paulina noir's boudoir
|
Paulina, Mmm hmm, eating vulva hey… is that what you desire honey? A little bit of sister scissoring? Well very much maybe, but I assume that you’ve been enjoying the cock that you’ve been getting as well. I mean frankly speaking from my point of view all forms of meat are delightful, if you know how to cook them. Marinate of cocaine, marinate of pinot noir or marinate of thrush… it’s a veritable smorgasbord out there. Let me tell you I can understand what you’re going through when it comes to that ambiguity. When I’m checking out my fine, fine… about as fine as it gets figure in the mirror, well I just can’t tell what damn gender I am. But I do know one thing, you’ve got to fuck it… really I shouldn’t objectify myself like that but I know I wants to fuck me and because, unfortunately, I’m not that ambidextrous I have to leave it up to others. So what I’d suggest is that you keep giving that bad, bad boy of yours - who looks so good when his lipstick is smudged across his grubby little face - a good rogering. Let him have it in every orifice you want him to shove it. Then when you’ve got a bit of down time and you’re wondering just why your man is such a nancy-boy, go out cruising a dyke bar and pick yourself up some vag. Get her in the cubicle, get down on your knees and let her push it in your face, deep -like, honeysuckled, dripping with juice and I declare you won’t look back sunshine. And one last thing gorgeous, I think your name Sabine is so… oh so hot. It conjures up in my mind all variety of naughty little thoughts. Ah Sabine, your slit from behind while you’re on all fours and that gag ball in your mouth as you gaze back at me, pining for my tongue just to stroke your petite clit and take away the pain. Ah Sabine, you like it like that… Ah Paulina, |
Oh my, you’re a little distasteful, aren’t you? And I don’t mean because of your practise, which I’ll come to in a minute but just because… well, it’s the way you express yourself. Do you have some sort of problem with communicating with flair? You sound like you did your schooling in the lavatory and really, it’s only because of the subject matter of your question that you have made it into print, otherwise I would have returned your letter to the department where you got it. Anyway, so you’ve shaved your balls and you think you might be some kind of queer because of it. Now Gazza, um, I don’t want to surprise you or anything but generally when someone perceives themselves as queer it’s usually due other reasons. You’re a man, so I’ll spell out some of the situations where you might begin to think that you’re not the hetro male you once thought yourself to be. So I’m wondering whether you might look at other men’s crotches when they’re walking down the street and you’re trying to ascertain from the crease just how big they might be when erect. Then you wonder how that cock might feel when it is down your throat, good and hard and you’re moving your lips and tongue over it and sucking and hoping that the guy’s getting all the pleasure you can give him. What’s more you want him to squirt his load right down your throat so it hits the back wall and slowly slides into your oesophagus. Or have you been envisaging going round to random men’s houses, bending over their kitchen table, dropping your pants and hoping that they slide it up your back passage. Have you been imagining what it’s like for them to penetrate deeper and deeper, ramming it on in harder and harder? The pain and delight intermingled. Keep shaving your balls straight boy and maybe you should think about going and getting some lessons on how you might be able to express yourself a bit better. Laterz… Paulina, |
Lucas Oh my Luke, you’ve got a penchant for mutton. I tell you I ain’t that old but if you were to check me in a bikini, all tucked under, I bet you’d feel the same. Like when I get really dolled up tis hard for me to actually make it down the road without every construction worker with a serious case of beer gut, coin slot, crotch rot whistling through their missing front teeth at me. But to you Lukey, to your situation and the MILF. Actually another aside, you sound like you might be quite delectable yourself. I can imagine how you look out on the back porch gazing at that older vixen whose most likely creaming her hot pink bikini bottoms. I bet you get a little hard down there, don’t you big boy. And if you gave me the time, I’d kneel down before those blue jeans of yours and rub at that sword in its sheath. I’d undo that fly and I’d swallow it like you wouldn’t know how until that moment. Those young, nubile women that you’re wasting your time with they don’t know how to take a cock in their throat like I do honey. Anyway, back to your situation… your friend, stuff him. If his mummy wants you to suck on her teat than go and do it big boy. When she’s standing by the pool with that long thick pole in her hand, wishing that it was you, move up close behind her. Like real close, push your body into hers so your sweat defiles her body and she can feel your pole pressed into her arse. Reach round with your hand and slide it into her bikini, down into her pubis and feel her mountain dew. As she turns to face you take your fingers and suck that dew off them. Then drop to your knees, wrench down her bikini and drink from that mango, like it’s the first moisture you’ve seen since your long walk across the desert. Then I’ll step in from the side and move in behind her and take her anus in my mouth. We’ll make her scream together like it was the dawn of time just as your best friend comes out from the sliding glass door with two glasses of red cordial in his hand and realises that if anyone should be doing his own mother it should be him. if you’ve got an itch that paulina can scratch then drop her a line at paulina@powderzine.com paulina's previous columns |