave to the government, a CIA paid troll, or simply denounce what you've said as entirely invalid just because you're american or have a silly video on your youtube page. And any valid point that they cant deflect in that manner, they instantly blame it on the big bad ol United states. Collapse of the soviet union? United states fault. Black market in russia? United state's fault. THE ENTIRE GLOBE'S FUEL, ECONOMY AND FOOD PROBLEMS, the united state's fault.

Nothing can ever be any single person's fault. And as such, you can begin to see how it doesn't matter what side you're on, ignorance is still ignorance. Be it that you're a patriotic republitard that blindly supports whatever the US gets into, or part of the filthy yuppie protesters that believe that everything belongs to them and that the government should just give them jobs, you're still ignorant for even picking a side.

Thank god 2012 is magically going to be the year the world ends apparently, I dont think i want to live in a world where you cant have competence and intelligence, where either side of the coin is a dumbed down, media fed beast of ignorance. Fuck all you people i'm moving underground and stocking up on supplies and ammo. Anyone else remotely interested in surviving the holocaust of the ignoramuses, i humbly advise you do the same.

MAY - JUNE 2022 VOTE

As some of you might remember my owner had me post a poll not too long ago deciding if I am allowed to cum.

many have been asking if that is going to happen again and well... it's the time! my owner had decided to leave the fate of my orgasms in all of your hands!

This will work similar to the last vote but I will post the detail again for any who don't remember

this will be a special vote because of the timing

The voting process will start now (obviously) and votes will be accepted until May 9th UNLESS we can get 50 votes before May 1st. if we can get those votes in fast we will stop the count early! (which may mean more time to drip for me... *blushes*

The results on this vote will then take effect on the 1st or the 9th depending on if we got the 50 votes and last straight through until June 9th which is my birthday...

At this point, if my owner is merciful I will get a birthday break... and if not you might all get to vote and decide on if I get birthday orgasms or have to keep dripping for all of your amusement throughout my birthday month!

TO BE CLEAR THESE POLL RESULTS WILL NOT TAKE EFFECT UNTIL MAY 1ST or MAY 9th!

- NO VOTE result will mean I am not allowed to cum at all until JUNE 9th

- YES VOTE result will mean that I am allowed to cum tho I will of course need to ask white persons permission each time I do it

So please vote below and decide my greedy drippy cunts fate for the upcoming month!

YOU get to decide if I will be dripping or cumming, if I will be squirming or squirting.

I will just have to live with whatever you choose!

P.S.
My owner again has asked me to encourage you to read my forum signature below before voting

In mid-May, I took a road trip to SW Minnesota to visit my long-time FWB. We've spent long weekends together in the past, going back to the fall of 2013, but this was the first time I'd be staying at her place -- a double-wide trailer outside a small Minnesota town of about 15,000. It was our first meeting since October 2021. In the interim her dog had died, she'd dumped a "boy toy" 30 years her junior, suffered a hysterectomy, and was taking medication to help her cope with her agoraphobia (fear of public places). In past years, we'd always met at a hotel or Airbnb in the Twin Cities, about a two-hour drive from her place, so this would be quite a departure (venue-wise) from our standard weekend fuck fest.

She's exactly 20 years younger than I am (minus four days!), a natural redhead (my Scandinavian princess!), extremely bi-sexual (her words), and clearly the hottest woman I've been with sexually. I'm constantly amazed at her interest in me, since I'm a lot older, not particularly good-looking, about 25 pounds overweight, and definitely NOT hung. But every time we're together, she's really happy to spend time with me. On more than one occasion she's said, "I feel smarter when I'm with you." I guess that's a good thing.

I got to town on Sunday morning and came by her place at 10:00. T was dressed in a t-shirt and yoga pants, with bare feet. She's a night-owl, whereas I'm definitely a morning person. In fact, one of the first things we talked about when I got to her place -- just outside town in a fairly rural area -- was our circadian incompatibility. As I was making buttermilk pancakes for us (from scratch!), I said, "You know, we'd never be compatible enough to live together, since you're up 'til all hours and I'm in bed by 10:00." It was a nonsense issue, anyway, since she'd never move to Denver (her daughter and grandson are 10 minutes away), and there's no way I'd willingly move to where she lives. Oh -- and another complication involves the fact that I'm married (although she thinks my wife is actually my lesbian roommate, and thankfully they've never met).

Interestingly, she countered my "couldn't live together" statement with a surprising suggestion. "Well," she said, coming up behind me and pressing her braless breasts against my back as I was mixing pancake batter. "We could always compromise. You could stay up until 11, I'd get up at 8, and we could have sex at night, instead of in the morning when you seem to be at your horniest." I followed up with, "Every night?" She replied, "I suppose, five out of seven."

She was unnecessarily self-conscious about her appearance, which is why she spent most of the time we were together in fairly baggy tops and long pants in place of shorts. At 5'5, she'd always weighed around 110-115 pounds, but after taking anti-depressants to help with her agoraphobia, she'd gained about 30 pounds. "One bonus, I guess," she declared ironically, "Is that I'm a 36C or D instead of a 32B, but now the only bras that fit me right are sports bras." I told her multiple times during my visit that I thought she looked as desirable as ever, but she wasn't entirely buying it.

We spent the rest of Sunday checking out the town (such as it is) and had dinner at an Italian restaurant before going to a newly opened ice cream shop for dessert. Back at her place, she fired up a bong with some home-grown ganja (it's legal in Minnesota) and enticed me to take a few hits as well. One thing about T -- getting high means getting horny, and she didn't spare the smoke. It was my first foray since college, and she thought it was HILARIOUS that I hadn't indulged in close to 50 years. However, it seemingly had no effect on me, which she found equally funny. We ended up watching a PBS special on the life and times of Richard III of England, which apparently was much more entertaining for her in her altered state.

After a shower, I put on some short summer PJs and climbed into bed. She joined me about 10 minutes later wearing a different baggy t-shirt and long-leg pajama bottoms. She again expressed her displeasure with her weight gain, explained she hadn't had sex since New Year's Eve (the boy toy's final campaign, as it turned out), and stated she wasn't ready to "do anything" with me. I knew she'd consumed a fair amount of silly smoke, but I truthfully told her I was OK with that and didn't want to pressure her into anything. She switched off the light, and I figured that was that.

After about five minutes, she asked, "Are you asleep?" At the moment I was semi-hard and trying to figure out how I could jerk off without disturbing her. When I told her I was still awake, she asked, "Would you like a hand job?" Naturally I said yes, stripping off my PJ bottoms and tossing back the covers to give her all the access she required. She reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a tube of lube, spreading it generously on my cock-head and down the shaft before taking a firm grip and stroking me with precision. After a minute or so, she asked, "Does that feel good?" I said, "T, my love, whenever a woman has her hand on a guy's dick, that is a question that never needs to be asked!" She laughed and rested her head on my chest as she continued to stroke earnestly.

Curled up against me as she was, I managed to reach down behind her and slide my hand between her thighs. I wasn't sure she'd let me continue to rub her PJ-covered crotch, but she shifted around to give me better access, so I kept up the pressure. One thing about T -- she goes from zero to 60 faster than a tricked-out Shelby GT. I had her squirming, humping against my hand, and moaning loudly in less than two minutes. Without warning, her mouth engulfed my cock and she was delivering a very satisfactory blow job. I slid my hand inside her pajama bottoms and discovered how wet she was. I quickly had two fingers fully inside her pussy, and her vocalization was suddenly louder and about an octave higher. After a brief minute, she declared, "You just HAVE to fuck me!" Pulling away from me momentarily, she stripped off her PJs and climbed aboard. I was rock-hard and slid inside her with ease. Despite her surgeries a year earlier, she was still as tight as I'd remembered. T loves to be on top, and she was soon grinding her clit against me as she rocked back and forth on my cock.

I wanted to take off her top, but she resisted by saying, "No -- don't!" Instead, I pushed the hem of her t-shirt up above her breasts and tugged on her nipples. That trigged the first of what would prove to be dozens of orgasms that night, as she moaned, grunted, breathed hard, muttered "Oh, fuck" about 50 times, and bent down to kiss me with a ferocity I'd rarely experienced with any woman. After she worked herself into a second orgasm, T climbed off and rolled onto her back. That was my cue to do what I do best -- eat pussy. For the next 60-75 minutes, I had her quivering, crying out obscenities, shaking like a leaf, and coming again and again. The next morning, when I questioned whether she'd enjoyed what was close to a three-hour session, she struck back with my own logic. "When a guy with your skills has his mouth on a woman's clit and his fingers massaging every inch of the inside of her vagina, that's a question you never need to ask!"

Following wave after wave of orgasms, T pushed my face away from her crotch and asked, "Zac, you still hard?" I'd been grinding my erection firmly into her mattress the entire time I was eating her pussy, and it hadn't abated. "You bet," I replied enthusiastically, which was a surprise since it was close to 2 a.m., well past my normal bedtime. "You need to fuck me some more. You can come inside, since I have no more womb." I reminded her I'd had a vasectomy decades ago, at which point she said, "Oh, that's right. Well, what are you waiting for?" She rolled flat on her back and spread her legs wide apart before tugging on my erection and saying, "C'mon, shove it right in." And so I did.

When I was in my 20s and 30s, I suffered from a fairly quick trigger, ejaculation-wise. Now in my early 70s -- and really for the past 10-15 years -- it always takes me a long time to come, but I rarely if ever have difficulty getting and staying hard. Such was the case that night, as I fucked her insistently. She wrapped her legs around me and crossed her ankles to provide some leverage as she tugged me toward her, stroke after stroke. My arms were tiring from propping up my 225-pound body above her, and I started to make a move to disengage so I could find a less stressful position and then re-insert. She sensed I was about to climb off when she pulled me down against her chest and whispered in my ear, "You're not heavy. Just keep fucking me until you come." Who was I to argue with that? At this point she was well into double-digit orgasms, and figuring I'd done all I could to make her feel special, it was time to look after my own release. I let my mind focus on one thing -- the feeling in my cock as it was being gripped by T's pussy. Something like a dozen thrusts later, I froze up and pumped her full of man-jizz (that's what she likes to call it). I was exhausted and let my body press fully against hers. "Get off me, ya big lug!" she called out, half-jokingly, and I withdrew and rolled onto my side of the bed. "I suppose you want me to clean that up?" she asked, scooping up a drop of cum from the tip of my cock with her index finger before putting it into her mouth. "Well," I suggested, "You clean me up and I'll return the favor." "Nah, it's too late," T responded. "You stay there, and I'll bring back a washcloth."

She returned a few minutes later with the promised rag, moistened with warm water, and proceeded to mop up my crotch. "I can't believe how much you came in me," she said. "What -- you were saving it up for a special occasion?" I declared there was no more special occasion for me than being in her bed, which prompted a sensuous kiss on the lips and a "Oh, you're such a sweet-talker!" I was out like a light in less than two minutes, I'm sure, and we slept in until 10:30 the next morning. I awoke before she did (that's almost always the case), and after visiting the bathroom to pee, I came back to bed and tried to get her in the mood for some morning sex. After putting up with my hand rubbing her snatch through the PJs she'd put back on after we'd finished, she pushed me away and said, "Don't! My pussy's sore and I'll need all day to recover." That sounded like a good indicator for what might take place when next we went to be, and indeed it was. To be continued -----

I guess most of you have seen her videos, but what do you think of her in a bikini.
Maybe someone needs to cum on her pic too for special effects or maybe get that top off her because she does have nice tits

Does anyone have a thing for seeing girls eat your cum?

I live with a beautiful girl. Blonde, model material, with legs, breasts and ass to die for and the face of an angel. She looks so innocent, I fell for her the moment I saw her. She looks so virginal and is so prudish even talking about sex, that I don't even know if she's had any guys in the past. We're both young professionals in our early 20s and met through a mutual friend who I knew through university and she knew through school. Recently she moved to the city, and needed a place to stay. I needed a housemate, so our friend set us up.

I tried asking her out when she first moved in but unfortunately she made it pretty clear that she wasn't interested in anything but friendship. I figured that if she wasn't going to taste my baby batter voluntarily, and I'm pretty sure she hasn't tasted anyone else�s before, I could feed it to her without her knowledge.

When she was out, I went around the house jacking off into her personal items - shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush, moisturiser, panties from her panty drawer, etc. I also started taking cookery lessons and offered to cook for her in order to practice my skills. What she doesn't know is that every meal I've cooked for her so far has had a healthy dose of my secret special sauce.

Before moral fags start whining, she seems to love it. She's commented on how her hair's been really soft recently and remarked on how her skin has been firmer, with a healthy glow to it. She even wondered if maybe the shampoo/conditioner manufacturers had changed the formulation. She used to get quite moody and hormonal over the month as her cycle progressed. Since I started feeding her my spooge, she's chilled out a lot and been really flirtatious with me. She's been more receptive to joking around with me, and finding ways to lightly touch my arms and chest, or accidentally brush up against me. Pheromones maybe? I've been sniffing her soiled panties while she's been out, and I know that personal scents can have a powerful effect � I�ve often ended up spontaneously ejaculating merely from the scent of her personal secretions.

She�s told me she loves my cooking. It may just be a coincidence, but our bedrooms share a wall, and on the evenings I cook for her, I'm fairly sure I can hear her rubbing herself off. On the mornings when she leaves for work early and I'm in the flat alone, I sneak into her room and sniff and lick her still warm used panties from her laundry basket. The aroma is exquisite. On the mornings after I've cooked for her the previous night, they're definitely muskier and damper, and often have a heavy dried sugar crystal like crust on the gusset, which I love to chew on.

In addition, I get the added bonus of sitting opposite her while she's eating and see her swallow my jizz, savouring every mouthful before it slides smoothly down her throat. Knowing that I'm corrupting her beautiful innocent face with my unique glaze and coating those gorgeous lips and tongue; the thought that at this very moment she might be wearing a pair of the panties from her drawer that I jerked off into, and that flakes of my dried man milk might at this very moment be nestled against her hot gooey moist cunt; mingling with her own juices and being rehydrated by them, is an amazing turn on for me.

I also see it as a way of marking my territory. While the scent of my cream hangs on her, it might drive other guys away. I'm not sure if that has any scientific basis, but it seems to work. I understand there is some scientific research that shows cum to contain chemicals that aid in partner bonding and fight depression in women, as well as changing their hormonal balance and significantly reducing their risk of breast cancer.

All I know, from my unscientific little experiment is that feeding cock custard to girls definitely has its advantages, for both sexes. I'd go so far as to say doctors ought to be prescribing it. Guys, what are you waiting for? Give the women in your life the greatest gift a man has to offer, and improve your relationships with them. Ladies, why not ask the men in your life for a regular dose of liquid silk? It has many nutritional benefits, and if you're feeling hesitant, just remember that you've probably already unknowingly swallowed several cupfuls of spunk, donated by guys like me. A few more on a regular basis can't hurt.

Nigger owners manual. A guranteed ROFL...

NIGGER OWNERS MANUAL

Congratulations on your purchase of a brand new nigger! If handled properly, your apeman will give years of valuable, if reluctant, service.

INSTALLING YOUR NIGGER.
You should install your nigger differently according to whether you have purchased the field or house model. Field niggers work best in a serial configuration, i.e. chained together. Chain your nigger to another nigger immediately after unpacking it, and don't even think about taking that chain off, ever. Many niggers start singing as soon as you put a chain on them. This habit can usually be thrashed out of them if nipped in the bud. House niggers work best as standalone units, but should be hobbled or hamstrung to prevent attempts at escape. At this stage, your nigger can also be given a name. Most owners use the same names over and over, since niggers become confused by too much data. Rufus, Rastus, Remus, Toby, Carslisle, Carlton, Hey-You!-Yes-you!, Yeller, Blackstar, and Sambo are all effective names for your new buck nigger. If your nigger is a ho, it should be called Latrelle, L'Tanya, or Jemima. Some owners call their nigger hoes Latrine for a joke. Pearl, Blossom, and Ivory are also righteous names for nigger hoes. These names go straight over your nigger's head, by the way.

CONFIGURING YOUR NIGGER
Owing to a design error, your nigger comes equipped with a tongue and vocal chords. Most niggers can master only a few basic human phrases with this apparatus - "muh dick" being the most popular. However, others make barking, yelping, yapping noises and appear to be in some pain, so you should probably call a vet and have him remove your nigger's tongue. Once de-tongued your nigger will be a lot happier - at least, you won't hear it complaining anywhere near as much. Niggers have nothing interesting to say, anyway. Many owners also castrate their niggers for health reasons (yours, mine, and that of women, not the nigger's). This is strongly recommended, and frankly, it's a mystery why this is not done on the boat

HOUSING YOUR NIGGER.
Your nigger can be accommodated in cages with stout iron bars. Make sure, however, that the bars are wide enough to push pieces of nigger food through. The rule of thumb is, four niggers per square yard of cage. So a fifteen foot by thirty foot nigger cage can accommodate two hundred niggers. You can site a nigger cage anywhere, even on soft ground. Don't worry about your nigger fashioning makeshift shovels out of odd pieces of wood and digging an escape tunnel under the bars of the cage. Niggers never invented the shovel before and they're not about to now. In any case, your nigger is certainly too lazy to attempt escape. As long as the free food holds out, your nigger is living better than it did in Africa, so it will stay put. Buck niggers and hoe niggers can be safely accommodated in the same cage, as bucks never attempt sex with black hoes.

FEEDING YOUR NIGGER.
Your Nigger likes fried chicken, corn bread, and watermelon. You should therefore give it none of these things because its lazy ass almost certainly doesn't deserve it. Instead, feed it on porridge with salt, and creek water. Your nigger will supplement its diet with whatever it finds in the fields, other niggers, etc. Experienced nigger owners sometimes push watermelon slices through the bars of the nigger cage at the end of the day as a treat, but only if all niggers have worked well and nothing has been stolen that day. Mike of the Old Ranch Plantation reports that this last one is a killer, since all niggers steal something almost every single day of their lives. He reports he doesn't have to spend much on free watermelon for his niggers as a result. You should never allow your nigger meal breaks while at work, since if it stops work for more than ten minutes it will need to be retrained. You would be surprised how long it takes to teach a nigger to pick cotton. You really would. Coffee beans? Don't ask. You have no idea.

MAKING YOUR NIGGER WORK.
Niggers are very, very averse to work of any kind. The nigger's most prominent anatomical feature, after all, its oversized buttocks, which have evolved to make it more comfortable for your nigger to sit around all day doing nothing for its entire life. Niggers are often good runners, too, to enable them to sprint quickly in the opposite direction if they see work heading their way. The solution to this is to *dupe* your nigger into working. After installation, encourage it towards the cotton field with blows of a wooden club, fence post, baseball bat, etc., and then tell it that all that cotton belongs to a white man, who won't be back until tomorrow. Your nigger will then frantically compete with the other field niggers to steal as much of that cotton as it can before the white man returns. At the end of the day, return your nigger to its cage and laugh at its stupidity, then repeat the same trick every day indefinitely. Your nigger comes equipped with the standard nigger IQ of 75 and a memory to match, so it will forget this trick overnight. Niggers can start work at around 5am. You should then return to bed and come back at around 10am. Your niggers can then work through until around 10pm or whenever the light fades.

ENTERTAINING YOUR NIGGER.
Your nigger enjoys play, like most animals, so you should play with it regularly. A happy smiling nigger works best. Games niggers enjoy include: 1) A good thrashing: every few days, take your nigger's pants down, hang it up by its heels, and have some of your other niggers thrash it with a club or whip. Your nigger will signal its intense enjoyment by shrieking and sobbing. 2) Lynch the nigger: niggers are cheap and there are millions more where yours came from. So every now and then, push the boat out a bit and lynch a nigger.

Lynchings are best done with a rope over the branch of a tree, and niggers just love to be lynched. It makes them feel special. Make your other niggers watch. They'll be so grateful, they'll work harder for a day or two (and then you can lynch another one). 3) Nigger dragging: Tie your nigger by one wrist to the tow bar on the back of suitable vehicle, then drive away at approximately 50mph. Your nigger's shrieks of enjoyment will be heard for miles. It will shriek until it falls apart. To prolong the fun for the nigger, do *NOT* drag him by his feet, as his head comes off too soon. This is painless for the nigger, but spoils the fun. Always wear a seatbelt and never exceed the speed limit. 4) Playing on the PNL: a variation on (2), except you can lynch your nigger out in the fields, thus saving work time. Niggers enjoy this game best if the PNL is operated by a man in a tall white hood. 5) Hunt the nigger: a variation of Hunt the Slipper, but played outdoors, with Dobermans. WARNING: do not let your Dobermans bite a nigger, as they are highly toxic.

DISPOSAL OF DEAD NIGGERS.
Niggers die on average at around 40, which some might say is 40 years too late, but there you go. Most people prefer their niggers dead, in fact. When yours dies, report the license number of the car that did the drive-by shooting of your nigger. The police will collect the nigger and dispose of it for you.

COMMON PROBLEMS WITH NIGGERS - MY NIGGER IS VERY AGGRESIVE
Have it put down, for god's sake. Who needs an uppity nigger? What are we, short of niggers or something?

MY NIGGER KEEPS RAPING WHITE WOMEN
They all do this. Shorten your nigger's chain so it can't reach any white women, and arm heavily any white women who might go near it.

WILL MY NIGGER ATTACK ME?
Not unless it outnumbers you 20 to 1, and even then, it's not likely. If niggers successfully overthrew their owners, they'd have to sort out their own food. This is probably why nigger uprisings were nonexistent (until some fool gave them rights).

MY NIGGER bitches ABOUT ITS "RIGHTS" AND "RACISM".
Yeah, well, it would. Tell it to shut the fuck up.

MY NIGGER'S HIDE IS A FUNNY COLOR. - WHAT IS THE CORRECT SHADE FOR A NIGGER?
A nigger's skin is actually more or less transparent. That brown color you can see is the shit your nigger is full of. This is why some models of nigger are sold as "The Shitskin".

MY NIGGER ACTS LIKE A NIGGER, BUT IS WHITE.
What you have there is a "wigger". Rough crowd. WOW!

IS THAT LIKE AN ALBINO? ARE THEY RARE?
They're as common as dog shit and about as valuable. In fact, one of them was p******** between 1992 and 2000. Put your wigger in a cage with a few hundred genuine niggers and you'll soon find it stops acting like a nigger. However, leave it in the cage and let the niggers dispose of it. The best thing for any wigger is a dose of TNB.

MY NIGGER SMELLS REALLY BAD
And you were expecting what?

SHOULD I STORE MY DEAD NIGGER?
When you came in here, did you see a sign that said "Dead nigger storage"? .That's because there ain't no goddamn sign.

I just spied on my sister. I had just gotten home and she was in the shower. I hadn't done it in so long but I haven't had a girlfriend for 4 months and everyone was asleep and it was dark (for the nice fishbowl effect) so I decided to go for it.

It's usually pretty simple because on the floor at the entrance to her bathroom there's a white piece of marble dividing the carpet from the tile and the's sufficiently reflective enough to view the shower on the other side of the bathroom. So that was pretty nice, nothing special. Shower stopped, got down on hands and knees, looked under the door, and saw her open the shower curtain and dry herself off. Pretty routine, the view is kinda blurry, can't see the crotch well because of shadows and tits were still perky.

But this time I got so much more. When I saw her wrap a towel around herself and head for the door I sidled into my room and out of view. She exited the bathroom and headed into her room but only tapped the door. It was still left very ajar, she didn't know I was home yet. So I took this opportunity.

I hung half in and half out of my room, looking into hers. For a while she was out of view, I could hear sounds from her closet. Then all of a sudden she stepped into view and laid her clothes on her bed. And then she dropped her towel.

She has a fairly thin, tan-ish body. Not super thin, curvy. Her tits are maybe C's, perky, with darker tan nipples. I watched them jiggle as she dried her hair off a little more. Then she turned slightly and I got a full view of her pussy. Smallish lips; she was shaven but not bare, probably shaved 5 or 6 days ago. At this point I was vigorously massaging the bulge in my pants.

I then watched her a little bit more as she snapped her bra on and pulled black panties on. After all the goodies were covered I took that as my queue to slink away before anything bad happened. I hid in the darkened corner of my room, waited maybe 5 more minutes until she left her room, t-shirt and jeans on with towel around her hair, back to her bathroom (presumably to do make-up,) and then silently darted down the stairs to the basement to type this. I have yet to whack-off; I imagine these images in my head are going to make the next few minutes of my life very enjoyable.

The "B4U-ACT" conference Aug. 17 hosted by psychiatric professionals discussed eliminating the stigma against pedosexuals, and proposes that the American Psychiatric Association (APA) redefine pedophilia as a normal sexual orientation of "Minor-Attracted Persons."

In 1973, our "post Kinsey era," a small APA committee of psychiatrists, quite terrified by homosexual public harassment, quoted Kinsey's human sexuality study and other scientific data to redefine homosexuality as normal, removing it from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) of mental disorders.

B4U-ACT goals are to "help mental health professionals learn more about attraction to minors and to consider the effects of stereotyping, stigma, and fear." This group of professionals also wants to teach pedosexuals "how to live life fully and stay within the law," insofar as the law is presently stated.

The psychiatrists discussed what "age of consent" should be proposed and what role pornography plays as a causative factor in actual child sex abuse. The prior was left as an open matter, and regarding the latter all participants agreed that scientific evidence showed no harm stemming from pornography as viewed by adults or minors in actual sex abuse cases.

Speakers discussed many examples of pedosexuals as healthy, normal and unfairly victimized by stigma and vitriol whipped up by the media and special interest groups. Examples were given of evidence regarding pedophiles that never forced children, and in some cases the evidence even pointed to them as being gentle and loving. At the same time, a researcher did cite "victims" who have been raped and that these perpetrators do indeed deserve punishment.

One young female speaker suggested that research has shown that pedosexuals might be helped by engaging in "sex play" using naked pictures of pseudo children. In some cases the therapy has been shown to be enhanced with props like bridal gowns, stockings, & etc. This Ph.D. social worker noted her objection, based on scientific evidence, to any repression toward the subjects.

B4U-ACT sees this conference as a way of fighting the stigmatization of attraction to children and the combination with, or confusion of pedophiles with "child molesters". Of course, "pedophile" has become cultural shorthand for "abuser" which, understandably, with the increasingly white hot emotionalism that has attached itself to this subject and increased exponentially over the last decade or two around it. Richard Kramer, director of B4U-AC, and other professionals state that such scientific wisdom is based on skewed data that looks only at offenders, and that many child molesters are not technically "pedophiles" (i.e., they offend because they are preditory and act out of opportunity, not sexual attachment).

There is a general consensus within the medical community that pedophilia is a sexual orientation and as such is unlikely to change, just as with homosexuality. Fred Berlin, director of the Sexual Behavior Consultation Unit at Johns Hopkins, states that out of the pedosexuals that have acted, then afterward entered treatment, "...there are large numbers of people who experience these attractions and with proper help go on and don't continue to 'offend'. There is good evidence to show that that's the case."

Berlin says many psychiatrists & others are concerned that the term "has become a stigmatizing pejorative," a way of saying "that somebody is less than human." Pedosexuals are unlikely to get much sympathy from the general public for being stigmatized, but Berlin says it's in society's best interest to resist demonizing them. The idea is to try to get folks who want therapy to "come forward and get help..."

Few of us in the general public are capable of thinking about pedophiles, or hebephiles, in emotionless, scientific terms; but, luckily, we aren't the ones charged with treating them, or defining who "they" are.

OP here. When I was a kid, I went into 7-11 in Redmond, Wa. to buy a candy bar. Outside there were a dozen or so older ladies picketing the store because it sold Playboy and Penthouse. When I entered the store, I got a few snide remarks for crossing their "line". As I began to leave I was surrounded by these ladies and yelled at for patronizing the store. Without a word, I turned around, re-entered the store, walked to the counter and purchased Penthouse magazine. When the clerk asked if I wanted a bag, I said "no, thank you." If you think I caught hell before, you should have heard them when I left! When I was able to get a word in, I told them I purchased the magazine BECAUSE of them. If they hadn't bothered me I would've bought my candy bar and simply left. I explained, "you know what ladies? The barn door is open and the cow is gone. If this REALLY bothered you, why didn't you stop it when Playboy first came out 25 years ago? Where were you then? It's just too bad, but you're fighting a lost cause." You could have heard a pin drop when the realization finally fell upon them. And at only 16 or 17 I was amazed at my composure in this circumstance.

What's the point? Well my friends, it is this: Homosexuality, Sadomasicism, and other behaviors have been considered and listed by "authorities" as mental illness, as hebophilia and pedophilia are currently. Because of societal changes and increasing pressure, homosexuality and other activity has been declassified as such in many cultures. Once again, my friends, the barn door has been opened and the cow has left. Once social mores have changed & accepted a behavior, its only a matter of time, and dare I say a right, that other behaviors follow.

This is not to say there are no "illegal" homosexual activities. There are. Just as there are with hetrosexuality. And it does not mean that all hebophilia or pedosexuality would be "legal" either. It wouldn't be. But in a day in age where teens and even younger are educated about, and experiementing with sexuality, and in many cases know more about it then many adults, it's hard to believe that society won't evolve as it did with its views toward homosexuality, S&M, and other one time so-called aberrant behaviors.

I've posted this thread in a way that many people are seemingly unwilling, or likely unable to do when discussing this subject; in an unemotional fact-based way, with a view upon history and societal evolution. You may agree with much of this post or you may disagree, BUT be warned, if you post over emotional, out of control, and simply idiotic responses like, "KILL PEDOS!", or "I WANNA FUCK YOUR KID!", you will be considered by everyone else who reads and posts on this thread to be the intellectually inferior moron that you are, and simply laughed at.

(Mods: The posted picture is of a totally legal, over 18 actress by the name of Kristine DeBell, as posted for Playboy magazine. Please do not delete. Thank you.)

I'm not trying to convert anybody, truth be told I'm still set in my old ways. I did, however, recently learn that guys give head every bit as good as girls. Which, in a round about way, led to me thinking that maybe all those years of watching tv as a youngin' may have had an unexpected effect on my brains ability to perceive gender.

Maybe, just the way it does.

See, sex sells. No doubt.

What then, if you you're only allowed to allude to or imply your top seller on your top advertising platform? TV.

You can't depict nudity or explicit sex on TV. FCC saw to that. So without nudity you have depictions of sex wherein clothing takes the place of anatomy. Gender defined by fashion, ya'll dig?

So this recent experience of mine doesn't seem odd to me at all seeing as my benefactor wore all the right clothes. She was A trap. (Lucky me) I found myself using she, her and girl when talking to and about her. Despite the fact that bare bones, she was a boy.

What does that mean? I don't know. To some folks, almost exclusively super hetero men I might add, it means I am a fag. In more reasonable terms it seems perfectly clear that I am a heterosexual myself, I just have superficially defined gender perceptions.

My experience was absolutely positive, I loved it. I hope to take her out again.

I will admit, however, that should she decide she'd like to go out as a male in male clothes; I have no interest and am quite turned off.

Shallow? Maybe, but honest. I took a boy dressed as a girl out on a date this weekend, I had a great time and got phenomenal head.

Long term? No, I think there's plenty there that I'd have to acknowledge at some point and it would ultimately end things, probably poorly. I just felt it necessary to share what I think was a relevant discovery.

That discovery was this.

It's all in our heads.

Feel free to share an opinion. I already covered my Fagdom, so since that's out of the way. What do you others think?

We've only been out the once. It was fun if not ordinary.

Well, that's actually not accurate I guess.

I've never been so sexually involved on a first date, I guess that makes it rather special in it's own way. You learn something new every day don't you?

Going to my aunt and uncle’s house

I was smoking pot and driving around aimlessly after work on a Sunday when I found myself on my aunt and uncle’s street. My grandmother was staying with them in a cool situation where she could watch over things and live rent free and not be alone as she was getting a little frail. My aunt had MS and was now confined to bed and had lost some mental capacity so my grandmother could sit with her as well. My grandmother was so much fun that I kind of searched her out when I was high just to share a couple smokes with and have some laughs.

I approached the front door and I had to laugh at the somewhat strange architectural details that my over active uncle had recently added to the house. Even though he was a close minded Reaganite I had to give it to him, two, sometimes three jobs and still found time to tinker on both his house and his cars. I heard loud music from the door but still knocked just to be polite. With no answer I just walked around the side to my aunt’s room as there was a patio there with a sliding glass door. When I approached I could see that my grandmother was asleep next to my sleeping aunt. I just could not bring myself to rap on the door and scare the hell out of my grandmother. So I retraced my steps to the front door and tried the door, it was surprisingly open, I let myself in.

As I walked in the music I heard was now blasting from my younger cousin’s room. My cousins had always just existed out there, somewhere, I was not that close to either of them. The older of the two had just recently married a born again Christian whom I thought was a sociopath. The younger of the two sisters had just recently moved back from her aunt’s house because this school district was better and grandmother was now here to look after her. The last time I was here her sister had serenaded me with Neil Diamond from the same room that this monstrous sound emanated from. I was not that surprised as my grandmother had told me over the phone that this younger cousin was a wild one strutting about in barely nothings that were inappropriate for such a young girl.

Then it struck me this was My Band’s record that was blaring down the hall. I approached her door and knocked saying” hey it’s me, sorry but I just let myself in” and “what’s up Lynn?” There was a little noise and whispering before she turned down the music and opened the door. As I stepped in I was surprised to see she had a friend over, it seemed I had stepped into a make-up party. I was feeling pretty full of myself at this moment....I was pretty sure she did not realize I was in the band she was just listening to so loudly…we were a bit obscure with credits and the other singer worked at a popular record store and was the public face of the band. I knew she had never seen us play and I was sure I would have picked her friend out of the crowd if she had seen us. I said “hey I sing that song”

They were both skeptical, though my cousin had an inkling that I was in a band she did not realize that I was that guy that she had heard so much about. I had a reputation as a lady’s man some deserved some just gossip. I matured slowly in high school so these early twenties were the time to make up for lost time. After a bit of questioning and a singing demonstration they realized the truth …I was the nameless and as yet faceless object of their desires.

Sheila her friend was the first to realize that I was not fucking with them. She went from inquisitor to flirt in less than 50 seconds, it was great. I slowly sat down on the desk chair as the two of them aimlessly twirled around the room in that weird uncomfortable dance that people do. They were both so cute, Sheila had on an oversized t shirt that came to her mid thigh, and the thin material accentuated her breasts which did not appear to be restrained in any way. Lynn was wearing a wife beater style t shirt that readily showed her smallish breasts that were topped by large nipples that were beginning to be engorged by both the awkwardness and revelations of the past couple of minutes. Her butt was barely covered by satin panties that were not appropriate as my grandmother had earlier informed me. I was getting a little hard for sure, I was glad I was sitting down.

Lynn was the first to break the odd silence she asked if I had seen grandma or her mom yet, I told her they were both asleep she and Sheila cracked up wondering how they could sleep through their private rock show. I had to laugh as well. I then asked them what they had been up to and they told me they were just checking out some new make up that they had just bought. Coming closer to me Sheila asked me which lipstick I preferred she bent over so I could more readily see the difference between her soft pink upper lip and her more frosty pink lower lip. As she did so I was treated to a wonderful view down the oversized t shirt. I asked her to move in the light to better see the difference in her lipstick giving me a better view as one entire breast came into view with the most perfect areola; pinkish and puffy like it had further to grow. Her auburn hair was lit from behind and as she fluttered her eyelashes and sniffled her turned up nose I felt like I was in the company of an angel. I was trying to be cool and I stammered out something about the color not being as important as the taste…how punk huh?

She kissed me quickly and asked me to lick my lips. I liked the pale color more, it was less make up tasting....she smiled and said cool she thought it was less tacky too. My cousin was getting agitated by the attention I was giving Sheila so she declared herself hungry and walked out of her room to go to the kitchen. I hesitated but figured if grand ma did wake up it was better to be in the kitchen with my cousin than in her room with this hot little chick. I walked into my wacky uncle’s idea of a useable kitchen; all the food was organized into plastic bins stored above the counter too high for anyone but him. My cousin was standing on the counter trying to get the cereal bin down. As I approached my head was at the same level as her knees I gazed up at her tight satin panties covering her mound. It seemed as though she had pulled them up before climbing up, I suppose to close any butt gaps, the end result was even hotter as her labia was clearly outlined in the thin material. Another side effect of her garment adjustment was a splay of curly blond pubic hair which peaked out from either side between her legs. As I approached she stumbled back a bit from the weight of the bin. I moved forward quickly and without thinking raised my hand up to steady her, grabbing a handful of her lovely melon shaped buttocks my hand kind of slid under her panty as I steadied her. My cock was semi hard again.

She laughed and said it must be because “I just smoked some weed with Sheila before you got here… can you help me down?’ Sure I replied not sure how to hold this scantily clad cousin of mine to bring her down off the counter. I decided legs would be best so I picked her up and slid her down my chest to the floor. This would have been pretty innocent except she put her arms around my head as I did this and her mound was smashed into my face as she shifted her weight towards me then her pretty and taut belly then her erect nipples and finally her beautiful face and blonde hair that smelled of fresh apples. My cock was very hard and straining against my thin vintage khakis. She leaned into me and whispered ‘you are the rock star’

She turned away just as quickly and walked to the fridge to get some milk for her cereal. Sheila turned the corner and jumped up on the counter beside where I was standing. ’whatcha eating Lynn’
She asked absently even though it was pretty obvious. She then pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. I gazed down at her angelic face and realized that she was flashing me an unobstructed view of her transparent white panties barely covering her auburn pubic hair and perfect lips protruding between her thighs. She was looking at me intently to see where my gaze was falling I somehow looked her in the eye until she broke off our stare down to ask for a taste of Lynn’s cereal. She pulled her knees apart and gave me an even more expansive view, as I stared I could barely make out a slightly dark patch forming between her delineated lips. By now I was pressed against the counter to keep my prick from being the next topic of conversation. Lynn was now talking about a new ‘New Order’ album she had just bought and asked me if I had heard it yet. I hadn’t because I had not gotten used to the idea that Ian Curtis had died. She said I should just listen to it.

Off we went back to her bedroom; I followed so as to hide my willful penis. I fell into the desk chair again and brought one leg up to sort of even out the situation. Lynn put the album on and cranked the volume again. It was catchy and very danceable. Lynn then reached down to grab Sheila’s hand and pull her up to begin dancing. At first it was a normal new wave dance thing not that sexy except for their beautiful jiggling breasts moving to the beat. Then Sheila shimmied over to where I was sitting; at first she tugged on my arm to join them then giving up and just dancing with my arm. The first song ended and she wrapped my arm around herself and sat on my lap as if to rest between cuts. The second song started and I expected her to get up but instead she turned around and gave me the strangest and hottest look. She stood and walked over to my cousin and whispered something in her ear that made Lynn giggle and smile followed by an emphatic affirmative nod of her head.

Lynn then walked over towards me, she gently but firmly took my raised leg and pushed it down and put my hands to my side like a stripper preparing me for a lap dance. Flashdance aside where did my innocent little cousin come up with this special knowledge? I stopped wondering and just started enjoying the view as she backed off and turned around and began gyrating her hips to the techno beat. Side to side then back and forth I watched as her perfect little melon shape buttocks moved and shook. I looked over towards Sheila but she was busy with some scissors transforming her shapeless t shirt into a new wave micro mini skirt. First she cut a large v shape into the neck then skillfully removed the short sleeves shaping it more like a loose fitting wife beater then through a series of knots she tightened up the bottom half into a formfitting mini dress.

My cousin was now facing me and stepping closer as she did so she ran her fingers up her ribcage and lightly brushed her nipples which were erect and begging for attention. She leaned towards me and placed her hands on my thighs and swiftly brushed her breasts against my face. It was amazing the will power and restraint I was showing but she was my cousin and she was a little jail baitish. Next she lowered herself onto one of my thighs, facing me she looked directly in my eyes as she lightly pressed her barely covered sex back and forth across the length of my thigh. Her mini skirt completed Sheila now stood a few feet behind Lynn with a look of anticipation that was indescribable; her puffy nipples were pressed against the thin t shirt material pulled tight from her skillful knotting. She had also cut an egg shaped hole which showed off her tan tummy and her breasts were dangerously close to exposure from the work she had done cutting off the sleeves. Lynn got up and tagged Sheila to continue the performance. She was more than ready striding confidently towards me she first leaned over and gave me the obligatory face smush with her breasts then turned around and started shaking her ass as she pulled up her newly minted skirt to expose those cute translucent white panties that were just a puff between the tan lines from her bathing suit. The look was delicious.

She shook her ass to the beat swaying back and forth, I was hypnotized. Slowly she worked her way back closing the distance between us until her ass was inches from my knees. She then straddled my legs and smashed her ass into my stomach and slowly rode up to my lower chest. She was on her tiptoes and her face was on my knees her arms were stretched along my calves with her hands loosely holding my ankles to steady herself.

The view left me breathless. The small dark patch had grown, her panties now wet with desire, one of her breasts pressed against my upper thighs had come free from the loose t shirt I could feel her nipple on my knees. I was beginning to lose control. The music stopped. She slid down my chest and sat on my hard prick rather unceremoniously. Just like a stripper during break I half expected her to light a smoke. Were these girls teasing me or were they for real? My mind was reeling.

The next song was a ballad of sorts and the answers to my questions came in short order. She stood up and reached down taking me by the hand to the bed and sat me down on the edge for the next level of couch dance as now she had footing on both sides of me. First she knelt with her thighs on either side of me and gave me a longer and more meaningful face full of her breasts holding each erect and puffy nipple in turn next to my mouth though still restrained by the t shirt her breasts seemed to come alive with an independent mind. Her nipples kept getting harder with each passing second my hot breathe giving them just the sensory feed back that they craved. I was pretty much consumed by these developments until I felt hands moving up and down my thighs I looked around the side of Sheila to see my cousin kneeling down in front of me.

Sheila pushed me back and shifted herself up till she was sitting on my chest, a whole different view all new sensations. By now I was pretty sure it was game on I could feel my cousin sitting on my thigh pressing her heated and probably wet pussy in a slow grind her fingers were tracing the out line of my cock throbbing against my thin pants. Sheila’s pussy was encased in her wet gauzy panties which were drawn tighter still from sliding up my torso. So close to my face I could smell her desire and see the outline of her clitoris rising from her swollen and glistening lips. With my new take on things I began to use my hands to get acquainted with these now obviously seductive and nubile princesses. Any thoughts I had about this being an elaborate tease were erased when my cousin effortlessly unzipped my fly and freed the snake. My hands went straight for Sheila’s breasts freeing them easily through the newly created t shirt design scraping my fingers across her puffy nipples this brought out a moan of pleasure that I had been waiting for, my other hand searched for my cousin’s ass to push her pussy harder into my thigh her now soaked underwear wetting my khakis. I brought my hand down across Sheila’s abdomen until it rested at the ribbon that ran across the top of her panties she was now moving again pushing her way up until her dripping pussy was directly over my face. I noticed that whatever liquid desire that was not absorbed by her panties was beginning to run down her inner thigh with my tongue I licked this trickle just for a taste of what was to come. She moaned again and greedily pulled her panty to the side exposing her glistening auburn silky pubic hair and her engorged labia. My tongue immediately reached up to brush against her pussy lips. She trembled with excitement I flicked the tip of my tongue across her erect clitoris it was as if my tongue had become an electric prod each touch setting off wave after wave of new love juice and spasm. My cousin meanwhile had finished with her feathery strokes on my dick and was now licking my crown like an ice cream cone this was quite nice. I finally freed up my hand to begin slowly fingering Sheila’s tight and wet puddle of desire alternating gentle licks across her lips with teasing flicks on her clitoris. This began to take on a rhythm of its own she was panting and murmuring over head. Using my thumb on her clitoris I finally stopped the tease and pushed the button setting off a tremendous orgasm through her body. My cock was ready to explode but I really wanted to fuck these chicks now but my cousin was really going to town on an amazing blow job. Sometimes you can just tell the difference between a technically good blow job and a love blow job this was all love and lust greedy without needless speed absolutely perfect. I came. As I came back to my senses I could hear my grand mother shuffling down the hall toward Lynn’s room. Lynn bolted upright and quickly opened the window pulling in the screen in one deft motion. I climbed out thinking I was probably not the first to use this mode of exit. Bummer I did not get to talk to Grand ma but what the hell I can always come back.