Paul's Place ☕🍸🍎🥑🥒🍞🍗
◀️ (Click this picture for a larger view)

The vibe here is relaxed. Take your shoes off...

Potato salad ? 🥔 Cherry Pie ? 🍒 ,
The wine rack is bare... for now...
Bring your own...
I've got an opener.

Does anyone read blog Main Pages?  

. 😶 Good sex is like bridge.
If you don't have a good partner,
you'd better have a good hand.

* Words are like meatloaf - they can be sculpted into any shape you choose. . . . .
(* ©April 2018-19 July Paul P. )
Affichage titre | Recommander à un ami |
My Private Mail Box
Publié :12/7/2018 9h41
Dernière mise à jour :14/7/2019 21h26
155284 vues
My Private Mail Box 📩 ....
Click Comments , leave a message and check your own Blog Main Page - 'Where I.m Quoted' ... or come back here.
🍸 ☕
Click the PIC for a focused view ..
0 commentaires , 65 En cours
Being A Famous A F F Celebrity Blogger...😎 Is Not Easy... It Is Hard... 🤔
Publié :15/7/2019 10h44
Dernière mise à jour :17/7/2019 14h03
1525 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

Being a famous - A F F Celebrity Blogger - is not easy. I'm constantly being recognized and hounded for autographs and selfies... wherever I go. Take last weekend...

Now I'll admit... I don't really mind. I mean... if I can help motivate someone, to achieve their life goals, then so be it. As a role model (for some), I am always aware, of the standard I'm setting. My "dick pics" (for example) - are for Friends only! So... I sat there in the restaurant, taking tiny bites of food, wiping my mouth, quickly. I wasn't at all surprised, when THEY, approached me.

Their cell phone cameras were at the ready; paper and pens in hand. I put my knife and fork down, in anticipation of the inevitable gawking. I expected their gushing requests, for proof and confirmation - of their brush, with a. r.eal, live, superstar... and famous person . Then... to my complete surprise, they walked right by, MY table and trudged quickly, to the group seated behind me.

"What the fuck?"; were my first thoughts... until I turned around and realized who, was sitting behind me.

He was leaning on his elbows, a mouthful of grilled salmon sticking outta his mouth. Tartar sauce clung to the edges of his lips and his fingers were smeared with butter. It was Captain Kirk -William Shatner. 'Comic-Con' was in town at the Convention Center and he was there for the festivities.

Hmmm... I Waited until that silly cluster of people, had left Captain Kirk's table, before I turned back in my chair and asked him to sign my napkin.

Never presume! Life will always surprise you with the unexpected. I wore my sunglasses for the balance of my meal. I hoped no one, would recognize me. No one , did.

Are there any valid role models, out there... these days?

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39 commentaires
I Was Relieved... 😊 When She Came... 😃
Publié :11/7/2019 12h14
Dernière mise à jour :16/7/2019 17h25
6791 vues
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The incessant buzz , of an air conditioner and the uninterrupted rattle , of the Coke machine - had numbed my brain. A beep warned me, my phone, was slowly dying. I closed it. The charger, was in the trunk of my car. My car, was in the repair shop. The repair shop waiting room, was where I sat. I sat there ... alone .

I looked around. An assortment of magazines, were scattered about, on a table. I picked one up ( 'Popular Science' ) and randomly, turned to an article ; 'Electric Cars... The Future Is Coming'. It was written in "Alrighty... Let's try something else," I thought, as I picked up another.

'Time Magazine'... "Ahhh... they always, have stuff, that's interesting." I flipped to a piece titled ; 'Will Trump, Beat Hillary?'. Somehow... I already knew the answer, to that question. There was a dusty old phone book, on one of the shelves. I hadn't read a phone book in years, but I recalled the plot. I let it be. At that moment, she came ... into my waiting room and sat down. I was relieved... Someone to talk with... perhaps?

She was attractive... and smiled brightly at me. I smiled back and welcomed her, with an original question ;"Fixing your car?"

"Beklager. Jeg snakker ikke engelsk. Jeg er fra Norge," she replied while raising her hands and furrowing her eyebrows.

She didn't speak English. I don't speak, Norwegian.

I sat there, almost alone... and waited.

I counted... the fucking grimy, greasy, faded yellow... floor tiles. Five hundred and ninety four...

Where are your WORST places, to wait? 🤔

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45 commentaires
Drake Played... 🎵At FrankeeZee's Pool Party...😎
Publié :9/7/2019 12h14
Dernière mise à jour :17/7/2019 13h02
8936 vues
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The ice trays were empty. I peered into the freezer. "Frankee...! " I yelled. "You're outta ice?"

"Paul... why dont'cha get some," he yelled back, from down in the bowels, of the play room. "Order more pizza too." I barely heard him, above the din of Drake, singing - "God's Plan".

FrankeeZee, was throwing his summer pool party. It was five in the morning. Can you imagine the carnage?

Walking into the dining room (to search for my cell phone), I stopped in my tracks. "Hey Frankee!" I yelled again. "One of your goats, is eating the curtains. Someone, opened the pen again." No answer from Frankee. His three goats, maintained the lawn... in case you were wondering. My phone, must have been, in one of the bedrooms. I trudged upstairs and pushed the first door open.

There lay, Silvia and Doug; entwined... and sleeping - on the bed. They were supposedly , separated. I guess, they'd reconciled. No phone. I stepped into another room. No phone there either... although, I found a second goat. She ... looked up at me and continued, to munch the potato chips, spilled on the floor. I searched the other rooms, without success. Down... and outside, to the pool. I might have left my phone, by the barbeque.

Soft lights... shimmered, beneath the mirror calm, turquoise water. There were a pair, of white panties, resting at the bottom; Linda's... I think. Guests were sprawled, on deck chairs. Some were talking, others sleeping. Bill was passed out, floating in the deep end... on one of those big, inflatable swans. Still no phone. I shuffled back, into the living room. The doorbell rang. I opened the door - almost expecting, to greet the police.

Standing there, was FrankeeZee's neighbour, Steve. He was wearing his 'Golden State Warriors' pyjamas... and a sour look on his face.

"I found Frankee's fricken goat, eating my compost heap." He handed me the rope leash, with a goat attached.

"Thanks," I replied. "Hey Steve... would you happen to have any ice?"

"Sure. Come on over Paul. By the way... tell Frankee, to stop playing Drake, or I will go down there and break, his fucking stereo."

I nodded... knowingly. "Steve... How's your wife? I haven't seen anyone, throw up THAT much, since highschool. She OK?"

Steve grunted and turned, towards his house. I followed him, picked up the ice and walked back, into Frankee's home. And there it was - a pink phone... IN ... the kitchen sink. It wasn't mine , but it worked! I was just ending, the 'pizza call', when FrankeeZee walked in... carrying a chicken, under his arm.

"Wow! What a party Paul. And no cops this year... so far."

I looked at FrankeeZee and blinked. The chicken clucked. "Steve wants you to stop playing Drake. Oh... and where's Debra? I found, her phone."

"Steve's a sore looser," Frankee replied laughing. "Debra? She's sittin' next to the chicken coup, drinkin' a slushy and talkin', with my chickens."

Yep... Frankee knew, how to throw a bash.

FrankeeZee is having another party (later in the summer)... as soon as he repairs the damage from this one.

Do you recall, your last 'Epic' Party?

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40 commentaires
Rear View Mirrors... Sex Toys 🥒... and Traffic Tips...😮
Publié :26/6/2019 11h58
Dernière mise à jour :17/7/2019 14h08
8998 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

I don't have anything, hanging from the rear view mirror, in my car. But SHE did.

I understand why men, dangle wedding garters; they caught a trophy. Cd's...? You've failed, at burning one. I've never had beads, necklaces or feathers - gracing my sight lines. I haven't thought of attaching a 'dream catcher' or a set of keys. My headphones, always have a resting place; rather than flopping, side to side, in front of my face. Religious pictures or symbols; no thanks! I DID... try that green Christmas tree, air freshener - once. It freshened for a while... until it didn't. So the other day, there I was... moored, in the morning mess, of the freeway frenzy. And... well...

You know, how you peer into the cars beside you, when you're bored? That's what I did. I was, surprised, by what I saw. Hanging from HER rear view mirror... was a dildo . It was bright pink. And it proudly bounced, up and down, to the rhythm, of the bumps in the road.

I wondered what she might have been thinking. Was it a joke? Perhaps it served as inspiration and motivation for her. Was it a cherished gift, from a close friend?

My eyes were drawn to that shlong and its brown haired owner. She was certainly attractive enough. I caught her eye and grinned. She smiled back. My window was lowered and so was hers. You know me, I'm the shy type. I pointed and spoke, as our cars lingered, at a dead stop. "You're not distracted, by the view?"

She laughed and replied; "Not at all. It brings me good luck."

Traffic nudged forward and began to merge into one lane. I motioned to her. She waved and scooted her car in front of me. "Ahhh..." then it dawned on me. "She uses IT, to get ahead in traffic jams. Smart move," I thought.

Tomorrow... I'm stopping in at the Sex Shop and picking myself up a - 'Fleshlight'. I'll hang it on my rear view mirror. We'll see, if THAT gets me through traffic, any quicker. Can't be worse than it is. Heck... if I get horny I can... uh... never mind.

I let another car, squeeze in front of me. She... was a cute red head. She waved. I sheepishly waved back.

So... Even if ya don't drive...
Ya think women have an advantage, when it comes to moving about - in traffic? 🤔

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30 commentaires
Sex... Lies... And The Missing Chicken... 🐔🤔
Publié :24/6/2019 13h22
Dernière mise à jour :10/7/2019 20h08
9137 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

I told my daughter a small lie the other day. She texted me, and asked what I was up to. I didn't feel comfortable replying; "I'm on a 'world famous sex site', perving naked women." So instead... I told her; "I'm making chicken parmesan." Which was GOING to be true... soon enough. It reminded me of the times, adults in my tribe, had fibbed. Were they trying to protect me?

My grandparents emmigrated from Europe and tried to emulate their rural lifestyle, in urban Montreal. So of course... they bred rabbits, in a pen - in their backyard. Didn't everyone?

My brother and I were very young. We didn't understand, that whole 'sex thing'. Every month or so, we'd see new baby bunnies, hopping about, in that fenced in enclosure. We'd be told, that a friendly neighbour, had brought them as gifts. Come to think of it... it was kinda strange, to see that fat male bunny, always flopped, on top of the female bunny. She never seemed to mind.

We had (what I now realize, was), rabbit stew, quite often... at Granny's place. She would tell us, that it was chicken. What did WE know? It tasted like chicken. They soon got rid of the rabbit farm.
Grandma and Grandpa then diversified... into chickens.

I'll always remember that FIRST one. My granny brought home, a live chicken, from the market.
She put the 'poulet', under a clothes hamper and told my brother and me, that there was a chicken, in the basement. Well... can you imagine, our excitement, when we ran down those stairs, and actually saw, a live chicken? My grandfather asked us, if we wanted to pet that bird. What do you think we said? "Of course!" 

Twenty minutes later, my grandpa, was still chasing, that fricken chicken, around his work bench. My brother and I were laughing so hard, we could hardly supervise, the chase. He wasn't amused!

A few days later.... we no longer found, our pet chicken downstairs. When we asked grandma about 'Bob' (that was his name), she replied;

"The chicken escaped!" 

We were sad. With my four year old mind, I didn't think of asking; how he got out, or where he might have run to. There were two sets of doors to open and they lived, on a six lane boulevard. How did he turn the door handles? A better question, might have been - why did he cross the road?

That night, grandma served rabbit stew ; or so she said. That rabbit, tasted great. And surprisingly... a lot, like chicken.

To this day, I have no idea where.... that silly chicken went to. D'ja think it's still roamin' the streets of Montreal... somewhere?

Yep... little lies and tiny deceptions. All meant to protect young minds. I somehow doubt, today's kids have that same buffer. Or do they need one? I was pretty open about everything, with my kids. Except the thing about THAT sex site, last week.

She'll figure it out one day. Or not. Doesn't really matter, does it? Maybe SHE'S ... on one.

Sugar coated lies... did you tell them?
Ever notice, how many things taste like chicken?

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34 commentaires
Throw Me a Party🎉... When I'm Dead and Gone 😄... I'll Bring The Music 🎶 🤗
Publié :21/6/2019 10h56
Dernière mise à jour :13/7/2019 21h36
10963 vues
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Last Sunday, I spent the afternoon at the cemetery. It was a hot and balmy, June day. Fat, grey squirrels, scurried amongst the gravestones. A clear blue sky and a lush green vista... framed my view. The scent of apple blossoms and lilac, d the air. I stood there... amongst the dead. It was quiet and peaceful. But I was there, for a purpose.

There is, a Christian Orthodox tradition, 'Trinity Sunday' (celebrated eight weeks after Easter, on the 'Julian Calender' ), where ALL the departed, are honored with a gravesite ceremony. It's presided by family and friends and a priest. The prayer and incense infused, 'Thurible' blessing is brief - but it brings people together.

When my grandmother was alive, we'd all go back to her home and have a simple meal. The adults would recall stories and share memories and drink shots of vodka. They'd spend time laughing and reminiscing. As a kid... I'd just look forward, to eating Grandma's roasted chicken and garlic mashed potatoes. Since my grandmother passed away, WE all just go, our separate ways... home. Kinda sad, when I think about it. But what I saw, as I drove through the cemetery... struck me. Some people - still get it RIGHT !

I was heading towards the Main Gates, when I passed a cluster of people, spread out by a gravestone. Blankets on the ground, marked a crawl way, for the tiny toddlers, too small to walk. The women sitting there, doled out bread and meats and cheeses and... d up plastic glasses, with wine. Younger children played round the monuments, chasing each other, giggling. The men stood by, telling stories, while they laughed and toasted in the air, with arms raised.

Ya know... I think that's the way, I'd like to be remembered. When I'm dead and gone, throw me a fucking PARTY... by my gravesite. Bring on the food and wine and vodka. Oh and... put the music up, FULL blast. It'll be tough, for me to hear the tunes!

Damn... I thought of something; "They better not play any fricken disco ." I'll start working, on that music mix. I wonder, what my first song would be?

Ya think you'd want, or deserve, a party in your honor, when you're gone?
What would be, your first tune? 🤔

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62 commentaires
If Hotel Rooms... Could Share Your Secrets... What Would They Say... 😏
Publié :17/6/2019 12h45
Dernière mise à jour :27/6/2019 5h12
13281 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

Rented space...a party place or a lover's lair, an immoral tryst. Where beer and pizza stains and love's smears... can remain hidden. Only you'd know, where to find them; though you wouldn't care. No one does. A souvenir, forever buried... or perhaps not. Sometimes splayed, proudly on white cotton sheets... to prove, you both lay there.

You're alone... for a moment. A shower's stream, tumbling in the bathroom, gives proof - it's safe. Panties thrown on a chair. You lay down, press your nose, into the pillow... and nudge your senses, one more time. You close your eyes and fein surprise. Cologne meshed with perfume, a musky odour - pheromones... still linger. The remnants ( faint scent), can still arouse... and electrify a memory.

It's early and barely light. The room... is yours. Do what you might.

The mystery of a hotel or a motel room. What stories would it share?Or would you even be there?

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47 commentaires
I Did Not Want... To Make Her Wet💧... Or Did I... 😊
Publié :13/6/2019 12h28
Dernière mise à jour :17/6/2019 21h26
23486 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

It was early, last Sunday morning. I made a left and turned my car, towards the marina. The previous night's rain, had left an inviting, six inch deep, mirrored pool of water. I considered the most obvious - 'irrational male option'. You know the one! That's where I gun the car and drive like an idiot. The one where I forge, an unrepentant hellbent path, down the middle of the street. The ten foot shower, that would be sprayed, on either side of my hurtling car, would make for an impressive show. If only there had been, anyone there - to watch. Then.... I saw her.

She was tall and fit and my kinda gal. She was walking her tiny dog - a fluffy white Shih Tzu . They hugged the very edge, of the only bits... of dry sidewalk remaining. Their heads were bowed as they tip toed carefully along. She was sharply dressed, in a short black skirt, white runners and a beige sweater that sparkled... with finely sewn glitter. I perched my arm, on the outside of my open window and slowed, to almost zero. I didn't want to make any waves.

She must have thought, that I had something to say. She took out the ear buds, from her phone, and stopped and looked at me. I hadn't planned on saying anything. I was watching the water, as it sloshed and splashed up my tires. But now, well... I felt compelled. I said the first dumb thing, that came to mind.

"I don't know who's cuter; you... or your dog."

She laughed. I continued.

"Does your husband usually let you walk your dog alone, this early? You never know what type of strange people, you'll run into."

She laughed again and spoke. "Oh... I'm not married. But I notice... YOU'RE wearing a ring. Perhaps you should be careful who YOU, speak with," she replied, smiling coyly.

I hesitated... just for a second. Was that an invitation?

"No... I'm not married either. Gold is my colour and it matches my watch. Look out for the water. I don't want to get you all wet," I waved... and slowly eased on... by.

Now THAT... was lame! I was kinda speechless. A rarity for me. I usually have a glib reply. She had a point, about the ring. I've worn that ring for all the years I was married and all the years, since I wasn't. I've worn it forever! It fits nice. I am used to it. It's gold and I feel odd without it. I am constantly nudging my thumb against it, playing with it... twirling it round and around. Do you know what I mean?

As I drove into the marina, I pulled off the ring and put it on my right hand. "There!" I thought. Simple enough. Looks fine and... on the right hand, it doesn't symbolize marriage. Does it? I steered my car into a spot and put it into 'Park'. Things... just didn't, feel right. My ring, was rubbing up against the shifter and my steering wheel... and everything. The short experiment, was over. The ring was going back, on my left hand.

Seven minutes later and that fucking ring, was still stuck, on my right hand. Yes... I eventually pried it, off my swollen finger. I pushed it back on my left hand... where it belonged.

Some things, are just meant to be. Some things just won't change... even, if they should. My ring looks fine, where it is. Heck... it even keeps the flies away... if I flash it.

What do you think?

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48 commentaires
Do I Need... Whiter Teeth... To Get Fucked... Damn...😁
Publié :11/6/2019 13h12
Dernière mise à jour :19/6/2019 7h47
22863 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

Last Saturday... we sat there, amongst a couple of hundred other parents. WE chose, the right side of the auditorium. The side, without the fucking kids crying. Who... takes a baby... to a College Graduation? Or am I too harsh? Eventually .. they introduced the names, in HER class. I fumbled with my phone. "Don't fuck this up!", I thought to myself.

I didn't. It was such - a surprisingly, smooth ceremony. Eloquent... in fact and at moments, profound. The Director paused... and asked all the graduates, to place themselves, back into that moment, as they FIRST stepped, through the DOORS, of the College. He asked them, to recall their questions : " Can I ? Is it possible? Will I be able to?"

"Well... You HAVE !" he loudly pronounced, to rousing applause.

It all went well. And I almost teared up. My 'Ex' nudged me and smiled. I shared her pride! Oh... but then...I looked back at her and was momentarily distracted. ...

Damn... she looked old. Am I an asshole for saying that?

What happened to her blond hair? Why was she wearing a cotton table cloth and flats? Didn't she still own, a pair of classy heels and a tight fitting dress ? So many OTHERS there, did. I am, shallow... I guess... I presume I didn't look the same as she recalled me, last time we met

We took the pictures... and others... took pictures, for us.

My beaming daughter (who had graduated), and who starts her career, as a Dental Hygenist... (one month from now) ... looked at the pics that were taken.

"Dad. I love you! But you need to seriously look after your teeth. Ya know... I can get you IN, without an appointment. Dad! Seriously!"

I love my daughter and she loves me. Are my teeth, that bad? Do I need white teeth, in order to get laid?

I'm thinking... my personality, might be a partner, in THAT decision. My daughter will advise me on that whitening procedure. She promised me!

What about you?

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58 commentaires
FrankeeZee... the Russian Girl😘... and Porno Pizza Delivery... 🍕
Publié :29/5/2019 13h33
Dernière mise à jour :11/6/2019 8h12
36293 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

A couple of weeks ago, *FrankeeZee told me, that he had found, a part time job, delivering pizza. I was surprised. I thought, you couldn't drive a vehicle, if you had a suspended licence. FrankeeZee claimed; "It's a tiny misunderstanding, with a judge, about a minor ticket, for a very small amount- a technicality... really."


So... (as I began to say), Frankee got this job, as a pizza delivery guy. I don't mean the "cool, porno kind"; just a "shitty regular kind". Last Friday night I was sleeping, when at three in the morning - the phone rang. It was FrankeeZee and he needed my help. I asked him what was going on, but he wouldn't say. He told me to drive to an address. I don't really trust FrankeeZee, farther than I can throw a pumpkin, but he is , my friend. Off I went... into the dark... to rescue my buddy.

I drove about ten minutes and reached a beautiful ranch style house, near the lakeshore. I'd barely finished pressing the doorbell, when FrankeeZee flung open the door and started talking... a mile a minute.

"Paul... I need your help..."

I walked into the living room. FrankeeZee began explaining to me how he had wanted, to call 9 1 1 BUT, because of his suspended license... he didn't. I interrupted him, when I noticed the completely naked woman, beautifully spread out, on the thick, living room carpet. There was a pillow neatly tucked under her head... a large green dildo, sticking in her vagina... and a wide smile... pasted on her face. She was passed out... and snoring.

"Frankee... what the fuck is going on here? What have you gotten yourself into?"

"Paul... She's not the problem. She was like that, when I got here. After I rang the doorbell, I heard someone calling for help. The door was unlocked. I ran in and found her sleeping. THERE'S the problem, " and he pointed toward the back yard. "I should pull that dildo out of her. She might be more comfortable," he added.

I yanked FrankeeZee by the arm and we walked to the sliding glass doors. As I stepped onto the patio, an empty bottle of vodka and a man's bathing trunks, greeted my left foot. It was then, that I noticed... the naked guy. He was sitting neck deep, in this huge, bubbling jacuzzi. He began hollering at us. FrankeeZee nodded at me and spoke.

"Ya see? This is why I needed your help. I don't know, what his problem is. He's been screaming at me in Russian and I don't understand, a fucking word he's saying."

I understand Russian. I UNDERSTOOD, the naked guy's problem. I looked at FrankeeZee and blinked.

"This is messed up Frankee. Ya know what his problem is? He's got his dick, stuck in one of the suction jets of that jacuzzi and he can't get it out. He wants me to get to the controls, turn off the pumps and cut the main power, so he can pry his cock outta there."

"Seriously? How do you get your cock stuck, in a jacuzzi jet? "

I didn't have time to answer. The naked Russian guy, was telling me how to shut the whole system down I ran to the controls and followed his instructions. Bang .... the lights in the jacuzzi, the pumps, the jets and bubbles - everything stopped.

That guy in the tub, splashed around and grunted, till he finally, freed his dick. Then... there was total silence... except for the heavy breathing, of a relieved... Russian. He soon, began to thank me profusely, while he put on his trunks.

We didn't leave, right away. That (formerly naked) Russian guy (Alexey), offered us shots of vodka. We drank and ate the pizza, that FrankeeZee had delivered. The attractive naked lady (Natasha), we found on that carpet? Well... she eventually woke up and joined the party. We had a great time and made new friends.

I never did ask Alexey, how he got his dick stuck. And FrankeeZee? Well... he's convinced, that we were being filmed. Oh and... he also got fired from his pizza job.

FrankeeZee, will never get, to be that - "porno pizza delivery guy". Although, he checks 'pornhub' daily, for any new - "pizza delivery guy" videos.

What's the worst job, you've ever had?
Do you eat midnight snacks?

*FrankeeZee is a member and top blogger, of ™FOGCAF - Friends Of Good Clean Adulterous Fun

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36 commentaires
Select Pics... For A Perfect Friday... 😊
Publié :24/5/2019 17h10
Dernière mise à jour :29/5/2019 13h43
39882 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the t.ext. Please be patient.

It's Friday ... not much going on?

Or perhaps there are... a ton of things you've got planned.

And a bunch of stuff... you can imagine!


Plan on THIS ... or just imagine it !


... let know where you want this to go.


Any plans for tonight?

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31 commentaires
Early Exposure To Sex... Does It Cause Bad Habits... 🤔
Publié :23/5/2019 12h24
Dernière mise à jour :29/5/2019 18h01
39980 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the t.ext. Please be patient.

I was on this sex site, late last night ; 'A F F' ... ever heard of it? I was reading a blog by 'smartasswoman'. Her post was titled - "CBT... " (cock, ball, t.orture). Fascinating stuff! But it got me thinking. Early exposure to sexual material, may have affected my behavior. I might have been under prepared. Am I a product of sex, at too early an age?

I typed in, a search on the web. There it was. 'Psychology Today' , came out with an article, a few years ago, analysing the relationship between - early exposure to sexual content and its effects on men and women. Turns out... it's not good.

Among the conclusions reached, were;
(1) Early exposure to boys, of sexually explicit media led to a three times higher probability of engaging in sex and oral sex, within two years of exposure. Young girls... twice as likely.
(2) Both men and women would suffer from ; sex, love and relationship addictions.
(3) Both men and women would develop a higher interest in kinky sex, humiliation and other deviant sexual behavior, including BDSM.
(4) It also lead to shaping values, when it came to; attitudes, behavior and relationships. (Although... those attitudes weren't described.)

I was 7 years old, when the boy across the street, pulled out a deck of playing cards; he'd borrowed, from his older brother. We never played ONE game, of 'Crazy Eights'. We did, spend hours and hours, admiring the colour pictures, on those cards. He managed to get his hands on an "adult" magazine, that year as well. There were no articles written in it. I learned, to appreciate the value of - 'close up' photography. And... if you recall (from my blog last week), my 'next door neighbour' (that eleven and a half year old girl) and I, managed to get into... uhmm.... some pretty serious exploration... of our bodies. I'm still in shock, that she could USE me, like that.

Which brings me to my point. Looking back over my sexual life... there seems to have been a pattern, that has developed. A certain kinkiness, that has emerged, over the years. I don't know, if it's my early exposure, to all that sexual media and materials. Or was it due to my influential neighbours? Perhaps I'd be the same person, with the same kinks I have today ; in spite of their manipulative ways and t.hat deck of cards.

I can only imagine (what with, the internet and porn sites), how much easier it is for today's youth - to get a head start on sex. I don't know where I'd be, if I had access to the web... back in the day. Omg! 😱

Perhaps that knowledge, should best be supervised, by a mature and well balanced adult. If they exist. Someone who knows better. Someone with a measured perspective. What do you think?

I'm not sure, you should ask me. I ended up leaving comments on "smartasswoman's " blog. I wondered... if anyone there, was interested in 'sounding'.

Google it... 😶

Do you think early exposure to sexual content and media has affected your sexual appetite and personality: or what DID affect it?
Talking about appetite... whatcha y'all got goin' on the menu for this long weekend?

Note : A F F is deleting words in the t.ext. Please be patient.
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