A depressing realisation

I was stood at my kitchen sink, doing yet another round of washing up, the droning sound of my washing machine mixed with the fake cheesy cheeriness of the Cbeebies presenters echoing around my brain. The familiar pressure of a headache insistently demanded attention from behind my eyes, the craving for silence and sleep nagging away as my cleaning product dried out hands scrubbed at the dreaded scrambled egg cooking pot that housewives everywhere loath more than any other pot, plate or utensil in our endless cycle of cooking and cleaning.
A voice in the corner of my sleep deprived mind whispered cruelly…. I have become my mother.
I swatted the thought away but like an annoying buzzing housefly that seems to be attracted to your head more than anything else in the vicinity, it kept returning as I got on with my day.
No matter how much I swatted or where I moved or what I did to rid myself of this irritating thought fly it’s buzzing grew louder and louder until my entire brain was filled with this one depressing statement and the fact that it was true bothered me more than the, now screaming, words themselves.
I couldn’t help but compare, I think every woman at some point feels as though she has become her mother as she gets older and the responsibilities of life stamp down on the freedom and individuality of youth.
But the woman can usually combat the depression that inevitably follows this realisation by conjuring up memories of experiences and differences in her life that make her unique and separate from her mother and her mother’s life.
I can’t escape the fact that my life has followed my mother’s example almost to a tee!
I had my first child young, the relationship I was in broke down and I moved on to another relationship, just like my mother did, I had my second child at the exact same age, my mother had me, her second child!
Iv ended up with a man who is my father.
Another undeniable fact.
A lazy, selfish lier who’s personal hygiene is…… Monstrous.
I hate him.
As my mother hated my father.
I desperately want to free myself from this man but I find myself, without my implant, having agreed to try for another baby.
What am I doing?
My mother carried on in the ridiculousness of the marriage with my father for 25 years.
The thought fills me with utter dread but I have to say the thought of entering into another relationship and ending up with 3 children by 3 different men also fills me with an equal amount of dread.
I was never meant to be that girl, I was meant to get married and have a 1950’s esque picture perfect life and family, loving husband, adorable, well behaved children, white picket fence, the lot.
It didn’t work out.
I’m Ok with that, I really am, it wasn’t a realistic dream in this modern arsefart of a world.
But I certainly didn’t expect the life I find myself living to be quite so….. Miserable.
I don’t want alot from life, my dreams are now simple, I don’t need riches, cars, holidays, a big house full of expensive things (don’t get me wrong that would be lovely but I don’t need it) all I want from life is to be happy, to be loved, to be appreciated and not to have to shit myself everytime a brown envelope appears in my letter box.
Simple! yet so very very distant and seemingly far too much to ask from life!
I don’t want to live my mother’s life, I don’t want to only find the courage to leave the misery of a loveless resentment filled relationship after 25 years and a wasted youth with someone who makes me want to scream and fills me with desperate fantasies of running away.
I look around at all the happy families and I do wonder how many women are crying behind those smiles?
Am I the only one completely unsatisfied with the direction my life has taken me and find myself with a man who changed into someone I cannot stand the moment I became pregnant and he thought I couldn’t escape?!
How many women sit and cry when the visitors have left and the children are in bed?
How many women are desperate to leave their ungrateful, man child partners but fear the judgement that may come with it?
How many women live solely on the affection, cuddles and kisses they get from their little ones and are filled with a consuming fearful panic when thinking of the day their children leave home and they are left with no one to look after and love except a farting, burping, stinking pig of a man who completely takes them for granted?
Tell me, am I alone?
I don’t want to leave this having complained for the entirety of what I have written, I am incredibly grateful for things in my life that I am lucky enough to have.
The love of my children.
My babies bring love light and laughter into our home and I am so very very grateful to have them. To feel their little arms around my neck, the little kisses and hearing I love you mama makes everything seem Ok again.
Watching my beautiful children sleeping peacefully, their eyes moving behind their lids as they dream happy dreams of innocence and candy fills my heart to bursting with pure overwhelming love.
Quiet time.
I am grateful for the time I get to myself, after my children have been put to bed and my partner is still at work or out playing football.
The silence and peace that decends is simply wonderful.
Coffee and cigarettes.
It has to be said, I don’t know how I would make it through my day without caffeine and nicotine breaks dotted throughout.
Both are guilty pleasures which I know I should not indulge but a mother sacrifices so much for her family, I just can’t face giving up those two last little things that give me a lovely little excuse to spend five minutes on my own to prepare myself for the next hour or two of noise, toys and housework.
Last but not least, my home.
We spent time homeless and living off the charity of my family with no home of our own.
After a long battle, tears, despair and feelings of failure we finally moved in to our little home.
I will always, always be grateful to have a home of our own after living without it for so long.
The little things bring me joy and that joy makes them mean so much.
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Exposing me

So it’s been a while since my last post, in truth I have a touch of writers block so I have decided to upload some of my poetry.
I have avoided it thus far as a lot of it is rather dark and miserable and I feel it exposes parts of me that 99% of the time is hidden away from the outside world.
I have feared rejection and being told my writing is crap but I have come to the conclussion, with the help of a very special friend whom I love dearly (you know who you are darling) that although I cannot please everyone and some may hate the way I express myself, there will be a few who will understand and will see a reflection of their own soul within my own and so in an effort to reach out to the few people who will appreciate the depth and emotion expressed in my writing, this, is for you.

Me

Dreams scream from the darkness of hidden memory,
Images in shadow,
Darkness in light,
Misery in euphoria,
An unnerving reassurance in the deafening silence of my mind,
An overcrowded loneliness,
A bloated emptiness,
A death birthing life,
The end of a beginning,
A clear confusion of chaotic organisation,
ME.

Untitled

This relentless fever running through my mind, sickening my thoughts and killing all hope.
You came along and ruined me completely, now I cannot love, I am numb.
On my knees screaming for peace yet the pain grows stronger still.
All paths blocked except one.
This path will only lead to death.
My soul destroyed, the flames in my heart long extinguished.
I am dead.
So why does my mind continue this relentless torture?
Stop, please, just let it stop.
The piercing agony of this all continues on and on.
Take a knife,
Cut my throat,
Cut my wrists,
Cut my blackened heart from this useless body and burn me in the cleansing fires.
I will not be damned to hell,
For damned I already am and hell is only my mind.

Savior

Save me,
If you cannot save me then love me if you cannot love me then kill me and through the peace of death I will be saved.

Stolen peace

You broke my wings
So I cannot fly
You broke my heart
So I cannot love
You broke my mind
So I cannot smile
You broke my soul
So I cannot find peace.

I will steal your wings
So I can fly
I will steal your heart
So I can love
I will steal your mind
So I can smile
Then I will bury your soul
So I can find peace
I told you my past dark love
Not to cross me.

Hush child

Hush child,
I cannot hear your words through the screaming,
Just a moment of silence to remember who we are.
Hush child,
Don’t you know your pain is my own,
I feel the deep burning of it as you do.
Hush child,
Hide away, lock away your vulnerability,
I need strength to get us through.
Hush child,
I will keep the pain away, I will not let the darkness touch you.
Hush child,
And remember, as I wrap this steel blanket of protection around you,
I love you.

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You don’t have to see my blood to watch me bleed
You don’t have to see my tears to watch me cry
You don’t have to bury me to watch me die.

See me smile and watch me bleed
See me laugh and watch me cry
See me dance and watch me die.

Darkness

As unhappiness dwells upon an aching soul and the pain of loneliness increases it’s sting, I begin to wonder upon life, it’s meaning, the point.
Living with misery so potent and all consuming that I cannot bear to think of the future for fear of nothingness.
Where is my light in the darkness?
A darkness so black my whole being is blinded, I see, hear, sense nothing, nothing but the putrid stench of my own failure in life, love, normality.
So with my hands I search, I seek the comfort that always evades me and in the pitch black corner of my mind I curl up and cry, there I will remain for I cannot search any longer.
Instead I wait, I wait and scream out my suffering upon the echoing absence surrounding me.
I cry out for my comfort to find me and if there is no light shining for me then I will die waiting, suffocating on the truth of my own decaying exhistence.
There, in death, a different kind of comfort I will find.

Addiction

My addiction to you already taking hold, each injection of your powerful drug seeps through my body and takes hold of my mind.
My soul tenderly sups the intoxication, the open wounds so cruel slashed into my once beautiful being begin to lose their sting.
With each small dose I am being cured and with each small dose my dependency grows.

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Blind my eyes and bind my hands, let me discover my Masters beauty with butterfly kisses, my lips shall be my sight, my tongue shall be my be my touch.
Let me feast upon you, my Master, my World, my Everything.

Master

Looking into the eyes of my Master as I bow before him, he captures my gaze with the fire in his.
Unable to look away I watch him drink in the secrets of my soul through my eyes and we wait, just wait, as time stops and our souls entwine, as my heart is given.
With no words uttered we both know, forever yours, Master.

Can you love a stranger?

Do you see me lover?
Do you truly know who I am?
I fear the worst
That you do not.
Have you seen my soul?
Have you looked upon the true destruction the past has left behind?
Would you still want me if you saw what I haven’t shown?
I fear the worst
That you would not.
Could you be content with what you see, what you know now?
Could you love a stranger?
I fear the worst
That you could not.
I have seen your soul lover, I have seen your past and still I love.
Should I expect the same from you?
To look upon the disfigurement of my heart and still love a shattered soul?
I know the worst
That I should not.
So I’ll hide it all away my love, so as not to frighten your fragile love away and I’ll hope you can love a stranger.

For you

Your the only one who really sees me,
Do you feel what I do?
You made the darkness flee and my heart unfreeze,
You saved me before I could fade completely
and as my soul sours into the sky,
Riding high on the wave of this emotion,
I kneel before you,
Surrendering my heart,
I’m here,
I’ve fallen,
Oh please,
I’m in love.

Hopeful horizon

Shadows and conflicts consume my ever obsessive consciousness,
The energy within reappearing from the ruins and this decrepit diseased mind finds a temporary cure for its insanity,
Yet the canabalistic chaos reigns.
Rain down on me,
Demon of misery,
Blow on me your rank breath for all I smell is fear,
Fear that your taloned grip is weakening on me and sunshine may yet dare shine it’s warming rays upon me again.

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She approaches from behind,
The ravenous demon inside of her already taking hold,
The violence within barely contained,
She pauses to regain control before stroking her hands over his broad muscled shoulders,
She circles him,
Stopping to face the green specked darkness behind which her haunted lover lies waiting to be awoken from the vanilla monotony she knows he so despises.
She smiles the smile of a lioness before the first salty sweet taste of her prey.
Finally she has him tied and bound, unable to escape her hunger.

Butterfly

A butterfly emerges euphoric yet shyly,
Out of her suffocating cocoon held long so highly,
Fear is far from her miniature heart,
As her wings so long crumpled delicately flutter apart,
Just one beat of her tiny wings and in far off places hurricanes sing,
Rejoicing at its tiny maker,
The winds whirl as they tear over an acre,
Destruction takes life,
Dust flies reborn,
All down to just one flutter from this tiny newborn.

© 2009 – 2014 by Firepassiondarkness.
All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Firepassiondarkness.

Pet hates part one – the fart

As a female I can cope with alot of things, there are just one or two bad habits that I really cannot abide.
One of these is the release of gasses from the anal region…. Farting.
Now im not talking about lifting a cheek when your alone and letting one go, im talking about the infuriating habit, particularly with the male species, of releasing gas when there are others in the vicinity.
It’s rude.
Stop it.
Most females that I know would rather not share the smell of thier bowels and remove themselves to do it privately.
Yes it is because we find it embarrassing but also out of respect for other people.
No one wants to smell the noxious odours of what your body has made of last night’s dinner thank you very much.
We don’t want to smell yours so we don’t share ours!
Yet our poor nostrils are constantly invaded by the rectal releases of the men in our life!
Why?!
It is totally disrespectful and extremely rude!
My daughters father once farted whilst I was giving him a blow job… I tell you now the disgusting pig is lucky he still has a bell end.
There is not much that I class worse than being forced to smell someone elses shit particles wafting through the air.
And you guys seem to think it’s hilarious, yeah maybe it’s great fun when your with your boys to sit in a room that stinks like a sewer but ladies don’t like it, weather it’s because our delicate nasal cavities are more sensitive to bad smells or just because we find it horrendously disrespectful, it doesn’t matter.
What matters is it turns us off to such a degree that we would rather chop your nuts off than fondle them lovingly.
Many a woman has sat in a man’s stench while he pisses himself laughing and disappeared into her little fantasy world, where we indulge in violence and anal stabbings in retaliation to the torturous years of stinking and stenching we endure.
Respect those around you and remove yourself to another room to relieve the building gas, please, on behalf of all us girls sat here with the will to kill the next foulsome beast who does it, just stop.

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My secret eating disorder

I…. Have an eating disorder.
There, I said it, it’s out in the open!
It’s not something I tell people because I inevitably have that person look at me like im an attention seeking twat crying wolf in order to get a bit of sympathy.
This is down to the fact that I am currently a UK size 16 and blatantly not anorexic.
What most people are ignorant of is that there are many types of eating disorders.
Yes there is anorexia, a horrible disorder where the affected starves themselves for weeks, months, years on end and sometimes to death.
There is bulimia, an equally horrible disorder which involves regularly binging on highly fatty, sugary, junky crap and then sticking your fingers, toothbrush or some other foreign object down your throat until you vomit up as much of what you have just consumed as you possibly can without vomiting up your own innards.
It may surprise you to know that super morbidly obese people also suffer from an eating disorder, oh yes it’s not just that they are greedy fat lazy bastards who eat themselves into an early grave through zero self control, they also suffer an eating disorder where they compulsively eat, they have an addiction to food.
This addiction has been proven to be one of the hardest addictions to beat.
Now we come to the arse ache of a disorder that is a part of me…. Deep breath….
I, have binge starve syndrome, it is an eating disorder which involves binging on food, packing on a load of weight and then starving yourself or vomiting after every meal until you lose some or all of the weight you put on.
There are no rules surrounding this disorder and no obvious outward signs that someone is suffering from it, I.e sufferers tend not to be extremely over weight nor underweight, we look pretty normal actually.
My disorder is a combination of all three of the above listed disorders and it’s a fucking nightmare.
My whole world revolves around food and my weight.
It is a daily god damn battle and I despise it.
It started aged 17, after years of bullying in school and comfort eating on top of being force fed images of perfect and flawless size zero women since I was a young girl, I decided I didn’t want to be the fat one anymore.
After watching my mum starve herself from a UK size 20 to a size 8 in a matter of months I decided it looked pretty bloody amazing actually and decided to give it a go.
And so the hellish cycle of weight off weight on began.
I lost 5 stone that first time and I fucking loved it!
Problem: I started eating again once satisfied with my weight loss.
And so I put three stone back on and started my starve diet once again and so on.
I have been 17 stone at my heaviest and 9 stone at my lightest but I have never stayed the same weight for longer than a month or two.
I have tried all sorts of tricks in my quest for consistent skinny.
I have downed laxatives and so spent a month pissing out of my arse until a feeling similar to battery acid on my stinging ring became too much to bare and I moved on to vomiting after each meal, I would stick my head down that toilet, inhaling the stench of stale urine and my own bile whilst practically shoving my whole fist down my throat in order to get my latest binge out of my body before it processed the calories.
My throat got so sore that even swallowing water felt like choking on sandpaper.
So again I moved on, I visited pro anorexia websites in a desperate search for tips on how to stop those pesky hunger pangs when I stopped eating.
I went for days with not so much as a crumb passing my lips.
I survived off water and air.
Until it all became too much and a massive binge would commence.
My longest binge period lasted two years at the end of which I weighed the heaviest I ever have done in my life.
Then one day I sat down to watch a program about a super morbidly obese lady.
I watched as her carer lifted the mass of blubber that had become her stomach to clean the infected, cottage cheese like open sores underneath, which had occurred as a result of her flesh splitting open once her skin had been stretched so thin it could not hold in the fat any longer and I panicked.
“Please dear god no, that can’t happen to me, I don’t want to end up with one arse cheek weighing more than the entire population of the united kingdom, I don’t want to sit there and watch a carer trying not to heave on the stench of my rotting open sores” I thought.
Jumping up from my sofa I grabbed a bin bag and threw out everything even remotely junk like.
And so a starve period began, once again.
I am currently at a stage where I am tired.
Very very fucking tired.
Of the struggles, the guilt trips, the mood swings and everything else involved with this cunting disorder.
Im currently trying to eat healthy rather than starve myself, im trying desperately to get back to my once slim self in as healthy a way as possible.
But jesus christ does it really have to be this hard?!
There are no websites offering help for this kind of disorder, most people have never even heard of it and the most help doctors will offer is an appointment with a dietician.
NO!!
I bloody well know what’s healthy you absolute cretins! I need help to break the vicious circle I find myself in!!
There’s help everywhere for anorexia, bulimia and food addiction but none for the people who don’t fit neatly in to one of those categories.
And so I sit here, after having forced a few lettuce leaves down my throat in an attempt to fight the urge to starve and I wonder….
When the fuck will it end?!

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A wonderful friend and a beautiful memory

Alot of people pass through our lives.
Some say hello, decide they don’t like us and move on pretty quick.
Some stick around for a while but life gets in the way and contact is lost but lets be honest you don’t miss them and they rarely pop back to mind.
Some are friends for years and years but they moved away and before you know it it’s been 5 years since you heard from your dear old friend, you look them up on facebook but to no avail, these friends may pop back to mind quite regularly and you miss them mostly when you’re feeling lonesome.
Some are friends for life, you knew them in school and you just know that you’ll be nipping over for a cuppa and a gossip when you’re 80 years old.
Then there are the ones you thought would be around forever but fate took them away too soon and you miss them terribly.
It’s one of these friends, a friend who i think of almost daily that i would like to share with you.
We shall call him Matthew.
Matthew flew into my life with a cheeky grin and a mass of curly white boy afro hair that he despised but we all loved.
At that time i was in yet another bad relationship and was quite regularly being beaten black and blue, although at the time i thought this was acceptable since my then boyfriend used the cover of being a “dom” as an excuse to deliver nightly and sometimes daily beatings, choking and generally excruciating and frightening sessions of “play”.
Matthew was the first and only of my friends to take me to one side and ask me if i was ok.
He saw the marks and bruising and cared enough to not only ask but to offer to “sort the cunt out” despite the fact that he was around 5ft 10 and a skinny little 18 year old who looked more like a 14 year old kid and my then boyfriend was 6ft 3 and a member of the army.
I will love him until my last breath for that.
From that moment on we were inseparable.
He was my bff and I, his.
I loved that boy with all my heart and he was like family to me.
I adored him so much that i took him to meet my dad and my sister, i wanted to show them what a beautiful person i had in my life and share the goodness that was my lovely best friend.
That night we went out the front of my dads house for a cigarette and discovered a beautiful full moon, it was stunning and huge.
We sat side by side on a wall and looked up at that giant orb of wonderousness in silence.
Matthew leaned over and planted a sweet little kiss on my cheek and took my hand.
He started to speak quietly and i listened as he confessed his love to me under the full moon and twinkling stars.
That was the single most beautifully romantic moment of my entire life.
That moment was given to me by the sweetest human being i have ever come across.
I gently explained to him that i loved him dearly but like a sister loves her brother.
There were no bad feelings between us and we continued on in our friendship with maybe just a touch more appreciation on my part for this lovely boy who had been so protective and had become my bff.
I went on to get together with another friend from our group of misfits and we decided to move away.
We saw Matthew along with another dear friend of ours just once after we moved and i naively thought it would be one of many visits.
I was almost 8 months pregnant with my son when the phone call came.
Matthew had passed away in an accident.
The silly sod had been showing off to a girl at a party by dangling from a balcony, he was drunk and high and he fell three storeys onto his head, he didn’t stand a chance.
An ambulance was called but he died on the way to the hospital.
My beautiful friend was gone.
Grief hit me like a sledge hammer to the chest, i couldn’t breath and i COULD NOT believe my Matthew was gone, no, he was meant to be one of the friends i popped over to see when we were old and grey to slag off the youth and relive old tales of mischief from ours!
I waited for the moment the call came to let me know it was all a big joke and he was safe.
I waited and waited, i text him and messaged him desperate for a reply but none came.
I was still refusing to believe when we pulled up outside the mortuary and we went inside to view his body.
I had to see for myself.
I needed proof that he was gone.
He was laid out in his usual black clothing and black trench coat.
Photo’s placed under his hands, resting on his tummy.
His face wasn’t the same smiley, happy, cheeky face, it was cold.
Expressionless.
His skin was grey and his lips blue, i couldn’t bare it and kept thinking “he’ll be so cold”.
I was overcome with an intense need to get a blanket and tuck him in.
I couldn’t stand the thought of him being so cold.
Even now i sit here, tears rolling down my cheeks, the grief filling my heart, feeling bad because i didn’t have a bloody blanket to keep him warm!
At his funeral I held his dear old grans hand as his coffin was taken out of a horse drawn carriage and carried into the crematorium.
His gran is an amazing lady and we will continue to visit her as long as she will have us!
Even after seeing him with my own eyes i still struggle to accept he is gone.
My son was born a month to the day after my dear friend passed.
We gave him Matthews name as one of his middle names, i wish my son could have met the beautiful person he is named after.
He would have adored his Uncle Matthew just like mummy did.
My son is now 15 months old and would you believe he has a mass of blonde curls just like Matthews!
I like to think it’s his way of letting us know he is watching over our son, such a lucky boy to have Matthew as his guardian angel.
Rest in peace my darling dear bff.
One day we will meet again and i will thank you for the time we had together.
I will remember those happy times with fondness and a smile…… the summer BBQs, sitting in my living room getting horrendously high, absolutely wetting ourselves at the hilarity of Kat Williams, dancing in Rios and Fuel while screaming lyrics at each other of songs only we liked, watching you run off to vomit once again after consuming one too many of my famous killer cocktails, dying of laughter after you fell through the dodgy step on my stairs and smiling at you and returning the hugs goodbye as you whispered in my ear “bff” after yet another weekend of getting as wrecked as we possibly could…….
I’ll never ever forget the precious memories of you that will stay in my heart until i see you again.
I miss you.

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How to please a woman in bed.

I have noticed a disturbing trend in the male population at either not having a clue or not caring about pleasing a woman in bed.
Alot of men seem to think they are sex gods when in fact “shit in bed” doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Why not ask your woman what she likes!
Now your lady may be a bit shy and upon being asked turn bright red, cover her face with her hands and refuse to discuss any further.
It’s ok dear ones, allow Auntie Fire to train you in the magical and rare talent of making your woman worship your sexual prowess.
Lesson One: Foreplay. Please do not assume that rubbing the general vaginal area roughly and a quick suck and squeeze of her breasts is enough to turn her on.
This seems to be the main technique used by men.
Take it from me…. It’s shit.
A womans body is a wonder land full of secret places to lick, kiss, suck and tickle in order to turn a woman on to such a point she will be begging for it in no time at all, trust me.
Each womans body is different, what works for one woman may not for another.
So I suggest some experimentation.
An example; treat your lady to an erotic massage, use your tongue, mouth and hands to discover her most sensitive spots, places she enjoys being touched and kissed.
Please dont stick to the same old boring places, yes we have boobs and yes we have a vagina but we also have necks, backs, butts, thighs and so on.
Lesson Two: Oral. What is it with you guys disliking performing oral on a woman but fully expecting her to suck you off every time there’s any sexual activity?
Here’s a hint boys, there are zero sexual nerve endings in a woman’s mouth, sucking your cock is not a sexually pleasurable experience.
It is pleasurable as far as pleasing our man is concerned but women rapidly take the view he doesn’t return the favour, he’s selfish in bed , he doesn’t deserve it and so the only pleasure we get from doing it vanishes.
Was your woman amazing at orally pleasing you but over time has become less, shall we say “enthusiastic” about it…. She probably resents doing it because you refuse to pleasure her the same way back.
Before you even think it, fingering a girl is NOT the same.
It’s the same difference between us rubbing you and sucking you.
There’s a huge difference, I think you’ll agree?
Treat a womans clit the same way you would like your penis treated.
Would you enjoy a woman licking or sucking just the tip of your cock?
No?
Well we need more than that too.
You guys pull back the hood and only lick or lightly suck the bit underneath…. Stop it.
Get the whole god damn thing in your mouth and suck it.
Tongue fuck your woman’s pussy and lick her clean.
You don’t like it?
Tough shit mate, you want the best blow job of your life?
Then make that girl scream and I promise…. You will get massive rewards for your hard work.
Lesson Three: Anal.
Are you willing to have a dildo inserted into your anus in order to experience what you are asking your woman to do?
No? Are you sure??
Why the hell are you expecting your girl to have your penis shoved up there then?!
Believe it or not a womans anus is not meant to have anything inserted into it.
It was built as an exit and is meant to remain such.
However.
Anal can be a pleasurable experience for both but it takes time and patience to achieve.
An anus needs to be trained slowly to accept larger and larger insertions.
You can buy butt training kits for this purpose or as follows is how you can do it for free.
Start with a little finger and gently massage the area ,insert the finger slowly and communicate with your loved one in order to determine if they are ok with the sensation.
Over a period of weeks or months depending on how comfortable your partner is with progressing to larger objects (index finger, middle finger, small clean carrot and so on) you can stretch the muscles in the rectum to comfortably accept your penis.
It could be the other way around and your woman wants to experiment in this area but you do not, in this situation there can be a happy compromise, such as anal beads or a small vibrator, she can insert these herself and you needn’t go anywhere near it!
Lesson Four: Romance! A woman enjoys being wooed, even after you have her, you guys need to work hard to KEEP her.
Please do not make the mistake of thinking now you have her you can sit back, relax and keep her forever.
No.
We need to feel special, loved, appreciated.
The best way to show this are acts of romance, an intimate meal out for two, a candle lit bubble bath, a rose or simply get down on your knees and rub your woman’s aching feet.
The seduction process begins here.
A woman requires emotional stimulation as well as physical.
Show her she is adored and you may find those headaches that keep preventing your sex life being active will magically disappear.
Romance, love and appreciation are wonderful things to a woman.
Lesson Five: Pornography. Now this is something I hate beyond words.
Yes it is fine to watch porn and bust one out…. While you are single.
A woman WILL get upset if she finds you have been watching another, most likely more attractive, woman having sex.
It makes us feel inadequate.
Would you be ok with your lady orgasming over a guy who’s not only more attractive but has a bigger cock than you?
Would you not ask “am I not enough for her that she has to go and get herself off watching other men?”
Of course you would!
It’s human nature.
It WILL effect your relationship if your woman is struggling with feelings of rejection and inadequacy.
It will make her feel ugly and unattractive.
A womans mind is very much connected to her sexual organs.
A woman will not enjoy herself and be able to orgasm while wondering if your thinking of the woman in the porn that she came across in your web history.
A woman needs to feel she is number one.
That she is the only woman in the world to you.
A depressed insecure woman is not a horny woman and she WILL punish you for looking at another.
We can’t help it.
We are jealous emotional creatures.

And so you have it, five basic lessons which I hope enlighten you just a little as to where your sex kitten may have disappeared to and how to entice her back out to play.
Good luck you horny devils!

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Lazy parenting and blaming children for thier bad behaviour

A friend of mine recently launched into a rant about her children and thier behavior, all parents at some time or another have had enough and the pressures of parenting get a little too much.
Having a moan about sleepless nights or noise isn’t a bad thing, we all feel it from time to time!
The thing that irritates me beyond belief is when parents can’t be arsed to discipline thier children properly then wonder why they become such little shits!
Take my friend as a classic example, now I love her dearly and she’s a lovely woman she really is but her son is probably the worst child I have ever come across in my life.
He lies, steals, argues, bullies and is generally a horrible little fucker.
My friend…… Refuses to acknowledge his bad behavior unless it is towards her personally.
This is where the moaning comes in.
She can’t understand why he did it/ said it/ stole it.
“what the hell is wrong with him?!” she exclaims.
Let me tell you dear friend….
You spoil him constantly, he wants it, he gets it.
You do not discipline him AT ALL.
You leave him to do what ever the hell he wants and do not set boundaries.
Your too busy with your phone texting the latest potential love interest to take an interest in your child, he is raised by the television and his Xbox.
Her excuse for this blatant lazy arse parenting?
“I’ve had 5 kids, im too tired after raising the other four”
Fuck off.
Did any of your children request thier birth into this world?
Did your son implant himself in your womb against your wishes?
Did you take the necessary precautions in order to not end up with a fifth child?
Did Satan himself come along and impregnate you with his evil seed?
No, no, no and no.
It is YOUR responsibility as a parent to put the effort into raising your child correctly.
It is not your child’s fault if he or she is badly behaved…. It is YOURS.
Rather than sitting and asking what is wrong with your children, ask yourself what am I doing wrong here?
There are of course cases where there are mental health issues, behavioural issues etc
My sisters son has ADHD, raising a child with such is fucking hard work!
She has managed, despite this, to raise a young boy who is now on the verge of his teens who is a polite, caring, lovely young man, sure he has his moments but all children do!
My point here is if my sister had the same attitude as my friend i.e im too tired to raise my kids properly, then her son would be bloody awful…. But he’s not. She has worked hard as a parent to enable him to be able to function in normal society as a decent young man who is liked and loved by many!
My friends son does not have such issues.
She is just lazy.
No parent is perfect and ALL of us get tired and stick our children infront of the tv sometimes!
Tiredness however is no excuse for neglecting your kids.
Your kids deserve a good upbringing, your kids deserve to be shown how to behave in this world, how to be courteous towards others, how to share, how to make friends and the general unspoken rules of how to act around other people. I feel it is actually rather cruel to spoil a child and let them get away with murder, those children will grow up expecting the outside world to be the same, they will find that it is not and that as a result people do not like them and they can’t get on in life and function on the most basic of levels in social situations.
Imagine my friends sons shock when he goes to high school and discovers there are in fact repercussions for bad behavior or if he is unable to make friends because he is spoilt, controlling and doesnt share.
Iv no doubt that my friend still won’t have a clue where his behavior stems from even then.
You owe it to your kids my dears to give them a good start in life.
You do indeed have to be cruel to be kind sometimes, you are not your child’s best mate, you are thier parent.

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