Tarrou: It comes to this, what interests me is learning how to become a saint.

Rieux: But you don’t believe in God.

Tarrou: Exactly! Can one be a saint without God?

via lets tumble our way through an existential crisis (The Plague).

…I propose that unless and until gay marriage is a nationwide reality, we make Thanksgiving as uncomfortable as possible. It may be the only way we can personalize the pain of injustice for those who make the mistake of thinking gay marriage is someone else’s concern.

We’ve been singled out as “others”– outcasts of the mainstream. This is why we’ve been denied the right to marry, so while we’re being marginalized, let’s give ‘em what they want until they beg us to stop.

Some handy tips for the ladies:

• Don’t bother hiding your tattoos anymore, particularly the nice big, butchy ones on the biceps and deltoids. They carry a message of strength and defiance. They say “I’m an angry feminist!” Unless they happen to be in the image of the face of Stevie Nicks.
• If you’re a vegetarian, stop discretely filling your plate with the side dishes and choking back your disgust at the carnage going on right in front of you. That turkey smells like death, dammit! Pipe up and say so!

Read the rest of the post here: A Modest Gay Marriage Proposal « The Gaytheist Gospel Hour.

Although I hadn’t seen her for months, when I did she was naked and surrounded by people intent on giving her pleasure. She said yes when I begged to fist her, so after a few minutes spent rearranging participants and fetching supplies I was in place between her legs. No sooner than I had slid my fist into her (scalding and slippery and crushingly strong) than another of her friends bounced onto the bed with an ecstatic greeting. “Can I help?” she asked; permission secured she ran the Hitachi while I focused on not letting my friend push me out with every climactic wave.

Jammed onto the bed as we were (and surrounded by men ever-hopeful of some impromptu cock-sucking) I found myself nose-to-hip with the kind of porn-ready body uncommon in our pervy group. While most of us are older (and, erm, wider) than your average adult actress, this woman’s tattooed body would not be out of place on any set.

She was a writher; she wiggled and twisted in an effort to please our friend while at the same time keeping her pussy open to the ministrations of a pair of men working their fingers over her. It was Live Porn performed so close that I could smell both her and the woman whose vagina I was penetrating, and when she writhed closer to me I had a perfect view of her smooth, flat lower belly.

Except it wasn’t quite as smooth as I’d have from a distance guessed. Up close I could see the delicate puckers and silvery streaks of flesh stretched out by the child I knew she’d borne some three years ago. In a different setting some might have found the striae distasteful or even ugly, but at that moment I could not imagine a more delicate, tenderly beautiful expanse of flesh.

Later I found myself across the room from two friends going at it hammer and tongs. After several position changes they ended up in doggie-style, which afforded me a view of his face as he stroked into my friend. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Porn, I realized, shows an appalling lack of attention to the expressions of its male performers, and I took full advantage of the opportunity to watch as his face squeezed and he yelled in pleasure.

Near midnight, five of us wound up in the shower, some for the second time that evening. We weren’t especially dirty; instead the shower was so awesome we couldn’t stay out. Big enough for twice as many people as we gathered, it featured a wall of full-body sprays, a rain shower head and so much steam my knees went wobbly. “Stand here,” we motioned to one woman, new to the naked group shower thing. “It feels amazing on the back.” We maneuvered her around and cranked the setting to its highest power. From a position directly opposite her I watched an expression of uncensored pleasure grow on her face.

How often do we get to observe this kind of intimate pleasure and joy on others beside our partners? Watching it all, I realized how much I’d missed going to events such as this. Do I go for the sex? Sure. But it’s so much more than just the sex.

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via Flickr Photo Download: 1960

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This is a post from AlwaysArousedGirl. If you are reading it anywhere but in a feed reader or email, it has been scraped without my permission. Please email (aagblog *at* gmail) and let me know.
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