Welcome to my darkness. If you've come to condemn or are offended by the insanity at this blog then GO AWAY! Your God doesn't live here!
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8/18/06

Beautiful

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My pussy loves Emily very much. They even share the same favorite song. It's called "Beautiful," (313kb, mp3 file, Right click, save target as... http://geocities.yahoo.com.br/raaage_more/Beautiful_.mp3 ) Yesterday I walked into the bedroom and there lay the two of them, snuggled up together, with Emily singing the song to him as it played in the background and he just purring away in her arms.
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I stood there and watched till Emily saw me and smiled her sweet little smile, then held her arms out for me to join them. I walked to the foot of the bed and slowly started to crawl up to her face, the evil intentions betrayed by my eyes and slight smile. My pussy took the hint, made a snarfing sound, then got up and walked away. (My other pussy took the hint, too.;p) The song played over and over while we made love.

This was after a very LONG and boring visit to the doctor. Emily hasn't been feeling well these last few weeks and lately she's felt like crap. So she and I spent the day at our doctor's office along with a visit to Blessing Hospital so they could take some blood samples.
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Lora, working at the community center across the street from our house, must have called a dozen times. She's such a worry-wart! She came home right after while Emily and I were in the shower and, after making the comment, "GOD! You guys fuck all the time!," joined us. Small shower, but that just made it all the better.
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It's late now. Night has fallen and we're all sitting on the porch. I'm on Emily's laptop. Lora is reading and Emily has the headphones on listening to "Beautiful" play over and over again. I imagine that she's reliving our love making in her mind. The Nighthawks and bats are swooping around the streetlights catching insects. Right now it seems as if time has no meaning and moments like these are the ones I never want to end.
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But they always do.

Emily just got up and said that she wants to run so she and Lora are running around the community. Emily has this thing, see, where whenever she's feeling INTENSE she likes to run. After we got home from that HORRID visit with her parents she ran lots.

"Just run," she says, "and everything starts to make sense."

My athletic sweety Lora will run with her whenever she's home. Me...Lora and I tried jogging in the mornings when we first moved in here. The first day I got as far as the main road to town then turned around and walked home. The third day Lora said it was no fun jogging alone so she quit, too.

I like the alone time, anyways. Sitting here in the dark with no sounds except the insects screaming in the trees and chirping in the grass, along with the occasional howl in the distance.

Tho now that I think about it, those two will probably run a couple miles, get all HOT and SWEATY, collapse on the ground...and I'll let your imagination take care of the rest.

I shoulda went with them. :(
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AAARGH! Fuckin', STINKIN', sweaty lesbians!

Drifting now. Better come back to the keyboard lest I get carried away and go upstairs to give my pussy a massage. That one purrs sometimes, too.
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p.s. I've also just recently discovered...THE SIMS!
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Things are going badly for my widdle peeps.

~Sara<3

EE has been updated.
http://sdpresentsee.blogspot.com/


We Are Very Small...
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Tho some things in the heavens shine brighter...
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...and brighter...
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...and the brightest of them all.<3<3<3
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http://unsterile.blogspot.com/
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The RAVEN
by Edgar Allan Poe (No relation.)
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Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore--
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door--
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"--here I opened wide the door--
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore--
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--
'Tis the wind and nothing more.

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he,
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door--
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door--
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then the ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore--
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning--little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door--
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour
Nothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered--
Till I scarcely more than muttered: "Other friends have flown before--
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore--
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never--nevermore.'"

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore--
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!--
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore--
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!--quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted--nevermore!

8 Comments:

Blogger DungeonMasterJim said...

Ya know, I could fit a couple of lesbians into the comic if you want to write...meh. Better not. :P

Have you done your school shopping yet? :p

Also, I haven't forgotten about the gif's you made for me. I refouced on the original comic redoing digital files because I've been in contact with a fellow that might try to sell it overseas. This same guy sells The gift overseas.

And I would like to see more blog entries. Or I might just complain about it on mine. :P

7:00 AM  
Blogger Angelle said...

Awww, thank you! This blog is really sweet on many different levels. I hope Emily will be all right. She seems so nice.

P.S. I love how Edgar Allen Poe is such an intense writer.

Love,
Angelle

12:28 PM  
Blogger Jon_dye said...

I'm glad one of us is in a good place.

bah.

Just bah.

8:33 PM  
Blogger kubiak said...

When things get intense for me I tend to walk a lot and pace around driving everyone around me slowly insane. It's an annoying thing, but it helps me not go crazy (crazier, maybe). It also doesn't help that I'm averaging about 3 hours of sleep per night lately. Some nights I get 5 or 6, other nights I've gotten none at all. And I've tried. I even took NyQuil one night, it got me 4 hours.

I seem to have gotten off on a tangent here.

Good to see another update, Sara! Sorry about the mystery e-mail yesterday. I can't believe I sent that to the wrong Sara.

And she actually is my type, btw. ;) (She's just not mine, unfortunately.)

12:15 AM  
Blogger TiaxMarie said...

Sara, I sent you an email. I had something to tell you, and didn't want to make it public. I miss you.. =(

9:37 PM  
Blogger Kent said...

Yes, it is I. Your Cap'n is aboard.

I just got in from a weekend having a table at a crappy con. We got stuck in a room noone knew about and I barely sold anything. Though everyone certainly loved the Super Pope shirts.

Why is it your life always seems more exciting than mine even when you stay home so much? *laugh*

I am excited, though. I'll be heading out to California to see my girlfriend in two weeks. (Who I don't think I've actually told you about before.) I've been running lately in an attempt to not be totally dumpy for my trip and I actually enjoy it. I didn't realize how much I missed it after being in track all through high school. I just don't have much time for it. Ah, the annoyances of work intruding on my life. If only I'd been born rich instead of so damn good-lookin'.

-Kent

10:42 PM  
Blogger Sara's Stuff! said...

Jim; You know me. I barely have time to write blogstuff. At least right now.

Angelle; Sorry about the short email last night. I was tired. Tonight's will be longer.

Jon; Info on your blog? I'll check as soon as I'm done here. Our friend Edgar seems to have disappeared. :(

Kubiak; I haven't been sleeping much either lately. S'okay about the email. Odd how it went to me by mistake, tho.

Tia!!! My sweety! Where did you send it? It didn't go to my gmail. Hotmail, maybe? That's my private email and I'm sure you have the addy. I'll check my junk box to see.

Kent; No, keep the sexy good looks. Money sux. ^_^

Agric;...oh, wait. Agric doesn't post here anymore. :(

~Sara<3

10:34 PM  
Blogger Jon_dye said...

nah, I was just feeling blah the other day

Ignore it if you want

and where is Moonie?

10:44 PM  

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