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B. James Dunsmore

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(no subject) [Apr. 10th, 2009|01:29 pm]

To NORA

Dublin  8 December 1909

 My sweet little whorish Nora I did as you told me, you dirty little girl, and pulled myself off twice when I read your letter. I am delighted to see that you do like being fucked arseways. Yes, now I can remember that night when I fucked you for so long backwards. It was the dirtiest fucking I ever gave you, darling. My prick was stuck in you for hours, fucking in and out under your upturned rump. I felt your fat sweaty buttocks under my belly and saw your flushed face and mad eyes. At every fuck I gave you your shameless tongue came bursting out through your lips and if a gave you a bigger stronger fuck than usual, fat dirty farts came spluttering out of your backside. You had an arse full of farts that night, darling, and I fucked them out of you, big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties ending in a long gush from your hole. It is wonderful to fuck a farting woman when every fuck drives one out of her. I think I would know Nora's fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women. It is a rather girlish noise not like the wet windy fart which I imagine fat wives have. It is sudden and dry and dirty like what a bold girl would let off in fun in a school dormitory at night. I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts in my face so that I may know their smell also.

You say when I go back you will suck me off and you want me to lick your cunt, you little depraved blackguard. I hope you will surprise me some time when I am asleep dressed, steal over to me with a whore's glow in your slumberous eyes, gently undo button after button in the fly of my trousers and gently take out your lover's fat mickey, lap it up in your moist mouth and suck away at it till it gets fatter and stiffer and comes off in your mouth. Sometimes too I shall surprise you asleep, lift up your skirts and open your drawers gently, then lie down gently by you and begin to lick lazily round your bush. You will begin to stir uneasily then I will lick the lips of my darling's cunt. You will begin to groan and grunt and sigh and fart with lust in your sleep. Then I will lick up faster and faster like a ravenous dog until your cunt is a mass of slime and your body wriggling wildly.

Goodnight, my little farting Nora, my dirty little fuckbird! There is one lovely word, darling, you have underlined to make me pull myself off better. Write me more about that and yourself, sweetly, dirtier, dirtier.


Jim

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(no subject) [Jan. 5th, 2009|12:49 pm]

Stuck here out of gas
Out here on the gaza strip
From driving in too fast
two, three, four

 

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a matter of tradition. [Dec. 18th, 2008|06:01 pm]

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(no subject) [Dec. 13th, 2008|05:40 pm]
http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com/
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(no subject) [Oct. 28th, 2008|11:27 am]

It's snowing in Asheville.


 
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(no subject) [Oct. 19th, 2008|09:34 pm]



PS. http://www.coldvoid.com/
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(no subject) [Oct. 18th, 2008|02:32 am]
Who will make the first last mistake?
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(no subject) [Oct. 14th, 2008|11:09 pm]

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(no subject) [Oct. 12th, 2008|10:19 pm]

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(no subject) [Oct. 12th, 2008|10:14 pm]

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(no subject) [Sep. 29th, 2008|11:54 pm]
France 24: Global Capitalism on the Brink

I'm not sure what I think about this phrase. I mean, I know it's some form of intense excitement, I'm just not sure how to phrase it.

The end of history perhaps?

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So 20th Century... [Sep. 19th, 2008|10:01 am]
Showering and consistent hygiene are so 20th century.

Stay tuned for more condescension.

PS. Magic Jesus is so 19th century.
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(no subject) [Sep. 5th, 2008|01:02 am]
privilege breeds discontent.
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pretty eyes! pretty eyes! [Aug. 25th, 2008|11:07 pm]

upon searching youtube for videos I stumbled upon my sole contribution to the digital cultural wasteland.
Oh, memories.
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(no subject) [Aug. 24th, 2008|03:14 pm]

the computer is...thinking.
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(no subject) [Jul. 16th, 2008|09:49 pm]
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the last boundaries of feminism [Jul. 16th, 2008|04:37 pm]
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Requiem for Hillary Clinton 2008, for Chelsea [Jul. 6th, 2008|01:19 pm]
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(no subject) [Jun. 1st, 2008|10:10 pm]
i'm leaving for Europe tomorrow. i will not be back for a month.

life rox.
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Romantic to Modern [Apr. 9th, 2008|09:06 pm]
Out to dinner one night
with Walt Whitman
after the fish had been served,
over drink he spoke of death.
Saying one should not fear anything
especially the event of death.

Glancing at his face
with my glass to my mouth
I think, "Are you mad, old man?"

There is no more terrifying event
than letting oneself sink into unbeing
when your guts and fluids
sink into the anonymous earth
and you're face to face with
the ungropable unknown.

You, sir, are a fool.
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