Tag Archives: sex

Thai Terminal


friends

Written previously, recently revised.

We welcomed each other first with high spirited voices talking into our cell phones and waving from across the street like lost little kindergarten classmates.  Then we greeted like sisters with tight long bear-hugs in the same way we always have because there are a few things in life that never change.  I could hear her wailing happiness beating from her gut than her chest and out into the public and onto my ear.  I smile in her hair with immediate joy but reserved the sound of my joyfulness.

Xyza is an undercover mentor, a maternal-like figure, full of flashes of hippie love, extraordinary kindness and massive angelic light that illuminates from her aura.  I’m also an undercover mentor, half in age, full of loyal compassion, extraordinary hospitality and thoughtfulness that leave the innocent light on in the darkness of which I grow.

In the center of this embrace I reflect over our countless meet-ups and how it never fails, my constant awkwardness in the hub of sharing love and how despite iself, I’m genuinely able to digest her white magic, even if it leaves me depleted afterward.  Xyza looks tenderly beautiful with her strawberry blonde shoulder-length bob.  I compliment her on the new length when she declared, “I had a vision of myself twenty years from now, me with long gray hair and a flower in it off to the side.”

I love the visions she shares with me.

We settle in a Thai restaurant not far from her parked car.  Upon sitting, the server asks, “Are you tourists?”  “No”, we replied.  Xyza turns my way inching up her nose until it crinkles with a question, “How come everyone thinks I’m a tourist?  I was born in New York, but live just outside the city.  I guess.. because I travel a great deal.”  I nod in agreement and chimed, “Your aura never has that grounded feel from being in one place too long.”

But, with me it’s totally different; I’m a New Yorker who’s considerably considerate whereas I allow people to hit me with their bags as I stand overt with an introverted atmosphere on the train or bus.  Unlike Xyza, my roots are established in New York and it’s on display when I talk about my suspicions concerning the worldview.  I may come across as myopic, but I consider myself to be purely grounded.

Thirty minutes of conversation and I’ve been following Xyza’s lead because she’s paying so I never lay a finger on the menu.  The server comes over to nudge us politely – then Thai Chive Pancakes, Vegetable Spring Rolls and a glorious Mango Salad along with unsweetened ice tea lands sweetly before our eyes.  I continued following Xyza’s lead and didn’t touch a single carrot slinky.  I sat glued in passivity to the tales of my friend.

*

I listen to her speak about her ex-husband and how she’s pretty sure a demon owns him.  I listen when she said she knows of two men who have transcended beyond the physical and how they both married wonderful women, but not perfect women.  (It made me wonder, what constitutes a perfect woman according to a sixty-year old woman.)  I listen on in when she said she doesn’t want to play the romantic game from a male’s physical perspective, nor does she have any desire to play the woman’s perspective which is to trap a man in a relationship.  Of course, I agree.  I believe life is too short to live conventionally.

When Xyza decides to come up for air, I volunteer my own discourse.

I speak about isolation from the world and if canceling my gym membership is the wrong thing to do because at least this is a place where I can maintain some social skills.  I speak about having elevated to a place where physical sex is no longer an obligation of mine, nor is it ever a want.   I speak about the tiny things that make me happy like being by the water, the vision of living in a beach house single with two pets:  A husky dog and a petite cat.  I speak about not understanding the point of being in a relationship with men when being the opposite gender I’ve yet to connect and remain on the same wavelength.  I always feel superior.

*

We understood each other the way women and friends frequently do and we continued to eat, sip, laugh and talk the summery night away.

-Pennington

Advertisements

Chewing Gum


chewing gum 2.

You know what’s to come. 
You hear war drums.
You heard about the hunter in me.
You know I’m butter toffee.
You heard I bruise egos.
You know I’m blacker than Negroes. 
You heard I have a million sins.
You know I don’t fix things.

You can’t stop yourself.
You like the pains and welts.
You know the sum of what’s to come.
You love my Puerto Rican in your rum.
You like the ecstasy and high I bring.
You enjoy how I leave you on brink.
You like the bountiful sex I give.
You love me so much to forgive.

You know exactly what’s to come.
You can hear the bass and thrums.
I can’t bring you safety baby.
I’m high, low, manic, crazy.
I’m not stupid to guard your heart.
I can’t even blueprint my art.
I can’t be like you:  Lost in love.
I’m dead inside – a little too tough.

You know shamelessly what’s to come.
Interestingly enough you’re off the cuff.
I’m going to hurt you like the others.
I’ll haunt like the suffering of mothers.
I’m going to give you a world of hurt.
I wouldn’t be able to without teamwork.
You heard of ruin and what’s to come.
Now you’re my next chewing gum.

-Pennington

Nymphomaniac


nymphomaniac_ver17_xlg

It’s wonderful, in my opinion, to see how much of myself I could relate to in the character of the film Nymphomaniac throughout both volumes, from growing up and taking charge of every decision, single-handedly based on her terms, her rebellious nature, her moments of aloofness, her philosophy of lust and her avoidance of love, her emotions being thrown like a whirlwind into the act of sex, her destructions of interpersonal relationships, her views on society and how humanity can be summed up in one word:  Hypocrisy.

So much of me, belong to this character and it astonishes me that a director has taken the time to put together the story of this woman who I look at as a heroine.  I never once pitied or judged her although she managed to critique herself harshly and understandably so.  But what I do take away from the film itself is, in society, I think people are given two choices.  The first is you could play the game based on the terms and conditions of society as long as you’re faking happy to keep the image of conformity intact.  Or the second:  You can be an outcast.

I think her struggles are very real and of course society doesn’t let up on the notions of how she should behave, for instance when one of her bosses demanded she get help for her sexual addiction.  Its constant questioning, steady debating on what’s right, what’s wrong and according to whom?  The beauty is in how she stands up for herself in her ball of strong integrity despite the gnawing loneliness she possesses or those in the path looking to disgrace her light whether done subtle or forwardly.

She fights for herself because to put it simply it’s about survival.

-Pennington

The Affair of Coworkers


9am

I go to work and perform repetitive duties.  All around me, for the most part, I see the matching dire attitude and hopeless behavior.  I see worn out characters attached to a status of a title and zombie-like conformity in their soulless eyes.  There is no beauty ladies and gentleman, there is no savior.

I see the same faces, and to some I cringe in an imaginary mode of arthritis and to some I overlook their presence like a Debbie-downer and others I welcome to the stage an infamous sun-beaming smile to deter blurs.  I preserve a high guard but play each and every card hard.

These scripted actors and actresses live outside their personal lives and live their personal lives with a past due account.  They’re miserable looking for a way out of their life debt with the company of tequila, marijuana and shameless sex with one another.  They’re all parasite routs.

I’m lost with how I became caught up in wearing nail polish because my female coworkers are in the midst of a competition I don’t fully comprehend.  I don’t make up well.  I rather hold on tightly to my personality than exist catty.  I guess it’s why I have nil lady friends.

I flirt with the crowd all day.  Young and old, fat or thin, dork or douche, I light the world of their features and make them red and forget the next word that was to come out their meek mouths.  And what confident woman doesn’t enjoy the feeling of being well-endowed?

Than when I turn my back there’s a callous jealous cunt waiting for the right moment to knock me off my pedestal.  But the odd thing is I know in return there’s this sickness unfathomable in her chemicals of wanting to lick away at my pussy.  I find all of this and more fairly amusing.

-Pennington©

The Universe, Sexual Thoughts, Rower and Motivation



Motivation comes in various forms. 

I’m going to share one of mine with you’s that happens during my free-for-all ovulation mode, which captures my salacious thoughts and uncanny desires. 

Before I go on I want to mention, you must at least be eighteen years of age or at the very least be of a responsible mind for the explicit material (if you consider them to be) you’re about to read.  Many who follow and read my blog already know I write exactly what’s on my mind or what life experience has brought to my attention and this is based on my biased perception of the world.  Without further ado, either click away or enjoy please. 

It was a semi-cloudy day off in the busy streets with the New York City breeze sliding its carefree attitude into my straight hair. I strolled to the gym visualizing exactly which two Cardio machines I’m going to split my time on although deep down inside I was low on Cardio inspiration.  Fast forward my barcode gets scanned and I thought to look pass the male receptionist where I saw the hunk of a Personal Trainer Rock who I’ve always had a mammoth crush on. 

Quickly he jumped out his seat both gentlemanly and nervous walking up to me tripping over his tongue with a heavy Spanish accent, “Hi, how are you doing?”  And in between his glowing pecan-rican complexion and sensational authentic smile the universe turned on the engine in the middle of my sex chakra.  

I thought almost out loud and caught myself with the words, he needs to stop teasing me with his flirtatiousness as I’m going to drop my clothes and have sex with him in front of all the gym members so they can take a lesson or two in sex fitness.

All of a sudden the motivation I was lacking was found.  The sexual charge became the intense fuel I needed for the Rower and Stationary Bike.  But mind you, I never made it to the Bike.  I happily stood on the Rower machine for over forty minutes with heart-pounding cardio sex electrifying my head.  

I closed my eyes and rolled them back slowly and listened to the sensuality of SadeShow me how deep love can be.  The instruments within the song seeped into my aspiring soul and I clenched onto the plastic bar pulling towards the bottom of my bulging breasts as I deeply fantasized on exerting force to match his muscular hard pecs. 

We’d embrace like titanic lovers and swallow the glands of one another.  Our skin would vomit sweat and we’d slip and slide in multiple active positions.  The grinding would complete mine into synergy.  During this time I called out to the universe and all its frequencies for Personal Trainer Rock to sense the lovemaking creation I was embarking. 

I tensed my entire body in a collective kegel and chanted:  I want him to feel me.  I want him to feel me. I want him to feel me buck from incomprehensible pleasure.  I want him to feel me right on his cock, exploding, shivering, and full of moisture, rhythm and reason. I want him to fuck out all the cum I have in this body of mine, in which he would ask me if this was indeed the kind of training I needed.    

Time was up said all the energy I gave to the Rower. The back of my neck was slapped with an ounce of rower sex sweat and my calluses formed into blood moon pearls of irritation, perspiring like bubbling fire and like cold sores no matter what season of the year.  I shook off my lustful anger with the inhalations and exhalations of cardio sex I entertained and when I turned around, guess who has been watching me sitting out and chilling on the massage table smiling? 

Him.

The universe is good and motivation comes in different forms.  Get some! 😉

-Pennington

Ardor


So I thought about you pressing me into the wall within the elevator metal ribs disregarding the camera spying from the top corner.  So I thought about the electricity conspiring against us because every woman wants you and every man desires me. And I could see our breaths suspend right between our spicy mouths before we come crashing into ecstasy of troubled ferocious passion.

So I thought about smiling drowning and happily suffocating under the mountains of your mesmerizing muscle-bellies.  So I thought about your penis and its girth a baseball bat and hung like a horse with veins the size of the snakes you have imprinted on your forearms and my vagina being pushed in out slow motion shamelessly promoting sexual commotion.

-Pennington©

There’s A Saying: Actions Speak Louder Than Words


A Jenga tower falling down
Image via Wikipedia

Now I hate listening to this expression no matter who’s fucking mouth it comes out of.  Mostly because I’m the kind of person who tends to thrive on what a person’s saying (whether that’s a female trait or not doesn’t really fucking matter) and thrives even more on what a person doesn’t say.  Want to find out about a person?  It’s simple!  Ask questions and allow them to answer with no interruptions on your part.  Most people who live in the center of society’s sex will speak mostly and generally on how they’d like to be perceived.  Some people will reveal a lot, except that most of the things they revealed are as trivial as a handshake.  In relationships, the words that are often never said are the ones people SHOULD notice.  If notice too late, then, what do you think would happen?  All the Jenga pieces fall apart.  Then, who laugh lasts?  Now when it comes to certain instances, circumstances or the simple creatures of the world like: Men.  Well, I must say that actions indefinitely speaks louder than words.

Some of you may know, I have a non-exclusive partner who I’ve been with for 8 years now.  Some things never change until one manages to be infected by an enormous amount of sickness.  This will ensure at some point, when the migraines become unbearable that you’ll break away from the disease of a person, place, situation or thing.  These actions, speak all so loudly in the words:  Lies and Bullshit!  I fail to understand why people would even dare to choose one or the other with me.  You cannot lie or bullshit to the folks who hold a fierce amount of wisdom coupled with a dangerous sixth sense ability like a God.

For Pete’s Sake I have dreams of other people’s dark secrets when I sleep.  They’re dying to come out, but you know how people are always hiding from themselves.  I can only imagine this is where all the lies and bullshit stems from.  People are scared of judges and coming out of their house of denial.  And this would be why I respect few in this department.  I will accept you as soon as you hold no shame and realize that the other expression: Honesty is the best policy is the most vital in this fucked up world.  So moving on..

A subject where Actions Speaks Louder Than Words comes down to the most insignificant hobby anyone can get into:  Masturbating.  Some of you may know where I stand when it comes to Masturbating.  Some don’t. Now if a person has an issue with being intimate with a person due to the fact that they have been molested/raped, then this is an exception for them!  However, on the other hand, I do not like it!  Some of the reasons why I do not like it and may seem extreme are:  It builds greed, lust, develops prostate cancer, it becomes hard for folks to figure out what is fact from fiction, gives a sense of urgency equipped with a hunger for frequency on the NEED to cum, furthers the implications of premature ejaculation and devalues your state of mental, spiritual, sexual and physical being (including your partner).

My partner is fully aware of my belief systems when it comes to Masturbating.  We engaged in numerous conversations about the dilemmas I find with them.  My partner claims he masturbates 2-3 times in a 7-day period.  It may not seem like much to the folks who masturbate numerous times a day over the course of seven days.  But IT IS!  Especially when my partner comes down to visit me for another 2-3 x in a week and expects me to make him cum as well.  I say make because I’m not a dumb bitch!  (And regardless of what the fuck he says, “You don’t need to make him cum.”  He’s fucking trying to feed me the bullshit!  And in this case, actions speak..well… you know the rest.)

This would mean he’ll cum at least 2-3 times by himself at home 9possibly more?) AND 2-3 times by me.  Do the fucking Math!  That’s a volcano of white eruption.  AND one I do not admire.  Jesus I don’t even cum this much in a week, regardless of how badly my vagina desires cock or (my favorite!) getting licked!  Cumming this much isn’t only selfish, but this ensures that the frequency of his testicles get emptied out as soon as they desire to tighten their hands on the horror of his soul and lack of self-control to begin with.

Meanwhile he tries to reassure me that I’m not his cumbucket.  And to make a deal with me, he would stop masturbating over at his house if I help to make him cum once a week.  And once again, in this case Actions Speak Louder Than What?  Indeed!  So, why try and bullshit me?  Why lie?  Why act as if cumming isn’t your world when the Deal is saying another story?  Why must cumming be an important factor in anybody’s life?  Why must I, even a little, assist in making him or any other fucking guy in the world cum?  I don’t feel bad for any man who masturbates and never will.  He’s getting off.  He’s performing according to the standards of what he and his penis likes.. and as for me, I can have the leisure of Chatting, Reading a book, Training, Tweeting or Blogging.

But really, if being honest hurts, know that your actions will do all the talking for you.

Pennington

From Desire To Despair


I hate the way your dick grows and desires attention.
I hate how your dick points directly at me for free.
I hate how you say sex is an expression and a form of affection.
I hate the falsity of Science and how you hold on to Biology.
I hate when your cock reaches it’s girth with funky green veins.
I hate how it owns no special hood or petals like my pussy.
I hate when you don’t cum and for a second, I’m the one to blame.
I hate even remotely bargaining for you to not masturbate.
I hate feeling like your cumbucket, no matter how many times

I’ve came.

Pennington

Truth Foreplay


I get tired of having the same conversation and knowing I’m not going to get anywhere by showing, demonstrating, pinpointing, stating, referring, linking and whatever have you to this word called:  Foreplay.  It’s pretty basic stuff.  All one has to do is keep keen and consider all notions and stylize them into brilliant state of the art masterpieces.  Sounds difficult already, doesn’t it?

The only thing making it difficult are the men who choose to live and listen to what other men have to say about foreplay.  HELL, most women are still trying to figure out what foreplay is because they never received it in the first place.  *Questions:  Where’s my imaginary gun?*  *shoots brains*  To give it to you straighter than a Grey Goose Label:  Foreplay isn’t something you do to get sex.  Foreplay isn’t a manual or God‘s blueprint to get vagina.  Foreplay isn’t a guarantee or a free pass to getting any creampies.  Foreplay has nothing to do with sex!  PERIOD!  I don’t care what you agreed to when you were younger.

Foreplay is something only real men partake in, to make sure they’re ahead of the enterprise at all times.  Foreplay’s about being a magician and knowing when and how to wield the magic wand so that everyone is satisfied with the game called Life.  Foreplay’s marketing.  Foreplay’s status.  Foreplay shall always be funky fresh and innovative.  Why?  Because this allows the wages to be place high due to your hard work, million gifted and honed abilities!  Those skills first being:  Time, Effort, Dedication, Discipline, Art, Seduction, Wisdom, Experience and by far.. Intuition.. all rolled into one has brought nothing but your best foot forward, your finer character and confidence forward.  That’s foreplay.

Many men lack foreplay because:  1.  They aren’t confident (and if I were a man it would be hard to be confident. ;))  2. They believe foreplay involves getting sex.  3.  The lack of dedication to studying women as a whole is lacking.

And there are no excuses except that most men would rather watch hours of television (that by the way gives you billions upon billions of wrong way and impressions to go about foreplay just so the system can benefit from humans and their emotional turmoils), play hours of video games and prefer studying the plays on the next Football game.  (Oh, this sounds a lot like men just want to play and not put in any effort?  😉 )  So rather then men take the time to study the know how’s and efficient approaches to getting what they ultimately desire:  A woman.

So many men around the world would rather be comfortable and not shed any ridicule, rejection, embarrassment or humiliate themselves in front of THEMSELVES!  Instead they rather be comfortable in their comfort, under their parents comfort abode, watch comfort porn and have comfort sex with their comfort hand. Hey, listen, don’t bitch, complain and whine to me about why you’re so lonely and will be alone for the rest of your life.  I mean, you gave all that shit up for Comfort.  What else could be wrong? 😉

Pennington

Burst A Bubble: It’s All In The Acting!



Ever been with a woman, who of course, was appealing to your eyes, her skin smooth as satin, her lips smooth as nothing you ever felt, her voice intoxicating as if  the word sex took on it’s own meaning and created a voice ever so true, her hands succulent because they’re gliding on all the naughty parts of which you deliver..

You’re wondering why, “Oh My God this feels INCREDIBLE” and “I’ve never felt this way before the way my sperm shoots like rockets onto the space of the enchanted bed board” and “Oh my I would marry this lady if only she allowed me to.”  So you penetrate her like you were churning the last butter of the world for the millions starving with crystal flooding eyes.  You eat her body like a succubus eats the men of pounding flesh.

And well, none of you men realize what the fuck is happening?

And this is why you have a Real Woman like me Pennington that’s at your service to bring you the truth about shit.  To burst your fantasies, to burst your disillusioned thinking.  Besides the obvious of what’s actually happening like “Wow this is the first time I’ve ever had sex” and “Oh this is the first time I’ve slept with a really hot and amazing bodied lady” and “Finally this is the alcohol everyone was talking about that allowed this chick to slip her panties off!”

Something any man can look over, since most men look themselves over to begin with is..

We women know what men want.  Not because we’re born with a built-in system to understand how simple, or bet yet, how brainless most of them are to begin with.  But because there’s PORN everywhere.  Soft porn on a teenager’s show like Gossip Girl.  Cable porn where the gals are constantly dancing, whipping their hair like they have lice and biting their lips as if they’re hungry for real food!  Not to mention hardcore porn.  Seems like everyone is into abusing the opposite sex nowadays.

But if there’s one thing I picked up off every single porn I find on Billboards in Times Square and on advertisements in the Train Stations.. it’s that I should be taking lessons from the whores who play whores.  They are whores because they act out men’s fantasies.  And what better way then to take lessons from a man who pays and directs them to act in such a poisonous way.

The best sex you’re having with that hot female is all a fucking act!

I know this for a fact because ONE this is what they do in all porn, movies, sitcoms and the like.  And TWO whenever I tested this phenomenon for example:  Throwing my back into the most arch-raising performance it seems my partner is in a frenzy, completely believing I’m absolutely addicted to his touch.  The times when I moan extra or louder, or in a teenage squeak he pumps better then if I moaned under wraps.

Everything is about creating sex as exaggerated as fucking possible.
This will guarantee you a better sex life instantly.

Pennington