Today I saw three good niggers laid out in their coffins down at out local nigger funeral home. It was a beautiful sight to see.

I need help starting up a really old desktop pc from about 10 years ago to retrieve the pics I have of this girl I used to fuck. Damn PC has been in a box in my closet for so long it doesn't seem to start up anymore. Plug everything in and the pc fan is going crazy and then eventually shuts off on its own. Repeats that pattern.

Yesterday I had an extended family gathering. First time we had one since covid. Turns out one of my first cousins who I don't speak with has been dating this girl I used to treat like a fuck toy 10 years ago. My cousin and me were never close. We don't have the same last name. We don't look alike. One of those 'see each other at weddings and funerals' type of cousin. Anyway he's serious with this girl. They've been together a while from what I was told.

When she saw me she remembered me and made a comment about how we used to have classes together in college. I pretended I didn't remember. My uncle made a comment about how "it could have been me with her and not his son".

I haven't been able to stop thinking of us fucking and how she told me I was the first to fuck her ass. Don't really care if it's true or not but now I can't find the pics because my old pc won't start and all I want to do is stroke my cock to this fuck slut who swallowed so many of my loads with a smile on her face.

It sounds bad but I went to my dad's friend's funeral today and all I can think about is his 45yo daughter who is hot and despite being in tears was turning me on. She even kept hugging me for comfort but all I could think about was how much I wanted her on my dick. Ever since, that's all I can think about. I'm sure she's a slut but I'm married and so is she. Plus she is significantly older than me. I'm sure nothing would ever happen but man I can't stop thinking about fucking her. I'm really bad.

Went to a funeral this afternoon. I guess I should have passed on lunch at a Mexican resturant because once at the funeral home I started to get gas. I was really trying to keep it in but then my wife tells me we need to go up to the coffin and pay our last respects.

We were standing there and I lost it and let out a really long SBD. It must have lasted 15 seconds. Thankfully we left before my wife could smell it but you could see when others walked up to the coffin how they could smell it. My guess is they must have figured it was the dead person who was stinking up the place. I even heard later at the reception someone commenting about why the body smelled.

LOL my bad!

I confess that last year i gave my younger brother a blowjob. My sexual history is kind of complicated and if you knew all the details it might sound more believable but i swear it really did happen. His best friend was killed and he was the most depressed boy id ever seen. After the funeral i was just sitting with him in his room and i wanted to seem him smile even for a second. I did the only thing that i hadnt tried already... I touched his crotch. He grew under my palm so i unzipped his dress pants and pulled out his erection. His chin was hanging open in shock when i lowered my mouth to him. I barely got my lips halfway down before he grabbed my hair and came in my mouth. He gasped so loudly as i swallowed his cum. His smile came when he realized i was going to stay down there until he was hard and cumming for a second time.

i wish i cried at my wife's funeral, if only to assure me i'm not a terrible person.

Hey Guys and Gals,go here. Find out when the big one is coming and post if you believe it or not, and the date. We can keep track and hey make sure the have a "all you can eat" at your funeral!

http://www.deathclock.com/

Motherless funeral speech: She was a good bitch, loyal talky and and not afraid of showing her dark side. Then she threw away her identity, half sanitized everything about herself, and lost all her children who did not talk to her anymore. She started a bizarre hatred of black people, zoophiles, teens in bikinis, half the written English language, and Gay's but not Transvestites, cause that's not Gay. She also started a torrent love affair with Crush fetish's, people being murdered, people craping in each others mouths k*id's being hacked up, but remember don't say the word D*OG cause that's bad. In the end Motherless got mixed up in sniffing the ass of DEWEZ which caused a complete breakdown of sanity. RIP

For my protection and my friend this is a fantasy story. it is up to you to decide if it is true or not. but i am not saying that it is. This did not really happen. But, if it did, I would be confessing something that has haunted me for 2 years. My wife of 10 years died of an aneurism suddenly while she was at work. She was an executive assistant for a large company in San Francisco. We had no children. A friend of hers called me in tears before the police arrived at my place of business, which I will not identify. Oddly, I was composed while being told on the phone, kind of. I kept repeating "what?, what?" as if I didn't understand what she was saying. Her crying and sobbing made it clear this wasn't a bad joke. But, I just kept saying "what?" "what?", getting a bit loud at the end. None of my coworkers noticed my demeanor given the nature of our work. My reaction could have been consistent with a normal business call. I cannot explain. I don't remember hanging up the phone. I was sitting there with my mind spinning. trying to make sense of the phone call. I was in complete denial. After a few minutes, I started playing solitaire on my laptop. crazy, i know. but, i didn't know what to do. somehow, the game actually distracted me and I managed to put the phone call behind me. I was strangely at some kind of weird peace. But then I fainted when I saw 2 uniformed police officers standing at the end of the hallway asking a coworker which one was me. When she pointed at me, I suddenly blacked out from shock. They revived me shortly. I did not injure myself in the fall. The older female officer asked me to confirm my name, and then told me what I already knew. I got sick. I threw up until I was dry heaving. I could not believe it. I became hysterical and had to be escorted out by the officers. I didn't really think about it until we arrived at the hospital that they were taking me to identify her body. I panicked. But, a doctor gave me something, I presume a sedative shot. It calmed me down real quick. When they lifted the covering to show her face, i was calm. probably from the drugs. i said, yes that is my wife. next thing I knew I was home. The county medical examiner conducted a pretty quick autopsy to determine the aneurism. I thought those things took longer than that, but I guess they had a good idea what it was and scanned her brain to confirm it.

Her mom took care of the phone calls and funeral arrangements as I was in complete despair. Something that no one knew is that my wife and I were getting a divorce. We had not seen a lawyer or told anyone, yet. She asked for it. That also devastated me. I am an average looking guy, but she was practically a model. She was a cheerleader in high school and college. she was 5 ft 3 in., 120 lbs. light brown hair with hazel eyes. Now she was dead at the age of 33. We had not had sex in 5 years, despite my best efforts. She eventually told me that she had no interest in sex. I did not suspect she was having an affair. I knew her better than that. She knew it was hurting me, so we went to a few specialists and she was diagnosed with hypoactive sexual desire disorder. I did some research and now believe that it could be related to the aneurism that eventually killed her. She was going to file for divorce so that I could find someone who could fulfill my needs. I did not want it but she was very adamant.

A older man I met at church about 3 or so years before this tragedy, ended up being the guy who would be her embalmer at the funeral home. He came to my home to tell me and ask if I wanted him to get someone else, someone I didn't know, to do this THING to my wife. I told him no. it was his job and I trusted him. He kept offering to ask for another embalmer, but I assured him i was fine with it. He was very kind and gentle. He offered his condolences with a tear or two to match my own as he headed for the door. Before I shut the door, he turns abruptly, as if he had forgot something, and asked me if I wanted to see her that night. The transfer to the funeral home from the hospital had already been made. She was in a refrigerated unit at the funeral home. He was going to start the embalming process in the morning once all the paperwork had been filed. I don't know why exactly, but I said yes. I followed him to the home. it was late, probably 11 pm, maybe later. He told me that he was not supposed to do this, so please not to let anyone know. I assured him I would not.

I was expecting stainless steel drawers with handles, like you see in the movies and tv shows, but it was a decent size room that was refrigerated. inside, were three gurneys with people who had died that day. One was my wife, another was a 70+ year old man who had died of a massive heart attack earlier that day while having lunch with his wife. He was a large man, maybe 6 ft 2, 270 or 290, i don't know maybe 300. big guy. the covered body on the third gurney was shaped very similar to my wife. He told me it was a girl who was a passenger in a car with another girl who crashed while texting and driving. the driver lived. This girl, was not wearing her seatbelt. she was thrown fro the vehicle and broke her neck. died instantly. He couldn't keep talking about it. for some reason, the young girls death chokes him up and effects him more than even my wifes. I assume it was because she was so young. a mere teen. He starts to say something, but stops.

So, he's quite emotional after this day and says I can stay as long as I like, until he comes back to get me or I came looking for him, whichever happened first. He was going into the chapel area to nap on one of the benches.

he left me alone with three dead bodies in a cold room. I stood there for what seemed like several minutes before I approached my wifes body. I pulled back the covering. There she was, as I had seen her before. I stared at her still made up face from work. They hadn't had a chance to clean her up for embalming yet. She was very white, kinda bluish. But, still just as attractive as the girl I fell in love with in college.

I guess it was an impulse. without even looking around to make sure no one was watching, I pulled the covering down to expose her breasts. I don't know how its supposed to work, post morten, but her nipples, which I hadn't seen in 5 years, were very erect. Her breasts are not very big. She is a small b cup, but still very perky for her age. NOW, I looked around and even went to the chapel to see if my friend was awake. He was snoring loudly.

I suddenly, with a very confusing mix of guilt and excitement, started getting hard. I hurried back to the cold room. I realized I had left the covering half off while I checked on my friend. I didn't bring a jacket, so I was pretty chilly, but my blood starting flowing and suddenly I began to warm up. I pulled my phone from my pocket. i was going to take some nudies of my dead wife. at that point, my cock had taken over and I didn't care how messed up any of this was.

so, with a shudder, I pulled the covering all the way off to the floor. I was in shock. I was expecting a bush, considering she had no interest in sex, but there she was... with the thinnest most perfectly trimmed landing strip I had ever seen on her. I was naturally confused, but didn't waste time wondering "why" she did it, or possibly "for whom" she was doing it. I started snapping photos and got very excited.

that's when things got out of hand. I was so turned on, I wanted to see her pussy. on the table, her cold outer labia was flesh colored and closed. I spread the covering on the ground and picked her up to put her on the floor.

rigor mortis is unsettling to say the least. while her legs and arms did bend down under the weight of gravity, her left leg and left arm seemed to stay more stiff. even her head didn't fall back like I would have expected.

i got her to the floor. and had a difficult time getting her legs to come apart. I finally figured to massage the legs to make them more pliable. eventually, she lay on the cold floor, naked, legs spread showing her perfect and tight pussy. and she was dead.

i didn't stop to think. i kept taking pictures and then realized... i realized the obvious. it was cold, but I got my pants down to my knees and knelt to the floor.

I don't believe in god like most people. i believe in a higher power but don't think he pays any attention to us. i hope I am right. i put my cock against her freezing cold pussy. rigor mortis, no moisture in her pussy, no lubricant. i was screwed.

i had gone this far. i wasn't going to be denied the pussy that was legally mine, at least while she was alive. I started going through drawers. finally, two rooms down the hall, I found some lubricant that I didn't even want to think about why they had it.

Back in the room, I dropped to the floor. I greased up my still throbbing cock. then, gently started applying lube to her pussy. it didn't feel as soft and fleshy as i remembered, but once I got my cock in, I remembered the ecstasy of having sex with my beautiful loving wife.

her eyes were closed, so I wiped my hands and opened them. I was a little surprised when they stayed open. I was fucking my dead wife as she seemed to look at me. I suddenly came harder than i can ever remember. it just kept pumping cum until it started oozing out her vagina.

i fell to the floor next to her. started playing with her erect nipples. and it wasn't more than 2 minutes before my erection returned.

as i lay on the floor, i could see the other two gurneys against the wall, side by side... then I got an evil thought in my head. yes, you know what I did.

I jumped up. penis purple and throbbing out of control. I walked slowly over to the other dead girl. I had no idea what she looked like.

I pulled back the cover and my jaw dropped. she was the most perfect looking blonde I had ever seen. her hair was cut short, up to her neck. And if i had any doubts about if she was a natural blonde before, I just saw the proof. a small patch of silky blonde hair sitting on top of her pussy mound. her tits were also not very big, but thats okay. she had thin, but muscular legs that made them look longer than they were. I noticed a nasty scrape on her left arm and left hip. not too big, and they had been cleaned.

the sheet goes to the floor next to my dead wife. this girl was even lighter than my wife. And somehow she seemed a bit more limber. I don't know why. I repeated the process., massaging her legs until they parted and revealed the smallest set of pussy lips I've ever seen. In a perfect clam shape with still some rosy pinkness left. her lips were also fuller than my wifes. not a lot, but they were cushiony to the touch. I took some books from a nearby shelf to put under their heads so I could see their faces better.

The girls eyes were still closed. When I opened them, they were bright gray, like so many movie stars. except for the scrapes from the accident, her flesh was smoother than my wifes, as a teen girls flesh would be. My wife was stunning. The perfect sex object now displaying her wares. And now this strange girl, legs spread, bright gray eyes appearing to look into mine. neither naked female able to smile, since they were dead. I make sure everything ls lubed appropriately and just before i enter this fresh coed, it occurs to me to check something.

I pulled apart her lips and with some work, and found...a hymen. if there is a god, i'm going to hell anyway. I gently enter her. looking into her eyes, then over at my wife who was now watching me fuck a dead teen girl. when I said her pussy was small and tight, and now a hymen? I wasn't kidding. I have an average size penis, about 5-6 inches. but, the blood had been pumping so long, I has as thick as I was long at this point.

I started to think it was't going to work, then decided I was going to MAKE it happen. the lube was adequate. I pulled back for a forceful thrust and grabbed her shoulders for support as I pushed hard. i felt ripping flesh. i mean lots of ripping flesh. i looked down and saw some blood. just what rubbed off her vagina as I made her a woman. I kept going. my god, it was impossibly tight. within a minute, i had again cum more than i thought i had in me.

i cleaned myself off, thinking it was time to put everyone back in place. but, i saw them again. lying side by side. these two beautiful women, totally naked. and totally mine to do as I wish.

I rolled the both over. they could have been mother and daughter. perfect asses. just absolutely perfect. i lubed up. started pumping my wifes asshole. When she was alive, she said that is something she would NEVER EVER do. out of the question. Yet, there I was. pushing my cock into her asshole. it felt a little, grainy, i guess? but obviously very tight. She was dead. I could go as deep as I wanted. I pushed and pushed, grinding into her cold, but bouncy soft ass cheeks. it felt incredible.

then, the girl. it felt about the same, but her ass was smoother, heaving and swollen, although, quite cold which I had gotten used to. I managed to lift her to her knees, sort of. i grabbed her tits and pulled myself into her as deeply as I possible could. that's when the final and most powerful gushing of cum started. I'm laying on her back kissing her neck as my cock empties into her. at that moment i thought of the girl who was driving. how much more guilty she would feel if she saw her friends hymen and asshole torn to shreds because she couldn't wait to text later.

an hour or so later, I had cleaned everything up. found new coverings. the old ones were quite dirty now. and had both in place and looking pretty much like they did when I arrived.

i put the dirty sheets in my car and trashed them later.

after I was sure i had all in order, i woke my friend, the embalmer. he was embarrassed he has slept so long. I told him it was fine, because I got to say goodbye to my wife.

He tells me he is going to stay and start the embalming since its almost morning, anyway. He walks me to the door. gives me a hug and tells me again how sorry he is. then...what he says next, well, that is why I'm confessing today. I'm an evil person. More than you know. My friend, who was kind enough to bring me to the funeral home to see my wife... he tells me what he was too emotionally choked up to say before his chapel nap.

that poor girl in the room with my wife? that was his granddaughter. She had just graduated high school and was heading to a Purity Pledge meeting before heading to Summer Camp. A Christian group of teens that pledge to maintain their virginity until marriage. He said to me that the only solace he could find in this senseless death, is that she will go to her grave having kept her promise.

Yes. I am going to hell.

Is it wrong to go to a funeral and look at the sexy teen girls show off their bodies wearing tight pants and short dresses. They look so hot and sexy like that. I want to fuck them.

So this hot guy, whose sister I know, has been a FB friend of mine for years, but I have only met him once at a funeral 3 years ago. He has a gorgeous skinny gf and I am on the chubby side. Yesterday when I opened my FB he sent me a message "DTF ?". (down to fuck as far as I know)
So wtf ! I know he is still with the gf and I sure wouldn't mind fucking him, but its weird.
I wonder what will happen if I just send a place and a time and "bring a Condom".
Sorry for wasting your time reading this but I can't stop thinking about it and try to decide if I should come out as a slut by doing it.

Today after my best friends mother's funeral we went back to his aunts house for a wake. all of us smokers went to the Guest house for "turkey dinner". his cousin lives in the guest house and she is a very attractive red head whom I have never met the whole time Ive known this friend. we had alot in common and I confess that I was very turned on by her short skirt and tights she was wearing. I confess that I want to go back there and fuck the shit of her so bad. this is the first time since ive gotten married that Ive felt this way towards another woman other than my wife

I wonder if the funeral home workers got to see, touch, or fuck Whitney Houston's famous pussy???

My mother and father were broken up before I was born and my mother's hatred for him was so great she did everything she could to keep me from knowing him. It wasn't until the courts stepped in at age 13 that I ever had any contact with him. This was also when I found out I had a 9 year old sister. Even though she's technically my "half" sister we never split hairs or any of that, we've always just been brother and sister, fuck the half bullshit.

Having spent the first thirteen years of my life not knowing I had a sister it was strange meeting her for the first time. My brain didn't connect the dots that this was blood to me and all I could think about was the cute little blonde girl who lived with my dad. Over a little bit of time as we got to know each other we began to goof around and play like brothers and sisters do. One of the ways we played was wrestling around a bit. One of our female cousins (a cute, chubby redhead) began joining in on the wrestling. My father and his brother were both a couple of grade A perverts, something I think rubbed off in the family DNA because at some point in time the wrestling game became a game of the girls trying to get to my junk. I would valiantly fight them off but on a couple occasions they managed to sneak a peek at my package. It only became worse the day they realized they were making me hard, causing them to double up on their efforts. Knowing they were turning me on seemed to give them a charge and a twinkle in their eyes. Although I never did manage to get a peek at any of my cousin's goodies I was lucky enough one day to pull my sister's top enough to get a full on view of her budding little boobies in all their naked glory. This is an image that has burned in my mind ever since.

Many of my adolescent masturbatory fantasies involved my sister and cousin. If they only knew how badly I wanted to put my cousin's round fat ass in the air and pummel her pussy while she licked my sister to an earth shattering orgasm...or how badly I wanted to lick sis to an earth shattering orgasm myself...

At the time I didn't know what to make of my feelings towards my sister. I just knew they were considered "taboo" and I couldn't speak of them to anybody. I also noticed as much as I wanted to bang our cousin hard, my threesome fantasies became one on one fantasies with cuz being the odd girl out. It wasn't a matter anymore of just wanting to fuck my sister, I wanted to make love to her. I wanted to hold her, caress her, kiss her, do all the things with her a romantic couple would do together. I secretly wanted her to be my girlfriend.

Only three short years after meeting my sister I was moved away to another state to be near other family who was living there. It would be another three years before I saw my sister again, sadly, at our father's funeral. By this time I was 19 and she was 15. Something I've always remembered from that time is seeing her standing in the lobby of the hall where the after funeral gathering was held. As I walked into the building she was standing there, alone, trying hard to be strong. Even under the circumstances I couldn't help but think how stunningly beautiful she looked. Knowing how badly she was hurting I wanted to take her in my arms and comfort her, the way a husband might comfort his wife. I settled for a simple brother to sister hug.

Shortly after that we lost track of each other. My stepmother and I never had the greatest relationship so I wasn't very much of a priority to her. She especially couldn't be bothered with me living in another state. I re-entered my sister's life a few years ago when I started wondering whatever happened to her and went searching for her online. I found a couple Facebook profiles that might have been her but I couldn't be sure because there were no pictures visible. Finally I found a profile that did have pictures and lo and behold, it was my long lost sister. A few years older, but still as hot as ever. I learned she now has three kids, the youngest and oldest being boys with a daughter in the middle. The daughter is damn near the spitting image of her grandmother, who despite our rocky relationship had the kind of body that made me fully understand why my father wanted to bang her.

During some of our conversations since being back in touch with each other my sister managed to rekindle a lot of what I felt when we were kids. One of the things she did in the beginning really had my head twisted around though. She would make comments to me that had sexual overtones, the kind of comments a woman would make to a guy she wanted to tease but certainly not to her brother, right? Being intrigued by the thought of my sister flirting with me and the possibility of some long standing fantasies becoming reality I would try to give her carefully crafted answers that could be taken as either naughty or innocent, depending on which way her responses drifted. Many times after fanning the flames she would respond with something like "EWWWW, INCEST!" after which I would explain the "innocent" version of my comment and ask her why she was the one thinking dirty like that. In the meantime I was a walking hard on thinking about the dirty ways my sister's comments to me could be taken and how many dirty ways I could take my sister. Just to make sure it wasn't me reading what I wanted to be into her comments I forwarded some of her text messages to a female friend who was well informed about my lust for sis. Even my friend said my sister's comments sounded more to her like she was trying to feel me out for a fuck instead of innocently talking to her brother. Over time the teasing comments died down, but just recently she did make a veiled comment about where her mind goes, hinting that her thoughts weren't very innocent.

Over the past several months my thoughts about my sister have increased. A lot of this is due to the fact that I'm now living near her again. Very recently I had the opportunity to see her again for the first time in about 20 years. As always she looked absolutely delicious. I couldn't help but run my eyes up and down her curves when she first stepped into my view. I also couldn't help but notice her "budding little boobies" are now far beyond budding and much larger than I remember them being at 15! I finally got to meet my nephews and niece in person and saw first hand that my niece has a body built for fucking that none of her pictures do justice to. Just what I need, another family member to have filthy incestual fantasies about lol

My fantasies of sis have never stopped, but since we've been back in contact they've become more frequent again and been infiltrated by the new details of her life. I find myself daydreaming about catching her oldest son fucking her and blackmailing her to let me join. I've fantasized about catching her sucking her daughter's juicy little twat, and I've even joined the two together and fantasized about catching her son fucking her while she goes deep sea pearl diving with her daughter. My number one fantasy about her though has nothing to do with anybody else, just me and her. If I could live any fantasy I wanted with my sister it would be to take her out on a dirty date in public. In my daydreams we go out for dinner, maybe a movie, and end up someplace like a bar or some other type of "adult entertainment" establishment. Nobody around us knows we're brother and sister. Nobody would even imagine we're related watching us carry on like a real couple instead of siblings. I'd have her sitting in my lap, grinding her ass against my cock while I kiss her, nibble on her neck, and sneak a rub between her legs every now and then, checking to see how much wetter her panties are than the last time I checked. I've had two different endings to the fantasy, the first being that our evening would end in a motel room, so turned on by the thought of playing with each other as brother and sister in front of an unsuspecting audience that we rip each other's clothes off as soon as the door is shut behind us and spend the rest of the night sucking and fucking each other's brains out like we really are boyfriend and girlfriend. The other ending to this fantasy is that we end up in a secluded corner surrounded by a bunch of horny boys and girls watching us fuck for them, cheering us on, having no clue they're watching a real life brother/sister show.

Although realistically I don't ever see anything happening between us I still have a part of my mind that holds out hope, given the teasing she did early on in our online reunion, and my friend's opinion that my sister is interested but afraid to follow through. I've only seen my sister once since I've been near her again and I really want to spend more time with her, but honestly, I'm afraid of what might happen if my friend is right and she really does harbor some of the same desires towards me that I do towards her. Right now it's only fantasy, but I know if by some twisted stroke of fate anything ever should happen, once we cross that line we'll never be able to come back. I also know if she ever does try to cross that line with me I'm going to do very little, if anything at all, to stop her.

im a 20 year old female and i was molested for many years by an uncle when i was younger. this past week he died and i went to his funeral. my confession isnt that i was molested or that the person who molested me died. my confession is that i wasnt happy or sad about his death. i stood at the funeral feeling nothing, not caring one way or the other. I think that's strange.

Flew cross-country with the wife for her father's funeral. We decided to extend a week to visit family. One morning I pick up the paper to read Dad's obituary, and I see another name I know. Fucking covid...  That night I tell the wife I need some alone time. She agrees. She assumed it was a bar with friends. When I got to the church the rosary had just started. I quietly slipped in a back pew, small prayer that my intrusion would go unnoticed. The priest said the magic words. The people did the Catholic aerobics... I ducked out when the viewings started. I assumed my visit had gone unnoticed. As I slipped the key in the car door I heard her voice. "You know she hated you, hated me even more for breaking it up." "I know". " Why are you here? How? Who told you?" I turn around and she just melts into me. Sobs, deep breaths, 15 plus years of distance completely forgotten. It takes a few minutes for the wave to pass. I go to pull the key out of the door and her hand stops me. "I need a drink". " Your brother? " I ask. "Told him I'm headed home". " Your car?" "Uber". She jumps in the car. We hit a beach bar even my wife didn't know about. " Ok how?" I tell her about the newspaper, that I'm out here for my father-in-law. She winched, picked up on the wife I imagine. We talk. 15 years is a lot of life. We both have kids, she divorced a few years back. Her mom hated me, so why go? "I wanted to make sure you were ok". Odd comment, slightly creepy since it's been 15 years, but honest. A couple more drinks and we head back to her place. The plan was to see her to the door and leave. The reality was an incredible night of intense, insane, passionate sex. 15 years, we made up for lost time. We parted ways in the morning. No plans. I live on the opposite coast. My wife assumed I drank with friends. No reason to say more.

Life takes weird turns sometimes. I know others have said as much on here. Never imagined I'd cheat, or sleep with an ex, much less under those circumstances. 

Just wondering why every option to edit my uploads is available except the one that actually lets me upload something. Any ideas? I'm on a Mac, and have tried 3 different browsers. Same thing everytime, get to the upload page, but no button or option to actually upload anything. Am i being really dumb here?
I put the Fun in Funeral....

Here's another confession from the strange and wonderful sex life I've had, my cousin gave me a blowjob in a hotel bed.

My grandmother (I guess our grandmother) had just passed away so that would have made me 23. I flew out to the Chicago area for her funeral and ended up in a nearby hotel with my cousin on the night before the rest of my family arrived. (I wasn't thinking about it then but who booked the hotel room?)

My cousin Sandra has always been hot to me. I saw her on the summers when we went out to visit my mom's side of the family. They were out in the Evanston area while we lived out east. (Northshore-ish). She's about 10 years older than me but growing up I always felt like she was like an older sister. She's a dirty blonde, with a quick wit, funny with a dark streak. Good looking as all hell, incidentally.

I remember her a lot from when I was young. I remember she smoked Benson & Hedges and was into the Dead (Grateful). She was more free spirited than the rest of the family which was a comfort to a kid who's always been a kind of a black sheep without really trying. I loved to watch her smoke butts in front of the family 'cause I was still hiding it (about 12 years old) We could talk about things I couldn't share with other people. She was much cooler than the rest of the family and always felt like a partner in crime.

So I didn't really see her much for my late teens and early twenties 'cause family had already passed away, ties had loosened. She married a guy and they had two kids. After a period of years, I guess it had gone downhill a bit; he was a chef and drinking too much, staying out too late. That's when my grandmother passed away and we ended up in bed together.

Sandra had picked me up from the airport and we had a short drive. We caught up and talked into the night before going to bed. She filled me in on her husband a bit, though I learned more later. She still felt just like an older sister and it was as if we had picked it up right where we left off. There were a couple of drinks at the bar. I don't know why I didn't think it was odd that there was one big bed in the room instead of two when we got there. (Last minute booking, did she plan it?) So we end up in one big bed together, sad because of all the circumstances and still catching up.

We' re quieting down in bed and I'm on my back with her on her side facing me. We are cuddling a bit after the conversations we've had. Her hand is on my bare chest and I notice the feeling of all of the skin on my stomach. I start to get a some tension in my balls as I'm thinking about her hands and my bare skin. The room is dark and there is only some highlight to see. My heart starts pounding as my mind wanders in fantasy. We aren't talking anymore.

Sandra slid her hand a little down my stomach as she gives me a little hug. She's wearing a dark statin of some color that has some thin straps because I can feel the skin of her arms across me. I'm lying as still as I can. My heart is pounding as her hand gets a little lower and I'm imagining the moment that my cock will get hard enough to reach out and touch it. Minutes pass.

My heart must have been beating in my stomach. I bet it gave her the confidence because she reached slowly down and put her fingers over the stretch in my boxers. The feeling was hot and electric. There were no words. I felt like I was out of breath but trying to be still as she gently squeezed my cock through my underwear. I am stiff as a rod at this point and holding her just a little tighter with my left arm thats wrapped around her.

She plays with my cock in this soft and electrifying way in the dark for a few minutes while my heart is pounding before she slides back the covers from my waist. We haven't and don't make any eye contact. My stomach is bare to the air and I can look down with my eyes to see her hand on my cock.

She quickly shifts down and moves her head onto my belly, with her dirty blonde hair spilling. I feel the cool air on my cock as she pulls my underwear around my throbbing cock and down. This is where I have my first real reaction as I shift my hips so that my boxers will slide down a bit and let my cock free.

The air is cool, my cock is hard and I feel the warmth and wetness of my cousin's mouth on the head of my dick. She slips down and I'm inside of her mouth. She is slow and it is quiet and she sucks me. Her head bobs up and the the tension in my lower stomach feels like I'm doing curls with a dumptruck on my chest. She swirls her tongue on my cock and it's just about the end for me. Two more thrusts down on my cock and the heat just busts into her mouth. I grabbed the back of her neck and just squeezed. I pumped a full load right into the back of her mouth. I was tensed up for what was probably close to a minute.

After she swallowed my cum she pulled my boxers up gently, shifted back up in bed and laid with me again as though nothing had ever happened. Sandra and I laid there holding each other the night before a funeral. We've never talked about it and it's never happened again. The only times I see her these days is on Facebook and that's why I want to share this story, to re-live it a bit.

So my cousin is hot as hell and has a great body. We met a few months ago at our grandfather funeral. He cheated on my grandma and that's how she became a cousin. She's half blood. I'd love to fuck her but she always brings up the fact we're related. How can I convince her its all good.

America's funeral homes are buying more and more F250 HD's with Diesel engines to convert into hearses. For now they are just using dump trucks, so they can also tow a back hoe to dick the hole in the same amount of time it takes by hand for a normal person.

I’ve got a hot cousin and I didn’t know it till our grandma died.

My family wasn't close with the other relatives. They lived 12 hours away, across a lot of states. Snow dumped on us every year, much like how my mom’s siblings used to dump on her as kids, and they were basking in the sun complaining of freezing fingers when it’s sweatshirt weather, you know? We visited my grandparents' at Christmas every year and if the schedules coincided, I’d see a few relatives. I don’t know most of their names. I’ve got 30 cousins including wives and second cousins (that’s the kid of a cousin, right?).

So after my grandma was done fighting cancer, we had a funeral. It was really sad and I don’t mean to cheapen the sentiment with literotica, but this was the first time I saw many of my cousins and learned a lot of names that I’ve forgotten since. But not Arya’s.

Arya is not her real name. I’m a Game of Thrones fan and GoT has a bit of incest and Arya’s my favorite character and so why not call my hot cousin Arya? It’s kind of close to her actual name. I’ll be changing everyone’s names to whatever, but Arya gets a special explanation for hers. She deserves it.

I drove the 3 hours from college to my parent’s then another 5 to my grandparents’ town. I was a mess. It hadn’t hit emotionally, but I was low energy in the midst of studying for finals next week and this was the first funeral I’d been to since I was 8 and went in my spiderman pajamas. Basically I didn’t have funeral clothes.

When we showed up, I was in a dark shirt and jeans, looking somber, till a relative I didn’t know, this fat bustling aunt in a floral print shirt, came up to hug my mom then my dad then me. She knew me! “Oh, James,” she said as she smothered me. “You’re so big now.” She was warm and friendly so I put on a big smile as I said, “Hi…”

Luckily my mom saved me and said, “I’m going to talk to your Aunt Sarah. Will you go put our coats down?”

My relatives are country folk living in the South. They’ve all got that accent. I’m more of a city guy. And I felt a little uncomfortable, maybe superior in my arrogance, around these bumpkins. And I’m generally shy.

So I sat in the fold out metal chairs with my parents’ coats and just kind of looked around, uncomfortable, and checked my phone. My college girlfriend had recently decided we were better friends than anything else. Which was fine and all, but well, I didn’t want to text her about this. It’d probably guilt her into some comfort sexting, but I wasn’t feeling so bold at the time. Now years later, well, different story. I think I just opened Angry Birds and played a few games while sitting in front of the closed casket. It was adorned with a wreath and there was a corkboard of photos of her at all ages, though most were her as Grandma. And a group of people I didn’t recognize examined the photos, blocking my view. They were dressed appropriately in dark suits or dresses.

The group came over and asked who I was and asked if I was so-and-so’s kid and I was and I asked who they were and who their parents were and all that. It was three girls and two guys. One of the girls and both guys were my cousins, and you could see the family resemblance, round-face, curly hair, pudgy, and the other girls were their dates. I didn’t know anyone brought dates to a wake. But I felt okay again having checked out the ladies’ asses, though one had been my cousin’s.

We talked for a little bit about the last time I saw them. A Christmas when we were kids, though one swore it was Thanksgiving but I told him, “No, no, we always have Thanksgiving at home.”

That kind of turned them off.

We were the family that never visited. All of them lived near my grandparents, and when my grandma got sick, all pitched in. All my family did was offer to pay bills till it got to the end then Mom came for a visit.

Anyway, they walked away to talk to other cousins.

I was in my early 20s and so were those cousins, but we had older ones. And this man in his 30s with curly hair and a little extra fat especially on his cheeks entered with this stunning blonde, I assumed he was my cousin.

Oh no.

They came up the corkboard, attached one of their photos, and I introduced myself and asked him who he was related to.

He was this bumbling guy. “Well, her. Ha, ha. I mean, we’re in a relationship—married, so I guess her.”

The stunning woman in this tight black dress that was strapless and squeezed her breasts so the pendant of her silver necklace rested in her sun-kissed cleavage complete with tanlines from a bikini laughed and said, “I’m Dana’s daughter. Arya.”

Dana was the oldest of my mom’s siblings and had gotten pregnant in high school, or maybe right after.

“Who are you?” she asked.

I told her and she said, “Oh! Remember when I was testing my make-up on you? Why is that so fun to do to little boys tied up? God, I must’ve been in high school then and you were maybe in Kindergarten?”

“I think I’m repressing that memory,” I told her.

“Aw, was it that traumatizing? You were crying…”

“You know kids. Always crying till someone kisses it better.”

“I tried that!” She didn’t have an accent. That awful Southern rural accent. Sorry, but you’re talking like Huck Finn, it’s hard to sound educated. It drives me nuts. But she had shed hers.

“You’d think I’d remember that.” I was smiling a lot. You know when you meet someone and it just clicks and you want it to click because hey, they’re hot? That’s how it was and because I had no relationship with her prior, ogling her, flirting a little, smiling like an idiot didn’t feel wrong. But doing all of that at a wake for our grandma did. “It’s too bad about Grandma,” I said.

She hugged me. I hugged back. Then her husband joined in and it got uncomfortable.

My parents came round and said, “Sorry about his clothes. He’s fresh from college—second year half way done! And he grew out of all his dress clothes.”

Arya volunteered to take me. “I don’t know where I’m going or anything, but I’ll get him looking spiffy. We can catch up.”

When we got in her car, a used Lincoln, probably fancy a decade ago but now all it boasted was a large backseat and seat warmers, she let her hair down from its tie. “Oh god thank you for coming under dressed. We’re just going to cruise for a bit because I can’t be in there mingling with Tom, Dick, Harry, whatever their names are. Right after high school, I got a scholarship to Florida and never wanted to go back. All those hick accents!”

“Yeah!” I said. “Like Huckleberry Finn!”

“Sure…”

“You know, Tom Sawyer. Deep Missouri Valley country hick accent. Sorry, I’m an English major.”

“And you’re smart! You are the blessing of this trip. I don’t really read so no clue what you’re talking about but keep talking. It’s helping me unclench for the first time since hearing I’d have to come.”

So we talked in the car about how awful the family was, the cousins, aunts, uncles, their divorces. She knew a lot of scandals I hadn’t heard like one of our uncles was in prison for a sexual offense, but even she didn’t know what. He wasn’t here today. Another was a junkie, in and out of rehab. Then we got to grandma and grandpa and both agreed they were the only good parts of the family.

“Other than us, of course,” I said.

“You’re definitely a blessing.”

“And blessed to be in this car.” I meant to imply with her more strongly, but something snapped me out of the flirty attitude, and I added, “Away from them.”

She smiled at me and we got quiet for a bit and she turned on the radio as we drove through the small town. It was near Christmas. Decorations were up. There wasn’t any snow. I told her we got like two feet last week and still had classes. She asked where I went to college. I told her to visit any time she wanted. I found out she was a helicopter medical evac personnel. She didn’t fly the helicopter, but she was the nurse or paramedic in back treating whomever.

Finally we got to a shop that sold suits and dresses. One stop fancy shopping. I had my mom’s credit card, but I didn’t think she intended to get me a full-on suit. It’d be my first. But Arya told me we were just getting the off-the-rack stuff. It wouldn’t be too much.

So I tried on some things she picked out and I came out of the dressing room still doing up my belt because the pants were too wide at the waist and were just sliding down off and dragging on under the heels of the dress shoes. We looked at how deflated I looked in the mirror.

“Get those off and we’ll get you the next size down.” She rolled down the waist to see the tag and what size they were. “I’ll bring you the next ones.”

I went back in the dressing room and took them off. I was just in my boxers and undershirt when she came in. Just barged on in through the swinging doors. I tried being natural about it, like I wasn’t uncomfortable or having dirty thoughts, but then she whipped out the measuring tape. “Put these on.” I did and she started measuring my seams. The outer one first. She told me to stop fidgeting as she was on her knees touching my thigh. Then the inner seem. “I used to work in one of these suit shops during college. The way we measured our special customers was to do the right in-seam, then cup *it* and move it over and measure the other side.” She laughed at the joke (I think she was kidding) and I thought about our dead grandmother so I wouldn’t twitch beneath the pants.

Then she helped me on the shirt and I buttoned all but the top two. She looked at it and buttoned them both, then unbuttoned the top. It was a little too big so she told me to get it off and before it was off, she starts pressing up against me trying to get at the tag in the collar to see the neck size. I think it was like 17 ¾.

She came back with a smaller shirt for me and a few dresses for her. They were a little more modest than the little black dress she had squeezed into. “I’m almost as unprepared for funerals as you. I bought this for a dinner party and a self-esteem boost. Sometimes you pay extra for that.”

I was shirtless and she was looking at herself in the mirror, checking herself out, and I was thinking she shouldn’t need to pay for it looking like she does.

Curvy and sun-kissed and blonde and tall and just perfect. The kind of girl you get a crush on even if you’ve just met her and found out she’s your cousin.

And I felt her back against me. “Oh sorry,” she said. Right against my crotch. With that perfect ass.

I couldn’t help it! I might have rubbed up against her a little with my erection.

“Is that what I think it is?” she said, laughing nervously but not moving away.

“Sorry.” I also stayed there.

“No, thank you for the compliment. Okay, I’m going to try these on now.”

I stayed, confused, horny, hopeful.

“Wait out there? I’ll be real quick.”

Damn. So I sat in the chair outside, hoping it’d subside, when she came out and we paid for everything and got in her car and left.

I was feeling pretty embarrassed that I’d “made a move.” Yeah that was the best move I had. Pressing against her like it was an accident, but both of us probably knowing it wasn’t. She knew. She kicked me out as she changed. She didn’t even try them on for me or any other little hints. The drive back was quiet. Awkward.

And when the funeral home was in sight, we pulled off onto a dirt road. This was a farming town with a lot of forests and field entrances and just places that a high schooler might go with his girl to makeout. She pulled into the dead end where we were covered in shade, just past a bend so we could hear trucks drive past on the main road, but not see them.

“Okay, we better do this before getting there,” she said.

My hope was restored.

Then she added, “Get changed.”

Hope tarnished.

“50 people talking about the dead, suddenly sad, rushing to the bathrooms. There’s no way we could change there. And wouldn’t want to do it in the parking lot where someone would see.”

“Sure, a relative seeing would be awkward,” I said.

“Yeah?” she said laughing.

“Yeah…”

“Then let’s make it awkward.”

I don’t know what she was thinking or what she imagined would come of it or what I should’ve done, but she stripped off that top awful fast. Let those breasts loose. No bra. A black thong. And I stared and she stared back and I started getting my shirt off and pants and I reached for my new clothes but she pulled something from her bag. New boxer-briefs. Real tight ones. She just threw them at me. Once I was naked she looked at me, erect, then stared me in the eyes. She was still naked except for that thong. I don’t want to forget the shape of her breasts, the size, how the tan-lines colored them, how they jiggled, her ass, the birthmark or any of that, but that was years ago. Details fade, get edited. I think her tits are bigger in my head now.

But her devilish smile. I can’t forget that.

Finally, she said, “Let’s get those clothes on. They’ll be calling soon, wondering if we ditched.”

And it was over. She dressed. I got a little peek at that booty, but not much, and when we went in for the wake, her dressed more modestly, my erection hidden till we got to the service and it died down. My mom and her siblings and my grandfather gave their eulogies and I cried and we buried grandma. Then we all went to lunch at some diner where even the table was greasy.

I wanted to sit by my cousin, but I had to sit by my parents and they wanted to sit by some fat aunt that kept asking about my future and so on.

I didn’t get to talk to my cousin till it was time to leave. “I’m serious about coming to visit. Any time you want. It’s beautiful in the fall. All the leaves changing.”

“Sure, sure,” she said.

“Or the spring is good. Tons of flowers. Ever heard of Dutch pantaloons? It might be a local name, but they make the campus smell so much better. Hides the BO and stale weed stench.”

“I’ll think about it.” God, she had to have smelled my desperation for more, but she wasn’t obliging. Fine, I can take a hint. A woman says no, you just have to let go, right?

“Have a safe trip,” I said and waved like I was leaving.

But she pulled me in for a hug, saying “You too,” then when I was pressed up against that perfect tanned body, she heaved her hot breath into my ear and said, “Think about me some time…”

Oh I have… a lot.

My uncle was the last person to handle Michale Jacksons body befor the funeral we paid a nasty homeless man to fuck his dead ass.

Long time user here, yes I have an account but I am do damn lazy to log in. This is really my only place to confess this. It isn't like I have friends on Facebook that wouldn't judge me or my family because of it. So I will confess here, where I can remain anonymous, yet get this off my chest because it is freakin crazy to me and weighing me down.

My dad just passed away in January. First let me tell you that my dad was married before and had a bunch of girls (whom I do not communicate with). After he divorced his first wife, he met my mom (who had also been married before and had a girl and a boy, whom I am closer too). I was the only child that my mom and dad had together and my brother and sister from my mom's previous marriage were well into their teens when I was born. I am a guy by the way, if that matters. All the other children are WAY older than me and have families of their own. My parents got divorced when I was around 15.

So I find out that one of the girls from his first marriage has been repeatedly accusing my father of molesting her when he was still married to their mother. They even went to court and the judge threw it out because, well, that girl is just fucking crazy. Needless to say none of those people came to my dad's funeral except me. So their non-appearance has been a topic of discussion in my moms house between she and I for a week or so. I told my mom that when I was cleaning out my dad's house, that I found a letter written to my dad from the girl who was accusing him and that it said some crazy stuff about him taking half naked pictures of them, sleeping naked and pressing himself against them. I told my mom that it sounded completely crazy because my dad never tried anything with me (not that he would with a boy) and that I went through ALL of his stuff and never found any photo's that were of that nature. I was saying how I could never imagine him doing something like that.

So then my mom gets quite and says "yeah,well....nothing, never mind". So naturally I am like "what the hell were you gonna say". I am thinking OMG did my dad do something to me and I have forgotten. Luckily it wasn't that at all, but it was another bombshell and also kind of funny. It was something totally out of some step-dad video you might watch on a porn site and I couldn't believe my ears. She said that before I was born he had apparently asked her "what would you think about me taking Laurie's (my sister) virginity so that she will know someone who loves her is doing it and won't get hurt?". To which my mom replied that she would basically fucking kill him...like for real kill him.

WTF!!??? I was in such shock after she told me that, that I just stood up and left the room without saying anything. It's still hard to think about but at the same time I find humor in the fact that he would try something that is straight out of some illicit magazine or XXX video. At the same time it does kind of put a wonder in the back of my head as to whether he did molest his other daughter or not. But he is passed and gone and nothing can be done now.

So yeah, sorry if this isn't the pay-off that you guys would normally want. Like I said, I just needed to tell SOMEONE, ANYONE...but also knew that because of the nature of the subject it would have to be a certain demographic to heard about it.

Thanks for your time.

I confess that two young relatives have declared that they loved me.

The first was a step-cousin I met only at the funeral of my grandfather. She took a shine to me and insisted that we always hold hands and that she always sit on my lap. Her grandfather asked if I had a girlfriend, and upon my negative response he stated that I did now.

The second was a step-cousin I met when visiting a blood relative. She declared to everyone while we were eating dinner that she liked me and that I reminded her of her father. Her grandfather nodded with approval.

I loved them, too. I loved them enough not to do anything to hurt them.

I confess that while talking to my longterm girlfriend on the phone (who I am currently in a long distance relationship with) about the funeral arrangements for her mother I was being sucked off by my nextdoor neighbour's daughter

Just got caught sniffing my mates sisters panties. Trouble was. . She was still wearing them. . . He was livid. . . Wouldn't speak to me for the rest of her funeral.

i confess, last week i fucked my best friends mother and his dad/ her hubbys funeral :( felt great but i know its wrong!

i confess, last week i fucked my best friends mother at his dad/ her hubbys funeral felt great i mean really great, i can upload the whole story if you all want? let me know

Dear friends,
It is with the saddest heart that I pass on the following. Please join
me in remembering a great icon.

The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and
complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71.

Doughboy was buried in a lightly-greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities
turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry
Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and
Cap'n Crunch. The grave site was piled high with flours as long- time
friend, Aunt Jemima, delivered the eulogy, describing Doughboy as a man
who never knew how much he was kneaded. Doughboy rose quickly in show
business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not
considered a very "smart" cookie, wasting much of his dough on
half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, he -- even
still, as a crusty old man -- was considered a roll model for millions.
Toward the end, it was thought he would rise again, but alas, he was no
tart.

Doughboy is survived by his wife, Play Dough; two children, John Dough
and Jane Dough; plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by
his elderly father, Pop Tart.

The funeral was held at 3:50 for about twenty minutes.

My confession is im feeling like I have less and less to live for everyday. I went from having a great job, a happy relationship with my girlfriend, and some really fun friends. I've since lost my job, I fight with my girlfriend more than we ever had a good time, were actually on a break now. And all of my friends have since become busy with other things.

There was a girl I once knew in high school who I had the biggest crush on, I recently found out she is pregnant. We once had a really great night and she told me she used to have a crush on me but she was dating another guy at the time.

I would give anything to go back there and make it work with her, rather than feel like the only thing keeping me around is imagining my parents at my funeral.

Sorry guys, I know you don't care but I had to put it out there.

-J

Just what exactly is a motherless "friend" anyway? Can I take a friend to lunch? Do friends play poker on Friday nights? Will they come to my funeral? Can I contact them if a need a loan?

Just wonderin'.

This might not be as risque as some of the other confessions on here, but at least it does have the virtue of being true.

This all happened over the course of the summer of 2001. I was 16 at the time, and because I failed two classes in the 10th grade, I had to attend summer school. However, because my house was a bit far from the nearest school bus stop (they cut down on stops during the summer), I had to get rides to and from school every day. My dad used to give me rides, but after the first three weeks, but about three weeks in, his job needed him to work early Saturday morning. At that point our neighbor from the next apartment over, Janice, volunteered to give me rides so long as my dad didn't mind helping her out with gas money.

Anyway, the first few times were uneventful, but on the third day she drove me in, Janice was obviously trying to corrupt me. She was telling me all the intimate details about her dates with strange men, the weird, kinky sex she got into.

I didn't exactly live a sheltered life, but Jan said stuff I never heard anyone say before. By the end of the first week, she had me so embarrassed that I told my dad I didn't feel comfortable with her driving me anymore. He asked me to elaborate, and I did, and he told me he would take care of it. He left the apartment, came back about an hour later, and told me that she apologized and wouldn't be so open about her sex life in the car with me again.

And she wasn't. She apologized to me, told me that she didn't mean to upset me, that she didn't have many friends to share this with, and that really got to me. So, I told her it was ok, that I had to grow up sometime. Just tell me all the details, spare nothing. After the next few weeks of hearing her talk about her sex escapades, I was starting to get really into what she was saying.

One Friday, she told me on the way home that last night, her date forced his cock so far into her throat that she felt light headed, and he held her down on him until she started to turn purple and pass out. She said her face was burning and felt like pins and needles were stabbing into her, and her throat felt like it was going to burst, and even without touching herself, these sensations made her have one of the most intense orgasms of her life.

That night, my dad got home from work late and I ate dinner at Jan's place. He came over to tell me he was home, and Jan handed him his cell phone, as he left it there the night before. I put two and two together immediately. My dad was the one that force fucked Jan's throat.

I slowly started to realize that all that time, Jan had been telling me about the times my dad had been fucking her in all these strange and twisted ways. She saw that I realized what she was doing, and she got this wicked grin on her face. I ran out of the apartment, and my dad wasn't clueless. He realized that the storytelling went on far longer than Jan had told him it would.

He came after me, but I was mortified. At first. Then, late that night, I went to apologize for giving him the silent treatment earlier in the evening, and I caught him masturbating on his bed to a muted porn video. His cock was just as she described it. Big and veiny and shiny, with a slightly larger knob than normal.

I had only seen a few in person by that time, but despite the fact that it was my dad's junk, I was immediately aroused. Also, of course, disgusted with myself. I crept away and went back to bed, but I masturbated hard that night, and I held my breath while I did it.

I didn't talk to Jan the rest of the summer, but I ran into her on the way to my apartment around Thanksgiving, and she asked me in for a minute. I agreed, uncomfortably, not because I was mad at her for doing my dad, or for her many times going into sick detail about how he felt inside her, but for how all that made me feel... that she made me think of my dad as a sexual object and not just as a parent and a friend.

She made me coffee and we sat down on her couch, and she told me that she loved my dad, and that he wouldn't talk to her anymore because of me. I freaked out. I didn't mean to stop him from being happy.

I cried and hugged me and told me she was sorry. She said she was sick for getting off on telling me about him, and she wanted to get help, but she was afraid of what people in her life would say if they found out how perverted she was. I then admitted to her that I saw my dad's cock and masturbated thinking of him throat fucking her. I told her that I was a pervert, too, and that I had no right to hold her back from being with my dad.

While I was admitting all this, I realized how hot I was getting, and how wet. I suddenly was aware of how close Jan was to me. I felt her breath on my skin, my sweat cooling against me where she exhaled. And I caught her eyes, and they were looking at my lips, and I couldn't help but look down to hers. And we were getting closer.

So, we kissed, and we groped, and she licked my neck and bit my lower lip and fucked my mouth with her tongue. It was not my first time with a girl, but it was not just a girl.

It was a girl that my dad had fucked. It was a MOUTH that my dad had fucked, in fact. I was tasting the tongue that tasted my dad's dick, and that sent me into a sexual frenzy. We tore each other's shirts off and she grabbed and pushed my tits together, pinched and flicked my nipples, pushed her knee between my legs and rubbed it up and down against me.

Then her phone rang, and it was my dad looking for me. I threw on my shirt and went home, and told my dad that we had a long talk, and I forgave her, and I thought he should, too. I moved in with my mom that fall because my dad got recalled to active duty after 9/11. He died in Afghanistan. I've never seen Jan since, either. She didn't show up to the funeral, probably because of how wrong it would have been, considering what happened between us.

I have never told anyone about this before. I only confess it here because I have been carrying it with me ever since. I'm 26 now, and I wish I could track Janice down, but I haven't had any luck. I just want her to know it's okay, that I'm fine, and that all is forgiven.

Anyway, thanks for reading this, if you bothered past the first paragraph. Sorry it was so long winded, but like I said, this isn't a story, it's true.

Hot teen girl in this area died recently in a car accident. I get hard thinking about all the funeral home guys who got to see her sweet teen pussy!!

my confession is i fucked my 1st cousin after her dad(my uncle) died a couple months after the funeral i was 17 and she was 20 first was how it started she was staying at mine and my older brothers place. we had just moved in and we had the room so she stayed with us we got along since this was the first time i met her from what i remember i had met her when i was about 4 years old. so after my uncles funeral she was staying in town at my place. we hung out doing the regular family stuff i would not of thought what happened possible. we hung out i showed her around the town doing various stuff the fall fair coffee shops an drinking in parks since i was underage. i ended up walking in the room when she was changing she has putting her bra on and when i entered she grabbed a blanket trying to hide herself. about two weeks later was my older sisters bday party she was turning 21 so they went to the bar and afterwards they came to mine and my brothers placae since we had room and i couldnt go to the bar since i was 17 at the time. so once they came back from the bar they were drunk and i had a 40 ounce of vodka my sister passed out in my bed since it was her bday and drank alot i stayed up drinking with my cousin i gave her a hug and then some party/rap song came on so we started grinding to the music and from what i remember was she started grinding hard then turned around and starting groping my dick. from then on i sat down and she started blowing me i was horny so i pulled her shirt off and undid her bra and she started titty fucking me whilst sucking on the head of my dick we ended up fucking right there hard. she was on top of me riding when my lip ring unscrwee and fell down my throat so i got up and went into my room where my sister was sleeping with a full erection to get a condom. i came back and fucked her with it on then my sister came out cause i woke her up and got sooooo fucking mad cuase we were first cousins fucking it ended up with my family making fun saying we were cousin fuckers but i was the one taken advantage of since i was 17 and she was 20 and thats what started my incest fetish. i dont car if there ugly or fat i now have a fetish fucking women or female teens who are realated to me.i fucked her 6 times after we did it the first time when she stayed in town with our family.

ok, something different from all that you have read here.

i confess, that in 2007, while working in a regional hospital's pathology center i fucked a corpse.

i was working on the office side, but had good relations with our pathologists assistant (the guy, who prepared the corpses for dissection and afterwards for funeral). he spent most of his time in the basement where all dissected and not dissected corpses were laying in refrigerators. the fresh ones, that had just came from the hospital side, were in the corridor, waiting to be dissected or prepared for funeral (if a doctor had written the death certificate, they didn't dissect them and they went straight to funeral after preparing - washing, clothing etc).

as this basement was a very private place, i was used to smoke there. nobody cared. it was a desolate place, and the only one to come there was this assistant. he knew, i went there smoking during winter and i had the key.

every morning between 9.00 and 13.00 he was on dissection. they mostly had 3-4 dissections a day and each took about an hour, so one could predict how long the basement is empty.

so that morning i also went down to have a smoke. everything was usual. some non-dissection corpses laying in the hall. most having leftovers of medical equipment on their bodys. tubes, heart monitor sensors, cannulas etc. some even wearing diapers...yuck :-D

most corpses are old. at least 50...probably even 60, 70 years old and up to...infinity. but occasionally some younger ones also died. they were mostly addicts, full of drugs and HIV or car crash victims but they were all disfigured...addicts looked like shit and crash victims...you know...ground meat.

but this time there was that young girl. by her toe tag she was 19 years old. she was pretty skinny. unhealthily skinny. but she still looked nice. cute. even beautiful. i later read from her case history, that she had a congenital heart disease. anyways, as her cause of death was clear, she didn't go to dissection and so she was all intact.

i smoked and watched her and...as i had sometimes had a dream of fucking a corpse, i looked at my watch to see, how much time i had. the assistant was not to come down at least 2 hours. well, i thought, that it wouldn't take even 10 minutes to get over with it - so i pulled her legs on the trolley, she was laying on, so her hips were at the edge. as she had passed away just an hour or two ago, she was still somewhat warm and the rigor mortis hadn't come to an effect yet.

fortunately she had no diapers, so she was clean from there and i had no troubles fucking her. or it - i don't know :-) anyways it took me just some strokes to cum. as it was probably the greatest risk, i had ever taken, i didn't even try to hold myself back, so i was even happy, it ended so fast, though it was good and in right time and place i would definitely do it again.

when done, i wiped her pussy clean of my cum. had to clean her deeply, cause i didn't want the assistant to have even a slightest suspicion. i put her back on her initial position, did one more cigarette and went to work.

wanted that to happen later again but had no chance of getting my hands on a young and cute corpse ever again. they all were either old crones or young addicts.

that assistant had been working in the forensic pathology center before and he told, they had young girls of different ages all the time there. every couple of days a young boy or girl was brought there due to suicide or some stupid accident.

of course...in forensics you wont fuck a corpse BEFORE dissection cause you will get caught eventually but...if you're not afraid of some bloody stuff, you could also fuck them after dissection :-D

a few years ago i fucked my best friends mum at his dads/her hubbys funeral, and he found out recently.. wont speak to me i guess im lucky he hasnt kicked my ass...but hey here is the story.

well, it was back at the house at the wake, she was dressed in a sexy black dress stockings bra thong mmmm wow so sexy, she was so vunerable i knew i could manipulate her into a sex toy, i went over to talk to her. could see she was getting drunk..

i asked her if she needed anything she told me she just needed time alone, i then asked if she maybe wanted to go and talk alone, so we went up to her room to talk after a few drinks and some talking i got closer my arm round her she figited i knew she wasnt ready, but i didnt care, i was, i told her she needed to feel loved again needed to please a man, needed to help a young man feel good, thats what mums do......

she didnt want to but i unzipped my suit pants and pulled my already hard cock out she was shocked that i did that, but didnt move, i put her hand on it and aksed her to stroke it, she did slowly, she had no idea that i was just using her, as i whisperd to her it was for her, to feel love again to know she was pleasing a man she sped up still seeing in her eyes that she wasnt sure, didnt really want too but pumped me up and down, then i asked if she would suck it..

she looked kinda scared when i said that, nooo she couldnt do that, but i wasnt going to take no for an answer, as i pushed her head towards my rock hard cock she didnt resist as it slid into her mouth, she started to suck it gently, i knew she didnt want to but i knew she would get it into it as her head slowly bobbed up and down getiing into it more and more..

as she started to bob her head up and down i started to undress her i could feel by her body tensing up she really didnt want to but then i put my hand between her legs and felt her pussy was wet so i told her she needed my cock, it was for her own good, she said no but didnt resist as i pushed her to the floor and opend her legs wide her eyes silently pleading me to stop as i pushed my cock into her, she moaned i knew she needed this, i didnt care if she pretended i was her hubby, i needed her pussy i fucked her slowly but sped up ficking her harder and harder, she moaned almost silently as my cock drove into her feeling my cum build up she looked at me as if to say dont cum in me, but she didnt say it, i fucked her harder and harder until i cam so hard inside her filling her up with a huge load.

This will be my first confession and know there will be no nudes or some extravagant tale of how I got with my sister or daughter or what not. This will just be a simple confession of something I need to get off my chest. Before I get started, I will point out that both my current girlfriend and my Ex are under age while I am not but I have parental consent. Be warned, this is a long story.

So here it is. When I was still in school I met this girl in world of warcraft, I was actually introduced to her through her father who I had known for about a year or so in game. She and I hit it off and became really good friends, we would talk about anything and everything, tease each other, overall we just had some really good times. I found out she lived in america, about 1600 km south of where I lived in canada. Eventually I couldn't afford WoW anymore, we kept in touch through facebook but the messages started coming less and less. Then in march of 2012 my mother passed away, I was only 20 so needless to say I was pretty messed up by it. I decided to make a change in my life, I had always been careful about every single decision I'd made so others would approve but from then on, I just wanted to do things for my own happiness. Summer rolled around and finally I got a message from her, for the sake of the story we will call her Jenn. So Jenn messaged me and we got to talking again. It was great, like we never stopped talking. We started talking about what we've been up to, she asked about my mom and such, but something seemed off with Jenn, something was bothering her and she seemed to have changed a little. Anyway we would talk about her boy troubles, you know the common douchebags that only want one thing and when they don't get it they cheat. I gave her some advice on how to get the attention of this new boy she liked and made the joke that if he still didn't want her, I would take her. Not fully serious but she was a very attractive girl and if I had the opportunity I really would. Anyway we kept talking about things here and there, about my job, her school etc. One day Jenn told me she was having problems with her boyfriend, turned out she was now seeing that boy and though they cuddled, they hadn't done it yet, the problem was they had an argument about it, she wasn't ready and he was so that day instead of going to see her like they planned, he payed a visit to his ex girlfriend, I'm sure you all get the picture. So obviously my advice was for her to dump his ass and not waste the tears on him. About a week later Jenn messages me, I could tell she was upset so I answered even though I was at work, she told me she took him back, they had sex and then he blew her off again for his ex and was flirting with another girl. I told her that's why I said to leave him, that he was only after sex and once he got it he would move on to the next trophy. She agreed and dumped him on the spot. We kept talking and I made the joke again that I would take her, although I meant it a little more this time and to my surprise Jenn replied with "can you please?". Just like that it was like a light bulb went off in my head, why not? I was 21 years old with no obligations, no commitments, I wasn't doing anything profound with my life and worse yet, I wasn't happy.

So we started a long distance relationship, I made plans to move to the southern part of Canada so that if I were to go visit here, I could make the trip in one days drive. I got a texting plan on my phone so I could text her instead of always using facebook and of course from there we started sexting. This is about the time when I found out she was only 16... yeah not my brightest moment. But we got past that, we continued sexting, talking, I moved down south. Finally I found out what was different about her since the time we played wow together, it turns out, around the time my mother died, Jenn was drinking at a party and someone was feeding her everclear (and probably something else) Jenn was raped that night by a friend of her sisters, that was her first sexual experience. The night I found out I went to the gym and broke my hand on the heavy bag. So we continued our long distance relationship and I was working on getting a car, Jenn started to get a little more adventurous with our sexting and wanted to exchange naughty pics, obviously I didn't say no. She was magnificent, Jenn had a well toned body from soccer that was just starting to get a little plump because she had been off with an injury, she had long brown hair, beautiful green eyes, a nice sized runners ass, long legs and oh my god that rack! 16 year olds these days, god damn! I convinced her to take a bet that if I could guess her bra size she would send me a tit pic, because at this point all I got was lingerie pics. I took a good look at her pics, noticed the bras she wears are a little tight and came up with 34-C, BINGO! I got my tit pic! I told her she should move up to a D but she was in denial about her boobs getting bigger. So things kept moving along, Christmas rolled around which was when I had hoped to visit her for the first time, but I ended up not being approved for the car loan so I was saving money for a car instead. I could tell Jenn was getting tired of waiting, so I decided I would go for a cheaper car. It was about mid January, I texted Jenn to let her know I was going to look at a car the following Tuesday, she said cool and that was pretty much the most I could get out of her for the next few weeks. Finally, I had my car paid for, it was in the shop getting the safety and e-test done and I was looking forward to driving to Jenn's to surprise her for Valentines day, It was currently only the 6th of February though, that night I went online, ordered a nice bouquet of flowers with a silver heart pendant that was hanging on the vase. The next day I texted Jenn, this is our conversation.

Me (3pm): 1 week ;)

Me (5pm): I hope you'll be home next thursday after school (that's when the flowers were scheduled to arrive and me shortly after)

Me (9pm still no response and she had been doing this for a while): You must be pretty pissed off with me :(

Jenn (9:30pm): I can't do this.

Me: what do you mean?

Jenn: Any of it.

Me: Please don't, I getting things in order, I'm so close.

Jenn: it's not that b

Me: than what?

Jenn: It's me. I'm done. I have this nasty habit of pushing people away. That's what I've done. I'm sorry I'm horrible.

The conversation continues but the last text I ever received from her was "I don't like you anymore" she then blocked me on facebook and blocked my number. Just like that I was tossed to the side like a dirty rag, treated like garbage, feeling disposable and to add insult to injury, the flowers were non-refundable... she still received them on valentines day.

The month before all this I was introduced to my uncles best friend and his daughter, who had just gone through a breakup of her own. We were starting to become friends at this point. Shortly after valentines day I started seeing her, she was my rebound girl, no doubt about it. To this day I am still with her. I am now 22 and she will be 18 at the end of the month. I feel guilty though cause she really loves me but I'm still hurt, I still think about Jenn every night, I can't get her out of my head and it kills me. I just found out Jenn is with someone now, and when I was told, I cried, I hadn't cried since my moms funeral. I never was a crier, I could probably count the number of times I've cried in the last 15 years on one hand, but that hurt.

So that's my story of how I fell in love, only to be thrown away like garbage yet still I want her back. Before anyone asks if I'm gonna share the nudes she sent me, know that they have been deleted. The day she dumped me I deleted all the pictures she ever sent me. Thanks for reading.

Remember how Jimmy Carter personified the concept of national gloom & malaise? A new mopey moonbat has taken up his mantle:

People are noticing how little Pres Obama seems to enjoy his job.
His two main emotions on display are regret and indignation. He's either lecturing about the problems facing the country in a slightly patronizing tone or expressing his disgust with someone who won't take his "lesson" to heart.

A standard Obama rally goes something like this: A mild joke at the expense of some dignitary present (Congressman Hornswaggle can't bowl to save his life), a sad story tweaked, bordering on pathos (Suzy Creamcheese and her 15 foster c h i l d r e n and five shelter dogs are being forced out of their home unless you pass my spending bill), the identification of her tormentor (rapacious banks & the greedy rich), and finally a promise to seek justice for the afflicted despite the political cost to himself ("It may not be good politics, but it's the right thing to do.").

Rather than being energized by trying to solve problems at a level of maximal achievable good, Obama and his team speak to the American people with the enthusiasm of an Army bereavement officer. It is their sad duty to inform you that they must overhaul the health care system, they regret that the former administration has forced them to run up a $16 Trillion debt, etc.

As Washington Post Editorial Page Editor Fred Hiatt wrote, Obama needs to show the American people "he's happy we hired him" and to ditch the "lugubriousness."
After all, if almost one else is happy we hired him, at least Obama should be.
Part of the funereal vibe may arise from Obama's self-regarding nature. He never absorbed a crucial bit of wisdom: You can take your job seriously without taking yourself seriously.

It's not all narcissistic self-pity�
There is still another reason for the pres to approach his job with such high-minded regret: avoiding blame.
From the first days of the Obama presidency, we hear the same thing repeated over and over: He had no choice.

Obama presents himself so often as a victim of circumstances. He didn't want to bail out Wall Street, nationalize General Motors, put us $16 trillion in debt, send two troop surges into Afghanistan & start a war in Libya, or propose a coercive package of fines and taxes to force people into a new health system. He just had no choice! It's sort of like Judge Smales in Caddyshack stating that he's, "sent boys younger then you to the gas chamber! I didn't want to do it... I felt I OWED it to them."

The biggest howlers from the Obama admin. have come when we are told that he is a "fierce" defender of the free market or "pro-business" despite policies that demonstrate he likes heavy regulation and favors businesses that support his agenda (G.E.) but not the ones that don't. �

While the straw men Obama creates in each speech say he should do nothing, the pres. says he is compelled to act, even if the only option is unpalatable. It's a rhetorical trick that helps Obama avoid the label of hard-Left liberal.
But it also helps perpetuate Obama's image as a gloomy pessimist, a label that may be even more damaging.

So buck up, Barry. Admit that you're a socialist and take some pride in the long-term damage your deficits will do to our free market system, whether or not you're able to thoroughly cripple it with ObamaCare or Tax & Charade.

I have something i wanna run by ya'all. I had a strange dream the other night! Idk if anyone remembers the game "assassins" from way back in the day, evryone got a card with a different players name on it, you had to tag, or touch/hit, whatever to "kill" them and they were out you took thier card and went for the next player, last player wins.
so anyways back to my dream, I dreamt that a group of my friends all were together and were discussing the world economy and how shit sux. Anyway, we all came to the conclusions that we could get hit by a city bus or lightning or any number of things. why not spice up our lives and have some fun and risk involved in our mundane day-to-day.
long story short, in the dream we descided to play assassins again, but this time it was for real, for keeps. everyone got thier assigned targets and none of us knew which one was trying to kill the other. the rules were simple, kill your opponent, any means possible as long as there were no collaterall injuries. defense was allowed if presented with an attack. guys and girls were to go about their daily lives but to be on alert. if one is killed, take thier card and mark the next hit. if and when an apponent is killed the game is paused and thw funeral is held and he/she was honored.

So anyway, that was my dream, ive only told one of my friends about it. The scariest part though is that she was ok with it, even liked the idea and said shed even be interested in playing if anyone else was!
does anyone have thoughts, opinions??

This is the story of a spoiled teenage coed who is
forced to accompany her parents on an African safari.
She becomes separated and is kidnapped and abused by
jungle savages and other nasty sorts. There is no real
violence... aside from the rapes, non-consensual sex
and bondage, that is.

AFRICAN DRUM'S - Part 1

Kristen had whined the entire week before they
left. She had whined and sulked during the plane flight,
and was now whining, sulking, pouting, and occasionally
snarling. Going on an African safari, far from chili
dogs, pizza, MTV, and her friends, was not her idea of
a holiday.

For once, though, her parents had held firm. They
intended that this would be a good old fashioned family
holiday, and were determined to enjoy it if it killed
them, and her. No amount of whining, cajoling and beg-
ging had managed to sway them.

Thus she was now standing on the runway in a
baking heat, watching her father wave forlornly at bag-
gage handlers who zipped by as if he were invisible. It
was little wonder, what with the enormous amount of lug-
gage sitting beside him.

Kristen herself was very far from invisible to the
baggage handlers, as well as all the other bemused,
astonished and wondering Africans within sight. If she
noticed the stares, she gave not sign. She was, after
all, used to be stared at, though not in quite the same
way.

She was, as she well knew, a lovely, even stunning
young woman. Her development had started early. Even
when she was eleven years old, her physical maturity
was such that she was taken for a girl several years
older. She'd learned quickly that the men who looked at
her so closely could be manipulated in a variety of ways
to her benefit.

At eleven, that merely meant cooing and blinking
her eyes. By twelve she was wearing tight or revealing
clothes and positioning her body in such a way that
older boys and even grown men would groan and flash
carnal visual images in their minds.

By the time she'd turned thirteen, she was an
expert at manipulation, at controlling and maneuvering
men, using their weakness for her nubile teenage body
to make soft jelly of their hearts and minds, and hard
steel of their prongs.

She'd lost her cherry before entering high school,
to a handsome teacher who'd responded by changing her F
to an A. Usually she didn't have to actually sleep with
them of course. A little cooing and sultry whispers,
combined with a kiss or two sometimes did it.

For more difficult cases, she'd casually rub her-
self against them, or let them cop a feel of her boobs,
or crotch, and sometimes even jerked them off.

She'd gotten great grades in High School without
having a particularly nimble mind, or studying hard.
Others wondered about that, but as a leader of her peer
group in school, few openly questioned her methods for
academic achievement.

It was the same in college. She'd started just
this year, and had found the college professors even
more willing to come under her sway. The high school
teachers had the added worry, first of arrest, and
even after she passed the age of consent, of firing,
if caught with her.

College teachers didn't really have to worry
about that. Affairs between students and teachers
weren't unusual. They could freely make use of what
she offered in exchange for good grades, and not worry
about consequences.

Now, as she stood on the runway, clad in her
tight short shorts and her purple tank top that was
cut off just below the breasts, she was the near
perfection of a sexual creature. She didn't even have
to try and pose anymore. Any position she took could
automatically bring males organs to erection.

Her body was that of a goddess, perfect in it's
Ivory Whiteness, gleaming with health. There was not a
pimple, mole, or freckle anywhere on it. She was tall
and effortlessly graceful, her movements that of a
ballet dancer.

Her breasts were large enough to cause double
takes, but not large enough to detract from the perfect
symmetry of her shape. They were high and perfectly
round and of a firmness few young women ever achieved,
even during arousal. Her nipples were tiny pink nubs in
the exact center of each breast, which, when hard,
lengthened to an almost unnatural length, standing out
hard and ultra sensitive.

Her legs were the kind that made men run into
poles, so transfixed were they by the long gleaming
contours of her perfect thighs, shapely calves and
sweet and lovely knees.

Her ass would have won awards if such were given,
and if she had ever deigned to enter any contest. It
was the perfection other women longed for, had opera-
tions for. Not an ounce of fat, not a hint of imper-
fection marred her sweet and sumptuous buttocks. They
were more perfect in their shape when she slouched in
her sneakers than most women achieved in six inch heels
and tightly shaping pants and jeans.

Her face was the profile of delicate loveliness.
Her eyes were wide and bright, bright blue. When she
wanted, they were the eyes of an appealing child.
Within an instant they could turn sultry and wanton.

Her nose was a mere button, a little snub thing
that made the women sigh and smile. Her mouth was nar-
row and luscious, her lips full and sensuous, her teeth,
brilliant white perfection. Taken as a whole, her face
was enough to make grown men and women weep, the men
with regret, that they would never know her intimate
acquaintance, the women with amazed jealousy.

Her hair was the perfect frame for such a won-
drously sculpted visage. It was chest long and as
feathery soft and fleecy as the finest silk. At the
same time, it was luxuriously thick, cascading around
her head and splashing over her shoulders and down her
chest and back like a lustrous waterfall halted in mid-
fall.

All of these taken together drew lustful and en-
vious stares and gasps wherever she went, and contri-
buted to what was, admittedly, more than a hint of
arrogance, haughtiness and vanity. Being rich always
tended to draw people into immodesty. Being rich as well
as stunningly, dazzlingly, ravishingly, gorgeous, gave
her an ego hard to reign in, even on those odd occasions
when she tried.

Of course, her luscious silhouette and mouth
watering face were not the only reason she was drawing
stares at the moment. The main point of attraction
for the Africans was her hair, which was a bright, but
not unattractive shade of pink.

If she had been aware of the amusement, or con-
fusion her hair color was causing, she would have simply
sniffed about the crudeness and lack of sophistication
of the watchers, utterly certain that wherever in the
world she happened to be, whatever she happened to be
wearing was THE height of fashion, and that included
hair coloring and style.

She was not aware of the bewildering looks though,
since all her attention was focused on herself, and the
unhappiness and uncomfortableness she was presently
feeling. These were not things Kristen was normally
forced to contend with.

Seldom in her short life had she been refused any
pleasure, comfort or want, however fleeting or tran-
sitory. Everywhere she went she was granted boons
favors and generosity. At home, her slightest wish was
her parents most important demand. Nothing was denied
her.

Of course this went a long way to explaining her
self indulgent nature, her selfishness and vain outlook
on life. Kristen was about as spoiled as any human
being that walked the face of the earth, and as shallow
as a dried river bed.

Though she was far from stupid, an original
thought had never crossed her pretty little mind. She
followed the dictates of her social group to the
letter, her every move governed by whatever happened to
be "IN."

Now here she was sweating, SWEATING! In a sauna
that was permissible, but out in the open, in her
clothes, it was utterly intolerable.

"Dadddeeeeeeeeee," she whined. "Can't we go in-
doors where it's air-conditioned?"

"The building isn't air-conditioned sweetheart.
It's hotter than out here," he replied.

"Not air-conditioned?" She was truly amazed. In
her experience all buildings were air-conditioned. What
kind of a place was this?

"Ahhh, here comes our driver I think," her father
sighed with relief.

Kristen turned to see a boxy looking car racing
towards them in a cloud of dust. She squinted her eyes
against the sun, then put her hand over her mouth as
the thing drew up in front of them, hurling small
pebbles and dirt all around.

"You Charles Taylor?" a voice demanded.

"I am."

"Righto."

A figure jumped out of the box and moved around to
stand in front of them. Kristen looked up in disgust.
The man was in his early thirties, tall, with coarse
dark hair and weathery tanned skin, he wore a cheap
brown short sleeved shirt and dark green pants tucked
into boots, not even designer boots.

He was sort of handsome, in a rugged, cowboy type
way, with a thick, barrel chest and enormous, biceps.
His hands were big and rough from work, and his chest
hair curled out through the half open shirt. Kristen
wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Pleased ta meet yah." The man said, holding out
his big hand at Taylor. "I'm Joe Steel."

"How do you do?" Charles said, shaking hands.
"This is my wife Lucy..."

"Charmed." Lucy said, waving her hand back and
forth in front of her face to stir a little breeze.

"And my daughter Kristen."

"Hi there Kris." he grinned, his eyes sliding
quickly and appreciatively up and down her body.

"Kristen." she said, stiffly, glaring in reproach.

It didn't do to let the help become to chummy to
begin with, and nobody dared call her Kris.

With no further delay Joe had begun hefting their
bags one and two at a time, and tossing them into the
rear of the "Rover" as he called it. He showed not
even a hint of effort at the heavy bags and was quickly
done, whereupon he jumped into the drivers seat to
await them.

Charles held open the rear door and Lucy and
Kristen carefully stepped in.

"Don't you have air-conditioning?" she complained.

"You're joking?" He laughed. "Air-conditioning!
What a laugh!" He then proceeded to laugh, long and
hard, before stomping on the gas pedal. The three pas-
sengers were thrown back against the weakly padded
seats as the Rover bumped and bounced across the dirt
field and out through the airport gate.

In a short length of time, they were driving
through an incredibly dirty and tacky looking excuse for
a city, with hordes of Black people wandering around
aimlessly and shrieking in some ugly foreign language
that Kristen knew wasn't French or Italian, the only
two acceptable languages other than English.

"How far is the hotel?" She grumbled.

"Hotel? We ain't goin' to no hotel, gorgeous.
We're heading right for the jungle. We'll pick up the
rest of the gear in Bankoland, then head inland."

"You mean we'll be traveling in this?!" she de-
manded in astonishment.

"That's it beautiful."

"But... but... but... we CAN'T travel in this!"
she exclaimed.

He looked back at her in irritation. "And just
what's wrong with this? This is a helluva fine machine,
girl. It'll take you through damn near anything without
stalling."

"How long do we have to be riding around in this
thing?" She demanded.

"This is your ride for the duration, Princess." he
grinned.

"Daddeeeeeeee!"

"Now look, precious, we could hardly travel in a
Rolls in the middle of the jungle," he tried to placate
her.

"Couldn't you get something that was at least air-
conditioned!?"

"You'll never get acclimatized with air-condition-
ing pinky." Joe grinned.

"What?"

"He means you won't get used to the heat,
darling."

"I don't want to get used to the heat!" she stamp-
ed her foot on the floor.

"You ain't got no choice there, pinky."

"Don't call me that!" she demanded, furiously.

He laughed, which did nothing to cool her temper.
She folded her arms tightly, despite the heat, and sank
back in her corner of the seat, determined to sulk un-
til she was back home again. The Rover continued to
bounce along until they reached a small village outside
town.

There they stopped. There was six other four wheel
drive vehicles there waiting. Joe looked at them in
disbelief. "What in hell?" He jumped out and went to
the waiting native drivers, chatting furiously.

"You told me to find everything on the list and
bring it here with drivers." The man in charge said,
shrugging.

"What in hell was on the friggin list?!" Joe de-
manded. He poked his nose inside the rovers and jeeps,
his face growing more and more incredulous.

Finally he came over to stand in front of Charles.

"Are you nuts?" he demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"What in hell is all this junk? You got furniture
here, fer chrissake!"

"Yes, a few tables and chairs, and cots."

"Tables and chairs!"

"I suppose you've never sat in a chair or at a
table." Kristen sniffed, disdainfully. Joe glared at
her, then turned back to Taylor. "You have any idea
what this is costing you?"

"Of course I know." Charles said with dignity.

"How about how long it's gonna take us to pack up
and set down?"

"I'm sure they'll manage."

Joe closed his eyes and counted to ten.

"It's your funeral," he said before finally,
stomping over to the other drivers.

"Really." Lucy said. "Couldn't you have found a
better guide, Charles?"

"He is supposed to be the best, my dear."

"He smells badly." Kristen sulked.

"I dare say we'll all smell badly soon." Her
father said, altogether too happily. Both women looked
at him in disgust.

They bounced down dirt roads for several more
hours, with the other cars riding along behind. They
left the road then, going through the jungle on even
more bouncy trails. Just when she was certain she
couldn't take another minute, they stopped in a small
clearing by a river.

"All right. We're here." Joe said in obvious re-
lief. He almost dove out of the rover, moving as far
away from Kristen as he could get. Never had he had to
bear such a constant unending barrage of whining com-
plaints, and snotty comments.

If she had known the fantasies he'd used to try
and block her out for most of the afternoon, Kristen
would have been outraged. In truth, they weren't all
that different from most men's fantasies about her,
except for being considerably more violent.

The dozen natives proceeded to set up the camp,
which included two large tents, each ten feet by twelve
feet and tall enough for a tall man to stand. Inside
each they carried a large round plastic bathtub, which
they set up in a curtained corner, along with the
portable toilets.

They attached round curtain rods to the tubs, then
put on the curtains. A pipe with a shower nozzle on the
top was put into place, and a generator to power the
pumps, along with other gear, was started up. One large
vehicle was entirely filled with big drums of water,
which were rolled over and attached to the pumps.

Joe sat on the front bumper of his Rover and
watched in stunned amazement as the tubs, along with
tables, chairs, benches and cots were all unloaded and
brought into the tents. Each time Kristen saw him, she
turned up her nose and sniffed in disdain. Joe imagined
what a good sturdy leather belt would do to her round
little behind.

The Taylors wandered around, enjoying the scenery,
what there was of it no further than a dozen yards from
the camp at least. Kristen accompanied her parents,
shrugging and sniffing at everything they pointed out.

He's got a big campfire going, for the atmosphere,
Charles had said, since of course they'd brought por-
table propane stoves and lanterns for heat and light.
The fire drew the only appreciative statement from
Kristen Joe had heard all day. She'd allowed that it
was "OK."

Soon after things were installed, the Taylors all
retired to their tents and the pumps started up. Joe's
mind filled with the image of the pink haired girl
having a shower and despite his irritation at her,
found his loins stirring.

Normally he wouldn't have dreamed of it, but the
little bitch had been such a snotty little thing that
he almost felt she owed him one, a look that is.

With nobody in sight, he unzipped the tent and
poked his head inside, then walked in, poking his head
out to be sure nobody had seen him. He moved across
the room to the little curtained alcove, then looked
inside.

The curtain that ran around the tub was in place
and water pattered off it weakly. The pumps were only
as good as the power source which had to be small
enough to cart around. Still, a good spray of water
enveloped the girl as she stood under it.

The plastic curtain was solid, and only her shadow
showed through. Not a man to hesitate, Joe wandered
across the few feet that separated it from him and
pulled it aside slightly.

Her back was to him, and what a back! Despite his
many experiences with women he had to swallow a sigh of
appreciation. He shook his head as his eyes beheld her
beautifully proportioned body, the lovely round swells
of her buttocks and magnificent legs.

She turned and he let the curtains fall. Then
opened them a crack. Her head was tilted back and her
hands were rubbing shampoo through her long hair. He
closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again.
No, he hadn't been imagining.

"Good Christ!" he murmured, his voice easily
covered by the sound of splashing water. What a body!
His eyes lingered over her upturned breasts, looking
even more golden and perfect as she unconsciously
thrust her chest up and out.

Her belly was smooth and flat and looked like the
softest thing on earth. Her damp pubic hair, she was a
blonde, he saw, barely covered her dark little slit as
she stood with legs slightly apart.

The water trickled off her gleaming wet skin,
giving her a slick, oily look that set his heart pound-
ing and his cock pulsing. It was all he could do to
keep from jumping in and screwing her right then and
there.

Luckily, he was a strong man mentally as well as
physically. He backed away and stumbled out of the tent
his eyes wide and dazed. No matter her personality
flaws, he was going to have the little bitch if it was
the last thing he did!

He set out to please her as soon as she returned
from her shower. His attempts to curry favor and amuse
her failed dismally however. She was used to men trying
to charm and please her and was in no mood for it. Be-
sides, he was as far from her type as it was possible
to get without actually being ugly.

His smile became strained over the course of the
evening, as his most gallant, courteous and congenial
attempts to strike up friendship, or even a conversa-
tion, failed dismally, shot down by snotty remarks,
arrogant condescension and rude and brusque dismissals.

He was in a foul mood when he went to sleep that
night. It didn't get any better the next day, as she
repeated her whining and complaining to such an extent
he was reduced to angry growls and snarls himself. When
she haughtily summoned him to her tent that evening, he
was in no mood to be pleasant.

Her constant sniveling had driven him to tear into
his stash of brandy far sooner than normal, and he was
ready to bite somebody's head off. None would be better
than hers.

Kristen was wearing a light white designer shirt,
that, because of the heat, she'd completely unbuttoned
and then tied together below her braless breasts.

That her magnificent orbs were thus encased in two
tight sacks that became translucent as she sweated, did
not apparently occur to her, and if it had, she
wouldn't have cared. Tormenting men, even ones she dis-
liked was commonplace to her.

Her shorts were the kind of baggy, multi colored
things currently in vogue in California, and looked
preposterous here, but again, that didn't occur to her.

"What is it?" He almost snarled after pushing
through her tent flap.

"This thing doesn't work." she complained, point-
ing at the shower.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" She look-
ed at him like he was exceedingly stupid.

"Fix it." She said, pronouncing each word careful-
ly as she stared at him.

"It ain't my shower." He glared.

"You were hired by my father..."

"To guide you through the jungle. You want a
plumber go and find one."

"How dare you!?" she glared in outrage.

"Oh stuff a sock in it." he snapped.

"When I tell my Daddy..."

"You can tell Daddy whatever the bleeding hell you
want you silly little cunt. I'm tired of listening to
your whining and bitching and complaining!" He moved
right in front of her, staring down angrily from inches
away. She backed up in consternation, but he kept mov-
ing forward until she was backed against a table.

He jammed his face right up against hers. "Your
shit don't stink! Do it?"

Kristen's eyes and mouth opened in amazement. No-
body, but nobody had ever talked to her like this
before.

"I... I... I..."

"Oh can it! I'm sick of listening to your whining
voice!" He shoved his face even closer, forcing her to
bend backwards across the table.

"You are the snottiest little ice maiden I've ever
seen in my life! You and your Goddam bathtubs and God-
dam CD player and your Goddam pink hair! What kind of a
crazy wears pink hair anyway!?

"It... it's the latest s... style." she stuttered.

"Style! Ha! " He backed up slightly, his eyes
glaring as he looked her up and down. "And your
clothes. You wave your little ass around and show off
your fat titties and then look down your nose at anyone
that takes notice!"

He poked his nose in her face again, forcing her
back. "What you really need is a hard belt across your
dainty little rear end! Or better yet a good hard cock
up your tight, cold little hole!"

Kristen gasped in shock, her skin flushing red in
embarrassment and outrage.

"I bet for all your showin' off your still a
stinking virgin!" he snarled.

"I... I am not!" she whined.

"Bullshit! I can't imagine you letting any man
between those legs of yours!" He reached his hand down
and cupped her left breast through the sweaty
blouse. "The only one that's ever touched these are
you!" He sneered, again putting his face right up
against hers.

Kristen was now terrified. She was in a situation
she'd never faced in her life. Someone didn't like her!
Someone was being mean to her, yelling at her and call-
ing her names. She didn't know how to deal with it and
gaped at him in shock, not even trying to slap his hand
away from her hot, sweaty breast.

"What about it, little Miss Ice Queen?" he smirked.

"Or are you a lesbo? That wouldn't surprise me. A
man hating little homo!"

"A... am not!" she whimpered.

"Yeah?" He curled his lip into a sneer, then
abruptly, jammed his big hand down the front of her
shorts. The button tore off, popping across the tent
as his hand forced into the thin garment. Kristen
gasped again, her eyes staring down in shock.

Joe's hand slid right under her panties and cupped
her bare flesh, squeezing up against her pussy mound.
His eyes continued to stare into hers and as she looked
up, she felt held there, her own eyes unable to pull
away as his fingers began to rub up and down over her
cunt.

End Of Part 1

So about drone strikes. It seems even Mafia wouldn't bomb a funeral. But the strikes do. Guess Obama is following one of the rules of zombie land. Double tap.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9Trh8iwNt8&feature=BFa&list=UU1yBKRuGpC1tSM73A0ZjYjQ

I don't like innocent kills. So I do think it's wrong.

Wisdom overcomes all ignorance if people learn it. Educate yourself, TYT and RT america on youtube.

I confess I was feeling pretty low today. So in fact I knew the only thing that would cheer me up was going down to the local nigger funeral home and seeing some dead niggers. Turns out I was more depressed than I realized it took three nigger funerals and two viewings before I could laugh and smile again.

I confess that I had a huge crush on my babysitter.

Back in the mid 90's I was in middle school and my over protective parents would get a babysitter for me when they'd go out. Well one weekend they had to go out of state for a funeral and they had a daughter of one of my moms friends come over to watch me. She was 20 years old and was the hottest woman that I had eer seen in real life. Cute blonde with a nice rack(looking back I think that they were C cups) and she had a decent booty too. The first night she watched me I pretty much walked around with a boner te entire time, and probably beat off to her a dozen times that night. On the second night she exiled me to my room and had her bf come over. They got real hot and heavy, and once she thought I was sleeping they ended up fucking in the living room on the couch. It was the list amazing thing that I had ever seen and beat my dick raw and shot of like 5 loads. When they were done she showed him out, I took the opportunity to sneak down and steal her wet panties. I used them for about a year until they were too gross to keep anymore. I'm kinda ashamed by this but I'm anon so that weekend I blew about 4 loads into her toothbrush, it still gets me hard thinking that she brushed her teeth with my cum.

How many of you are into tr00 kvlt metal on here?
This is the shit i like:
Emperor, Darkthrone, Mayhem, Marduk, Burzum, Dark Funeral, Behemoth and Gorgorth
Post your personal band selections motherfucker

Three construction workers (an Italian, a Mexican, and a Redneck) were sitting on a steel beam at the top of a skyscraper they were building. It was lunchtime. The Italian worker opens his lunch box and sees that he has spaghetti and meatballs.

"Son of a bitch", he says, "spaghetti and meatballs again. Everyday it's spaghetti and meatballs. I swear if I get spaghetti and meatballs again tomorrow I'm going to commit suicide by jumping off this building".

The Mexican worker opens up his lunch box and sees a burrito. "Damnit", he says, "another damn burrito, I'm so tired of burritos, If I have to eat a burrito again tomorrow I'm going to jump off of this building and commit suicide".

The Redneck worker opens his lunch box and sees a bologna sandwich. "Shit!!!, another damn bologna sandwich. If I get another bologna sandwich tomorrow, I'm going to commit suicide".

The next day during lunch hour, they are sitting on the same steel beam. The Italian worker opens his lunch box and finds spaghetti and meatballs. Without saying a word he closes the box and throws himself off of the beam and drops twenty floors to his death. The Mexican worker opens his box, finds a burrito, closes the box and jumps to his death. The Redneck worker opens his box and finds a bologna sandwich, closes the box and jumps to his death.

A couple of days later the families of all three workers meet at the cemetery just after the funerals. The Italian worker's wife was crying.

"Oh, if only I had known how he felt about the spaghetti and meatballs, I could have fixed him a muffalotta, and he would still be here today.

The Mexican worker's wife said "I could have fixed my husband a taco or an enchilada, and he would be here with me today".

There was a moment of silence while everybody was waiting for the Redneck worker's wife to comment.

"Don't look at me", she said, "He fixes his own lunch".

I confess that I've been thinking about killing myself.
I don't have a bad life and I'm grateful for the things that I have and don't have. However, I know I have a lot of potential but I can't reach it. I am left feeling ashamed, embarrassed, lonely and suicidal. I started to shift my time and energy from reaching my potential (career, friends, financial) to planning my suicide.
It makes me laugh because my suicide plan is so brilliant. I plan on leaving enough money for my funeral and family so they can't bitch. I'm even thinking about killing myself in a manner that would still allow my organs to be harvested for donation so I don't go to Hell (if there is one).
In a lot of ways, I feel like I am destined to kill myself. I never really saw myself living a long life anyways.