Jamilla’s crucifixion

Jamilla was already awake when the sunlight entered her cell. After the Romans had captured her a week ago at the villa of her master, they had locked her up in there. They had stripped her and tied her up tightly, her hands behind her back, she was forced to sit here in this dark cell. She have had a lot of time to think about what has happened, and, more important, the things to come. At first she had been scared to death by the thought of being crucified, but right now she had found peace with it. Jamilla knew what she had done, and she also knew that she deserved nothing better. There was no doubt that, if she was to be killed, it would happen out there for every one to see. She was just to beautiful to let her die in here. After all she was the most beautiful girl in and around the city, In fact the thought of starving in here scared her even more than a public humiliation. Being tied up all the time and at least raped and tortured, imagine taht! No, no, all well considered, crucifixion was the best she could hope for. At least her pain would be over in a few days instead of years. She didn’t dare to think that the soldiers wouldn’t come for her.

But then the door opened and a couple of men gave entered her cell and removed the ropes from her hands and feet. Jamilla felt some sort of relief when she left the cell. They would not let her starve. Thus far she had been very lucky. It was only now that she realized that nobody had abused her until now. She wasn’t raped, she hadn’t been whipped. The fact of being nude don’t scare her, as a slave girl she has experienced this form of humilation many times, it was usual for the female to walk nude trough the city up tot he crucifixion side, while the men are allowed to wear a loincloth.

As they came out of the dark hallways into the inner yard of the camp, Jamilla spotted a long, thin, wooden cross lying on the ground. “Pick it up!” one of the soldiers said. Jamilla walked towards the cross and lifted it on her shoulder. There was no use in trying to resist, which would only make it worse for her. Two soldiers came standing next to her and one of them hung a wooden plate around her neck with her name, her age and her crime carved in it. Jamilla expected them to push her forward in to the streets of the city, but they didn’t. Both of the soldiers were looking at a little door behind them. As Jamilla looked at it as well, she saw an other soldier coming out with a hammer, a ladder and a basket with nails. Long heavy spikes…

“So it ’s going to be a full nailing” Jamilla said to herself. Until now she had hoped that they would only use ropes or at least only nail her hands, but as she could count more than two nails, she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky. The soldier loaded the gear on a donkey and the other two gave Jamilla a gentile push on her shoulder. “Let’s go.” They said and the campgates opened.

Jamilla carried her cross through the narrow streets of the city. It wasn’t very heavy but despite the early hour the sun was already shining hot. As she came closer to the crucifixion site, more and more people were watching and following her, yelling things at her. She noted the views of the men, on her slim body, her well-shaped breasts, with the long nipples. Her master has pierced them years ago, she has to wear rings there, and the nipples has grown considerably. Except her long hair, her body has been shaved completely, even if the pubic hair has started to grow back, her crotch is visible for everyone.

“Look at you, you stupid basterds,” Jamilla said to herself “ shouldn’t you be working? No you just want to see me suffer, you want to hear me scream on the cross, you want to see the extreme fear in my eyes when they nail me to it. Well screw you! You think I’m afraid but I’m not, you think I’ll beg them for mercy, beg them not to nail my feet, but you’re wrong, wrong, wrong! I won’t. In fact I’ll show you that it doesn’t scare me, I’ll show you how a proud girl faces her destiny!”

As she took the last turn to the marketplace, Jamilla felt this strange sensation in her underbelly. She knew she was walking her last few steps ever. On the market place, one of the soldiers gave the order to stop right in the middle of the square. She let her cross slip to the ground, took a few steps back and looked at the people that came to see her humiliation. One soldier held a hand on her shoulder and took back the wooden plate as the other one unpacked the gear. The third one began to declare her verdict and why she deserved it. During that time Jamilla realized that the strange feeling in her underbelly wasn’t fear as she thought it was, but pleasure. Her crotch has become wet, she noticed it. Every single person on the square wanted to see her young, nude body exposed on the cross. She knew she turned on every man that came to see her today, but none of them would ever have her. She would remain an unreachable ideal forever. She knew she could give them a spectacle they would never forget, that would make every other women look like durt.

Right now Jamilla realized that her time had come. The third soldier reached the end of his speech.

Jamilla knew what she had to do, she would show the crowd she was not afraid. Slowly she walked towards the cross, looking at the soldiers. Then she turned around, looked at he crowd and went lying down on her cross. Before one of the soldiers could grab her, she placed both of her wrists on the crossbeam, waiting for the nails.

The soldier that was going to nail her held back his two accompagnons. “No, no, don’t grab her. I want to see if she really can take this.” Jamilla looked at him as he put the first heavy spike right on top of her wrist. There was no one holding her wrists in place, yet she did not pulled them away, when the soldier raised his hammer for the first blow. Jamilla looked closely as the point of the first nail was driven into her wrist. “Aagh!” The pain was more than unbearable, it didn’t just stay in her wrist. Like water spilled on a flat stone, the pain started to run in various directions, all through her body. Yet the nail had only cut a few muscles and flesh. Right now he was only pushing on her wristbones, slightly driving them apart. As much as Jamilla was suffering, she couldn’t move her arms. She could only watch how the hammer came down a second time. This time the nail crushed her wristbones. Jamilla could feel the couldnes of the steel against her bones. Again she could not hold back a short scream. The pain had now turned into a supernatural form of agony. One of the soldiers who was standing next to the cross, noticed how Jamilla was rubbing her beautiful bare feet over the sand in a useless attempt to lighten the pain. Although the nail hadn’t reached the beam yet, she managed to keep her tortured wrist in place. Her most beautiful body was already covered with sweat when the hammer came down for the third time. Finally the nail came out of her wrist again and made his first contact with the crossbeam. Jamilla felt a bit relieved because she thought the wrist part was over. Once the nail was through, it would be easier to bare. But she was wrong. The hardness of the wood made it very hard to finish the job. The executioner needed six more blows to get her wrist fully nailed to the beam, every blow causing Jamilla more and more pain in addition to the already unbearable agony…

At the first blow, Jamilla had pulled back her second wrist. “Aagh!” A short scream escaped her mouth every time the nail went deeper. Finally the last blow was given and the executioner stood up. Shortly he admired his work, then he walked over to the other side of the beam to nail her other wrist. Jamilla didn’t know how she did it, but she had managed not to cry. Although only one of the four nails was in place, she was already covered with sweat. She looked at her unnailed wrist once more, then she placed it on the crossbeam as she saw the executioner approached with the second nail. He looked at her beautiful young face while he went across her wrist with his fingers to locate the bones. When he found the right spot, he place the nail on it, held his hammer high up in the sky. Then he waited for a moment to see if Jamilla really wouldn’t pull down her arm now that she knew what it felt like to have one nailed wrist. Then he started his horrible job.

Jamilla thought she knew what she had to expect, but no one could ever get used to a sudden explosion of pure pain like that. Again her short screams filled the air, again her beautiful bare feet rubbed against the sand, but yet the agony seemed like at least a thousand times worse. Again she felt how the nail crushed some of her bones and drove others apart. It was in this pure sensation of nothing-but-absolute-agony- that Jamilla realized something strange. With every blow she screamed her little “AaAgh’s” as a message to every one on the square that she couldn’t take it any more. But now she realized, as her pain reached a new, horrible peak with every other blow that she wanted more. Though the agony made it quite impossible to keep her wrist in place, as long as the nail hadn’t pinned it to the wood, Jamilla realized she was able to do so, because she loved it. From this moment one, she could kill and love the executioner for what he was doing to her at the same time. She hated and admired him because he was able of hurting her like this. Though her agony reached unknown hights with every blow, she couldn’t wait for the next one. She watched closely how the nail disappeared deeper into her wrist and into the wood. When the executioner stood up after the nailing, Jamilla felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. Her body was under tension, shivering, excited, despite the heat her nipples remain hard all the time, and she notes that her juice has started to leak.

Jamilla looked at her beautiful nude body as the soldiers made preparations to pull up the cross. With her arms spread out like this above her head and her legs a bit opened to feel the sand under her feet for the last time, both her beautiful small breasts with their long and hard nipples and shaven pubic were exposed to the crowd. Yet Jamilla felt no shame, she felt only pain and a deep desire for more pain. Two soldiers were tying ropes to both ends of the crossbeam while the third one was placing some small pieces of wood at the bottom of the longpole so that the cross wouldn’t slide over the sand when they tried to raise it. Then they attached the ropes to their donkey as well. Then the executioner kneeled down at Jamilla’s feet. He grabbed them by the ankles and measured the length of her legs. He placed her feet on the longpole, right next to each other, so that her legs were slightly bent. He looked at it, changed the pose a bit, released her feet and carved a little bit of wood out of the pole, where he wanted her feet to be when he nailed them. Jamilla had observed his actions very well. For a moment she thought he was going to nail her feet before they raised the cross. She had loved the feeling of his hand around her feet. The two soldiers made the donkey pull up the cross while the executioner made sure the longpole would slip into the hole that was dug for it. As they raised her cross and her feet left the ground for the last time, Jamilla felt how her weight was no longer carried by the thin longpole but only by the two spikes that pierced her wrists. She had to scream. Little yelps of both extreme agony and pleasure escaped her mouth while the donkey was raising her cross. As her cross was almost in a complete vertical position, Jamilla spotted the carve made by the executioner to indicate the intended position of her feet. While the soldiers were making sure the cross wouldn’t fall back if they cut the ropes, Jamilla tried out her final footpose. With her feet against the longpole and her legs opened widely because of the roundness of the longole, she decided that it was both a humiliating and an exciting pose. Jamilla looked at her elegant ankles and her adorable toes. Soon her most beautiful feet would be nailed. To feel once more the pain of really hanging on a cross, she moved her legs away from the longpole, so that they were just hanging on either side of it. Now the executioner placed his ladder against the cross and climbed up to fulfill his duty.

As the executioner reached the final step of the ladder, Jamilla lowered her left foot and placed it right on the spot the executioner wanted it to be. He put the nail right on the most central spot of her foot, slightly adapted its pose so that the toes were really pointing towards the ground. Then he began the nailing. Once again Jamilla experienced a wave of fresh agony running through her body. Again she felt how the nail pushed against the bones of her foot and crushed them with the second blow. Again she let out her little yells every time the nail went a bit deeper. Even when the nail entered the wood after the third blow, she didn’t dare to put any weight on it. Her foot was causing her the same amount of agony as both her wrists. Oooh, she loved crucifixion right now; She thanked the people that invented this heavenly torture from the bottom of her heart as the final blows were given. As the executioner finished the nailing of her left foot, Jamilla felt a bit sad. Now her other foot was the only thing left. After that, her agony would slowly fade away … So she put her other foot right next to her nailed one. The executioner brought out the last nail. Jamilla closed her eyes as her bully raised his hammer. Very intensely she tried to analyze the waves of pain that were caused by the final spike. As the bones of her right foot were crushed she couldn’t hold back a small yelp. Also when she felt how the nail tore the skin of here sole apart, she simply had to release a little “ Ôah!” As the nail was driven further into her foot and the wood of the longpole, Jamilla first realized she was being put to death in the most cruel, horrible and agonizing way known in the whole of the Roman Empire, and that she just loved it. The soldier smashed the nail a bit deeper for the last time. Then he went down a few steps and nailed the wooden plate that quoted Jamill’s crime, name and age to the longpole, right underneath her beautiful, nailed feet. “Jamilla, twenty one year old, blonde slave, murder, theft and arson.” Then he stepped down, took away his ladder and together with one of his fellows he went back to the camp. The third one staid to guard Jamilla so that no one would get her down of there.

Although it had seamed a lot longer, her crucifixion had only taken half an hour. Now most of the spectators resumed their work on the market. For Jamilla, the real horror of crucifixion was about to begin. Right now she realized that the pain in her wrists became too much to bare, even for someone who loved it, so Jamilla had to push up on her feet. Putting her entire weight on the nails piercing her feet caused her a wonderful amount of pain, yet she had to let go, if she didn’t want to faint, and she fell back on her wrists. But very soon, again, the pain in her wrists forced her to retry the push up. The Romans had spiked her in a very ingenious way. By bending her legs just a little bit, Jamilla had to face the problem where to put her weight, but she couldn’t suffocate that easy. As she looked around to see what the other people who had watched her crucifixion were doing. Some people were still looking at her, pointing out to each other how well she was nailed. Jamilla herself was also admiring the work of her bully. While she was at it, she saw that she wasn’t bleeding as much as she thought. The only blood Yamilla saw was the blood that had run out of the wounds when the nails were still driven in. Meanwhile the soldier that staid behind walked over to the fountain and took a drink. He didn’t return to the cross but went strait to one of the stalls on the market. He decided to watch over her from there, in the shadow. On the cross, Jamilla was exposed to the sun. Very slowly her bronzed skin was burning. As she saw the guard take a drink, Jamilla became aware of her own thirst. She wondered whether she could ask for some water as well. After a while her thirst became so big she decided to risk it. “Can…can I have some water to, please…?” she moaned. The guard fulfilled her request and put a cup filled with water on the top of his spear. Jamilla drunk it all and asked for more several times, especially around noon when the sun was burning every drop of liquid out of her.

Jamilla now realized that the pain wasn’t fading away at all. She didn’t know why but the spikes kept hurting her as much as they did when they were driven into place. She looked once more to the nails piercing her body. As she could clearly feel, al four of them were smashed through some bones. “I wonder…” she thought. Jamilla tried to move her fingers, but some of them didn’t react to her command. Also her toes weren’t completely movable. The sight of the spikes entering her feet and wrists fascinated her. Jamilla tried to reach the head of the nails in her wrists. Her fingers could only touch the top of the nails. Her excitement still remains, and her crotch has started to leak, she notes the liquid running down the lips, and the it drops down to the sand.

As the sun went down and the market became empty, Jamilla first realized she would never leave her cross again. Even her corpse would be left up there after she died. She wondered what it would be like, if she died. Would she pass out and never awake again? She didn’t know.

Jamilla’s first night on the cross was filled with agony. There was now way of getting some sleep up there. If the pain didn’t keep her awake, then the coldness of the night would make sure she didn’t sleep. The hours passed slowly, way to slowly, but when Jamilla finally thought she was used to it, the first rays of sunlight announced a new day….

As the market became crowded again, people returned to her cross to see how she was doing. "You 're realy enjoying this, aren't you?" Jamilla managed to ask her public. Of course they did. "Guess what," Jamilla moaned as a reply, "so do I..."

According to some spectators who had seen a few crucifixions already, Jamilla was “dancing” real nice. She was pushing herself up on the spikes piercing her feet and falling back on her wrists al the time. Even if she didn’t had to push up to get some fresh air, she still forced herself to do so. It largely increased her pain. It was her second day on the cross, but Jamilla felt far from exhausted. Now she knew why she hadn’t been raped or whipped: If she were still strong when they nailed her to her cross, she would last longer. Once again Jamilla looked at her beautiful body. The nails fascinated her, how they disappeared in her wrists and feet. Only four nails, but they put her in hell. Right now the thought crossed her mind that despite of the fact that she had been drinking quite a lot yesterday, she didn’t have to pee. The sun burned away every single drop of liquid, even the water from the fountain. In the afternoon, Jamilla felt how she was becoming weaker and weaker, how the pain slowly faded. Right now she wished she could live through it al again, from the cell, to the first nail, the moment of triumph when she exposed her completely nude body to the overwhelmed crowd, the nailing of her wrists and feet, her complete crucifixion. Later that day Jamilla lost conscience. She didn’t saw how a rich salesman paid of the guarding soldier and ordered his men to get Jamilla down from her cross. She didn’t even realized the nails were pulled out.

Jamilla looked out of the window as the sun came up. Six months had passed since her crucifixion. Her wounds had completely healed. The salesman had dropped her of at one of his houses in a small village while she was still unconscious. An other girl slave had told her everything. She had never seen him until now. He was standing in the inner yard, saying goodbye to someone. Then he entered Jamilla’s room. “You’re so beautiful” he said. “You’re so beautiful that you can ask me anything. Ask me and I’ll do it!” Jamilla looked at him as he touched her face. “Well, there is one thing you could do…” She answered.

Later that morning, the entire village watched how Jamilla publicly undressed herself. Completely nude, she walked over to the cross and went lying down on it. She smiled at the salesman as he approached with the hammer and the nails. “Nail me!” she said.

Sherry and the beach party

Sherry is a 26 year old woman, kind of plain, and chubby. She works at a Dinner, she has not had many dates as most see her and just pass her by. She is one of those that are here but no one pays munch attention to.

So When Jim started to talk to her, and come to her table at the dinner, she was delighted, he had even asked her to movies, and out to dinner, she grew to trust jim. Little did she know that jim had planes for her.

They had not gotten romantic yet other than some petting and kissing, she hoped that they would have sex at some time soon, but it just did not seem to be the right time. She did enjoy when jim played with her breast, making her nipples hard.

The summer stretched on, and near the end of August, jim told her about a beach party that he and his fraternity held each year at the lake. He told her there would be food, drink, some wild partying and a bonfire to finish off the weekend. He thought to himself that she is perfect for there party.

Sherry told jim yes she would love to go, and she had not met any of his fraternity brothers or there girls. She decided to go to the mall and get new outfit for the party. She was hoping that this would be a week end of sex and fun, so she went to Victoria’s secret, and bought matching bra and panties, sexy shorts and a blouse, all saying come get me, she smiled as she looked at them and was dreaming of a fun weekend.

The weekend came and jim picked up Sherry, and let her know she was looking so good in her new outfit, they were getting to the lake for the last day of the gathering, he explained to sherry that every one brought a donation to the bonfire, she assumed his was in the trunk, they drove, for hours, and finely got to the gathering, it was still early, and she enjoyed drink and food, the other girls there commented on her shorts and blouse, Sherry was so pleased, she had never had so munch attention paid to her.

As it got near sunset, the group started to pile bundles around a stake, for the bonfire, all the men and women there built up the pyre, Sherry looked at jim, and asked what was he going to pile on, he looked at her and said You!

It took a moment for it to sink in, then she said, what you mean ME? He told her that he was going to put her on the pyre, and that she was going to be this years offering, he explaned to her that each year they burn a woman as a offering for a good year to come.

Sherry, screamed, but I don’t want to die or be burned! About than, four men, grabed her, and took her to the pyre, as she kicked and struggled, she was taken up, to the top, and her hands clasped into hand cuffs, she was than left to stand, no other bindings. She twisted and turned; looking around, crying, please don’t do this!

The group gathered, at the pyre, Sherry seen two cameras set up, , one was already filming, as it caught her being taken to the pyre. She struggled and begged to be freed, she was sweeting, and having trouble controlling her breathing as she was screamingShe seen Jim, and begged him to not hurt her, she offered all that she had, including herself to not be burned to death. He just smiled and she seen him toss her over night bag, and purse on the pyer, jim saying you wont need this any longer.

She was standing there, watching them light the torches to be used to light the pyre, jim was watching her, as she wet her self, soaking her shorts, and streams of pee running down her legs. He smiled at her fear.

Jim asked her if she was ready to die, she screamed NO! GOD NO !!, with that jim and three others shoved the torches into the pyre, the flames, started to grow fast. as the wood and kindling was all dry

The flames spread around the pyre, and started to rise toward her, she stomped her feet, at the burning bundles, She screamed as the flames were wrapping around her shoes, and lapping at her cafes. Her screams became intense with the unbearable pain. Her begging to be freed was ignored., the fire grew, and was scorching her thighs, she was moving from side to side trying to free her self from the flames, but they are all around her there is no relife. as the skin turned red than blistered her screams become primal. Her shorts had dried and now turned brown and ignited, burning her sex, the sex she had hoped to have was sex with the fire. She banged her head on the post as the flames climbed her body, burning away the shorts and blouse leaving her near nude, her body sweating and seeping fat ,her sweet and fat from her skin was dripping into the flames creating flare ups, her breast now burning, the screaming changes to a mumble than nothing, as her blonde hair erupts as her head falls forward.

The group all thank Jim for the offering, as the fire finishes sherry. Jim turns to the camera men, asks if they got all the shots, both men smiled, as jim told them he already had a buyer for the film, and it would finance the group for the year, Sherry had no idea she had been chosen to be a sacrifice and the main event for a snuff film.

Memories (Part I)

I am going to tell you a story about the hottest girlfriend I have ever had, so expect this to be quite drawn out. I would hate for you to misunderstand why --after several years after she passed, I now being married to another woman, and having two kids still often think of her.
Several years ago, I had a plump, dark-haired, and very freckled girlfriend who used to take double the normal prescribed dose of Soma and Darvocet for her chronic back and neck pains. We had a lot of good times when she was fucked up on that; I remember once, I was laying on my stomach, and she climbed on, and started massaging my back, her ample thighs were hot on the small of my back, and the massage was accentuated with her warm, soft hands. After about 10 minutes, she asks how that felt, "All better?" Hell's yeah, it felt great! She rolled over to my side on her side of the bed, and I notice this cooling spot just above the small of my back...she had left a 'snail-trail.' I didn't realize that she was also moving her hips while massaging my back, grinding and mashing her vulva onto me. I still get worked up thinking of that night.
A few months later, she takes her Soma and Darvocet, and I know something is going to happen that night, but it was late and we both fall asleep in bed, I always slept naked, but she wore only a loose-shouldered, full-length night gown that accentuated her curves and enabled a nice view of her shoulders and deep cleavage. In case I haven't mentioned it, she had freckles EVERYWHERE, and wore this perfume (Opium) that I swear was made with pheromones, but it was the way she smelled when wearing it, a heady combination of 'at-the-end-of-the day' sweat and the sweetness of the perfume --it makes me excited thinking about her.
So, clearly, I woke up --smelling her in the middle of the night, sleeping peacefully. I thought I would wake her up with a surprise, so I forced her legs apart, gently and slowly --pinning them open with my own legs. I began to finger her thinking that she would wake up, but she didn't. Instead, she started gyrating her hips and got incredibly wet. My cock was hard and I couldn't wait any longer. I disentangled my legs and climbed between hers, slamming into her. Her face was beautiful, and there was no reaction to what I was doing, but she was rubbing my chest with her hands and moaning, raising her hips with each trust. I asked her if she was awake, and her eyes opened slightly and then rolled-up. I had a slight moment of panic, so I stopped and opened her eyes with my hand; they were rolling around --she was unconscious and doing all of this. I came right at that moment of realization. After a few minutes, I climbed off of her, and watched. Nothing. She was laying there, legs spread, with my cum running down into her ass crack, her pussy was open and swollen, flushed-red with arousal. Slowly, she ran her hand down her body and into her vagina, playing with it for a few seconds before laying still again. After a few minutes she retracted her hand and I was able to pull her nightgown down again, and then I went to sleep.
The next morning, she's up, and at breakfast, I make a joke about how well she slept, that she had fondled me during the night; she didn't believe me or take me seriously and said that she slept well.
I carried on doing that for months, she would do almost anything while she was fucked up on this stuff, slow hand-jobs, blow jobs, she even let me throat-fuck her --had to do that quickly so that she wouldn't choke to death on my dick.
One day, I found out about one of our neighbors --I'll call him Donny here. Donny was married to this mostly-toothless, chain-smoking hag, completely repulsive...except for a perfect ass. I found out that before I moved in, Donny had the hots for my girlfriend; from what I understand, she had even caught him peeking into the windows one night, but had chased him off. He was married, after all.
So, one night --after she had passed out, I caught this motherfucker staring in at her while she slept. He didn't see me, so I snuck out of the house, and into the back yard. I walked up on him, and he didn't even hear me. He was too busy jerking his gherkin. I pushed him against the wall, and asked him, "What the fuck are you doing?" The poor bastard must have been at the peak, because he blew his load, with his cock crushed between him and the wall; his spunk ran down his leg, into his pants. The cornered son-of-a-bitch was fucking panicking like a baby. I felt bad for him in a weird way, so I let him get his shit together...an idea was in the back of my head and making itself known. I dragged him inside, sat him down on the couch and poured him a drink, straight whiskey. I asked him what he would do in my place. I laughed and shook my head in some sort of pseudo-disappointment. All the while, I was imagining this scuzzy-looking guy fucking my girlfriend.
He begged me not to call the cops. My thoughts finally gave way, and I told him to follow me. We walked to the bedroom where my sweet-smelling girlfriend was sleeping. I thought I would have a little fun with him, so I told him to stay outside the room, but not to run, or I would call the cops. He looked scared, thinking I was going to wake her up. I watched his face while I moved the blanket, and exposed her legs. He froze, like a dog waiting to perform a trick for a treat at the end of his nose. I walked back over to him and asked quietly, "What would you do to see more?" I felt like the devil, dragging a soul to hell...and I began to smile...I thought to myself, "I have the goatee and moustache, after all...why not!" He stared at me, wide-eyed, and started talking, "I have some mon --!" I had to silence him and remind him to speak in a whisper. I told him to hold that thought and watch for a moment while walking back to the bed...my girlfriend was out like a light, so I completely removed the blankets and eased her shoulders out of the gown and tugged the gown down, exposing more of the bronze, freckled chest, but stopping just before her breasts were completely visible. Then I moved to lift the gown up --just above the knees, and slid my hand under and began fingering her while watching his face,which was becoming redder, the bulge in his pants, easily apparent. She moaned softly and began spreading her legs, sliding a finger in, it almost felt hotter than normal.
I had to stop myself or I knew I was going to lose all control of the situation, so slowly I slid my finger out again, noting the slick-clicking of that well-moistened pussy. I sniffed my finger as I casually walked back over to Donny, and just when I got to him, I put my finger just under his nose and watched. I let him breathe deeply, smelling that juicy musk. He practically begged me to let him fuck my girlfriend. Asking quietly again, “Donny, what would you do to see more?” I could tell that if he got too stimulated he was going to shoot off in his pants...which I didn't want. Hastily he whispered, “Anything you want, just name it, please!”
Wondering how far I could push this, I thought of the worst thing I could do“I want you to get some drugs and give them to your wife, I want you to invite me over after cleaning her from head to toe, and have her naked in your bed. I want her semi-conscious, so I can fuck her toothless mouth, and then, Donny, I want you to roll her onto her stomach, and hold her down while I fuck her in the ass while she screams in pain.” I swear, the squirrel-wheels in his little mind were turning; he was thinking of doing this. Realizing this, my mind began to race, “Ho-lee-shit,” I thought, “this guy is actually thinking of doing this!”
I let his cogs turn-and-burn, while I walked back over to the bed. This time I began to stroke he breasts through her gown, and her perfect nipples, with small areola began to stand out, I pinched them and she gasped. Was she awake?! I checked her eyes, and they rolled-back, like normal, to the back of her head....nope, she was out...I thought to myself, ”Goddamn, how far can I take this?!” My cock began to hurt, and my balls felt like they weighed a ton. I walked back to Donny, who was still processing all of this shit...fucker must have blown a circuit. “Well, what's it going to be?” I had to ask a little louder, to show a bit of frustration. I could see by the look on his face that he was going to say, “I can't do that!” He didn't disappoint, his squeaking squirrel-wheels must have aligned for a moment, and he said just that.
I wanted to get control again, and to break him by this point. So I walked him over to the bed, and let him slide his fingers in; I had him the instant he did. The warmth and wetness of my woman's pussy, that got him. I told him to think about it and sent him scurrying home, making sure to close the curtains, fully so that he couldn't see in after he left. I had a feeling that he would try to peek some more, but I was determined to keep him on a tight rope. I fucked her a couple of times that night, cumming hard each time, and rolled over to my side when I was finished, my cum running down her pussy.

i have a real sexual fantasy where i hunt down all the sick paedos on this site who post sick deluded comments about innocent kids and encourage other sickos to share there fucked up fantasies. so first of all i cut one sickos chest open with a rusty blade, then i burn one paedo to death. the next prev i strangle with my bare hands and then i just lay into a big group of sick paedo computer freeks with two hammers knocking lumps out of them as i listen to their screams and get covered in paedo blood.

Thats just my personal favourite fantasy...... i hope im not weird

i confess when i was a little boy i was going to go to Paris with my family for Christmas, but the morning of our flight, in the midst of everyone scurring around frantically gathering their things and getting ready, they forgot to wake me up. they boarded the plane and left without me. when i finally woke up, i assumed their sudden vanishment was a gift from God due to them treating me like shit. i was ecstatic. i ate alot of junkfood and watched R rated films and did what i want. things were good until two guys showed up and tied me up, and raped my face then sodomized me with a Turbo-Man doll. they completely robbed the house leaving nothing and left. my family suddenly returned and walked in on me taking the doll out my bum and beat the shit out of me for practicing faggotry. my grandma was crying saying "he's just a boy!" then my dad beat her to death chanting "..FOR THE GREATER GOOD.." he burned the body and said i'm next if i tell anybody.

I confess that I cast a spell to win the lottery but found a treasure instead…
 It was not but before yesterday. The lottery jackpot was outrageously high. I had attempted earlier with my girlfriend to produce enough loosh to manifest some winning numbers. We yielded no positive results for lottery but I enjoyed our endeavors. 
 I knew if we were to stand a chance of creating any real Sex Magik, we would need more willing bodies. People that entertained a certain type of magical thinking. Likely of the Cluste-B variety..
 I created a new profile on a popular alternative hook-up app. The profile pics were nothing particularly spectacular, but I thought they communicated a certain air of a couple that were secure with themselves. The bio though, was a simple short blurb advertising my intent. I didn’t fuck around with straight couples or bullshit bicurious single males. I wanted cock and pussy. I was going to have a fucking full swap or an orgy.
 The bio detailed my plan. All participants agree upon a shared set of lottery numbers. We then set upon each other with carnal lust and the appropriate Will and invoke our manifestation. “Should we fail to produce the lottery numbers”, I penned, “we would still win in the end”.
 The last part was an extremely dry joke but it was brought up later. 
 I actually received quite a few responses but most were single men. Eventually I received a message from a person I will call Jack. Jack had wife named Jill. Jack started sending me pictures faster than I could send mine back. I was afraid I wasn’t sending enough of my gf and too many of my cocklet and I. Jack didn’t mind though. Jack thought that was just fine.
 We set up a place for the four of us to meet. I always vet people out before I stick my dick into them or their’s into me. I have a sensitive barometer for people I fucking hate and so I like to sniff new prospects out before I take them home or to a hotel.
 I had cleared the entire thing with my girlfriend before I ever ran the add on the bio but given the small community we live in, and the troubles we have had before in finding swinging bi couples, she was very surprised at how fast I had arranged such a meeting. It made her nervous for the entire day.
 My gf and I arrived at the agreed meeting place before Jack and Jill. It wasn’t quite six in the evening but it was already dark. The other couple were more than fashionable late. My gf was practically frantic from the anxiety she felt. She usually feels some anxiety on the first meeting when we swing but this was extraordinary. It highly uncharacteristic of her.
 When they arrived I suggested we all just pile into my truck for the warmth. Jack and Jill were agreeable to that and we all climbed inside the cab. Jack liked my truck and tried to engage me a little on the topic of diesel engines and vehicle models like mine. I fained little knowledge. I was more interested in fucking his hole. I mean, his wife was okay, but I liked this man from the moment I smelled him. But I would soon cum to see how very much, Jack was absolutely insane.
 At first, there was some back and forth between the four of us but it would not be long before Jack would rise to dominate the conversation totally and I was in awe at the spectacle of him. He was a juggernaut that could not be stopped. Holy shit. He was a bit shorter than me and had a muscular build. Probably procured through hard work rather than lifting weights. He wore a fleece cap but I expected a cowboy hat. He a chiseled jaw with a cleft chin. He was very handsome.
 Jill was closer to our age. She was probably your typical bpd nympho. A body of about  average but very large breasts. Scandinavian with Irish maybe? Doesn’t really matter, she had large breasts. Very fuckable in my book. Her fantasies were very dark I think. Definitely lots of psychological damage. Large breasts though. Jack would tweak on her nipples as I sometimes managed to chime in. It was very distracting in the most delicious of ways. Did I mention that her breasts were rather large? She wanted dicks rubbing together inside her. Actually I wanted that, but I knew she would have enjoyed it.
 Jack wasn’t a total dick though. He had method to his maddness. As he attempted to dazzle my gf and I with his strange stories and exploits of himself he left small oppenings. He found out quite a bit more than I tried to let on. He was much more cleaver than one might initially assume by his antics.
 Jack began to regail us with stories of killing, incest, rape, sex torture, squirting, marijuana omnitopical, drugs, his construction career, his pro-rodeo career , his porn career,he was a veteran,  how he hated his mom (I guess?), more incest,his ties to mafia, the finer points of leather stitching and yet more incest.
 Also, he only bottemed unless, “the dude was a chick”. My girlfriend looked right at me as he said that. I knew what she was thinking. I was thinking the same thing. 
 Actually, I was thinking about something totally different than her. I had been watching far too many youtube videos about people psychological problems. I had found out what type of crazy people with traits like myself find appealing. Jack was prime specimen of what is supposed to get my juices flowing. I think that youtube is right. 
 With every story, my gf became more and more apprehensive. They mentioned god 11 times. She counted. Every other story was a burning red flag. “These people are fucking kray kray!”, she said to me without speaking. Sure, the story about the squirting sex slave and tarp over the matress seemed funny at fist. But they sorta lost my gf’s interest when the said they had to beat the shit out of her and take her to a mental hospital. Because they cared. Fucking A. The story of the justified homicide did not help. 
 I knew there was no way this was going past the initial meeting between us. It was a shame. I was not sure if anything this person said was true. Pathological lying is hallmark of people with narcissistic traits. But Jack was broken in way that seemed very familiar to me. It could very well be that every story he told was crafted based on his perception of what he thought I might find interesting. It could also be that most if not all of what he said is a close approximation of reality. Chaos fills the lives of the people with traumas. Jack lived in another world at any rate.  
 We finally parted ways after two hours of Jack’s fantastic stories. Neither my girlfriend or I thought it wise to persue them but I harbor deep regrets. Jack being either human typhoon with bpd or a psychotic narcissist, makes no difference to me. The damage is the same. The sex is probably the best I will never know. I don’t even know why it would be so great. But I think it would. People say that it is. Who am I to gainsay them?
 I wanted to win a billion a dollars but instead I found a person that beyond any treasure that could compare. A person so beautifuly tortured that only I could see the true worth of. A person that would not bore me. A person that would probably murder me. A person whose emotional dis-regulation riviled my own I think. Probably eclipsing it. I am sure every day with Jack would be a whirlwind of passion and near death experiences. 
 I confess this Jack, should you ever read this and recognize me, I would have rocked your world like no fucking other. I would have made you cum with every hole I have. I would have fucked every hole of yours. I would have played every crazy mind game you set up for me. I would have made every pore of yours drip sweet and I would have drained your fucking balls. I would have fucked your body, destroyed your mind and raped your sole. You would have fragmented into a dozen or more pieces inside your mind and I would have fucked every one of them. You could have beaten me until my body was bruised and my will was broken. I could have broken you. It would have been fun. I would have saved you from god. You could have joined me with the devil. We could have found refuge in each other’s holes.
 Fuckit, I still have your number…
 

Parking meters and trampolines make me randy. I'm deathly afraid of January. I buy an apple, I throw it away. I hate apples! The only difference between me and Tom Hanks is our dick sizes. While mine is stunningly average, Tom has a dick bigger than Rhode Island. I secretly like apples, but lie about it when nervous. I'm not really sure how pencils work. I suspect it's a trick. My dad hates Canadian bacon. Everyone thinks I breathe oxygen, but they are sadly mistaken. When I throw up, I THROW UP! Donkeys make bad lifeguards. Not all dogs go to heaven. Some dogs burn in hell for their wicked ways. They are going to cancel the year 2015 and replace it with an updated 1893. I often forget to remove my wristwatch when I am fisting people. Diet Coke is not real. Neither is New Brunswick.

Life, the Universe & everything.

Quotes from Douglas Adams, one of the funniest guys that ever lived.

RIP 1952 - 2001.
So long, & thanks for all the books.

“In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.”

"A common mistake that people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools."

"Arthur hoped and prayed that there wasn't an afterlife. Then he realised there was a contradiction there and merely hoped that there wasn't an afterlife.”

“Bypasses are devices that allow some people to dash from point A to point B very fast while other people dash from point B to point A very fast. People living at point C, being a point directly in between, are often given to wonder what's so great about point A that so many people from point B are so keen to get there and what's so great about point B that so many people from point A are so keen to get there. They often wish that people would just once and for all work out where the hell they wanted to be.”

“For a moment, nothing happened. Then, after a second or so, nothing continued to happen.”

“God puts an apple tree in the middle of the Garden of Eden and says, do what you like guys, oh, but don't eat the apple. Surprise surprise, they eat it and he leaps out from behind a bush shouting "Gotcha." It wouldn't have made any difference if they hadn't eaten it... because if you're dealing with somebody who has the sort of mentality which likes leaving hats on the pavement with bricks under them you know perfectly well they won't give up. They'll get you in the end.”

“He shifted his weight from foot to foot, but it was equally uncomfortable on each.”

“Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so.”

“Humans are not proud of their ancestors, and rarely invite them round to dinner.”

“I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.”

“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be.”

“I'm spending a year dead for tax reasons.”

“If human beings don't keep exercising their lips, he thought, their mouths probably seize up. After a few months' consideration and observation he abandoned this theory in favour of a new one. If they don't keep on exercising their lips, he thought, their brains start working.”

“If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, we have at least to consider the possibility that we have a small aquatic bird of the family anatidae on our hands.”

“If somebody thinks they're a hedgehog, presumably you just give 'em a mirror and a few pictures of hedgehogs and tell them to sort it out for themselves.”

"INFINITE: Bigger than the biggest thing ever and then some. Much bigger than that, in fact, really amazingly immense, a totally stunning size, real "wow, that's big" time. Infinity is so big that by comparison, bigness itself looks really titchy. Gigantic multiplied by colossal multiplied by staggeringly huge is the sort of concept we're trying to get across here.”

“Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?”

“It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems just with potatoes.”

“It is a rare mind indeed that can render the hitherto non-existent blindingly obvious. The cry 'I could have thought of that' is a very popular and misleading one, for the fact is that they didn't, and a very significant and revealing fact it is too.”

“It is a well-known fact that those people who must want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it... anyone who is capable of getting themselves made p******** should on no account be allowed to do the job.”

“It is an important and popular fact that things are not always what they seem. For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much - the wheel, New York, wars and so on - whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man - for precisely the same reasons.”

“Life... is like a grapefruit. It's orange and squishy, and has a few pips in it, and some folks have half a one for breakfast.”

“Life is wasted on the living.”

“Many men of course became extremely rich, but this was perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed of because no one was really poor, at least no one worth speaking of.”

“Many words and expressions which only a matter of decades ago were considered so distastefully explicit that, were they merely to be breathed in public, the perpetrator would be shunned, barred from polite society, and in extreme cases shot through the lungs, are now thought to be very healthy and proper, and their use in everyday speech and writing is evidence of a well-adjusted, relaxed and totally unfucked-up personality.”

"Space is big. You just won't believe how vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down the road to the drug store, but that's just peanuts to space.”

“That young girl is one of the least benightedly unintelligent organic life forms it has been my profound lack of pleasure not to be able to avoid meeting.”

“The difficulty with this conversation is that it's very different from most of the ones I've had of late. Which, as I explained, have mostly been with trees.”

“The Guide is definitive. Reality is frequently inaccurate.”

“The History of every major Galactic Civilization tends to pass through three distinct and recognizable phase, those of Survival, Inquiry and Sophistication, otherwise known as the How, Why and Where phases. For instance, the first phase is characterized by the question How can we eat? the second by the question Why do we eat? and the third by the question Where shall we have lunch?”

“The impossible often has a kind of integrity which the merely improbable lacks.”

“The knack of flying is learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.”

“The major difference between a thing that might go wrong and a thing that cannot possibly go wrong is that when a thing that cannot possibly go wrong goes wrong it usually turns out to be impossible to get at and repair.”

“The mere thought hadn't even begun to speculate about the merest possibility of crossing my mind.”

“The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't.”

“There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened.”

“This planet has - or rather had - a problem, which was this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy.”

“Time is bunk.”

“Time, we know, is relative. You can travel light years through the stars and back, and if you do it at the speed of light then, when you return, you may have aged mere seconds while your twin brother or sister will have aged twenty, thirty, forty or however many years it is, depending on how far you traveled. This will come to you as a profound shock, particularly if you didn't know you had a twin brother or sister.”

“We demand rigidly defined areas of doubt and uncertainty!”

“We have normality. I repeat, we have normality. Anything you still can't cope with is therefore your own problem.”

“You live and learn. At any rate, you live.”

“A computer terminal is not some clunky old television with a typewriter in front of it. It is an interface where the mind and body can connect with the universe and move bits of it about.”

“It's no coincidence that in no known language does the phrase "As pretty as an airport" appear.”

“If on the other hand he went to pay his respects to The Door and it wasn't there...what then?

The answer, of course, was very simple. He had a whole board of circuits for dealing with exactly this problem, in fact this was the very heart of his function. He would continue to believe in it whatever the facts turned out to be, what else was the meaning of belief? The Door would still be there, even if the Door was not.”

"He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it."

“Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun. Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-eight million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea ...”

“Men were real men, women were real women, and small, furry creatures from Alpha Centauri were real small, furry creatures from Alpha Centauri. Spirits were brave, men boldly split infinitives that no man had split before. Thus was the Empire forged.”

“You know, it's at times like this when I'm trapped in a Vogon

airlock with a man from Betelgeuse and about to die of asphyxiation in

deep space that I really wish I'd listened to what my mother told me

when I was young!

Why, what did she tell you?

I don't know, I didn't listen!”

“...was there a reason behind it? There would be no point in asking... he never appeared to have a reason for anything he did at all: he had turned unfathomably into an art form. He attacked everything in life with a mixture of extraordinary genius and naive incompetence and it was often difficult to tell which was which.”

“Anything that happens, happens.

Anything that, in happening, causes something else to happen, causes something else to happen.

Anything that, in happening, causes itself to happen again, happens again.

It doesn’t necessarily do it in chronological order, though.”

“Ford, you're turning into a penguin. Stop it.”

“Who is this God person anyway?”

“On the way back, they sang a number of tuneful and reflective songs on the subjects of peace, justice, morality, culture, sport, family life, and the obliteration of all other life forms.”

“Well I think we've sorted all that out now. If you'd like to know, I can tell you that in your Universe you move freely in three dimensions that you call space. You move in a straight line in a fourth, which you call time, and stay rooted to one place in a fifth, which is the first fundamental of probability. After that it gets a bit complicated, and there's all sorts of stuff going on in dimensions 13 to 22 that you really wouldn't want to know about. All you really need to know for the moment is that the Universe is a lot more complicated then you might think.”

"`...You hadn't exactly gone out of your way to call attention to them had you? I mean like actually telling anyone or anything.'

`But the plans were on display...'

`On display? I eventually had to go down to the cellar to find them.'

`That's the display department.'

`With a torch.'

`Ah, well the lights had probably gone.'

`So had the stairs.'

`But look you found the notice didn't you?'

`Yes,' said Arthur, `yes I did. It was on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying "Beware of The Leopard".'"

"`Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.'

`Very deep,' said Arthur, `you should send that in to the "Reader's Digest". They've got a page for people like you.'"

"`This must be Thursday,' said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer, `I never could get the hang of Thursdays.'"

"Pages one and two [of Zaphod's p********ial speech] had been salvaged by a Damogran Frond Crested Eagle and had already become incorporated into an extraordinary new form of nest which the eagle had invented. It was constructed largely of papier mache and it was virtually impossible for a newly hatched baby eagle to break out of it. The Damogran Frond Crested Eagle had heard of the notion of survival of the species but wanted no truck with it."

“this is obviously some strange usage of the word "safe" that I wasn't previously aware of.”

"`You'd better be prepared for the jump into hyperspace. It's unpleasently like being drunk.'

`What's so unpleasent about being drunk?'

`You ask a glass of water.'"

"If there's anything more important than my ego around, I want it caught and shot now.'"

"There are of course many problems connected with life, of which some of the most popular are `Why are people born?' `Why do they die?' `Why do they spend so much of the intervening time wearing digital watches?'"

"The fronting for the eighty-yard long marble-topped bar had been made by stitching together nearly twenty thousand Antarean Mosaic Lizard skins, despite the fact that the twenty thousand lizards concerned had needed them to keep their insides in."

"`We've got to find out what people want from fire, how they relate to it, what sort of image it has for them.'

The crowd were tense. They were expecting something wonderful from Ford.

`Stick it up your nose,' he said.

`Which is precisely the sort of thing we need to know,' insisted the girl, `Do people want fire that can be fitted nasally?'"

“What to do if you find yourself stuck in a crack in the ground underneath a giant boulder you can't move, with no hope of rescue. Consider how lucky you are that life has been good to you so far. Alternatively, if life hasn't been good to you so far, which given your current circumstances seems more likely, consider how lucky you are that it won't be troubling you much longer.”

"Ford grabbed him by the lapels of his dressing gown and spoke to him as slowly and distinctly and patiently as if he were somebody from a telephone company accounts department."

“Arthur's consciousness approached his body as from a great distance, and reluctantly. It had had some bad times in there. Slowly, nervously, it entered and settled down into its accustomed position.”

"His eyes seemed to be popping out of his head. He wasn't certain if this was because they were trying to see more clearly, or if they simply wanted to leave at this point."

"There was a point to this story, but it has temporarily escaped the chronicler's mind."

"`You know they've reintroduced the death penalty for insurance company directors?'

`Really?' said Arthur. `No I didn't. For what offence?'

Trillian frowned. `What do you mean, offence?'

`I see.'"

"`She hit me on the head with the rock again.'

`I think I can confirm that that was my daughter.'

`Sweet kid.'

`You have to get to know her,' said Arthur.

`She eases up does she?'

`No,' said Arthur, `but you get a better sense of when to duck.'"

"The beak was a major piece of armoury. It was a beak that would frighten any animal on earth, even one that was already dead and in a tin."

"`Could we perhaps take a snake bite detector with us to Komodo?'

`Course you can, course you can. Take as many as you like. Won't do you a blind bit of good because they're only for Australian snakes.'

`So what do we do if we get bitten by something deadly, then?'

He blinked at me as if I was stupid.

`Well what do you think you do?' he said. `You die of course. That's what deadly means.'"

"Mark turned and asked a passenger behind us if these planes ever crashed. Oh yes, he was told, but not to worry - there hadn't been a serious crash now in months."

"Virtually everything we were told in Indonesia turned out not to be true, sometimes almost immediately. The only exception to this was when we were told that something would happen immediately, in which case it turned out not to be true over an extended period of time."

"Komodo dragons sleep headfirst in large burrows. It is a very, very, very bad idea to even think of pulling its tail."

“Plenty of people did not care for him much, but then there is a huge difference between disliking somebody -- maybe even disliking them a lot -- and actually shooting them, strangling them, dragging them through the fields and setting their house on fire. It was a difference which kept the vast majority of the population alive from day to day.”

“Nothing travels faster than the speed of light with the possible exception of bad news, which follows its own laws.”

“The idea that Bill Gates has appeared like a knight in shining armour to lead all customers out of a mire of technological chaos neatly ignores the fact that it was he who, by peddling second-rate technology, led them into it in the first place.”

“The big corporations are suddenly taking notice of the web, and their reactions have been slow. Even the computer industry failed to see the importance of the Internet, but that's not saying much. Let's face it, the computer industry failed to see that the century would end.”

“One of the problems of taking things apart and seeing how they work - supposing you're trying to find out how a cat works--you take that cat apart to see how it works, what you've got in your hands is a non-working cat. The cat wasn't a sort of clunky mechanism that was susceptible to our available tools of analysis.”

“For thousands more years the mighty ships tore across the empty wastes of space and finally dived screaming on to the first planet they came across - which happened to be the Earth - where due to a terrible miscalculation of scale the entire battle fleet was accidentally swallowed by a small dog.”

“The technology involved in making anything invisible is so infinitely complex that nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand million, nine hundred and ninety- nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety- nine times out of a billion it is much simpler and more effective just to take the thing away and do without it.”

“Since this Galaxy began, vast civilisations have risen and fallen, risen and fallen, risen and fallen so often that it's quite tempting to think that life in the Galaxy must be (a) something akin to seasick - space-sick, time sick, history sick or some such thing, and (b) stupid.”

“It wasn't his job to worry about that, though. It was his job to do his job, which was to do his job. If that led to a certain narrowness of vision and circularity of thought then it wasn't his job to worry about such things.”

“All you really need to know for the moment is that the universe is a lot more complicated than you might think, even if you start from a position of thinking it's pretty damn complicated in the first place.”

“Computer, if you don't open that exit hatch this moment I shall zap straight off to your major data banks and reprogram you with a very large axe.”

“I think all cats are wild cats. They just act tame if they think they'll get a saucer of milk out of it.”

“Look, would it save a lot of time if I just gave up and went mad now?”

“Now, either you all give yourselves up now and let us beat you up a bit, though not very much of course because we are firmly opposed to needless violence, or we blow up this entire planet and possibly one or two we noticed on our way out here!”

“Rome wasn't burned in a day.”

“The great thing about being the only species that makes a distinction between right and wrong is that we can make up the rules for ourselves as we go along.”

“The most misleading assumptions are the ones you don't even know you're making.”

“There is probably buried in the Western psyche a deep taboo about eating anything you've been introduced to socially.”

“Totally mad. Utter nonsense. But we'll do it because it's brilliant nonsense.”

“We are not an endangered species ourselves yet, but this is not for lack of trying.”

“Don't you understand that we need to be childish in order to understand? Only a child sees things with perfect clarity, because it hasn't developed all those filters, which prevent us from seeing things that we don't expect to see.”

“If you really want to understand something, the best way is to try and explain it to someone else. That forces you to sort it out in your own mind. And the more slow and dim-witted your pupil, the more you have to break things down into more and more simple ideas. And that's really the essence of programming. By the time you've sorted out a complicated idea into little steps that even a stupid machine can deal with, you've certainly learned something about it yourself. The teacher usually learns more than the pupil does.”

"Time is the worst place, so to speak, to get lost in..."

"...he was at least twice as unbalanced now, and quite liable to fall off whatever it is that well-balanced people are supposed to be balancing on."

"In his dreams he was walking late at night along the East Side, beside the river which had become so extravagantly polluted that new life forms were now emerging from it spontaneously, demanding welfare and voting rights"

"Busy executives often didn’t have time for a full-time wife and family and would just rent them for weekends."

"It was impossible for Arthur to know this, but he just went ahead and knew it anyway."

"I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I don't know the answer."

Well, I'm not the kind to kiss and tell, But I've been seen with Farrah!
I'm never seen with anything less than a nine. I will confess, I've been on fire with Sally Field,Gone fast with a girl named Bo, But somehow they just don't end up as mine. It's a death defyin' life I lead, I take my chances. I die for a livin' in the movies and TV. But the hardest thing I ever do is watch my leadin' ladies Kiss some other guy while I'm bandagin' my knee. I might fall from a tall building,
I might roll a brand new car.'Cause I'm the unknown stuntman that made Redford such a star. I never spend much time in school But I taught ladies plenty. It's true I hire my body out for pay, Hey Hey. I've gotten burned over Cheryl Tiegs, Blown up for Raquel Welch. But when I end up in the hay it's only hay, Hey Hey. I might jump an open drawbridge, Or Tarzan from a vine. 'Cause I'm the unknown stuntman that makes Eastwood look so fine. Sorry I had to tell someone!

I confess this is the funniest response to a confession I have ever read. This was a response to a guy saying he drugs his wife and bangs her with his friend.

"I was just a boy when the infidels came in their Blackhawk helicopters. The infidels fired at the oil fields and they lit up like the eyes of Allah. Burning oil rained down from the sky and cooked everything it touched. I could only hide myself and cry as my goats were consumed by the fiery black liquid death. In the midst of the chaos, I could swear that I heard my goats screaming for help. As quickly as they had come, the infidels were gone. It was on that day I put a jihad on them. And if you don't believe it, you'd better kill me now cause I'll put a jihad on you."

The Witch Trial of Grace - 1

With desperation, Grace sat in the dark dungeon. She closed her arns around her naked body, because she shivered, it was horrific cold. The heavy chains, which bounded both of her hands and feet and her neck to the hard wall, rattled loudly. How could this happen? 2 Days ago, she was a normal women without problems. But suddenly, she was kidnapped in the town, brought to the judge, which accused her of Witchcraft and sentenced her to die through being burned alive. Because she didn't confess, she was brought to the prison, forcefully stripped naked and chained here, in this dark, dirty, cold cell.
Grace layed her head on her legs and started sobbing loudly. She doesn't want to be tortured, neither she want to die. Being burned alive was the most horrible death someone could experience. All the women in town were afraid to be brought to the prison and being tortured as witch. You could often hear the Women here screaming in a Way, that you just could imagine in the darkest dreams, what was happening to this poor, helpless women. The next Time you see them, they are burned alive, in front of All the town. And once again, they screamed their Voice out of themselves. And now, Geace was not just a watched anymore. She was one of the screaming girls herself now. And nobody would help her. The city wanted to see her suffer and die.
Grace was a 24 year old Woman, red haired and very pretty. That made her fears even worse, because the young, pretty witches was extremely hard tormented. It was told in the city, they got raped, humiliated, much heavier tortured then older witches and more. Grace was in the worst situation, she could be. She had no Chance to survive and she would soon find out, what made the other witches screaming like that. Another wave of brutal desperation ocerwhelmed ger. How horrible it would be?