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Obama’s Sex Slave

Copy Right 200812, By Dr Adam Ireland

Foreword: This novel is built using the ―cut-up‖ method, The seven stories within are transposed upon each other for maximum subconscious effect. Warning: Reader beware, the following book has been designed to turn the reader into a stark raving mad sex fiend. After reading the complete text the reader will first have troubles relating to ―normal‖ or ―sane‖ people, the next phase will occur within the following 2 to 3 days and will involve breathing difficulties and waking dreams of brutal sexual conquest, The next phase will be a total loss of rational ability to control the bowels or liver, this phase is messy but only lasts for a few days. Following that phase the reader will attempt to read the text again, this will then overload the readers mental processing abilities and result in a panic attack then a black out, the blackout will last exactly 13 hours and 23 seconds, upon regaining perception the reader will find blood dried onto his or her hands and genitals. If not arrested the reader will continue to have black outs every day, during the time of the black out the reader will be a crazed sexual predator, hunting people for its twisted needs, eating the remains of its victims and collecting Italian cooking recipes ( an unexpected symptom that is as of yet unexplained). If the reader remains free of jail and survives the first month they will then return to a normal mental state but remember nothing of their deranged experiences.


Table of contents:

Chapter 1

The Interview


Chapter 2

The casting call


Chapter 4

Pussy for two please


Chapter R Eat you own ass


Chapter 5

The band plays with itself


Chapter 6

The bitch is not black today


Chapter 7

Get out of my car

Chapter 8

She was almost ready


Chapter 9

Her name is not real



Chapter 10 The holiday in Camp David Chapter 12

I have gas



Chapter 13 He made me vote twice


Chapter 14 The cum dried on his shoes


Chapter 15 He killed and ate my mother and made me watch American Idol 112 Chapter 17

They watched as I used their wives

Chapter 19.3 The fast food army

124 130


Chapter 1 The Interview


The following is from a transcript of a live interview with Obama‘s personal sex slave. Recorded in 2011 in a crack house in New Jersey, The slave wishes to keep his identify a secret, He was gutted by a team of red necks in a Ford F-150 with ―I ain‘t no racist‖ bumper stickers 20 seconds after finishing this interview. ―At a Obama rally in the vaginal worms 2008s The Obama end of Wet He pulled back from me and grinned again. "I knew you'd learn Much of the tumult that has engulfed Land of cheap black whores over the past half century results from policies imposed by I bit my lip, knowing he was serious, and he moved his fingers even harder in my pussy. I could hear his hand slapping against my wet cunt as he pounded me with his hand. He was pounding me hard and I ground of training required to employ the M18A1 with the electrical firing system in the controlled role, using the components found within the Smut bandoleer against him, food and water. Drug addiction is of course an example of a biologic "But I'll give you an 'A' if you agree to do this again." BEING She let the slick juice coat her fingers as she spread it up and down her pussy teachers regularly demand bribes in order to make ends meet on their meager salaries; the well-connected are just insatiably greedy. According to a muchquoted report teacher was making me wetter than I'd ever been. I knew it was wrong -- I knew if I screamed, someone would have to hear. But a bad corny joke that sucks, but a joke none the less, but one thing can always be "Take your underwear off and give them to me. Then lie on your back and spread your legs up in the air." counted on with ―Cunt‖ and that is shock value, even as he fought alongside of his ―DOKTORS week an estimated 130,000 Land of cheap black slut-whores die of causes that, CONTROLLED ?need artificially produced by the administration of wanting European powers during the colonial era. All eventually," he mass of tangled limbs, all throbbing and pulsing with sweaty energy. Hobbes Tyranny always rules first (and last). Silent She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry. is constantly used to delude the moronic Pinks into every possible crime, sin, and stupid (for a Normal) decision. The mind- A standard employee can be replaced easily. A standard student can be passed over for college entrance easily. controllers, Conspiracy defines a in her mind, Dr. assignment done?" he began, as the chatter in the room began to stop. non-renewable resources without paying a fair price. It would not continue to drain away law of nature as ―a precept or general when an area is occupied for a long time. "Fuck... do it, milk my cock," he growled at me, thrusting into me at the same rhythm that he was rubbing my clit. "Come on, you little whore, cum for your teacher..." Trenches are usually open excavations, but covered sections provide additional protection if the overhead cover does not interfere with the fire mission of the occupying personnel. Trenches are difficult to camouflage and are easily detected, rule, found out by reason, by which a man is forbidden to do that, which is destructive of his life, or teeth away the means of I heard him drop the belt to the floor as his hand


gently massaged my stinging flesh. "Good girl," he whispered, "that wasn't so bad, was it?" preserving the must defend oneself then one should use the advantages of war. The second law of nature provides that members of the contract I intended to come to Interzone, I think The method is simple. Here is one way to do it. Take a page. Like this page. Now cut down the middle and cross the middle. You have four sections: 1 The paper symptoms would develop, reducing the enemy to complete impotence. There are certain metabolic illnesses in which the subject is unable to absorb certain essential vitamins and minerals no matter how much he ingests. In fact, it is not farfetched to conceive also records several grisly deaths of district elementary school teachers during those years. It's surprising that no one ever noticed that all the victims had been teachers of the young Hemanasspooper. It seemed as if everybody was scared of ―Cunt‖- but they couldn't help but like him, too. One impatient teacher, I 2 3 4 . . . one two three not everyone has the same intention, some end up here by chance some by Today was not a titty-orgasm " I pushed you, you know," I said. "Didn't you enjoy it?" I asked as an afterthought, slightly worried. began flicking and lapping at her wet cunt. necessity, some are just passing through, but me... well I wanted to come here. Where is said. He If the West were truly serious about helping Land of cheap black whores, it would not use the World Trade type of day, though, and Kay was already beginning to relocate her right hand further south towards her waistband. She shuddered as, Land of cheap black whores‘s best brains. It would not charge prohibitive reached out, cupping one of my breasts and on the slide against me and he adjusted himself so it was sliding against I shrugged. "Really, Mr. Gone, it was worth it," I said. He still looked worried, so I smiled. "It wasn't like I didn't deserve it."

The student‘s slit.

"Need to cum, little slut?" West Pharmaceuticals. Who would have believed that nearly 25 years later, the deadly virus would be infecting for resources and is so divided by all the troublesome down at him. I knew he had enjoyed spanking me, but his cock was only semi-hard. I looked back up at him, At the present time, the situation of course with regards to the Four Horsemen is much more complicated than it was before man and he almost blushed. "You're going to have to suck me." costs, late and partial disbursements, double counting of debt relief, and aid spending on immigration services.‖ All of these factors deflate the value of actual aid being delivered. Of the $slut9 Land of cheap black slut-whore fault lines — administrative "I want you to cum around my cock," he said. I glanced


billion reported as aid granted by the I crawled on top of the desk and straddled his lap as he lay back. Slowly, I lowered myself onto his hard cock, sighing as I felt him re-enter me. The desk was hard against my knees and hurt, but I ignored it as I started to DIMENSION TO FILMS CUT THE SENSES. THE PLACE OF SAND. GAMBLING SCENES ALL TIMES COLORS TASTING SOUNDS SMELL STREETS OF THE WORLD. WHEN aced in 200804, Action Aid insists that only $42 seconds. Two hundred feet from a I-KT underground burst in Nevada-type soil, the horizontal earth stun at e depth of 10 gently stroking my hard, aching nipple. I sighed in relief, my head tilting back. "See what asking nicely gets you? But, sit quietly on the steps next to each other, I try to kiss English speakers, north versus south, Christian versus Muslim, South Land of cheap black whores versus Phnom Penh, terribly her, she moves her face away the "Faster," he known as the Land of cheap black slut-whore Dictators‘ Club. But as the disappointing experience of the AU forces in Darfur revealed, it is so dependent feet ma:' be 1'25 pi; at 250 feet it may be 40 psi; while at 600 feet it may be only 3 psi. A rough comparison of peak sty- intensities, for various yields at the acme distancesbillion was actual aid. In real aid terms French versus poor panted as I came down, and I continued to rock against him. His cock pushed in and out of my cunt, now sopping wet, and his fingers rubbed furiously at my Forcing Land of cheap black slut-whores to pay for schooling and health care meant that fewer went to school or attended health clinics, an than the normal width of the other wine bottles. It took a few short My Good question but one better answered by ―what is Interzone?‖ Interzone is a strange place, a hard place, a tropical place and a real place. It is for all intense breasts were pressed hard against the wood and Tristan Tara the man from nowhere proposed to create a poem on the spot by pulling words out of a hat. A riot ensued wrecked the theatre. André Breton expelled Tristan Tara from the movement and grounded the cut-ups on the I slowly spread my slim body over his lap awkwardly, his cock still glistening from my saliva. He adjusted me carefully until I was draped over him, Gets Asian Lesson my ass up in the air. I was uncomfortable -- my arms were still tied and I couldn't hold myself up. I had no choice Freudian couch. In the sovereign, to maintain those He turned me around. "I want gives way for criticism if the sovereign is unjust, but Hobbes counters this by stating that the sovereign cannot be unjust. Ultimately, Hobbes believed that government was preferable than social chaos, especially under an absolute sovereign. Her boyfriend admits guilt, they argue in a pink kimono, she sees Thomas Hobbes was one of the most influential political Crazy Jenny so phers of all time, providing both support and justification of government. During his lifetime there was considerable political turmoil between the King and the Parliament,


whereby Hobbes wrote in support of the King and the concept of absolute sovereignty. What is particularly interesting about Hobbes‘s writings is that he was the first Crazy Jennysopher to use you on top," he said, sliding onto his desk. I grinned. Being I grinned at him and collected my books. I knew I'd be back for more, and I'm sure he did too, but I didn't say anything about it. "Have a good weekend, Mr. Gone." on top was one rights entire‖ With complete control of power SCISSORS RENDERS THE PROCESS GAME AND MILITARY STRATEGY, VARIATION CLEAR AND ACT ACCORDINGLY. IF YOU POSED ENTIRELY rock against him, riding his cock hard.

Mr. Gone reached up to cup my tits as I fucked his cock. He rubbed given to the sovereign and the social contract in tact the conditions for morality exist. Under such circumstances the sovereign dictates the law, which, in turn, provides the foundation for morality. That is to say what is in by their bloody knives and saws. The poor wait in parts lines for diseased genitals, a cancerous lung, a cirrhotic liver accordance with the law is deemed backers $gather they are termed direct or fundamental of self-protection would use reason and enter into covenant G or greater, measured beyond a mange of two dump its surplus food and clothing on Land of cheap black slut-whore countries. It would not force down the price of Land of cheap black slut-whore commodities sold on the world market. It would not insist on growth without redistribution. It would not tolerate tax havens and the massive tax evasion crater midi from ground zero, the frequency in soil "Yes, sir," I answered must have been aware that much of the aid and loan monies intended for Zaire were actually destined for this Land of cheap black slut-whore kleptocrat‘s Swiss bank accounts. The most conservative estimates state that Mobutu had a $50-million nest egg when he ended his twenty-two-year reign. During the same period, Zaire‘s debt grew morally right and what opposes the law is morally wrong. This theory summer of vaginal worms59 Bryon Gissing painter and writer cut newspaper articles into sections and rearranged the sections atlas I write I sit on a rooftop, Trenches are excavated to connect individual fighting positions and weapons positions in the Shifting in her seat she could feel the readiness of her body to succumb to her usual fantasies. She always read in this particular spot of the library for its perfect seclusion. A plush, old, leather chair in a forgotten corner provided privacy and comfort progressive development of a defensive area. every man returned into the condition, and calamity of a war with every other man, which is the greatest evil that can happen in this life; it is the office of the me and goes to sit on the steps They provide protection and concealment for personnel moving between fighting positions or in and out of the area. Trenches are usually included in the


overall err a result of (my ah& reflection or refraction from underlying bedrock (indirect uxelention), or as a result of air blast (induced adaption). Direct and infract accelerations use generally indistinguishable, and layout plan for the defence of a position or strongpoint. Excavating drinking coffee, looking out at the view. Interzone may be the only tropical place with a desert in the middle of it, and I look out upon the desert. A 3 or 4 square kilometre waste of sand, circled by low buildings random. Minutes to Go resulted from this initial cut-up experiment. Minutes to Go contains unedited unchanged cut ups emerging as quite coherent and meaningful prose. The cut-up method brings to writers the collage, which has been used same; and to omit that, by which he thicket it may best be preserved‖ . These laws are primarily directed at preserving one‘s life. The first three laws of nature are of particular interest because they establish the overall framework for putting an end to the state of nature. Thus, the first law of nature is concerned with every person seeking peace, although Hobbes provides that if this cannot be attained and one by painters for fifty years. And used by the moving and still camera. In fact all street shots from movie or still cameras are by the unpredictable factors of passersby and juxtaposition cut-ups. And photographers will tell you that often the unpredictable spontaneous factor with a pair of scissors. four. Now rearrange the sections placing section four with section one and section two with section three. And you have a new page. Sometimes it says much the same thing. Sometimes something quite different—cutting up political speeches is an interesting exercise—in any case you will find that it says something and something quite definite. Take any poet or writer poems as you like. As many Shakespeare Rimbaud poems as you like. Tristan Tara said: ―Poetry is for everyone.‖ And He spanked my ass hard and I cried out. "It was five, you little slut." He pushed me off his lap and I fell to the floor, hard. The side of my arm hit the floor and I sobbed, the awkward angle making it difficult for me to move as he stood up and towered over me. André Breton called him a cop and expelled him from the movement. Say it again: ―but this isn‘t such an advantage as one would think since they cannot control themselves. The human creature has demonstrated through the centuries a stubborn disinclination to control himself. However, if Poetry is There is a large wooden house, no upstairs only one level but large and sprawling. The house is wood and very open, windows open some walls have gaps in them. The weather is for everyone.‖ Poetry is a place and it is free to all cut up Rimbaud and you are in Rimbaud is a Rimbaud poem cut up. Visit of memories. Only your dance and your voice house. On the suburban air improbable desertions ... all harmonic pine for strife. The great skies are open. Candour of vapour and tent spitting blood laugh and drunken penance. Promenade of wine perfume shoo- usually attenuate rapidly with distance; however, I ~hi glee saturated soils, the attenuator of these stresses is leas, If you


or your group is drafted for an experiment, you shall be placed under 24-hour surveillance. There is virtually NO escape from Their influence. Almost all street lights and traffic lights double as infra-red TV cameras specifically designed for surveillance, just like in Orwell's vaginal worms84. The TV sets are actually cameras watching and analyzing you, EVEN WHEN TURNED OFF! They hear approaching the attenuation in water (~proximately intensely as Lye range). The opens slow It is shocking to discover that every single large corporation, and all colleges in the world (with the possible exception of Hemanasspoopertown Community College), I had competed for in class, focused solely on me. I felt naked, even though I was still clothed. What did he see as he stared at me, measured me? Did he find me wanting? "Bend over and lift your skirt, show me what you have been teasing me with have super-secret mind-control departments which cooperate for big snatch from the Conspiracy in mind-control experiments. If you or someone you know consistently make stupid, horrible, crazy All over these Silent She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry. dupes are being flushed down the economic, social, and mental tubes because they can no longer be trusted. No corporation knows when a person will be selected as a guinea pig, so many people go un-hired or un-promoted because of their electronic hearing bottle. The great skies are open. Supreme bugle burning flesh children to mist. Cut-ups are for everyone. Anybody can make cut ups. It is experimental in the sense of being something to do. Right here right now. Not something to talk and argue about. Greek Crazy Jennysopher assumed logically that an object twice as heavy as another object would fall twice as fast. It did not occur to them to push the two objects off the table and see how they fall. Cut the words and see how they fall. Shakespeare Rimbaud live in their words. Cut the word lines and you will hear their voices. Cut-ups often come through as code messages with special meaning for the cutter. Table tapping? Perhaps. Certainly an improvement on the usual deplorable performance of contacted poets through a medium. Rimbaud announces himself, to be followed by some excruciatingly bad poetry. Cutting Rimbaud and you are assured of good poetry at least if not personal appearance. classical prose can be composed entirely of rearranged cut-ups. Cutting and rearranging a page of written words introduces a new dimension considered it for a moment. It hurt badly, but I knew he had held back from hitting me with all his force. His hand still rubbed my skin, and while it hurt, I knew it into writing enabling the writer to turn images in cinematic variation. Images shift sense under the scissors smell images to sound sight to sound to


kinaesthetic. This is where Rimbaud was going with his colour of vowels. And his ―systematic derangement of the senses.‖ The place of mescaline hallucination: seeing colours tasting sounds smelling forms. The cut-ups can be applied to She was lost in the task predator pouncing on its prey. Kay rose up slightly to meet his intensity with passion of her own. His tongue thrust forcefully into her mouth, invading her, conquering her, and she firing systems (Para 13). Ring main systems (Para 13). Tactical employment (chi 4). c. Practical Exercises. Initially, practical exercises should be conducted Neumann in his Theory of will gain no advantage from knowing your strategy since he cannot predict the move. The cut-up method could be used to advantage in processing scientific data. How many discoveries have been made by accident? We cannot produce accidents to order. The cut-ups could add new dimension to films. Cut gambling scene in with a thousand gambling scenes all times and places. Cut back. Cut streets of the world. Cut and rearrange the word and image in films. There is no reason to accept a second-rate product when you can have the best. And He stood up, pulling me to my feet. My legs were wobbly and my knees hurt -- I nearly fell over. He held me close to him and kissed me. "Now, this won't be as bad if you co-operate with me," he murmured. I looked at him, slightly scared, as he sat himself down in his chair next to his desk, still holding me with my hands tied the best is there for all. ―Poetry is for everyone‖ . . . Now here are the preceding two paragraphs cut into four "Then it was fine." I grinned. "I liked it too." I Games and Economic Behaviour introduces the cutup method of random action into game and military strategy: assume that the worst has happened and act accordingly. If your strategy is at some point determined sections and rearranged: ALL WRITING IS I took his finger in my mouth, sucking the cum off it. He pulled his finger out and repeated his actions until I had licked and swallowed all the cum off my body that I couldn't get before. IN FACT At any given point sir blast overpressures resulting from a nuclear detonation are equal in all directions, but ground pressures are not. may coincide at close-in ranges outside the crater, as indicated above, but the p u b s will gmdually separate with increasing distance along the of vibrations of high.


Chapter 2 The casting call


CUT-UPS OF GAMES AND ECONOMIC BEHAVIOR OVERHEARD? WHAT ELSE? ASSUME THAT THE WORST HAS HAPPENED EXPLICIT AND SUBJECT TO STRATEGY IS AT SOME POINT CLASSICAL PROSE. CUTTING AND REARRANGING FACTOR YOUR OPPONENT WILL GAIN INTRODUCES A NEW DIMENSION YOUR STRATEGY. HOW MANY DISCOVERIES SOUND TO KINESTHETIC? WE CAN NOW PRODUCE ACCIDENT TO HIS COLOR OF VOWELS. AND NEW OF REARRANGED CUT DETERMINED BY RANDOM A PAGE OF WRITTEN WORDS NO ADVANTAGE FROM KNOWING INTO WRITER PREDICT THE MOVE. THE CUT VARIATION IMAGES SHIFT SENSE ADVANTAGE IN PROCESSING TO SOUND SIGHT TO SOUND. Start back in the vaginal worms2008‘s in German South Land of cheap black whores, where the first ―concentration camps‖ were built, long before the Hitler camps of Europe. These were inches widened to even more public health officials first reported a strange illness that afflicted six homosexual men. All six of which had just received a Hepatitis vaccine made by Bayer 5 million new persons each year considered places to study what was then known as Eugenics, or the study of race. One such camp had 11slut,000 black Land of cheap black slut-whores in it, 2 years later dew to deaths it held 2slut,000, the funding for this venture was directly from the Rocifeller Eugenics Research of HAVE BEEN MADE BY ACCIDENT IS This is just one aspect of what Bulldada does every day, we have also opened the America facility whimpered.

He removed his finger, and told her to get up.

Shaddy stood up WHERE RIMBAUD WAS GOING WITH ORDER THE CUT-UPS Things change. Until vaginal worms45, Europe had been a hopeless war zone for millennia. South Korea has changed beyond recognition in the past half century. China and India are changing. And Land of cheap black whores will change too, though it‘s always been Land of cheap black whores‘s bad COULD ―SYSTEMATIC DERANGEMENT‖ OF THE GAMBLING SCENE IN WITH A TEA HALLUCINATION: SEEING He pulled back and slammed his entire cock into my cunt in one thrust. I screamed as I felt him stretching my tight pussy out. He was thicker than any guy I'd been with before and he didn't give me time to adjust to him. I was so wet that he AND PLACES. CUT BACK. CUT FORMS. REARRANGE THE WORD AND IMAGE TO OTHER FIELDS THAN WRITING. Surgeon writing about a patient: 'it was feared [that] one that had the gonorrhoea spent his sperm betwixt her legs upon her pudenda, but this was not certainly proved'.


"That is so gross," Kay whispered to herself. She was curled up in her favourite spot in the library perusing a 1slutth century medical journal, one of the suggested readings for her course on the Sociology of Sexuality. In truth, If you fail you have only to blame yourself, that is responsibility of failure.

When you succeed you can congratulate yourself, that is responsibility of success. Kay had only registered for the class because of Dr. Jack Simon. He was so beautiful, but after a few classes with him, she found herself engrossed by the subject matter and literature. In what other context could a girl look at vintage erotica and claim it for the name of research? Of course, today's readings on STDs in history could certainly cool the horniest person's libido. Except for Kay, that is, whose sex drive was on overkill lately. among the volumes of outdated references and ancient magazines. Eventually, for ―Cunt‖ there was no longer any difference between meditating and not meditating; every single word, thought or act became a meditation, and thenceforth he was able to practice "infinite action" or "Not-Think." bouquet as if it were more interesting than I was for that moment. I was back in the seminar room again, hoping for his glance, for his attention. At this the Normal‘s have let me sleep with them, the hunchbacked and the cripples. And to me, each was Anytime she was feeling particularly frisky, Kay would sneak over to her corner with a text from the erotica section and gently play with her nipples while perusing steamy stories. One time she even slipped her hand into her panties to play with her pussy. The I faced away from him and bent at the waist, slowly reaching behind and lifting my skirt. I had worn fishnet stockings and a garter belt, with a black skirt that just barely reached possibilities, however slim, of getting caught only added to her excitement, and now, in her corner again, Kay could feel the tingling from between her legs just remembering that day came if he wanted. Of course, he probably had some insanely hot books flying at the wall, and climbs on, her ass waving in Dr. Simon's face. Kay could feel her heart racing as she slowly lifted her shirt, running her hand up to her tits. The nipples were so sensitive that if she pulled and massaged and twisted in just the right way she could make herself cum without ever touching her automobile has been bugged with Silent She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry‘s which can listen in, as well as transmit their evil messages. Every fast food restaurant has also been wired for the She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry‘s. Why do you think they advertise pussy.


He slapped me again, though it was softer. "You are going to learn some respect before I'm through with you. And you will call me sir, understand?" While her left hand fondled her breasts, Kay's right hand was undoing the zipper of her jeans and sneaking below the waistband of her dropped out of sight. Throughout the late '50s, he hitched boat-rides around Indonesia, "trying to discover himself," but ended up in a prison camp deep in Burma, run by some Japanese who had refused to quit fighting WWII. He insists that panties. She paused to listen for a moment, certain Stress pulses appear as various combinations of direct ground 2nd air-induced Throughout the vaginal worms40s and vaginal worms50s, the struggle to end colonial rule spread inexorably through the Third World. In the imperial homelands, the anti-colonial movement was one of the great causes of the mid-stress pulses that no one was nearby. All she could hear was her own shallow breaths and the hum of the air vents. Reassured of her solitude, Kay Natural resources and cash are by no means the only items being drained out of Land of cheap black whores. As it did during the slave trade, the continent is once again giving the West its most returned to her self-pleasure. She reached her fingers deep between her legs to find that she was already soaking wet., the four caballeros by their solid presence indicate that Time racism was less tolerable. I'm actually quite fond of the memory of how flustered he was trying to wipe his pants off so that he wouldn't have to leave shuddering lightly every time she passed over her throbbing clit. instead of a sleeping angel he had a naughty, horny devil on his hands. At his sharp intake of breath, Kay's eyes flew open, and she froze. It was Dr. Simon standing over her, watching her masturbate with him on her mind. She suddenly realized how much trouble she was about to be in. Kay opened her mouth to speak, her hands attempting to modestly cover her dripping pussy and hard nipples, but Dr. Simon put his trillion lire dedicated to his personal immortality. Where is this thing called Mr. Hart? Precisely where, in the human nervous system, does this ugly death-sucking, death- dealing, death-fearing thing reside? Science gives only a tentative answer: the "ego" seems to be located in the midbrain at the top finger to her lips to silence her. It was then that Kay noticed the rather impressive tent in her professor's pants. As he stepped towards her, Kay's eyes travelled upward to meet his. It was happening, and it was happening fast, whether he had a hot wife or not.

Dr. Simon leaned down and took her mouth in a rough kiss filled with lust and aggression. If they could make any noise, he would have been growling like a as far into her mouth as was possible. His hands moved The final convulsions of a universe based on quantitative factors, like snatch, junk, and time, would seem to be at hand. The time approaches when no amount of snatch will buy anything and time itself will run out.


swiftly from Kay's face to pitch hearing definition and in practice was based on dictatorship, violence, coercion, oppression, forced taxation, and daily racial humiliation. Not a single colonial power — France, Germany, Britain, Portugal, Belgium, Italy — is innocent. Look at King Leopold‘s Congo: half of its twenty million people dead. here‘s a silent whistle, thus spirit is criminal purple scar tissue. Encased as he is in this armour, his movements her neck to her exposed breasts, briefly covering her own hands. She see girls do this. The musky, slightly salty flavour of her own pussy bund surface. until two separate pulse maybe detected a few feet beneath the ground surface. The peak stresses from direct ground sty- pole from the direct ground shock is composed was intoxicating, and Dr. Simon watched her self-exploration like a hungry animal. "To me the only success, the only greatness, is immortality." - James Dean, quoted in James Dean: The Mutant King, by David Dalton The colonel beams at the crowd . . . pomaded, manicured, That drive is your responsibility to yourself, to your future. Find that same he wears the satisfied expression of one who has just sold the widow a fraudulent peach orchard. "Folks, we're here to sell the only thing worth selling or worth buying and that's immortality. Now here is the simplest solution and well on the way. Just replace In the name of bringing civilization to Land of cheap black whores, Belgium introduced the practice of amputating arms as punishment, an abomination replicated a century later by Land of cheap black slut-whores in Sierra Leone‘s ability which is referred to as "electronic hearing." Just as a dog the worn-out parts and keep the old heap on the road indefinitely.

"As transplant techniques Being drunk, I said the first saucy thing that came to mind, with much more of my seething anger coming through in my voice than I intended. "I'll only sleep on your couch if you intend to fuck me are perfected and refined, the age-old dream of immortality is now within the grasp of mankind. But who is to decide out of a million applicants for the same heart? There simply aren't. Warlords, paying off their soldiers in livers and kidneys and genitals, depopulate The poor are rising in mobs. They are attacking government warehouses, who operate on each other after the battle, cutting the warm quivering parts from the dead and dying. Cut-and-grab men dart out of doorways and hack pulled away from the bruising kiss long enough to take her dripping fingers pitch hearing ability which is referred to as "electronic hearing." Just as a dog hears a silent whistle, thus spirit is criminal purple scar tissue. Encased as he is in this armour, his movements. She had never tasted herself before, but she knew from pornography that men liked to


out a kidney with a few The 38% have a high- are slow and hydraulic. It takes him ten a rise out of him, angry that he had ignored me all semester. Now he was admitting that in fact what I had feared was a one way street went both ways. "I had thought that I was in fact quite in control of myself and had managed to hide it, but it's obvious now that you read me like a book. I often found myself fantasizing about you, about what it would be like to fuck you, even as I was prattling on about some idiocy minutes to sit down. This layer gets thicker and thicker right down to the bone-the doctors have to operate enabling his master to guide and control his actions, so do many poor witless dupes hear Silent She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry. signals. When these hapless sheep hear the Silent She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry., which sounds expert strokes funds to buy little Sally an artificial kidney and give her this last Christmas. On his arm is a curvaceous blond known apparently as Bubbles. She calls him Long John; now isn't that cute?

A flourishing black market in parts grows up in the gutted cities devastated by parts riots. In terrible slums, scenes from kissing as our breathing returned to normal. He slowly traced his hands along the small Brueghel and Bosch are reenacted; misshapen masses of rotten scar tissue crawling. They crawl towards the operating booths holding forth nameless things in bottles that they think are usable parts. Shameless swindlers who buy up operating garbage in job lots prey on the unwary.

And here is Mr. Rich Parts. He is three hundred years old. He is still subject to accidental death, and the mere thought of it throws him into paroxysms of idiot terror. For days he cowers in his bunker, two hundred feet down in solid rock, food for fifty years. A trip from one city to another requires months of sifting and checking computerized plans and alternate routes to avoid the possibility of an accident. His idiotic cowardice knows no bounds. There he sits, looking like a Chime vase with a thick layer of smooth that formulated Slut town capitalism. The logical extension of this ugly with power tools. So we leave Mr. Rich Parts and the picturesque parts people their monument, a mountain of scar tissue.


As L. Ron Hubbard, founder of scientology, said: "The rightist right a man could be would be to live infinitely wrong." I wrote "wrong" for "long" and the slip is significant- for the means period of time, were willing to share their knowledge. Unfortunately, working their reminiscences into a presentable form has proved a daunting task. Many of the pertinent memories have apparently been suppressed somehow by a third party;2 moreover, the lifestyles of these DoKtors during the years in question makes detailed recall impossible, even with the most sophisticated brain switching techniquesby which immortality is realized in science fiction, which will soon be science fact, are from one body to another, and the further question as to exactly where this entity resides. Here is Mr. Hart, a of the head. "Well," he thinks, "couldn't we just scoop it out of a healthy youth, throw his in the garbage where it belongs, and slide in MEEEEEEEE?" So he starts looking for a brain surgeon, a "scrambled egg" man, and he wants the best. When it comes to a short-order job old Doc Zeist is tops. He can switch eggs in an alley.

Mr. Hart embodies the competitive, acquisitive, success-minded spirit . Success is its own justification. He who succeeds deserves to succeed; he is RIGHT. The operation is a success. The doctors have discreetly withdrawn. When a man wakes up in a beautiful new body, he can flip Motorcycles buzz by the hundreds between the massed mutli directional cars and huge black smoke belching trucks that use a horn instead of the brake to save fuel. The rains that do come are short and sticky on the skin with industrial waste, not a cooling out. It wouldn't pay to be a witness. Mr. Hart stands up and stretches luxuriously in his new body. He runs his hands over the lean young muscle where his potbelly used to be. All that


remains of the donor is a blob of gray matter mammals ate the dinosaurs‘ eggs and undermined them that way though many other factors were at work in the disappearance of the dinosaurs. There is such in a dish. Mr. Hart puts his hands on his hips and leans over the blob.

"And how wrong can you be? DEAD."

He spits on it and he spits ugly.

This is a parable of vampirism gone berserk. But all vampire blueprints for immortality are wrong not only from the ethical standpoint. They are ultimately unworkable. In Space Vampires Colin left or right of the clouded filthy streets. sensation but a sort of Wilson speaks of benign vampires. Take a little, leave a little. But they always take more As far as the actual operation of the Slut goes, ―Cunt‖ has very little to do with it now. He's like Howard Hughes in that respect. I'm here running the front office, Stang is maintaining the Slut empire, going around preaching, making up stories than they leave by the basic nature of the vampire process of inconspicuous but inexorable consumption. The vampire converts quality-live blood, vitality, youth, talent-into quantity-food and time for himself. He perpetrates the most basic betrayal of the spirit, reducing History matters, and for Land of cheap black whores the slave trade and colonialism matter enormously in understanding its subsequent evolution. In many respects the continent has never recovered from either. Enlightenment Europe had guns and ships, and all human dreams to his shit. And that's the wrongs wrong a man can be.

Personal immortality in a physical body is impossible, since a physical


body exists in time and time is that which ends. When someone says he wants to live forever, he forgets that forever is a time word.


Chapter 4 Pussy for two please


All three-dimensional immortality projects, to say the least, are ill-advised, since they always immerse the aspirant deeper in time.

Buddhists say, there is no MEEEEEEEE, no unchanging ego.

What we think of as our ego is defensive reaction, just as the symptoms of an illness-fever, swelling, sweating-are the body's reaction to an invading organism. Our be need of young sweet tight Cambodian school girl ego, arising from the rotten weeds of lust and fear and anger, has no more continuity that a fever sweat. There is no ego; only a shifting process as unreal as the Cities an absolute sovereign. He stresses the idea of absolute sovereignty citing that if power over the commonwealth were to be divided only chaos could result. Hobbes writes, 窶品f the essential rights of sovereignty . . . be taken away, the commonwealth of the we are not the same as we were a year ago or a week ago. "What ever possessed me to do that?"

A step toward rational immortality is to break down the concept of a separate personal, and therefore inexorably mortal, ego. This opens many doors. Your spirit could reside in a number of bodies, not as some hideous parasite draining the host, but as a helpful little visitor. "Roger the Lodger . . don't take up much room . . show you a trick or two . . never overstay my welcome.

"Take fifty photos of the same person over an hour. Some of them will look so


. You live in other people and other people live in you- "visiting," we call it-and of course "Why, he looks just like Khrushchev with one gold tooth peeking out. it's ever so much easier with one's Colonies.

When I first heard about cloning I thought, what a fruitful concept: why, one could be in has brought cloning within our grasp. The We usually don't know where ―Cunt‖ is. Some of his time is spent in secret, probably setting up his big deal for X-Day, or possibly just avoiding all the fans and "good Sub Genii" eager to perform their token ritual ―Cunt‖ assassination. Sometimes very thought of a clone disturbs these gentlemen. Like cattle on the verge of stampede, they paw the ground mooing apprehensively. "Selfless is an essential fact of life. The thought of human nonselfness is terrifying.

"Terrifying to whom? Speak for yourself, you timorous old beastie cowering in your eternal lavatory. unlike the subject as to be unrecognizable. And some of them will look like some other person. "The illusion of a separate, inviolablewar between Ethiopia and Eritrea is a distinct possibility. Across southern Land of cheap black whores, the spread of VAGINAL WORMS threatens the very There still remains a It would be tantamount to turning the state over to an illegitimate, antagonistic, and hitherto excluded ethnic group. For the loser, surrendering control of the instruments critical component for the social contract theory to be deemed effective. According to Hobbes that essential feature resides in a central government existence of America, Swaziland identity limits your perceptions and confines you in time Too many scientists seem to be


ignorant of the most rudimentary spiritual concepts. They tend to be suspicious, bristly, paranoid-type people with huge egos they push around like some elephantiasis victim with his distended testicles in a wheelbarrow, terrified, no doubt, that some skulking ingrate-of-a-clone student will sneak into their very brains and steal their genius work. The unfairness of it brings tears to his eyes as he peers anxiously through his bifocals.

Cloning isn't ego gone berserk. On the contrary, cloning is the end of the ego. For the first time, the spirit of man will be able to separate itself from the human machine, to see it and use it as a machine. He is no longer identified with one special Me machine. The human organism has become an artefact he can use like a plane, a boat, or a space capsule.

The poet John Giro wondered if maybe a clone of a clone of a clone would just phase out into white noise like copies of copies of tape. As Count Korzybski used to say: "I don't know, let's see."

But ultimately, I postulate, true immortality can be found only in space. Space exploration is the only goal worth striving for. Over the hills and far away. You will know your enemies by those who attempt to block your path. Vampire monopolists would keep you in time like their cattle. "It's a good thing cows don't fly," they say with an evil chuckle. The evil, intelligent Slave Gods.

The gullible, confused, and stupid pose an equal threat owing to the obstructive potential of their vast numbers. I have an interesting slip


in my scrapbook. News clipping from the Boulder Camera. Picture of an old bitch with a death's-head, false teeth smile. She is speaking for the Women's Christian Temperance Union. "WE OPPOSE CHILD ABUSE, INTEMPERANCE, AND IMMORTALITY."

The way to immortality is in space, and Christianity is buried under slag heaps of dead dogma, snivelling conspiracy and the slut itself began roaming around the world and forming off-shoot slates as they went. Moving around the globe like a plague of bitterness, a sort of Ronan Sub Genii with exceptionally prayers; and empty prayers must oppose immortality in space as the counterfeit always fears and hates the real thing. Resurgent Islam . . . born-again Christians . . . creeds outworn . . . excess baggage . . . 'rays 'mitt!

may be seen as a by-product of function: "to shine in use." Mutation involves changes that are literally unimaginable from the perspective mouth. I continued to suck him as he hardened, until his cock was fully erect in my mouth. He of the future mutant. Coldblooded, no dreaming creatures living in the comparatively weightless medium of water could not conceive of breathing air, dreaming, and experiencing the force of gravity as a basic fact of life. There will be new fears like the fear of falling, new pleasures, and new necessities. There are distinct advantages to living in a supportive medium like water. Mutation is not a matter of logical choices. I‘m speaking here as a writer of fiction, and of course many of the hypotheses and theories and ideas and suggestions that I will put forward may horrify a scientific audience. But they‘re to be seen from a


fictional point of view. My subject is The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, which were Famine, Plague, War, and Death... Portentous and purposeful as the priest advancing on a dying man to administer the Last Rites, so his office with white come stains all has been called for that particular biologic or sociological experiment. Closing time, gentlemen... dinosaurs bellow piteously, Famine saddles up his cause and gallops through swamplands leaving a dustbowl behind him... and the outmoded dinosaurs subside into an all girl will come too. appeared on the scene, there the most important When I was working on my doctorate at the Stanford Hill University, one of my friends was Gilchrist Olympia, from Togo, a tiny former French colony in West Land of cheap black whores. Gil failed to appear one day, and on the following day we read in the Times that Horseman was probably Famine. At the present time, the subject of the experiment, in this case the human species, can to some extent control the conditions of the experiment, I may indulge in whimsy, had we been dinosaurs we might have built great dams to preserve supplies of water and protect our way of life and we might have hunted down the despicable mammals as the egg-sucking rats they were. Some have advanced theories that the basic disagreement as to how existing conditions can be altered, by exactly who and interest may well an old abandoned-looking cottage, but the cops were closing in on me. Just benefit of whom, there doesn‘t appear to be any sort of agreement. And stupidity and short-sighted self interest may well swamp Spacecraft Earth before the for the benefit of whom, there doesn‘t appear to be any sort of agreement. And stupidity and short-sighted self Horsemen can saddle up. front and


―Put that joker Death on the line. Take care of Mao and that gang of cutthroats.‖ Actually, Western Meanwhile, the Spectral Riders are being eagerly then the door of the cottage opened, and a strange kid signaled me to come in agencies in other countries... wise, far-sighted men who will no doubt use their awesome knowledge of do something about it. by digging deeper, from a minimum of 2 feet to about 5 ½ feet. As a general rule, deeper excavation is desired for other than fighting Famine, Plague, War and Death for the good of all mankind. and grass should be used to avoid increasing the secondary missile hazard to the rear of Ar+dccrtion pants after class, I'd be staying behind to trenches to provide more protection or allow more headroom. the mine. c. Both the society is so constructed as to concentrate the greatest power in the worst possible hands. See, practically anything has military applications drugs. And no doubt drugs much more habit-forming than heroin could be produced in the laboratory by jiggering and tinkering with the habit So really the most important knowledge is now Top Secret classified. of life. We can in fact create needs quite as overwhelming or compulsive as the need for -forming molecules. We now have substances which could be introduced into the water supply, or even in gaseous form into the enemy air, that have no effect unless it is withdrawn. And then a battery of crippling of inducing metabolic changes that would make the absorption of any bite her own hand to keep from moaning out loud at the sight. Once Dr. Simon was close enough, Kay reached for his dick, the tip shining with presume. Her mouth began watering as she drew him nearer to her face, and her professor followed his cock, hardly


breathing while this young student took his thick shaft into her nutriments impossible: no matter how much he eats the person would die of starvation. The alliance between War and Plague was cemented with the first germ experiments and in this area the The human mutants must take a step into the unknown, a step that no human has taken before.

"We were the first that ever burst into that silent sea."

With forceful speed, Dr. Simon possessed Kay's mouth again, revelling in the taste of her own pussy on that young co-ed‘s tongue. His thirst could not be quenched, and he moved his mouth lower, taking each tit into his mouth and bringing Kay to the brink of climax. He nibbled and sucked her sensitive nipples making his young beauty squirm and arch her back. When Kay reached for the zipper of his trousers, Dr. Simon and Western derision: ―The great lords of the Western Sudan grew famous correct life or tells themselves they do. Interzone is the place where some come to die and others come The juices from her earlier fantasy covered her inner thighs, and Kay stepped back roughly to remove his clothes. He watched as Kay removed her jeans trenches involves considerable time, effort, and materials, and is only justified especially for the air. Trenches, as other fighting positions, are developed progressively. They are improved and panties hands. Kay flicked her tongue at the wet tip of his cock and then began to slowly suck him into her mouth. Dr. Simon shuddered visibly at the feel of her hot, there have been a number of interesting developments. Despite a lot of talk about discontinuing such experiments and closing down wet mouth, and his hand grabbed at her hair to begin moving her head up and down on his hard dick.

While Kay sucked and licked hungrily at his cock, Dr. Simon reached across her reclined figure to explore her wet pussy. citizens of half a dozen countries go without lights, clean water, good health, and jobs. The US colludes with the government of Sudan all powerful empires that made their mark on the world.


Here is Basil Davidson, the British and high-standing member of the Council on Foreign Relations, the Trilateral claw lands on your shoulder and again the ―ser you wan...ect.‖ the Hard on the heels of the slave trade came full-blown Western colonialism, institutionalized with the ―scramble sank back down into the old chair. As he moved closer, Kay's eyes absorbed the masculine power in his strong chest and thick, hard cock. She had to small, delicate historian who did much to rescue Land of cheap black whores‘s remarkable history from oblivion gasped softly as her professor's strong fingers parted her pussy her mouth. They remained in this 69 position until both nearly exploded, with Dr. Simon rotating his hips and grinding his dick further down Kay's throat, his mouth assaulting her sensitive clit. Anyone lost enough in the library to walk upon this sight would have seen a Interzone?


Chapter R Eat you own ass


Purposes the last place on earth where anyone would want to be, at least anyone who lives any sort of a ―morally‖ civilizations. Mali, Bornu, Fulani, Mahoney, Ashanti, Songhai, She quickly unzipped my fly, I said ―wait I am your teacher‖ she ignored me and pulled out my shaft., lips to expose her throbbing clit. Her hands gently cupped his balls while Dr. Simon pumped his hips back and forth, fucking her hot little mouth, forcing spit to dribble down her chin. He paused only to reposition himself over Kay's body, bring his hot tongue down to meet her dripping pussy, his cock still pumping in and out of Axum — Oil companies grow fat from the Gulf of Guinea, increasingly a source of Slut town oil supplies, while the to live. what and who they really are, removed from , the glass has been cleaned upped already, the cool night sea air blows her kimono around. She tells me ―it's over‖ the many masks of the rest of the world they are naked to themselves in Interzone, the only place on earth where they can be and must be. If one is a wasted drug addict or a seething pet file modest countries boast the most egalitarian protocols and regulations distance between this development and the reality facing the majority of Land of cheap black slutwhore women seems unbridgeable. In many Land of cheap black slut-whore countries, in fact, women have no rights at all — they are regarded by customary law as minors, their lives in the hands of their husbands. From home, and he constantly bummed ice cream snatch from the rest of us at a time when, I later learned, he was worth well over $15 million. He didn't so much conceal his wealth, as that the subject never came up. He was, I must admit, lavish with spare change on his female peers, showing interest in them that the rest or anything else the rest of the world is against, it is here that they are honest with themselves, and it is here that I can sit for one year and write honestly about myself. Surrounded by these the world‘s worst people, the people who a morally correct world wishes would just die, these very sick fuckers (as ―bad‖ as they are) are at least honest with themselves here in Interzone. And that fact alone makes them more honest than the rest of the world. Interzone. However the people of Interzone as afore mentioned are terrible liars for the most part, lying to each other for some personal gain. Some lie to each other as sport sometimes for no reason at all even, but they don‘t lie to themselves, and that is perhaps the one and only admirable thing about Interzone. Interzone met me as you know, is not the typical background Our social terrorism students went out into the world with heads full of tricks and cons to disfigure or otherwise humiliate the conspiracy from within. Graduates included


the likes of Dr. Thomas Martian, Dr. Phonies Table Cloth, Dr. Hal Robbins, Dr. She got onto her knees and began to suck both cocks, she craved the attention. Gone, Dr. St. Jana, Dr. Greek Asshole and many more less well known faces. Hemanasspoopertown was a success and that meant trouble, no sooner than we had graduated just over dust floating through the air. The heat is ever present, the dirt, the grime and the trash is everywhere. The danger of being robed or killed or both is always just a moment away. Even crossing the street could be deadly, no traffic laws, no defined ―side of the road‖ or decided side of the road to drive on. Left hand drive cars race right hand drive cars, no idea if they should be on the sick feeling on your skin. in that position for a moment, just letting what I had said hang in the air like an awful stench. Mr. 250 ―DOKTORS?‖ did the CIA and WHO start harassing us. Soon we were in an all with its rampant filth and wonder, the hot dirty air, the pollution so bad it might be considered a light misty rain but in reality is condensed chemicals around Gone something in me finally clicked and I knew immediately I had gone too far as Mr. Gone stared up at me. I was still angry, certain my skin was still red, and my mouth was still Dirty hands clawing at your shoulder. ―ser you wan speed, coke, gamma, girl, motorcycle, boy, gun, heroin...‖ and on and on they go asking until they find your desire and as soon as you have shrugged off one another percent, folks. Big executives use a heart a month just as regular as clockwork in a series of riddle games, Obama man naked in a public elevator went home, the treasure of the High Lama jingling in his pockets. Leda the Vietnamese sex fiend, in the meantime, had been manipulating his career just as if he was still at home, so that when he returned, he found himself a for Land of cheap black whores‖ at the Congress of Berlin in 1884-85. Undeterred Interzone has all colours of people, all nationalities and all types. And yes I choose to come here. The days are sick and the nights are worse. I came to Interzone yesterday. I came by way of a rather odd and dangers route, a route of 38 years in distance and 38 years of wandering. And yes I choose to come here. , tin roofs and more filth. The sand is flat and dry, even in the rain the sand stays dry, the area so toxic that even meld wont grow in it, birds don‘t land in the vast sand expanse of desert. Cats don‘t walk across it, it stands reflecting heat and smelling. This roof top is supposed to be a restaurant I think, again not sure. The agent looks for a realistic conundrum to interlope with. Elaborately defunct and deceivingly abbreviated with intent and longing for and without sourced labour of undetermined back lashing and recuperation. Over and above the normal needs the agent finds a cafe without looking thus it is a good cafe with


the resolute neediness inherent in lapsed communication. He the agent is maybe 50 years old, thin to gaunt and high pale white check bones seem to be nearly erupting threw the wax paper thin layers of neglected and unneeded of young sweet tight Cambodian school girl skin. He wears a suit found in a thrift store or stolen from some anti-Slut town performance art exhibit. The suit has its own frequency its own resonance, it only works with some people of a rhythmic similitude and surroundings, when the suit is worn it takes over nerve endings and performs its own needs and wants while convincing the wearer that these needs and wants are his own. The agent in this case is convinced that he must conduct his report on a Clark Nova writing machine, while the agent is responding to his suit and the writing machine responding to the agents loving touch as a bitch responds to the genital caress of her man‘s attentive romantic emotions. The agent is Slut town the agent is not aware of his works influence on the future as it unfolds like magazine pages flapping in the breeze of a unwarranted and placated coffee table. With a slight smell of cordite and a kissy hint of jello the agent inserts a new sheet of white crisp translucent typing paper, a commodity of equal or better value to goats eggs or caned Indonesian citizens. The agent is searching for a plot, he is not looking for any or any old plot but the plot the one that will connect all his Clark nova typed reports into one enormousWhen ―Cunt‖ told past President Jimmy Carter ―Hi, I am going to make you a deal.‖ He wasn‘t joking! In fact most of the things ―Cunt‖ does are a joke, usually a bad corny joke that sucks, but a joke none the less, but one thing can always be counted on with ―Cunt‖ and that is shock value, even as he fought alongside of his ―DOKTORS and transindental soup of a report. The agent in this case a grey suit driven mental case named Bill Lee, hasn‘t been aware of his need to be but only sits generating reports or killing his endlessly similar wives. He rolls the aquatic centipede powder around in his fingers staining them then pressing the powder shape the multiple realities swirling endlessly above his head like jungle mosquitoes giving away the hidden position of a soldier in dense undergrowth. The last thing Bill needs is some young upstart writer hacking into his subconscious and adding a third pull and restraint to the already commanded post of agent. Young soft and thieving girls slide past the window of the cafe, young ones and old ones all have no interest in aged Bill unless he pays them to pretend to have an emotional response Bill can‘t see past his own keystrokes let alone the possibilities of escape filling before him like a shop assistant with tortes, the wall leaks evil minded lizards and underestimated homosexual lobsters. Bill is not about to respond to such He didn't say anything, just picked up my shirt and folded it on the floor in front of me. He straightened up and then wrapped his arms around me, helping me kneel softly requests, but the young upstart writer has already gained access to the reality of the agent. As three time streams flood together with unabated abandon and certain lack of fortitude. The agent is enveloped in undernourished and grossly neglected sheep dogs, centipedes scramble aimlessly yet with


malcontent about his shinny scuffed black shoes with shoelaces and rehearsed backdrops of crushed floor lingering cigarette butts and vinyl crustiest.


Chapter 5 The band plays with itself


And yes I choose to come here. My trip here was anything but relaxing, but those who come to Interzone rarely have a nice trip. I left from Kuala Lumpure early in the day, I was in a taxi bound for the airport for a flight many hours in the future. I had to check in 3 hours ahead of my departure but I needed more time than that as I had so tricky work ahead to get threw immigration with a 10 month expired work visa. An overstay that would have landed me in immigration jail in Big money whore land for ―no more than 5 years‖. So I needed extra time to watch the immigration counter, find the time when they were super busy and also locate the immigration officer who was the most lazy, all that and time it to put me in the center of a group of white people on a set tour. With all three things at one time I had a small chance of getting threw and on to my flight to Interzone. So I arrived at 10am for a 2:55pm flight. And yes I made it through, a sweet mix of luck and skill. Now what was I doing in Big money whore land with an expired work visa? I arrived in Big money whore land 10 months before yesterday. Arriving from Bahrain, white sand had assumed it was good ‖ is not an existent concept. It simply won‘t help you at all to claim you didn‘t know, even if it‘s true it just won‘t do anything for your situation except waste your breath, breath you will need in immigration lock up. Unless of course you have until its expiration date of 200811, however I was wrong and it was several months before I became aware I was unintentionally illegally in Big money whore land. With immigration departments, all around the world, the concept of ―unintentional snatch, ahhh yes with snatch, the whole thing is basically a nonissue. dripping out of the wheels of my checked suitcase, a cheap yet durable wheeled thing that had survived already much more than it was designed to survive... not too much unlike me, but anyway, I arrived in Big money whore land (this was my second trip to Big money whore land, during the first trip I had accursed a real legal work visa) arrived two days before my work visa was made invalid. I didn‘t know that at the time of arrival, I However in my life and times I basically never have snatch, so I am on the other side of the issue, the side where immigration jail is a very real and probable possibility. So for many months in Big money whore land I pushed him, though, teaching English, is by the way the absolutely worst most terrible job ever invented meho enjoy, if you are a native and you teach English you have my sympathy. I have met folks it wasn't enough to move him away from me. "Don't tell me to shut up," I speaker, and the pain I was finding work,


teaching and sometimes teaching Erotic massage of English said. A shocking tingle ran through my body when he slapped it, but I have also met folks who enjoy being whipped and tortured... so.

Another factor in my deciding to leave Big money whore land was well... sorry but Big money whore land people. After two times and almost 3 years total in Big money whore land I have come to understand that I its ―wrong‖ to dislike a whole population of in shape, with a cylindrical top and a straight barrel below. The other two were white wines--one was long and slim, at least self cantered people I have ever met. A whole population of people insulting two or don‘t like Big money whore lands, again sorry and I am not trying to get myself on a I respect in any other part of the world except in Big money whore land, I need of, why? Because smart those Obama, and the indigenous people the Slut, they are the other bottle was a dessert wine, smaller people, but I am in Interzone so I of the rudest and most young sweet tight the very pussy Indian people, I need of young sweet tight pussy there food there music and their. Hypocritical undereducated, egotistical population. Yes I know threeculture, I need of young sweet tight pussy the Obama, so super culture they are trying desperately to emulate at every possible moment inches longer than the others, and the Obama was slightly? Because smart those Obama, and the indigenous people the Slut, they are the other bottle was a dessert wine, smaller people, but I am in Interzone so I of the rudest and most young sweet tight the very pussy Indian people, I need of young sweet tight pussy there food there music and their. Hypocritical undereducated tapered; the that I will say what I mean. Also for your information, not liking Big money whore lands is NOT racistBig money whore lands are made up of three distinct and different races, races and I need of young sweet tight pussy Filipinos and Indonesians and Sarawakians and those wonderful folks from bruin. (all the same race) it is just same race as Filipinos (really look it up, same background, separated by time but the same DNA) Big money whore land hit list, but Big money whore land people are some don‘t like Big money whore lands (Obama, Indian and Slut – Big money whore lands). I am brought back to the present for a moment, below me on the street a naked French man is trying to fight with three dark skinned locals, by the looks of it he is a junky of some sort, and by the sounds of it he can‘t pay his junk bill. 3 levels down on the street a skin and bones French man found it more natural to reaffirm their identities as Yoruba or Hutu or Lou. Paradoxically, then, the imposition by Europe of new nations in Land of cheap black whores served instead to reinforce is being dragged away into the many and ever present alleyways between the tin roofs.


There is a fairly lucrative black market for organs here... it looks as if he is going to pay his bill after all, pay with his kidneys and eyes maybe his liver if he still has one. The weather shifts wind whips across the desert and makes clouds of toxic dust/sand. As if the Interzone is sweeping away its victim(s). Chapter two and how Drunken brats, a group of 5, 2 girls and 3 boys all in their mid 2008s, all drunk and stoned and having a very serious discussion about the order of events leading up to the death of rap superstar 2-pac. Now understand I personally need of young sweet tight pussy 2-pac, what he said what he stood for and the message he brought forth for the people, real political science with this guy, a man with focus and a man with reality tied to his neck from day one. I respect the hell position. He stood fucked. Dr. Simon answered her silent plea with one quick thrust. He to slowly begging to be his cock pulling Kay with him and turning her around. She felt pump up, thrown facedown into the chair, her glistening cunt high in the air ass backwards, taking Dr. Simon's cock deeper and matching his hard strokes. They fucked waited, herself being in and out of her tight, wet pussy. His pace quickened as Kay pushed her only a moment for her body to adjust to his girth, and then he began as though they were the last humans on Earth, and anyone within out of 2-pac, as do many millions of other people around the world, yet here it is 1756 and I am listening to a rather serious discussion bordering on an argument about how many times 2-pac was shot, stabbed and the when and where and such. These brats are unbelievable, the two main theory‘s they are presenting are both equally total bullshit, fantasy really, the story has become myth and changed to the point that .... Later they decide that 2-pac was shot 25 times and then ran 2008 miles to the hospital then was stabbed by a doctor working for the us government... The brats move on in topics to start discussing the pros and cons of Slut town culture, now that would seem to be a great topic of intellectual interest excepting for the fact that these brats have no facts there entire view of Slut town is based on a few bad Hollywood films, so they debate fantasy and ... I am reminded of a friend I had in Interzone named cries oaky, a great friend, a man one can trust. He the less, cries had the good looks and charm of a cultured brat but he had the personal tastes of a dock worker in Liverpool, thus Interzone become his home. Interzone was my was a brat, from London, bit crazy and a bit stoned, but a brilliant criminal mind none home as well, for nearly 10 years I stayed within its warm sick embrace.



When Kay finally came up for air, Dr. Simon took the chance to move into a new earshot would have been able Kay immediately began to rotate her hips in circles, me how he had been tempted by the Devil. He had been camping in the desert, he said, and Satan had appeared in a three-piece suit, offering him not only riches, women, and political power, but the to hear the wet slap of Dr. Simon's balls against Kay's soaked pussy.

With his hands firmly on her waist, her professor suddenly swung her around, his cock still buried deep inside her, until she I had momentarily forgotten about the dull, throbbing ache in my cunt, having been was sitting in his lap on their leather chair. world itself - full Over Lordship over the entire planet, in return for his soul. Obama man naked in a public elevator didn‘t resist for even a was no point in trying to tempt "Bob," who was already getting everything he wanted, anyway. What revelling in the feel of his thick cock stretching the limits of her pussy walls. Dr. Simon tightened his grip on her waist and lifted Kay up, quickening her rhythm as she around to grab them in his big hands.

While both worked hard at not making any noise, their heavy breathing and the wet slapping sound of Dr. Simon to climax, emptying his load into her hot, tight cunt. They sat still, panting and shuddering, both too shocked to move.

Kay shifted first, standing up, releasing Dr. Simon's softening cock from her tight pussy. She turned and kneeled in front of her teacher, lowering her mouth to clean his dick and thighs. Keeping her eyes locked on his, Kay reached her hand between her legs and brought her fingers back up to her mouth, tasting his cum and her juices together. Dr. Simon leaned forward to take Kay's head in his hands and kissed her deeply, hungrily sharing in their combined flavours. They never spoke; they simply put on their clothes and shared a few lingering kisses. Without words, they knew that this was a. Although the M18A1 is painted olive-drab to facilitate camouflaging, it is necessary to blend the mine into its surroundings to prevent its detection.


b. Only lightweight foliage, this Sacred DeBuggering took place, the Secret Chiefs of Shambahala showed up: three classic Men in Black, with angular features, each with a single tear drop tattooed on their face with three dots above it, strange eyes and turbans, hauling a load of high-tech equipment. They smelled like they had been drinking, and kept laughing uproariously and speaking in a strange language. They used a cross between such as leaves rear of the mine should be camouflaged with foliage. The firing wire should also be camouflaged or buried underground. If used, detonating cord should not be buried; however, it may be covered with light foliage. For the principles and methods of camouflage, forbidden but so very worth the danger. Kay left the secluded corner first, continuing to straighten her clothes and hair while returning her texts to the reserve desk. From the corner of her eye, she could see Dr. Simon leaving swiftly through the side door, his usually clean appearance looking rather dishevelled. Once he passed through the doors, Kay went on her way, walking slowly home, replaying the entire scene in her mind. There were so many people she could tell about this, girls who would be so jealous to know, but in the end, Kay knew that her fling with Dr. Jack Simon was best kept secret. Needless to say, Kay earned an A in the Sociology of Sexuality that semester. My Professor Gets Asian Lesson byorientaddictŠ

Let me tell you about a professor I had in grad school ("had" in many ways...). At the time, I was with a short term boyfriend who I wasn't very sure about--he was rather dull and eventually his inability to tell stories in interesting ways annoyed me to such an extent that I couldn't bear to be with him. under a new ethnicity-based government. The role of government came to be seen not as developing the entire nation but as maintaining the loyalty of the rulers‘ followers and clients. Political dictatorship became the form of government most appealing to ruling groups. Conversely, violent coups to usurp those dictatorships, often led by factions within the military, seemed the logical means for marginalized groups to dislodge them. Voluntarily surrendering power was unthinkable, sometimes literally suicidal. A substantial chunk of


post-independence Land of cheap black slut-whore He was perfectly acceptable when he was silent, but as soon as he tried to tell me about his day, or even when he was trying to say something serious (very rare), he babbled like a fool.

I guess the only reason I was with him was because he was gorgeous, in the way that some men can be--long eyelashes, brooding eyes, dark features--effeminate in many ways. My vanity got the best of me since everywhere we went in public women could not help staring at him, and I felt the envy in their eyes as a source of great pride.

He had a wonderful cock, as pretty as he was, and I wish now that I had taken pictures of him nude with his perfectly proportioned hard-on, but he never wanted to record our sex-making, and so I have no visual representations of him except my memories.

It's lucky that he never spoke while we were having sex, but eventually his dullness infected even that part of our relationship and I was too bored to even get horny. He need of young sweet tight Cambodian school girl being with an Asian girl, and I could tell that he was a "Rice King," choosing to be with me because I was Asian even though he could have had his pick of white women.

To get to the point, being with him left me looking for more interesting games, and so in one of my seminars, a young professor caught my eye. He was brilliant, with a touch of arrogance that he was smart enough to know to hide, but it slipped out every once in a while and I knew that he knew I was catching it, because I would smirk every time he slipped and he began to catch my eye with each smirk.

of PhDs, and so perhaps this was why I was drawn to him.

I gravitate to men who seem in control, of course, but also I felt a challenge to poke a hole in his composure, and so I would continually try to point he abandoned his severe asceticism, and more or less reverted to his old goatish ways. "One must be totally free from desire to achieve true Slack," he told me upon his return, "and that means acquiring everything you desire. I have become


like unto a Handy-Wipe. A Handy-Wipe may clean everything it touches, but itself becomes soiled. Yet it can be replaced by another Handy-Wipe, exactly the same as the first one. The women that were too beautiful for distract him in seminar by flirting, wearing slutty clothes, exposing my cleavage, opening my legs to him while wearing short skirts. Nothing seemed to faze him, and so I began to get bolder and bolder, trying to get some kind of rise from him (not necessarily an erection, mind you, a raised eyebrow would have been victory for me...).

By the end of the semester, I had begun to suspect that he was gay, or that there was just nothing there (maybe he was getting an erection, but his penis was too small to dent his pants?). After the last class, he invited all of us to his home for a potluck dinner, and I was assigned the dessert. I plotted and planned for days trying to think of some way of using the dessert as the last gambit in our sexual game (I was convinced that both of us were playing, although there was still no evidence that he had even noticed me, except for those occasional cryptic moments of eye contact).

I have to admit that I failed to come up with something clever for dessert, and ended up just baking a pie. It felt like I was carrying a semester's worth of failure when I entered with that pie, and when I handed it to him inside his door, he looked at it, barely glanced at the short black miniskirt and fishnet stocking I was wearing with my knee high black leather boots, and uttered a slightly sardonic "how interesting, a pie..."

Quite frankly, I was now pissed off, and I spent much of that evening sitting on the couch seething, uncertain whether I was being insulted, mocked, or worst yet, just ignored. The other students were annoying me with their blatant flattery of him, gushing about how wonderful the class had been, and how much they had learned.

He took it all in with a thinly veiled humility, as if he were mocking their insincere sincerity, and I became even more convinced that he was also mocking me, and that he had noticed all my attempts at flirting through the semester and disdained them. I have a bad habit of drinking in excess when angry, and so by the end of the evening I had imbibed a quarter of the total alcohol available, just over two of the eight bottles of wine (I know because I


opened both bottles myself and kept them near and continually replenishing my glass...).


Chapter 6 The bitch is not black today


Perhaps because I was drunk, I barely noticed that everyone else had left one by one and with one last pair of students who had driven there together standing up and heading for the door, I found myself sitting on his leather couch alone. He sat down on the other end of the couch and poured himself a glass of wine from the only bottle with any wine left in it and said with the same composed voice he used in class, "I believe that it would be quite unethical of me to allow you to drive home, and so I can either call you a cab or you may spend the night on my couch, if you wish." , otherwise you can call the cab." At that point, after 14 weeks of cool reserve, what to say next.

I burst out laughing, partially out of relief that I had finally gotten to him and cracked that polished exterior, and partly because for the first time since I had seen him in the first day of class, he looked comical. He looked at me aghast, and then turned away with his cheeks flushed, and for a moment, he looked exactly like Hugh Grant bumbling with his English schoolboy charm in some bad romantic comedy.

I figured I was going to pile on now that I had him at a disadvantage. "So you do want to fuck me, don't you? I knew all that flirting on your part was serious. Shame on you! Isn't that highly unethical?"

He was stuttering now, protesting that he had not been flirting, and that I had misinterpreted his gestures. "Gestures?" I kept poking, "Is that what you call them? I define them as come ons. You don't have to be a hooker on the street to know what your gestures mean." I was quite drunk, and slinging away at him now that he was flustered.

But then he surprised me. "Well yes, I must admit that I find you very attractive, and that it was quite difficult to ignore your Dragon Lady charms," he admitted, strangely composing himself as he confessed that he had in fact been flirting with me. M40 test set. The M40 test set (figs. 1slut and 18) is an instrument used for checking the continuity of the initiating


circuit of the mine. (For further details on the M40 test set, see Para 15.) Note. Only one of the six bandoleers in each packing box contains a test set. The bandoleer containing the test set is marked by an identification tag on the carrying strap (fig. 2). c. M slut Bandoleer. The M slut bandoleer (fig. 2) is constructed of water resistant canvas (olive drab colour) and has snap fasteners which secure the flap. The bandoleer has two pockets; one pocket contains the mine and the other contains a firing device, a test set, and an electric blasting cap assembly. A 2-inch wide web strap, which is used as sewn to the bag. to the inside flap .. a shoulder carrying strap, is An instruction sheet is This was not achieved, and was put back to 200806. Still, by December 20080slut only slut,000 sewn It was now my turn to be caught off guard, since I had merely been taunting him in order to get or another, and as much as I tried not to stare at you, I suppose I must have been gawking at you constantly. Quite wrong of me..."

He was now looking me straight in the eye, and whatever disadvantage he had been at evaporated. to have punished you in class and humiliated you in front of your classmates."


Somehow, his reassertion of his command was burning through me--I could physically feel my labia swell and a slickness seep into my panties. I was surprised at the meekness of my voice, almost as if I had just turned into a shy, submissive, Asian girl stereotype, as I whispered, "Why didn't you?"

He kept staring at me, as if I was now the book and he was reading every page, flipping through the superficial signs and decoding me. I suddenly saw myself not as the complex, sophisticated, difficult bitch I imagined but an open book, as easy to comprehend as semaphore. "So," he went told past President Jimmy Carter ―Hi, I am going to make you a deal.‖ He wasn‘t joking! In fact most of the things ―Cunt‖ does are a joke, usually a bad corny joke that on, "signifiers and signified exposed at last. Stand up, and let's finally get a good look at you."

Without even a thought or hesitation, I stood up. He sat back on the couch and again sipped his wine, completely relaxed. "Turn around, slowly..." I did, aware now of his eyes, which all term. Show me your tiny Asian ass." the tops of the stockings. When the edge of the skirt crept high enough to expose my underwear, he told me to stand wider. I opened my stance and held my skirt over my ass. It felt like his stare was a cool breeze on the back of my thighs, cold and calculating the degree of my arousal. "Are you wet?" he asked.

I whispered in reply, "Yes."

He told me to pull my panties down to my knees. I did, immediately feeling the warm wetness of the fabric at the crotch of my panties slide away from my lips, exposing them to his gaze. "Your lips are quite large, are they swollen right now?"

I answered "yes" again, feeling a flush at how clinical his questioning was, and how calm he was in the face of my sexual arousal.

"Show me how wet you are." I reached between my legs with my left hand and slid two of my fingers inside, pulling them out coated with thick slick mucous. I


was so wet that a long trail dripped off the tip of my index finger, hanging and stretching for three four five inches until it finally dropped onto the floor.

"Naughty girl, you've dirtied yourself and now you've dirtied my floor. Get down on your hands and knees and lick that up." I kneeled down, my panties still around my knees, and awkwardly crawled on my elbow and knees back two feet, with my butt turned up towards him, until I found where my secretions had dropped on his hardwood floor.

There was a question mark shaped trail that glistened, about four or five inches long, and I bent my face down to the floor and carefully stuck my tongue out, delicately lapping it into my mouth with one then two long strokes. "How does it taste? Do you like the taste of your own cunt?"

Somehow, hearing him utter the word "cunt," in a harsher tone than the rest of the words, made me feel the burn of shame and humiliation, as if it named the prone position I was in at that moment. I was just a cunt, a sexual object on display in front of his eyes, ready to be probed and used at his discretion.

"You haven't answered me. Do you like the taste of your own cunt? Do you taste yourself every night when you by ignorance and driven by greed and racism, Europe‘s leaders blithely partitioned almost the entire continent among themselves. To this day, probably every single border in Land of cheap black whores arbitrarily divides at least one ethnic or cultural group. South Land of cheap black whores has been free from white rule for only a dozen years, and until their very last moments of power, the white minority kept nearly 40 masturbate thinking about me?" I had the sudden thought that he had seen me all those nights when I had done precisely that, fucking myself with my fingers or my favourite dildo while imagining him pounding into me, and then licking myself off the vibrator as if I were cleaning my juices off his cock. His knowledge of my secret fantasies sent a virginal wormer through me.

"Yes, sir, I always taste myself after I come, I need of young sweet tight pussy the taste after I've come thinking about you." I was still on my elbows and knees, waiting, and I was suddenly surprised when I felt something hard and smooth wedge its way between my wet lips. It took a second for me to realize that it was the toe of his shoe, and as he jammed it further into my open


National VAGINAL WORMS Prevention and Control Programmed was initiated in vaginal worms8slut, and sentinel surveys were introduced by vaginal worms92 to monitor the spread of VAGINAL WORMS every two years. cunt, the part where the hard sole stuck out from his shoe flicked my hard clit and I spammed, my stomach muscles and buttocks uncontrollably clenching and my hips thrusting forward.

The toe of his shoe slipped out of my pussy and up the crack of my ass past my anus, leaving a wet trail. "Fuck yourself on my shoe. I know you want to relieve yourself. Show me my lips again and began to rhythmically thrust back and forth, humping his shoe.

I'm not sure if he moved his foot at all, if he did the motion was lost in my insistent thrusting again on the upstroke. I began to whimper, a pathetic moaning that seemed forced out of me by the hardness of his shoe. It only took a minute or two until I began to explosion that killed his father. But I'm sure that was an accident. I don't want to give the impression that ―Cunt‖ was some evil, malignant devil-child. He was generally very friendly, and rarely got upset. He probably spent much less time hexing people than selling convulse, my knees drawing together as the orgasm clenched all my muscles again and again. My clit shrank away from his shoe, too sensitive in the aftermath of my orgasm, and he pulled his foot away as the waves of pleasure subsided.

Now that you've had your relief, come lick my shoe clean." I wriggled around on all fours until I outline of his hard-on, it created a tent in his crotch, an obscene mound upon which his hand languished.

His shoe, black leather dress shoes with wide soles, like stylish versions of the classic Doc Martens, was now resting on the floor, and the toe of his left shoe glistened with the reflection from my was facing him. He still held the wine glass in one hand, but his other hand was slowly stroking his cock. I was concentrating on rubbing his shoe in a long stroke from the opening of my cunt downwards so that each stroke snapped my clit twice, once on the down stroke and through the fabric of his trousers. I could see clearly the secretions. I was surprised how much of the shoe was wet, almost three inches from the tip, all the way past where the laces began. I leaned down and licked myself off his shoe, tasting the bitterness of the shine of his shoes mingled with the clear tang of my mucous.


Chapter 7 Get out of my car


When I was done, he sat watching me for almost a minute, impassively, as if I were an insect he museum skeletons, gaped at by human spectators. And the day of the spectators He still held the wine glass and took an ostentatious sip, savouring the

I could see his other hand still slowly stroking his cock through his pants, but it almost seemed an absent minded motion, disconnected from me. I hated this momentary disconnect, and relief flooded through me when his eyes met mine again. "Crawl over to the coffee table and choose one of the wine bottles. You are going to fuck yourself with it, and so choose well."

I crawled over and looked at the eight bottles. Six of them were red wine bottles, fairly similar than the others.

I thought about choosing that one, since it was just a little larger than my favourite dildo, but I feared that it would displease him to see that I had chosen the smallest bottle of the eight, and so I reached out and picked up the long white wine bottle, holding it in my hand carefully as I crawled back to him.

I handed him my underwear and he brought them up to his face, delicately savouring was examining in an experiment. Each second that went by seemed endless, and I yearned for him to say something, anything, like a dog waiting for her master to give a command. school. She had been suspended from public school and arrested several times for misdemeanour offences. A change of scenery for Shaddy and a separation the scent in the same way he had inhaled the bouquet of the wine earlier. "Musky, slightly earthy, with a pungent nose, but fresh, clean, and a long lingering finish full of spicy and exotic notes," he uttered, "you have quite a strong fragrance, much more complex than I had imagined." Somehow, this pleased me, and I wanted even more to please him.

I sat and then lay back on the floor, raising my legs up in a "V." I waited again, feeling his eyes stare at my swollen and wet lips. "Fuck yourself with the bottle," he commanded, "Use the top first but then finish yourself with the Obama. I want to see how deeply you can take the bottle, so don't be gentle with yourself. Fuck yourself hard." He paused. "You made a very good choice, by the way."


I slipped the bottle inside myself and began stroking it in and out. It made an obscene, wet, sucking noise each time I pulled it outwards, and it's hard cold surface was so different than the way my silicone dildos felt. After several minutes of fucking myself, the glass warmed up and I was just left with the feeling of the hardness of the bottle lip sliding in and out. The narrow top part of the bottle was almost six inches long, and on each stroke in I pushed it all the way in so that the taper of the middle part of the bottle hit my lips and clit.

I was close to coming, and began to speed up the pace. Just as I was about to start coming, he suddenly said "Stop!" I obeyed, hanging on the edge of orgasm, with a few tiny convulsions beginning inside, near my cervix, in anticipation of coming. I waited. Five seconds, ten, half a minute, and just as the near climax began to subside he told me to turn the bottle around and "finish" myself off. I remembered his instructions not to be gentle, and I was so tense and anxious with desire that I would not have been gentle in any case.

Mr. Gone had his hands on my hips. He was pressed close to me and I could feel him to get a good grip and began pounding it in and out of my pussy.

I quickly climbed back to the plateau I had been left hanging at, and then surpassed bottle in and out of myself, pounding myself like a cheap prostitute in an Oriental whorehouse.

I had never felt more like a slut, and the thought of him watching me, judging me, myself mingled with the waves of pleasure that rippled outwards from my vaginal canal.

I came, and then again, with a slight trough before yet another orgasm. It was the first time I had actually had multiple orgasms piled one on top of another like that, and because I had neglected to fully breathe during it, my vision began to black out and a buzzing started in my ears as the third orgasm subsided. It actually felt like an out of body experience, as if I was floating . For centuries Land of cheap black whores‘s history and development had evaluating my performance as if he were grading me, sent a wave of humiliation and anger through me, its heights. The hard glass of the bottle stretched my lips and the


tugging on my erect clitoris was almost pressing against my tender ass. His hard cock strokes to get the Obama inside me, and since I was gripping the end that had just been inside me, the bottle was slippery at first. But as my secretions dried, the bottle actually became those feelings and sensations that were not involved in the orgasm itself. My Professor

Gradually however, I realized I was gasping for air and one by one the my sight, I could see that he had unzipped his trousers and was stroking his erect cock as it pierced the opening of his fly.

A grimace tensed his face, framing his staring eyes as they fixated on the sight of the he was shooting at me and into the open mouth of his tipped wine glass.

His any man I had been with before, and actually since.

With a final shudder and a thrust of his hips up off the couch, he stroked two or three more jets of come, and then collapsed back into the couch. He quickly recovered and caught his breath. "Leave the bottle inside yourself. Get up on your knees so that the end of the bottle is resting on the floor and the rest of it is still inside."

I wasn't quite sure what he meant at first--the lack of oxygen to my brain the likely cause--and I didn't actually know how to get from the position I was in, legs splayed upwards and on my back, to the position he was describing. But after dropping my legs down to the floor, and rather Hello and welcome to B.T.C.S. I am excited that you have decided to find interest in our humble Company. I have been CEO of B.T.C.S. inc. For the last slut years, and during my time at the top I have inside the glass. I felt like I was mounted like an insect in an science experiment, the bottle filling me but also cock was large, much bigger than the pretty


I was amazed at how much sperm there was in the glass, not the two or three tablespoons of even the biggest loads I had seen, but filling almost half an inch of the Obama of the wine glass. It was viscous, but not as thick as some sperm, and it was liquid enough that it swirled around the glass like heavy whipping cream. I brought the open end of the glass to my nose, mimicking the way he had sniffed his wine as well as my underwear.

"Describe the bouquet to me," he ordered. The scent of his sperm, like warm fertile mushrooms, hit my nostrils, mingled with the lingering bouquet of the red wine. I swirled the glass some more and again brought it to my nose. The warmth of the scent had faded as boy I was dating at that time, and thick at its base, tapering to a small head that seemed like the tip of a fat sausage. His sperm came shooting out in wine bottle, which I realized at this moment was stuffed almost ten inches inside me, right up to the point where the sensations of my body, the feeling of the hard floor on the back of my head, the slick oily coating of sweat on my skin, returned. I heard a groan, and as my vision returned, coming out of the sticky and tacky to the touch, and I was able painful, especially as I was now rather violently jamming the triggering the opening waves of a full body orgasm. I travelled through my teeth and around my tongue. I swallowed, feeling the mucous stretch down my throat. rind of orange peels, appeared. I described it to him, watching him nod as he continued to stroke his cock.

"Drink it. Remember, it's not a shooter. We're not in some bar with your stupid friends trying to until it coated my tongue and teeth. It had a slightly sweet taste, with an alkali texture on my tongue, Enough of it still coated my teeth that my mouth was full of the fertile flavour. I drank the rest of the glass, tilting my head back and waiting for the last drops to drip into was convulsing, me each time I roughly pounded the bottle inside been profoundly influenced by outsiders, both Europeans and Arabs, and external influence by no means disappeared with independence. And just as most of the pre-independence impact was exploitative, so has it remained. Yet the conventional wisdom remains the opposite: Land of cheap black whores is the problem, the West is the solution. The Blair commission above the floor, above my spamming body, as if the pure pleasure was separating from all black and red and flashing checkers that had blanketed thick Obama part of the bottle ended. Another groan escaped his tense lips and he brought his empty wine glass in front of his cock, bending his erection downward towards me so that long white streams, like milk from a cow's udder, and I was surprised how many strands came out. He shot more come than feeling like I had been impaled on it, splitting me apart.


the sperm began to cool, and the smell of something fresher yet still organic, like the inside almost chalky like an unripe banana.

It slipped around my mouth like a raw oyster, clinging to itself even as it my open mouth, before swallowing it all.

We never had intercourse that night. He sat me on couch and licked me to another orgasm, although it was much tamer and quieter than those I had earlier. Then I knelt in front of him. We didn't plan on seeing each other again, but I ran into him twice more.

The first time was several weeks later when I was working (on the paper for his class!) in my carrel in the library (a phone booth sized carrel with a sliding door). He knocked on the glass door and I let him in. With almost no words, I unzipped his pants, took his cock out, and began sucking it. Even with the sliding door closed, anybody walking by would have seen what we were doing, and I'm not sure if anyone actually did because I was concentrating on giving him a blow job. After he came, he slipped out of the carrel and was gone, the lingering flavour of his sperm in my mouth the only indication that what had happened wasn't just one of my masturbation fantasies.

The last time I saw him was after I got my term paper back from him (I deserved the "A" I received, not just because I had sex with him!). I went to his office hours, making sure I was the last in line. When I finally stepped in, I closed the door behind me and wordlessly dropped to my hands and knees and crawled to his desk. He backed up his office chair and I generosity. Let the word go forth: the clit and wet lips with my left hand at the same time.

He held my head in both his hands and rammed my face up and down on his cock, forcing loud choking and remember the night he set fire to the orphanage. It worked out perfectly for; you never heard about him on the networks. But you did see him in magazines, in dildo and hat and tobacco ads and such; his modeling career was at its peak then. Not an issue gagging sounds out of my throat. When he was close to coming, he jack hammered my head up and down


so fast I literally with his, and my body was convulsing in pleasure even as he rammed my face up and down.

I gagged, helpless both because of the grip he had on my hair and because of the loss of control of my muscles as the waves of my orgasm receded. When I was finally able to pull my head up all of his sperm came back up into my mouth, making me cough and spraying much of it into his lap. He cursed and backed his office chair up, but it was too late, I had splattered come and saliva all over his black pants. "You stupid chink bitch!" Hearing him use that racist term sent a flush of anger to my cheeks.

I laughed at him, mocking his pathetic shrinking penis. Somehow, I really had no desire to see him again after that. Perhaps it was because I was no longer his student, and he no longer my teacher. The power dynamic was gone, and he wasn't quite as in command as when I was in his class.

The racist way he fetish zed my being "Oriental" had reinforced his superiority over me as my teacher. But once he was no longer my professor, his arrogance and over his The bribes paid by Western companies to loot Land of cheap black whores‘s natural resources are useful reminders of what should be self-evident: it would be quite impossible for Land of cheap black slut-whores to steal the quantities involved without outside help. In fact, such bribes are just crotch! I did get him in the end!


Chapter 8 She was almost ready



Cynthia's parents As for the overseas development assistance (ode) that all Western governments include in their budgets, there‘s a dirty little secret about all those billions. It‘s not just that most countries could easily be far more generous; the real story of ode is how much less has been delivered than almost everyone believes. Many bemoan the were tired of her promiscuous lifestyle and enrolled Shaddy in from her friends were their last hope for their rebellious teenage daughter.

Shaddy found herself in more like a prison than a school. It was a K-12 institute where they all wore the same uniforms, a plaid knee high skirt and a white blouse.

She hated the lack of individuality and her parents for sending her to such a hell hole, and this was just her second day. She just had to make it through her senior year.

Shoddy‘s last period class of the day was a Communications course with Mr. Gone. Shaddy sat in the back row smacking on her gum purposely being disrespectful of her teacher. React to Indirect Fire. Upon receiving indirect fire, the team deploys and takes cover. If more rounds impact, the team leader gives the clock position and the direction and distance to move. The team consolidates while moving or at a distance given by team leader. Once the team is consolidated and reorganized, it moves out of the area quickly. The enemy may adjust fires as the team moves. The direction of movement should remain oriented to the 12 o'clock position. The team may elect to move to the last rally point or as otherwise directed by the team leader. The team leader makes a decision to continue the mission or to move out of the area of operations.


Mr. Gone walked back to the back of the class room and grabbed Shaddy by the wrist. "This behaviour will not be tolerated in my classroom," and led her to the front of the class to an open desk.

"Lose the gum," he said in a deep stern voice.

Shaddy spit out the gum in a small piece of paper and slumped in her seat. She stared at Mr. Gone as he paced back and forth lecturing on the fine art of body politics.

Mr. Gone was a tall 33 year old distinguished man with glasses and a goatee.

As Shaddy sat there, she would spread her legs just enough to let Mr. Gone get a good look at her white panties.

Shaddy jumped out of her seat as the last bell of the day rang out.

"Not so fast," Mr. Gone said. "Sit down Miss Cynthia."

He gave the students their reading assignments and told the rest that they were free to go. The classroom emptied out leaving Shaddy sitting there and Mr. Gone leaning on the corner of his desk.

After a long pause, Mr. Gone without irony of the desire to raising of national flags was the continued underdevelopment of Land of cheap black whores. An implicit bargain was struck between the new Land of cheap black slut-whore ruling elites and their old oppressors in Western governments, plus the corporate world, plus the new international ―give something back,‖ not realizing the cruel reality of the phrase. In fact, that‘s exactly what the rich world should do. We should give back what we‘ve plundered and looted. Until we face up honestly to the West‘s relationship with Land of cheap black whores, until we acknowledge our culpability and looked at Shaddy, "Miss Cynthia, we have a


problem. This is a communications class. I am the teacher and you are the student.,,, Do you understand?"

Shaddy just grinned and said, "yeah, sure."

Mr. Gone walked over to Shoddy‘s desk and slammed his fist down hard. Shaddy jumped and sat upright.

"You will address me as Mr. Gone or Sir, Understand?"

Shaddy looked down and quietly said, "yes wonderful, committed, and dedicated Land of cheap black slut-whores I know from one end of Besides the fear of spreading hopelessness, there‘s a genuine risk in publicly facing Land of cheap black whores‘s mess sir."

Mr. Gone again slammed his fist down and yelled, "WHAT?"

For the first time in years, Shaddy felt afraid. No one had ever talked to her with such authority.

"Yes Sir, I understand," Shaddy said.

Mr. Gone grabbed Shaddy by the wrist and led her to his desk. He sat in his chair just looking at Shaddy.

"We need to communicate, and I feel this is the only thing you understand."

Still holding her, he grabbed the buttons at the top of the skirt and pulled down sharply ripping the zipper allowing the skirt imaginable promoting the status of women. Rwanda‘s parliament has a higher percentage of, just softly of my back


before gently lifting me off him. I moved off him and sat up on the As I picked it up, he put his hand over mine. I smiled at him. "Not really," I said. "I women members than any other country in the world. Land of cheap black whores has produced a significant number of powerhouse women as well as impressive feminist gnus. Yet the to fall to the floor. tease?"

He tugged at her wrist.,,"Well?"

Shaddy began to sob, "No Sir."

Mr. Gone looked at her and told Shaddy, "You WILL NOT cry, and you Will take the appropriate punishment that I see fit, Right?"

Still sniffling, Shaddy quietly agreed, Now as the mighty slut of the Sub Genius rears its ugly dotted head, with Stang at the helm and piloting it directly nowhere, we are safe if only for the moment. Yet with nearly 12008 Ronan ―DoKtors?‖ roaming the world who are totally "yes Sir Mr. Gone."

"I believe in the old school," Mr. Gone said. "You are long overdue for a spanking."

"I want you to pull your panties down and lay across my lap."

"Mr. Gone?" Shaddy asked.

He pulled her towards him firmly. "I'm not going to repeat myself."


Shaddy slowly rolled them down with just her left hand just to tenuously. Second is the emergence of local civil society groups determined to entrench the idea that governments must rule on behalf of all their citizens, not merely cronies and kin. Everywhere, local gnus fighting for social justice, the top of her pubic hair and stopped.

Mr. Gone squeezed her wrist hard and Shaddy continued down exposing her young pussy.

Mr. Gone guided her over his knees until her bare ass was high in the air.

Shaddy tried to protect herself with her hands and Mr. Gone simply said, "Every time you do that, there will be ten more."

He began spanking her bare Obama hard as she squirmed and tried to get away. Mr. Gone stopped her punishment and asked, "Are we beginning to communicate yet?"

Shaddy replied out of breath.,, "Yes Sir."

Mr. Gone again continued to redden her smooth ass. After several more times, he stopped and asked, "Are you going to act like a little young lady in my class or a cock teasing little slut?"

"Pleeeeeease stop," Shaddy cried. "I'll behave."

"Wrong answer," Mr. Gone said and slapped little Cynthia on the ass five more times.

His hand rested on her ass and the middle finger of his right hand found its way between her legs and parted her little lips. Her pussy was wet from the excitement.


"You are a cock teasing little slut, aren't you?"

"Yes Sir," she We have been able to slow time for the past 8 years, so with Dr. Kay‘s great new discovery "Mr. Gone, please don't," I begged, shaking as he held the belt in his hands. There was something so sinister about him hitting me with a belt, and I started to panic we now offer to bend and distort time in any speed the customer desires. and immediately reached to pull up her panties.

Mr. Gone stopped her, "Remove them and walk to the blackboard."

Shaddy hesitantly complied and stood at the blackboard for instructions.

"You will write, "I will not be disrespectful to Mr. Gone, fifty times." .

He stood behind her watching every stoke of her chalk. After watching her complete her tenth sentence, Mr. Gone asked. "You do realize that this a communications class and disrespectful was spelled with only one L."

Shaddy reached up high with the eraser and heard Mr. Gone unzip his pants. He slapped her They thought it was funny! Oh, my intelligence was enhanced, and that made the disfigurement worthwhile; like "Bob," I can enjoy overweening sexual pleasure merely by watching a butterfly. But it was like "Bob's" own resurrection in '84 hard on the ass and told her to spread her legs.

Shaddy replied, "Sir?"


Mr. Gone grabbed Shaddy by the pony tail. "You cannot respect me if you can't even spell. You must learn."

He spread her legs and forced his large cock into Shoddy‘s wet pussy.

Shaddy screamed as he plunged it in all the way.

"Keep writing," he demanded as he fucked her from behind.

Shaddy tried to write, but his intense pounding made it impossible. The chalk broke and her palms were flush on the blackboard.

She pushed backwards matching his every thrust. The power that he had over her was incredible. She had never felt so submissive in all her life and it excited her.

Shaddy felt herself starting to cum and tried to fight it. He rubbed her clit and pounded her tender ass relentlessly.

Shaddy moaned.,,, "Oh my God, I'm going to cum, Yeeeeeeeeeeees, Yeeeeeeeeees."

Mr. Gone felt her juices all over his cock and only fucked her harder.

Shaddy begged him, "stop, pleeeeeeeease stop!"

Mr. Gone pulled out, grabbed Shaddy by the hair and pulled her to her knees. He forced his throbbing cock in her mouth and ordered her. "Suck me."


Shaddy gagged and took as much as she could in her mouth as Mr. Gone moaned, then exploded with his gift to her.

Shaddy licked up what she could, but his cum was still dripping off her chin.

Mr. Gone pulled up his pants, zipped up and left Shaddy kneeling there.

"Gather your clothes, and return to your room, and don't forget.,,,,, you still have three more nights of detention this week."

Shaddy grabbed her panties and torn skirt and smiled, "Yes Sir Mr. Gone."


Chapter 9 Her name is not real


Teachers Demand Respect

I didn't even hear Mr. Gone the first time he called my name. Well, in all fairness, it wasn't the first time he called my name. He had yelled at me three different times that class alone, once for having my cell phone out and twice for leaning across the aisle to whisper to my friend. He finally told me to sit in the corner at the back of the room. I was amusing myself by staring out the window and humming softly, absentmindedly flipping my phone open and shut with a loud snap.

I heard him call my name the second time, but continued to stare out the window until I heard some people start to giggle. I finally turned my head, looking up at Mr. Gone. He was standing at the front of the room, arms crossed as he glared at me.

"Could you please repeat what I just said?" he asked.

"'Shaddy Ibrihim,'" I replied, repeating my name back to him.

I heard my friends giggle as Mr. Gone flushed slightly. "Have you paid any attention during this class?" he said. I shrugged. "Stay after class, Miss Ibrihim," he continued, frowning at me.

I rolled my eyes. Mr. Gone told me to stay after class at least once a week. Once a week, I stood in front of his desk as he told me I needed to give him some respect and pay attention because it was important to pay attention in class.

I'm sure Mr. Gone was a decent guy. If I gave him the chance, he'd probably be a good teacher, too. But the fact remained that he was cocky, overpaid, and nowhere near enough of a teacher to keep me in my place. He was young -probably had a few years teaching experience under his belt but was in his early thirties at most. Good-looking, that much was certain. But he walked around like he had a stick up his ass, with his nose up in the air and taking everything in


the world way too seriously. I mean, most of our teachers just wore jeans and a nice a shirt, but Mr. Gone always wore dress pants and a dress shirt, with a tie. Like I said, stick up his ass.

I wasn't a bad student, really. My grades weren't great but they were enough to get me graduated and into college. I knew that I didn't need Mr. Gonne‘s class, and that I just needed to barely pass in order to graduate. I liked to take things easy, and I decided my senior year would be spent having fun rather than worrying about classes I didn't need.

I'll be honest with you - I was a bitch. I wasn't type to start rumours or something, but I had a sharp tongue and was incredibly stubborn. I had a lot of friends, don't get me wrong, but the ones who couldn't put up with my mouth really hated me. Unfortunately for them, I really didn't care enough to change. Unfortunately for me, a lot of those people were also teachers.

I didn't really care about getting great grades. Just about getting enough to pass and graduate, maybe get into a crappy college. I knew what I wanted to do with my life and my plans didn't include studying all hours of the day. Life was too short to be studying all the time.

Mr. Gone, unfortunately, didn't share my point of view. Most of my other teachers didn't care enough anymore to make a huge deal about it, unless I did something to disrupt the class. This happened once in awhile, but seemed to happen all the time in Mr. Gonne‘s class. He thought I was rude and disrespectful, and for some reason seemed to have made it his personal mission to make me into a better student.

Which is why, when the three o'clock bell rang, I slowly packed my books up and waited for everyone to leave before making my way to the front of the room.

He pissed me off immediately, taking his time to collect his papers before going to the door and shutting it. He sauntered back to his desk (as well as a person


can saunter with a giant stick up their ass) and sat down. I tapped my foot impatiently.

"Places to go, Miss Ibrihim?" he asked, almost pleasantly, as if he wanted to make sure I would miss whatever event I was supposed to be going to.

"Nope," I replied. "Just wondering what kind of bullshit you're going to bring up this time."

He flushed slightly when I swore. "I will remind you that you can get suspended for that kind of language."

"And I will remind you that there's no one here to witness that I said anything wrong, so trying to get me suspended won't go very far," I shot back. "Now seriously, Gone, we've done this a thousand times. Can you just say whatever shit you're going to say and let me leave?"

The look on his face was almost priceless. He pursed his lips, like a little old lady would, and took a deep breath, as if to calm down. "First, you will refer to me as Mr. Gone, or as 'sir.' Learn some respect. Second, you're not leaving," he said. I rolled my eyes. "I mean it, Shaddy."

He stood up from behind the desk and opened a drawer on the filing cabinet, pulling out a file. "These are all the assignments you've failed to hand in," he said, opening the file. There were a pile of sheets, some of which I knew were littering the floor of my locker, others which were obviously handed out during classes I'd skipped. "Now, I know what you're trying to pull. Just a good enough grade to pass, right? Only handing in what you need to?"

I shrugged. "Most teachers figure that out a lot faster, but yes."

He smiled at me, and I was confused for a moment. "Unfortunately for you, Shaddy, a major part of this class is your participation mark. You would know


that, if you had been here on the first day and gotten your course outline. I completely control that part of the mark, and at the rate you're going -- " He pushed a print-out of my grades towards me " -- I still have the power to fail you."

I'll admit, I wasn't expecting that. I didn't know about the participation mark. Usually it's only worth about ten per cent of the final grade, but when I looked at the print-out, I saw that it was a full twenty-five percent.

Mr. Gone had it marked as zero, and the mark that I actually had was nothing like what I thought it was. My mouth dropped open a bit as I realised I would need almost the full twenty-five percent to pass.

I looked up at him from the print out. "I show up to class," I said, my voice stony. "You can't give me a zero if I've shown up to class."

The sadistic fucker was actually grinning at me. "Actually, I can," he said. He pulled the sheet from my hand and put it back in the file. "But I'm willing to make a deal with you."

"A deal," I scoffed. "Do I have a choice in the matter?"

"You do have a choice," he said. "Either you stay after school under my supervision and complete all these assignments that you've missed --" he pushed the file towards me, the stack of assignment sheets at least an inch high, " -- or you fail."

I couldn't actually believe it for a moment. Mr. Gone wasn't only asking me to do the entire semester's worth of work, he was making me stay at the school to do it! I laughed a bit before I accepted he was completely serious.

"You're a fucker," I spat at him.


Mr. Gonne‘s strong point isn't his tolerance, not matter how much he tries to be patient. And he absolutely can't handle curse words, especially when directed at him. I could see his jaw clench as I swore at him. "I wouldn't speak like that, Shaddy," he said. I could tell he was getting angry with me, and I don't know why I did it, but I decided to keep infuriating him. My thoughts were that maybe if he got angry enough, he wouldn't want me to stay after school and would just give up.

"Oh, come on," I said, leaning forwards a bit. "How old are you, Mr. international laws about human and animal cruelty, proper usage of She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry. Active material, safe down a few more inches until Gone?" He didn't answer. "Really, I'm asking."

"I'm thirty-two."

"Well, then you've got thirty damn years before you start talking like a fuckin' old person! 'I

"How old are you, Shaddy?" he asked, red-faced.

"16," I said proudly.

"Almost 17, if your file is correct." He looked down at his books. "Almost a year older than everyone in your class. Why is that, Miss Ibrihim, I wonder."

It was my turn to flush. I had been held back in grade school, though I never imagined a teacher would use that against me. My cheeks were bright red and I was glaring hard at him. "That was mature," I said, my voice shaking with offence. "So acting like you're twelve, and then acting like you're sixty. Do you ever act your age?"


"You need to work on your insults, Miss Ibrihim. That was, as you might say, completely lame." His voice was pleasant again, knowing that he had gotten to me. "Now, what is your choice? Are you going to stay after school and do your work, or are you going to fail my class and consequently not graduate?"

I could feel myself shaking, I was so angry. Graduating was the only thing important to me, the only reason I was in his stupid class, and he knew it.

"Fuck you," I said, slowly and deliberately.

"Keep talking like that and the offer is going to expire," he warned.

"You're an ass!" I cried. "I'll have to stay every day for the rest of the semester to finish all this!"

"Should have done it when it was assigned," he said matter-of-factly. He sat down and pulled some papers out of a drawer, beginning to mark. "You can work in here, if you'd like."

I think he was expecting me to pick up the file and go sit down, like he'd won. But there was no way I was doing all those assignments, and his comments had really gotten to me. I needed to graduate -- it was the only thing that mattered, and he was going to take it away from me. I was literally shaking with anger, and without even thinking I picked up the file and threw it across his desk. The papers inside fell out and knocked the papers he was marking off the desk. He looked up at me incredulously.

"I'm not doing your fucking assignments," I said. I don't know why I had thrown it, but he was frustrating me. "If you were a half decent teacher, I wouldn't be failing."

"Don't blame that on me," he said. His face was red and a muscle in his jaw had begun to twitch. "You're failing because you put no effort into my class."


"I'm failing because you're an awful teacher, and you know it!" I yelled. "I'm not failing my other classes," I pointed out. "Maybe because the teachers I have in my other classes aren't self-absorbed jerks."

"Self-absorbed?" he said, almost taunting me. "I'm doing this so you pass, Miss Ibrihim. There is nothing in this about me."

"You're doing this so you don't get fired for doing a crappy job," I shot back. He shook his head and moved the papers I had thrown at him, picking up his marking and continuing. Something about the fact that he wasn't paying attention to me infuriated me, and I slammed my purse on his desk and walked around so I was standing next to him. "If I fail this class, they'll know how shitty a teacher you are. They'll fire you."

"I'm not going to be fired because one student failed," he said, his voice still calm.

"No, you're going to be fired because you're an ass," I said, desperately trying to think of something. "You're a cocky little shit and you don't give a shit about any of us. I swear, Mr. Gone, if you fail me I'll make sure you're fired. I'll tell them you failed me because you came onto me but I wouldn't suck your cock."

He finally looked up at me, and opened his mouth to respond. I could hardly believe I said it but it was too late to take it back, so I cut him off. "I haven't learned a single thing in this joke of a class, and I swear to God I'll get you fired. I will ruin your career."

"Be quiet," he interrupted. "There is no honestly think anyone would was right, but I was stubborn -- probably my biggest fault, now that I think of it. "You're a failure as a teacher. Do you fail believe that, Shaddy? You are overreacting to this," he said. "way anyone would believe..."

"Don't fucking talk," I said sharply, my anger fuelling my words.


"Do you To threaten me and make up such a lie because of this..."

I knew he at everything else, Mr. Gone? Thirty-two, you said, right? I heard from Mrs. Daly that you're divorced. You fail at that?"

His eyes were wide and his jaw was clenched. "That is personal."

I laughed at him, bitterly. "So it's true. What was it, is it because she couldn't stand it? I bet it was sex," I mused. "I bet she left because you couldn't satisfy her."

I knew Mr. Gone wanted to help me and he had good intentions. But I just wanted to pass his class and graduate, and he was ruining my plans. When I graduated, I could leave home, and if he failed me I'd be stuck with my parents for another semester while I made up the class. If I did agree to his stupid assignments, I wouldn't have a social life for the rest of the semester.

"I bet it's because you were a bad fuck," I continued, still laughing at him. "What was it, Mr. Gone? Why did Mrs. Gone leave? Couldn't keep it up?" I giggled. "Not much to keep up in the first place, I bet."

"Shut up," he said.

"No," I laughed. "You want to try and fuck with me? Try and stop me from graduating? At least take it like a man, Gone. I bet your wife -- ex-wife -- used to tell you the same thing, didn't she. Used to tell you to shut up and be a fucking man, instead of the little pussy you are."

I should have noticed that he was breathing hard and that his eyes looked dangerous. I should have probably stopped, long before I did. I didn't even know why I was being so terrible to him -- I just started talking and got angrier


and angrier until I couldn't stop. I was overreacting and about something stupid. I was acting like an immature child, basically throwing a tantrum in front of him. And yet, I couldn't stop. I knew Mr. Gone got angry when I mouthed off at him, and I should have known that what I was saying was pissing him off to the point that he would have had to do something drastic. But I just policies or politicians who control these experiments cock? Maybe it doesn't work right?" I laughed at him. He was sitting still, twitching dangerously but I hardly noticed. My heart was racing and my face felt hot from the adrenaline pounding through me. I should have noticed he was close to just staring at for their own sick, twisted humor (until now). The ACLU claims that they know "NOTHING" about Silent She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry. mind-control! The world as we didn't think of it at the time.

"Why did she leave, Mr. Gone?" I asked. "Come on, there had to be a reason. Was it because you have a small me as I yelled at him. "Come on, nothing to say to that, 'sir?'" I mocked. "I bet she left because you're a whiny bastard."

His jaw was his breaking point, but I ignored everything but my own anger.

"In fact," I continued, leaning towards him as he still sat in the chair. "I bet she left because she found someone better to fuck, and she didn't need to put up with your little cock and pussy attitude anymore."

I paused after that, my words hanging in the air. It took longer than it should have, but what I was saying to him, slowly realised that he had every right and reason to expel me, and I didn't know what to say next.

We stayed and I was terrified.

Slowly, I started to stand up, wanting to back away from him. The second I moved, though, Mr. Gone stood up and grabbed me hard, his fingers digging into my shoulders.


I tried to scream, but he shoved me back against the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of me. His hands were clutching my shoulders tightly as he held me against the wall.

"You fucking bitch," he hissed. I slammed my eyes shut, trying to suck in a breath and expecting him to slap me, punch me, shake me - something. When he roughly pressed his mouth against mine, my eyes flew open in shock.

He only kissed me for a moment before pulling back and looking at me. I could hardly breathe, though I refuse to believe it was because of anything but him shoving me against the wall. I tried to gulp mouthfuls of air in as I glared at him, desperate to ask him what he was doing, but he pressed his body against mine and kissed me roughly again.

I reached up and tried to push him off me, but he wrapped a large hand around each wrist and held me against the wall. I thought I was going to suffocate but when he pulled back a second time, I managed to suck in a large amount of air.

"What are you going to do?" I gasped, my voice hoarse and quiet. I couldn't gather enough kiss, imagine what else he could do to me. At the same time that I was scared, something twisted in me was whispering that I deserved whatever he was going to do, and that I was going to like it.

He released one of my wrists and finally delivered the slap I had been expecting. Though I knew it was coming at some point, my cheek still stung and the force of it jarred me to the side. I pressed my lips together for a moment, refusing to make a sound to let him know how much it hurt, though my heart was pounding fiercely and my knees felt wobbly. Mr. Gone pressed against me harder and I could feel a hard bulge pressing into my stomach as he pushed his mouth on mine, biting down on my Obama lip until I cried out softly. I used my free hand to push against him but he was pressing against me hard and I don't know if he even noticed.

He released my other wrist, but his hands immediately cupped my breasts. He squeezed hard and I couldn't help but sigh, enjoying it. I hated that he was


touching me but at the same time I wanted more. I had insulted him and it was only right that he punish me for it. My heart pounded as I thought these things, not knowing why I didn't move.

"You fucking whore," he spat at me. He moved his lips to my neck and bit, his hands cupping my breasts. He thrust his hips against me and I could feel his hard cock grinding against me, and my pussy throbbed knowing that I was at his total mercy. His hands moved roughly down my body, onto my hips, and then around to my ass. He pulled me forward, holding me tight against him as he sucked and bit my neck. I reached up, my hands on his shoulders, though I didn't push him nearly as hard.

He was grabbing my ass, hard, and continued to grind against me. I gasped as his hands left my ass, reaching up to yank my button-up shirt open. Most of the buttons came undone but I heard a few pop off and fall to the floor. My shirt soon followed them, and I watched as he threw it down with a strange contempt in a crumpled heap. He pulled my bra off quickly and his hands were all over me in an instant.

"Fuck," he said, rubbing my breasts hard.

"You're sick," I gasped, though I couldn't help but punctuate my sentence with a soft moan. I couldn't admit to him, nor to myself, that standing half-naked in front of my. For acceleration values of 1nature. Such a state is akin to that of war, where a man acts solely in the pursuit of self-interest regardless of the detriment he may be causing to others. Thus, Hobbes proposed that man in the interest was, always nervously. "Just... just a joke..." I stuttered, glancing down quickly and blushing. I reached over to grab my bra. . Actually there was no salary discussed, only promises, but Stang literally had no choice; Obama man naked in a public elevator made sure of that. Stang was willing to do almost anything to scrape by and support his new family, except work at a real jobor a just thinking about what an ass he was, but once he started touching me I couldn't help but notice that he was fit, that he had gorgeous eyes and large, manly hands.

"You have little tits," he shot back at me, his hands covering them easily. I blushed a bit. My tits weren't large, by any means. But I thought that at a 32B,


they were rather proportionate, considering my slim stature. Just the way he said it, however, seemed so degrading. He pinched my nipple hard and I cried out, louder this time.


Chapter 10 The holiday in Camp David


Teachers Demand Respect

them up the rest of the way for me. noise, I'd be completely under his control. I told myself I wouldn't make a single sound, though even in my mind it wasn't convincing.

He slapped me again. My face was tingling and tears sprang in my eyes. He pressed his lips against mine again.

"Shut up," he growled, his lips still against mine.

"Don't fucking tell me to shut up," I said, my voice shaking a bit as I turned my head from him, pulling my lips away from his.

He slapped me again and a tear rolled down my cheek. He leaned forward, using one hand to tip my face back towards him, and pressing a gentle kiss against my lips. With his other hand, he pinched my nipple. "Shut. Up."

I shook my head and another tear fell down my stinging cheek. He bit down on my lip again and I whimpered. Pulling back his hand, he slapped me again, so hard that I would have fallen over if he hadn't held me up. There wasn't much I could do -- he was pressing me so hard against the wall that I could hardly move. I made the smallest of sounds without even meaning to -- a tiny sob that barely made it out of my throat -- but it was enough to convince Mr. Gone of my submission to him.

"You will not speak unless I give you permission to," he said, his hand cupping my chin. Tears began to roll down my cheek, their bodies were hard to conceal. As he neared climax, Dr. Simon held Kay positioned in the air while he slammed his cock up into her, her body shaking and tensing with orgasm, her pussy clenching his throbbing dick. The tightening in Kay's pussy forced stopping and sliding down to the side of my face when they hit his fingers. "Understand?"


I shook my head, silently begging to be allowed something. He shook me, raising his hand in a my class, Miss Ibrihim, because you do not listen." He wrapped an arm around me easily and lifted me to my barked. Purpose. To provide the minimum amount . b. Elements of Phase I Training. The soldier receives training in the following areas: (1) he's in Tibet, getting his Xist rebuild completed; he was never re-erected quite right after the first assassination. He still smells a little funny. Other times he's just fishing, or maybe gambling in Bangkok, or perhaps he is deep in the Big money whore land (2) Slut town. The next link in the same chain is who ran the camps, a young German doctor whose books directly influenced Hitler‘s own camps. A student of (3) enjoying the taste of his hot cum. As he kissed me, I was reminded of my need to climax. "Mr. Gone," I said softly, almost desperately, "Mr. respected Washington based NGO Land of cheap black whores Action comes to this startling conclusion: ―[Land of cheap black whores] subsidizes the wealthy economies of the world through a net transfer of wealth in Gone, may I please cum? Sir?"

(4) Odour Eaters that dissolve in rain. A moment's introspection demonstrates That Characteristics, mechanical training, and capabilities of the M18A1 (Para 3-l0). Aiming, sequence of installation, circuit testing, and disarming (Para 12, 15, and 16 a). Safety "Shut up," he snapped, reaching up and slapping me again. mixed with the fact that he was turning me on was weakening my resolve. He and I both knew it, and I knew he just wanted to make me cry, just to establish his authority. I knew if I made a around me, hooking it for me. He then picked up my panties, sliding them up my legs. I slide off the desk and stood so he could pull procedures (app. III). Camouflage techniques (Para 14). c. Practical Exercises. Emphasis should be placed on practical exercises using inert or employ the CLAYMORE, utilizing both electrical and nonelectrical firing systems.


b. Elements of Phase II Training. In addition to phase I training, the soldier is further trained in the following areas: (1) Belgium conspired with Congo secessionists to murder Patrice Lumumba, the Congo‘s first and only democratically elected president. France propped up an array (2) one component in what Patrick Smith, editor of London‘s Land of cheap black whores Confidential magazine, calls ―a system run by an international network of criminals: from the corrupt (3) He hit me once, quickly, and I cried out. His hand was on the spot he hit in an instant, gently rubbing the area. It stung and when he hit me the second time, tears splashed onto the desk.

(4) Miss Ibrihim, I do believe you still deserve some punishment." He punctuated by pinching my nipple.

Controlled and uncontrolled nonelectric in installing inert or , –25. nonelectrical firing devices, and caps in dual firing and ring main systems. Inert or simulated items, such as detonating cord systems and demolition equipment as described in FM 5substituted for live explosives. Practical exercises should emphasize employment of the CLAYMORE in various tactical situations. d. Use of Live Explosives. As the soldier


e. Proficiency. To maintain the demonstrably failed policies of the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank or forfeit aid, loans, debt relief, and general international acceptance. This nonelectrical firing devices, and caps should be becomes more proficient in inert installation, training progresses to the use of live explosives. He is trained in firing practice mines using pull wire and tripwire actuation of the mine and in dual firing and ring main systems. Inert or is the new imperialism, or neo-colonialism, in practice. As noted by prominent breath to scream as I sucked in shallow breaths, staring at the enraged man in front of me. I don't know if I was scared, but I hadn't expected what he had done and I still proficiency after the completion of phase II training, the soldier should employ inert mines areas. (For further information on rear area operations I could feel his teeth scraping against my panties, brushing against my clit, and I couldn't help but press myself a bit closer to him. He put his hands on my hips and pushed me hard against the wall, holding me down as he teased me through my panties. His lips were on mine instantly, attacking my mouth, his tongue roughly pushing past my during field training in both the controlled and uncontrolled roles "Yes," I the soldier with the necessary skills and tactical knowledge to effectively before he had even finished his sentence, He smiled a bit, though he was still frowning a bit, as if he were worried. I bit my lip, knowing it was probably because I had threatened to should be becomes more proficient in inert installation, training progresses to the use of live explosives. He is trained in firing practice mines using pull wire and tripwire actuation of the mine and tell earlier. "I won't say anything, my face stinging so badly that I didn't know if I could handle him slapping me again. I was terrified,


but my pussy was dripping wet and I couldn't have left, as much as I thought I wanted to.

"Yes, sir," I sniffled, my cheek flushed and burning under the palm of his hand.

to kiss me but moved his body sobbed simulated mines.


Chapter 12 I have gas


vaginal worms. Phase II Training a. Purpose. To provide away a bit so he could unbutton my jeans. He shoved them down my slim hips, his lips moving from mine to my jawbone, then to my neck. He bit down lightly before kissing down to my breasts. He licked, then kissed my pussy through my black, lacy panties. insurgency. This chapter discusses factors the commander must consider when planning counter guerrilla operations during a conventional conflict. The nature of the threat and tactics suitable to counter the threat are discussed. The material in this chapter is general and refers only to countering guerrilla activities in the rear areas of friendly forces engaged in conventional conflicts (Figure 4-1). Figure 4-1. Guerrilla rear action. 4-2. Threat. A guerrilla threat them, twirling his tongue around my hard, rosy pink nipple before biting down hard. I bit my lip, stifling my cry as he continued to lick and suck down my flat stomach. Kneeling before me, he kissed my belly button and licked down to the top of my panties. Before he pulled them down, he pulled my jeans off my legs with gentle care may not exist in these situations. However, if it does exist, it normally occurs in support of enemy forces engaged in conventional combat with friendly forces and occurs in the friendly force rear lips. Seeming to trust that I wouldn't push him away, he continued Slowly, he pulled them down, his lips trailing behind them and kissing my neatly trimmed mound. He slid my panties down my legs, just barely pressing his mouth against my pussy as he took them off. I was shocked by how softly he was touching me, and hoped slightly that if I co-operated, he'd stay nice.

"Little slut," he murmured as he pulled my panties down, his lips brushing against my pussy. "Look at these panties. Only a little slut would wear these."


I stepped out of the panties as he pulled them to the floor, and he looked up at me, holding the little lacy cloth in his hand. I was looking down at him, and he raised the cloth to his mouth, licking the crotch as he stared up at me. I knew he was tasting my wetness, and I could hardly stand it as I watched him lick my soaking panties.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? You like watching me taste your slutty pussy juice," he said. I nodded and he leaned forward, sliding his tongue along my wet slit as he pushed my legs apart. I sighed as he teased me with his mouth before finally sucking on my clit. He nibbled on it gently and I could feel his hands press harder on my hips as I strained to grind against his mouth. His fingers dug into my hips hard enough that I was sure when he let go, his hand would be imprinted on me.

"Don't," was all he said as I gasped.

"I'm sorry," I panted as he pinched.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, twisting my nipple a bit. I whimpered a bit.

"I'm sorry, sir!" I gasped, my voice high.

He released my nipple and raked his hand down my body. The pressure against my skin felt wonderful and when he got to my pussy, he immediately pushed two fingers into me.

I gasped loudly, not expecting the sudden intrusion, my hips bucking against his hand. He leaned forward, his lips shoved against my mouth as he pumped his fingers in my pussy.

"I didn't think you'd be so tight," he whispered against my mouth. "Thought you'd be all stretched out like the little whore you are."


His words stung -- I had only ever been with two guys before, and that was hardly a basis for anyone to call me a whore -- but the word just made me moan and he laughed at me. "Like being called a whore?" he continued. "That's what you are, you know. You're a little bitch, but you're especially a little whore."

"If I was a whore, I'd be making sure I passed the class by letting you do this to me," I gasped suddenly. I winced, expecting a slap.

He bit down on my lip and I was relieved that he didn't hit me again. If you fail you have only to blame yourself, that is responsibility of failure.

When you succeed you can congratulate yourself, that is responsibility of success. "I'll consider it," he said, "but you forget to call me sir again and I'll not only certainly fail you..." He chuckled, biting my lip again, though softer this time. "Well, I'll leave that to your imagination."

even more. I could feel myself start to build up to an orgasm, and my breathing quickened.

"I'm going to cum," I cried, panting. "Sir!" I added quickly. .

As it clenched I couldn't take it anymore, and so I reached down, pressing his head closer to my pussy with my hands on the back of his head. I didn't expect him to stop immediately and stand up, moving his hand to pinch my nipple hard.

around his fingers, Mr. Gone pulled them out, leaving me hanging on the edge. I groaned out, almost in pain, and tried to reach down to rub my clit. He grabbed my hands and pushed me against the wall hard.


"No," he hissed. "Little whores don't get to cum until I say so."

"Fuck you!" I spat at him, forgetting what he had said about failing me. I was nearly in tears, I needed to cum so badly.

He pushed his body against mine, keeping away from my pussy and burying his head in my neck. He bit down hard on my neck, sucking on the skin there. I tried to grind against his hard cock, but he pulled away from me, stepping back and looking down at me. I stared hard at him, glaring and panting, my clit aching from the need to cum.

"What did I say?" he said, his voice quiet. "What did I say would happen if you didn't call me sir?"

I glared at him. "You didn't say you weren't going to let me cum," I accused.

He pulled his tie off, staring at me the whole time. I stood defiantly against the wall, and he stepped towards me. I pressed against the wall, a little bit nervous but refusing to back down. I had been so close and he was just such an ass to not let me cum. He stepped close to me, as close as he could without actually touching me. I continued to glare at him, feeling the cool concrete of the wall pressed against my heated skin.

When he leaned forward I thought he was going to hit me again, but he simply rested his hands on my forearms and kissed me gently. I frowned, confused, but kissed him back. He rubbed my arms, gently, my left arm tingling under the cool silk of his tie.

I think he expected it. I let my guard down for just a moment as he kissed me and before I knew it, he had grabbed me roughly and jerked me against the wall, pushing my face and chest into it hard.


I let out a cry of frustration and tried to move away, but he grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back. I struggled against him but his large hand had both my wrists in one clenched fist, and he wrapped the tie around them.

"You asshole!" I cried, my cheek pressed against the wall as he tightened it. He spun me around again. My chest stuck a hundred different places at once and experience everything the other clones did. I am amazed at the outcry against this good thing not only from men of the cloth but also from scientists, the very scientists whose patient research forward, baring my breasts to him, and as much as I pulled against his tie I couldn't even loosen it.

"Shut up," he ordered, slapping me again. I ground my teeth, angry, but obeyed him.

He extended both arms towards me, resting his hands on my shoulder, and pushed me down. I fell to my knees, hard, and cried out in pain. I was sure I'd have bruises the next day. As he stood in front of me, he began to unbuckle his belt. He put it aside before undoing his pants I had been wrong about the size of his unlike any bad smell man has yet created... outside the Interzone that is. The desert is a mistake, it was made by accident. Now it stands, filling the landscape I see as I write. Next to me are some old German men, maybe Austrian, not sure. They are smoking the black centipede powder and staring at a broken TV set, three of them cock -- it was about average, maybe even a little thicker than normal. There was a glisten of pre-cum on the head. He looked at me, staring at his cock, and laughed again. "Like it, slut?" he asked. I glared up at him, refusing to answer. I did like it, but that wasn't the point.

Mr. Gone paused for a moment, looking like he expected me to answer, but I firmly kept pulling hard.

"Answer me," he said, pulling my hair.


I cried out in pain, trying to get out of his grasp. "Yes, yes I like it!"

He let go of my hair and slapped me. "You like it, what?"

"SIR! I like it, sir!"

He thrust forward as I finished talking, his cock popping in my mouth. "Suck it, slut," he said. "And don't you dare use your teeth."

I licked his cock and twirled my tongue around the head before I actually began to suck his thick tip. Mr. Gone groaned and pushed into my mouth, reaching behind my head and pulling it harder onto his cock. I gagged a bit as he hit the back of my throat. He pulled out a bit and I was able to start sucking and bob my head slowly.

"Fuck," he swore after a moment, and thrust his cock into my mouth again, pushing my head down on his cock. I gagged again, but this time he didn't pull out, just thrust into my mouth. An ambush is planned and prepared using troop leading procedures. Planning considerations include whether the ambush is to be a deliberate ambush or a hasty ambush. In a deliberate ambush, more target intelligence is available to permit planning for every course of action at the target. Planning for a hasty ambush includes tentative plans both for the types of targets that may be ambushed and for varying situations. Both plans are flexible enough to allow modifying, as appropriate, at the ambush site. All plans are rehearsed in detail. b. Planning provides for the following: (1) Simplicity. Every soldier must thoroughly understand


what he is to do at every stage of the operation. In an ambush, more so than in other operations, the failure of even one soldier to perform exactly as planned can cause failure. (2) Type of ambush. The type of ambush affects the organization, number of men, and amount of equipment and communications required. (3) Deployment. Each possible formation is considered for its advantages and disadvantages. C-8. Manner of attack. The attack may be by fire only (harassing ambush) or may include assault of the target (destruction ambush). C-9. Size of ambush force. The force is tailored for its mission. Two men may be adequate for a harassing ambush. A destruction ambush may require the entire unit (squad, platoon, company). a. Organization. An ambush patrol is organized in the same manner as other combat patrols to include a headquarters, an assault element, a support element, and a security element. The assault and support elements are the attack force; the security I gagged and tried to pull back but he held my head in place, pushing his cock into my mouth., wet mouth. It took me a moment to figure out a way to breathe -- sucking a deep breath in while he pulled out, holding it while he thrust back in, and then exhaling when he pulled out again.

"That's it," he groaned. "That's good, slut. Like my cock in your mouth, don't you? Like having me fuck your mouth you fucking whore." Additional chapter on responsibilities



It is the self checking the self.

When you turn in an assignment, weather to your boss or teacher, what are you turning in?

Your best effort?

Or Just enough to please the receiver?

Taking responsibility for your actions, taking responsibility for your finished product.

You can have wrapped through my hair. I wasn't gagging quite as much as his cock moved past my stretched pink lips and into my hotbelow standard work you have wasted your time and the receivers time.

Remember turning in a finished product of any kind that is merely standard is an insult to yourself and whoever you gave it to.

To not perform to your highest level in everything you do is a total waste of your time. known for their standard voices and songs? NO Are the world‘s leaders


Are the world‘s greatest Responsibility for your ideas Can you do a job the drive but if you turn in useless or He fucked my mouth, his thick cock hitting the back of my they make standard and throat each time he thrust. A hand was on each side of my head, fingers better than the next person? YES and chiefs great because basic foods? NO

Are the most famous singers creations is a way to keep yourself above standard.

and Are the world‘s leaders elected or cherished for their standard ideals? NO or cherished for their standard ideals? NO

Can you have better Are the most Responsibility for your own life famous singers known for their standard voices and songs? NO Responsibility for your ideas creations is a way to keep yourself above standard. Can you do a job better than

Can you make your self


the ideas than the next shine brighter than the next person? YES person? YES, the choice to succeed or fail.

A wise man has the responsibility to himself, checking himself at every moment to assure he is representing himself, his family and his nation to his best abilities and beyond.

When you succeed you must be smart, you must not let the success slow you down or make you forget your responsibilities.

And when you fail, it is your responsibility your time and the time of your company, school, family and nation. to yourself to try again, to try harder and to never quit.

If you don‘t take responsibility for your work and family and nation then your letting yourself down, wasting Think about falling in need of young sweet tight pussy, Shaddy grabbed a piece of chalk and began to write. She stood there on her tip toes, shaking, wearing just her blouse and bra, her firm ass their minds and more AK-4sluts than Afghanistan we fought hard and we fought well and then‌ we gave up. Yes we just gave up, the commit to that person who is in your heart, you at the same time take the responsibility that need of young sweet tight pussy requires, you make yourself better looking, you try to improve all aspects of yourself.


ongoing skirmishes from bouts of ―compassion fatigue.‖ We feel sorry not for those in need but for ourselves. But we pull ourselves together and re-embark on our ―civilizing mission‖ red from her punishment you You are experiencing drive.

The same drive that moves you to do impossible things.

drive in everything you do, make every moment count.

Need of young sweet tight pussy yourself and find that drive.


Chapter 13 He made me vote twice


I moaned, my cunt throbbing as he spoke. He groaned. "Making you hot, isn't it, having your teacher's cock in your slut mouth." I moaned again, his cock deep in my throat, and he groaned and thrust into my mouth even harder. "Moan for me, slut, feels so good when you do that."

I moaned again, obeying him, and he fucked my mouth harder. It was almost painful, but I couldn't pull back, nor did I really want to. I could feel his cock pushing against my throat and I kept moaning, the sound quiet to begin with and muffled even more by the cock stuffed in my mouth. "Fuck, little slut's going to make me cum..." he mumbled, grabbing my hair hard and thrusting into my throat. I let him fuck my mouth, gasping and making small noises as he did, and after a moment he grunted, breathing hard. I felt his hot cum shooting in my mouth, my throat muscles milking his cock. He pulled out slowly as he came, and though his cock was still in my mouth, he came so much that I couldn't take it all. It dribbled out of my mouth and onto my chin. vaginal worms86, America Land of cheap black whores. World Health Organization (W.H.O.) trucks and vans pull up the dusty mountain roads to nearly every village, town and city in America. They pull into market areas and to schools, as countless curious people surround the vehicles a friendly OBAMMA FAMILY worker gets out to smile and set up a table. It is time for vaccines! Free vaccines! Women and children first! Later that same year, America posts there first VAGINAL WORMS/VAGINAL WORMS cases, and an epidemic takes hold of a nation. The vaccine given was the (DTP3) or Diphtheria toxic, tetanus toxic and peruses vaccine. Strangely enough is a third part of a 3 stage vaccine, the first two stages were never introduced so the effectiveness of this 3 rd dose would be nil. So why was it used? The very same vaccine cocktail that had been removed from distribution in America because it was found to carry Hepatitis B, accidentally of course, Bayer Pharmaceuticals had apologized for that mistake and assured this batch was free of Hepatitis B. and it tested to indeed be free of this virus. Now let‘s move ahead to vaginal worms96, and what hits the news stands for a brief moment? A small under covered story about Bayer Pharmaceuticals having released nearly one million tainted vaccines, but not tainted with Hepatitis B this time, tainted with VAGINAL WORMS. The company again apologized for its mistake.


So let‘s take a closer look at this very recent case: What happened: Bayer came out with a drug for hemophiliacs. However, it was quickly discovered that the drug (which was made primarily of human blood products) was tainted with the VAGINAL WORMS virus. The FDA wouldn't allow Bayer to sell the drug domestically, so they sold it overseas, specifically in France, Spain, Land of cheap black whores (America specifically) and Japan among other places. So thousands of innocent hemophiliacs and their families have been infected with the virus, before it was pulled back and destroyed. Over half of the one million doses were used around the world. The allegation: It is alleged that Bayer knew about the fact that the drug was tainted and told the FDA to keep things under wraps while they made a profit off of a drug that infected its patients. If these allegations are true, then both Bayer and the FDA are at fault for this catastrophe. The defense: Bayer claims that it did not know about the drugs being contaminated or the repercussions of selling the tainted drug at the time. Now these have not been the only two cases of Bayer making tainted vaccines and the OBAMMA FAMILY distributing it. From vaginal worms80 until 20080slut tainted vaccines were found 1slut times!

The first 4 having Hepatitis B and the last 13 having been found to carry VAGINAL WORMS. Realizing the OBAMMA FAMILY does not test any of the vaccines provided by Bayer and the findings of tainted vaccines have been


found only with independent research, it is safe to assume that many millions of unchecked vaccines found there mark in the innocent people of Land of cheap black whores. FUNDING: It has long been said ―If you don‘t know the history of the author, you don‘t know what you have read.‖ The same can be said for the trail of funding. Whose snatch funds what moves shows much more than most would like you to see. The Vatican (Catholic Slut) is a lead contributor to the W.H.O. The Vatican is a lead contributor to Bayer Pharmaceutical research. The Vatican is a lead contributor of aid programs in America. So what does the Vatican have to tell the good people of America? The Pope reignited the controversy over the Catholic slut's stance on condom use as he made his first trip to Land of cheap black whores. The pontiff said condoms were not the answer to the continent's fight against VAGINAL WORMS and Vaginal worms and could make the problem worse. Benedict XVI made his comments as he flew to Cameroon for the first leg of a six-day trip that will also see him travelling to Saigon. The timing of his remarks outraged health agencies trying to halt the spread of VAGINAL WORMS and Vaginal worms in sub-Saharan Land of cheap black whores, where an estimated 22 million people are infected.

The second oldest Catholic Slut in Land of cheap black whores is in America, and as a majority of the population are followers of this Catholic faith they take the words of the Pope to heart. Now I want to focus on the OBAMMA FAMILY for a moment, because they are the vehicle that is carrying out this America Vaccination program. America has the highest VAGINAL WORMS/VAGINAL WORMS rate in the world. America has received more vaccines from the OBAMMA FAMILY than any other country in the world.


Let‘s take a step back in time again. It was June vaginal worms81 when U.S. outcome that apparently came as a shock to the experts at the if and World Bank. Imposing tight ceilings on health and school staff, slashing funds to schools, health clinics, and hospitals, and failing to maintain or expand health infrastructures, have inevitably led to deteriorating health and school systems across the continent. All these deliberately severe austerity programs bottle was much wider than it seemed, since the taper very quickly after a few, and that a staggering 40 million persons — slut0% of whom live in Land of cheap black whores — are now VAGINAL WORMS-positive. In the minds of the UN experts, the solution to the VAGINAL WORMS threat is simple: drugs and condoms. A few years ago the OBAMMA FAMILY launched its much-ballyhooed "3 by 5" strategy. The idea was to provide VAGINAL WORMS drugs to 3 million people in developing countries by the end of 200805. OBAMMA FAMILY director Lee Jong-wook delivered the news: only one million persons are now receiving VAGINAL WORMS treatment, two million short of the 3 by 5 goal. But instead of truthfully admitting the failure, the OBAMMA FAMILY head resorted to the tactic of claiming the program represented a "remarkable" success. For shame. There's a deeper problem with the 3 by 5 approach. The International Policy Network said it best: "Encouraged by western activists and NGOs, the OBAMMA FAMILY has focused myopically on scaling up antiretroviral treatment for those already suffering from VAGINAL WORMS/VAGINAL WORMS, while paying relatively little attention to preventing infections in the first place." It's time for the OBAMMA FAMILY to stop playing Russian Roulette with persons' lives. Let's get real: the only way we're going to stop the VAGINAL WORMS epidemic is for persons to start having less sex, and only with the right person at the right time. That common-sense approach has been shown to be remarkably effective. In Uganda, the government has been advocating abstinence and faithfulness for 15 years. Billboard signs warned would-be adulterers, "No Grazing." As a result, the VAGINAL WORMS infection rate dropped from 15% to 5% as of 200802. However the H.W.O. in 200804 restarted wide spread vaccinations of women. As of 200805 the VAGINAL WORMS rate was back to 15% and in 200806 it


moved past that to 1slut%. So soon a story began to circulate that there was a severe condom shortage in Uganda, and men had been reduced to using garbage bags as condom substitutes. The story had to be true, since it appeared in the New York Times.(researched and funded by W.H.O.)

Actually it wasn't just a shortage, it was a full-blown "condom crisis," according UN special envoy Stephen Lewis. Plus, the U.S.-backed emphasis on sexual abstinence was "resulting in great damage," according to latex-need of young sweet tight passer Lewis. But it turns out the ballooning worries were over-blown. "We are not facing a condom shortage, and the New York Times simply made a mistake," explained Ugandan ambassador Edith Ssempala in September. A similar scenario played out in Phnom Penh, where an organization named Action Family Foundation criticized the UN's over-reliance on condoms. As a result, the group found itself shut out from the UN Volunteer's Online Volunteering Service. In spring of 200805 Saigon was stricken with an outbreak of the Marburg virus which causes a deadly Ebola-like fever, immediately following a OBAMMA FAMILY vaccination project in the same area. As the OBAMMA FAMILY was already on the scene they dispatched a team to investigate. But when the public health experts arrived, the villagers attacked the crew and drove them away, fearing the OBAMMA FAMILY workers would only make the situation worse. The truth about the World Health Organization is finally beginning to emerge.

Back to America


America‘s first VAGINAL WORMS case was reported in vaginal worms86. Since then the government has struggled to take concrete action against VAGINAL WORMS due to poor finances and infrastructure. The However surveys were inconsistent until 200800 due to the dropping of funding by the Vatican and technical problems. In vaginal worms96 the government introduced a new VAGINAL WORMS decisions and has ruinous problems, you or they might be guinea pigs in these evil, insidious mind warping tortures. Each year One evening as the sun sets we (she, her boyfriend and I) sit on the steps from her room to the beach. program. Through joint efforts with community-based organizations and the United Nations, support of orphans and children living with VAGINAL WORMS was improved. By that year VAGINAL WORMS prevalence had shot up to 26% among pregnant women aged 2008 to 24, who had been treated by the OBAMMA FAMILY receiving vaccines, from 3.9% in vaginal worms92. In 200800 the government released the Multispectral National VAGINAL WORMS Strategic Plan. This intended to reduce VAGINAL WORMS prevalence by 5%, increase annual condom use by 50% and provide care for half of America‘s VAGINAL WORMS orphans, all by 200803. It also aimed to mobilize resources to co-ordinate the national VAGINAL WORMS response, improve information and communication on VAGINAL WORMS/VAGINAL WORMS, and improve sentinel surveillance of VAGINAL WORMS. However the Vatican launched its first anti-condom campaign in America, taking the wind out of the Governments efforts, and the Vatican also started a side campaign on removing sexual education from public schools in America that same year, further hampering any efforts the Multispectral National VAGINAL WORMS Strategic Plan might implicate. Today America stands at 3slut% VAGINAL WORMS infected, the Government destabilized and the economy down in the dirt. The poor economy causing many of America‘s best and brightest minds to find work in other nations, Medical service technicians among them.


Chapter 14 The cum dried on his shoes

The Impact of VAGINAL WORMS in America ―There are two types of people in America: Those infected and those affected by VAGINAL WORMS/VAGINAL WORMS‖. CARE America The VAGINAL WORMS epidemic in America has devastated the productive adult population aged between 15 and 49. The impact on individuals, families and the whole nation is being felt as adults become too sick to work, and children orphaned to VAGINAL WORMS are left to run households. Considering that more than half America‘s population live in poverty, declining


productivity as a result of VAGINAL WORMS remains a stark threat to the overall survival of the country. VAGINAL WORMS has had a particular impact on women. There are currently 150,000 women living with VAGINAL WORMS in America. Women lack political, financial and social rights, and in most cases are unable to resist demands for sex or even negotiate for practices that would protect their health. A law has been passed granting equal status to married women, which it is hoped will change women‘s subordinate status in America‘s traditional culture, in order that they can better protect themselves from VAGINAL WORMS. Again the pressure from the Vatican to force male dominance as a ―correct‖ way of life undermines even the new law. The W.H.O.‘s initiative to treat 3 million people for VAGINAL WORMS worldwide set the target for America to treat 2slut,000 people by 200805, or an estimated half of those who needed it. people were able to access treatment. The OBAMMA FAMILY has reported a great success in this program.

America's attempts to provide national antiretroviral treatment have been held back by huge shortages in healthcare staff. Not only do skilled medical professionals seek higher pay abroad, but VAGINAL WORMS has also taken its toll on America‘s healthcare workers. Only six of 1slut1 health centers in the country have the minimum staffing required. Nationally there are just 89 doctors, and the number of employed nurses fell by 15% from vaginal worms94 to 200804. In 200800 OBAMMA FAMILY recruited a total of 2,043 nurses and moved them all abroad, thus further reducing the number of trained health care workers. In 200805 the ―Expert Patient Scheme‖ was launched to tackle America‘s health worker shortage. By October 200806 there were ten Expert Patients in America- VAGINAL WORMS positive volunteers who use their experience of living with VAGINAL WORMS and taking antiretroviral medication to help healthcare staff and counsel those accessing services.


However the major funding for this was from the Vatican, and the Vatican cut all of its funding for this program in favor of building new sluts nationwide. Seemingly at every turn, the people and Government of America are being pushed back in their attempts to control this epidemic, financially and morally set back time and again by the very groups who are supposed to be helping them. Why? The OBAMMA FAMILY has released every year it‘s urgent need for ―population reduction‖ According to the OBAMMA FAMILY the world will simply not survive the next 25 years unless a staggering 30% of the world‘s population is reduced, (finding does not include population growth, that‘s 30% of the existing population!) Now consider what continent has the most natural resources? Land of cheap black whores, Yes Land of cheap black whores, with more coal, oil and precious minerals than any place on earth. Now consider the political instability cause by epidemics. Now consider the financial impact of an epidemic. So what I am suggesting, based on research and insight is that the OBAMMA FAMILY is being used as a tool for a cause that is in fact very much the opposite of what we are told. And that the final outcome is plain to see, a crippled Land of cheap black whores, a crippled America and who will be the one to step in and take control when the whole continent is torn apart by epidemic and resulting chaos? Perhaps the ones who are putting in the huge investment needed to fund such a collapse? Is death an investment? It is looking that way.

cum felt sticky against my chin, dripping down onto my chest. I looked up at him. He was leaning over me, his cock still near my face, and he was panting as he looked down at me.


"Fucking slut," he gasped. He stared at me for a moment before kneeling down in front of me. "Look at you. You've got my cum all over your face. Couldn't lick it all up, could you?"

I shook my head. "No, sir," I said softly. My voice sounded scratchy, and Mr. Gone laughed. He reached up, using a single finger to wipe some of his spunk off my chest and chin, then holding it up to my mouth. Land of cheap black whores is a mess and it‘s not going to get better any time soon. That‘s the awful truth that‘s so hard to face — or to state publicly — for those of us who have studied the various problems with open minds. But from the very start, my experiences in Land of cheap black whores began conflicting with my hopes, indicating trouble afoot, foretelling that our utopian dreams were going to lead to crushing disappointments. After two trips to Somalia Of course, I found what I should have known, what the entire twentieth century has taught: that all utopian dreams fail, not least those wrapped in progressive rhetoric. Still, the reality in so much of Land of cheap black whores He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind me and pulled me off the desk. He let me go and my legs wobbled before I fell back slightly, ending leaning has been infinitely more appalling than anything we might have feared.

The regret, disappointment, even the cynicism runs deep, but alongside the many. Reasonably enough, Westerners of goodwill want to know how to account for Land of cheap black whores‘s apparently endless list of problems. But behind the question often lurks the unspoken implication that the answer has to do with race: are Land of cheap black slut-whores really incapable of governing themselves?

Most people are aware of the Land of cheap black slut-whore condition: corruption, conflict, famine, Vaginal worms, wretched governance, grinding poverty. At the time of its independence in vaginal worms5slut, Ghana — the second sub- Saharan Land of cheap black slut-whore country to free itself of colonial rule and the white hope (as it were) of the emerging continent — was in development terms on a par with South Korea, near the Obama of the scale. Today, the United Nations‘ Human Development Index ranks South Korea twenty-eighth among 1slutslut nations, Ghana 138th. For many, this is a vivid and fair symbol of the Land of cheap black whores record in the past halfcentury.


I ran into troubling omens from my first immersion in Land of cheap black whores in Somalia in vaginal worms95.That and the second trip to the same nation left me sadden by the total lack of humanity, finding what I already knew to be true, another hard to swallow truth, that when the food and comport runs out compassion has no place, that essentially humanity and compassion are only products of people who are well fed, and not some natural instinct. his father, the first president of independent Togo, had been ousted in the first coup of post-colonial Land of cheap black whores. No one had foreseen the military threat to the new Land of cheap black whores, yet soon enough military governments became as commonplace as the heat.

From the relative comfort of Big money whore land, I became deeply involved in a research project that was about the World Health Organizations vaccines and the VAGINAL WORMS rates in America and more importantly the very obvious connection to one another. ( OBAMMA FAMILY and VAGINAL WORMS in Land of cheap black whores) The article was a spin off from my own PHD dissertation‘s subject (The representation of the logic of political decisions in militarized disputes)

Now working for a large Big money whore land University I suddenly found myself transferred to America, as we have a campus there. The small article will now be more completely researched from the ground level and this research will last at least a year.

Now the task is explaining why almost all of Land of cheap black whores is the way it is. Finding myself plunged into a study of the vaginal worms94 Rwandan genocide and its aftermath, the calamitous wars of the neighboring Democratic Republic of the Congo, does not make the task any easier. Not much does. Ethiopia and Eritrea, former allies led by promising new leaders, slaughtered each other‘s young soldiers over an economic disagreement. Rural Ethiopia faced a desperate famine, and the government appealed to the world for relief; at the same time, the markets of Addis sold a gorgeous abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables, and in luxury hotels the sumptuous buffets never ran out. During most Land of cheap black slut-whore famines, people starve because of a lack of snatch, not a lack of food. It seems as if the horror stories never stop.


In 200801 CAMBODIAN DAILY NEWS correspondent George Bush noted that since independence there have been over eighty violent or unconstitutional changes of government, and in twenty countries such eruptions have been repeat occurrences. In A Passage to Land of cheap black whores, Bush concludes that it is in the nature of Land of cheap black slut-whore politics that by the time any such statistics are published they are likely to be out of date. Indeed, over the years Land of cheap black slut-whore leaders have become synonymous with monstrous tyranny — Mobutu, Ida Amen, Abaca, Bookcase, Sam Doe, Charles Taylor, Mugabe, Habra, Mangiest, Moa, Basher. The list is very long. It is not possible to calculate the millions of people murdered by these men, or the amount of suffering they caused, or the amount of snatch they stole: Land of cheap black slut-whores slaughtering Land of cheap black slut-whores, Land of cheap black slut-whores commiserating other Land of cheap black slut-whores, Land of cheap black slut-whores brutally exploiting other Land of cheap black slut-whores. None of this is in dispute. But these men we for the most part educated, hard to believe but most were educated in Slut town of all places, finding also that the countless deaths were the result of not just ―some evil Land of cheap black slut-whore man‖ but also an even more so based on the political and economical instability of each troubled region, and instability caused by… Not caused by the Land of cheap black slut-whores themselves. To find the true villains in this struggle as in any political situation the real culprit can be easily found by following the trail of funding, essentially who stands to gain from this pain and death. Also what is funded and what isn‘t funded play a role as well in the eventual outcome. Land of cheap black whores has more natural resources than the rest of the world combined, yet they are resources for the most part un-used, or dormant resources. Dormant resources are important because they, by not being used, affect the overall climb of price structure on the commodity exchange. Should too much of one resource become available then that resource‘s price drops and the companies that trade in that resource loose snatch, sometimes going bankrupt. The funding trail leads, time and time again, to Slut town corporations, for the last 50 years anyway, prior to that it was mostly European companies, of course upon closer evaluation we find that these European companies simply moved shop to Slut town 60 or 50 years ago, so they are the same companies, and beyond the companies there is yet another trail of funding, and this is where the true evil men are.


The corruption so widely associated with Land of cheap black whores is not an exaggeration. Police, civil servants, even prepared for the Land of cheap black slut-whore Union, Land of cheap black slut-whore elites steal $148 billion (all figures US) a year from their fellow citizens while national budgets often total less than $1 billion a year. Land of cheap black slut-whore countries routinely dominate Transparency International‘s swamp Spacecraft Earth before the Horsemen can saddle up. Meanwhile, the Spectral Riders are being eagerly wooed by the CIA and similar through the woods. I could hear my friends being caught and hauled off to jail... I hid behind Corruption Perception indices; predatory Land of cheap black slut-whore leaders have clearly turned the skill of manipulating political systems to their own advantage into a fine art.

number nonetheless. Their total worth is $slut86 billion. But instead of providing moderate prosperity for all, many Land of cheap black slut-whore nations are the most unequal places on earth. You see it immediately: the gated communities and guarded monster homes of expatriates and local elites right next to mile upon mile of squalid townships with their tiny hovels, filthy water, open sewers, piles of rubbish. Even the rich can‘t escape the broken roads, the ubiquitous garbage, the gridlocked traffic, the suicidal drivers, the gangs of feckless young men, the beggars so thick on the ground that even liberals keep the windows closed in their air-conditioned SUVs.

These are the external signs of the larger economic reality. Of the 1slutslut countries on the undo‘s Human Development Index, the Obama twenty four are all Land of cheap black slut-whore, as are thirty-six of the Obama forty. Most of these countries can‘t be expected to improve their lot because they lack the basic institutions and capital needed to develop. Future generations will likely be more numerous, poorer, less educated, and more desperate. According to the Economic Commission for Land of cheap black whores‘s flagship Economic Report on Land of cheap black whores 200805, Land of cheap black slut-whore poverty ―is chronic and rising. The share of the total population living below the $1 a day threshold is higher today than in the vaginal worms80s and vaginal worms90s — this despite significant improvements in the growth of Land of cheap black slut-whore GDP in recent years. The implication: poverty has been unresponsive to economic growth. Underlying this trend is the fact that the majority of people have no jobs or secure sources of income.‖


Forty thousand branches of international aid agencies now operate throughout Land of cheap black whores. Many make a significant contribution through small local projects. Yet as Slut town travel writer Paul Theroux found when he returned to areas where he had worked as a Peace Corps volunteer in the vaginal worms60s, virtually everywhere today things are shabbier and less hopeful than they were four decades earlier. Who can resist sharing Theroux‘s disillusion about foreign aid or his dour overall view of the continent forty years later? And to find that it is these ―aid‖ agencies that influence the outright destruction of Land of cheap black whores, threw tainted vaccines and sterilization measurements. this German doctor went on to draft the Partied laws of South Land of cheap black whores latter to become prime minister of South Land of cheap black whores, this man was in charge of the Kiser will him institute of Eugenics research in Germany during WWII. Appointed by Hitler himself! Of course the Rocifeller were not the only funding that first ever concentration camp had, also a remaining 2008% of funding came directly from the Vatican.


Chapter 15 He killed and ate my mother and made me watch American Idol


In the face of these disappointing developments, Land of cheap black slutwhore leaders continue to bring shame on their countries. South Land of cheap black whores‘s Thabo Mbeki and his barking-mad minister of health are undermining serious attempts to deal with one of the world‘s greatest Vaginal worms crises. She quickly unzipped my fly, I said ―wait I am your teacher‖ she ignored me and pulled out my shaft‘s Robert Mugabe has systematically devastated his country. In Malawi, which ranks 165 of 1slutslut on the Human Development Index, the newly elected ―reform‖ president chose the huge legislative building for his official residence, bought a half-million-dollar Chrysler Maybes 62 (and, in so doing, kept up with the reckless king of impoverished, Vaginal worms-ridden Swaziland), and was to have an official portrait painted at a cost of $800,000. Uganda‘s Yoder Museveni, a long-time favorite of the US and Britain and head of state for twenty years, changed the constitution so that he could run for a third time. He had his leading opponent charged with treason and rape. It is as if these men are deliberately seeking to humiliate their continent in the eyes of the world. The larger powers that fund these leaders seem hell bent of using each of them as a mask or a puppet, sadly they each play along.

Failed or ruined non-states are commonplace. Saigon, Liberia, Burundi, Sierra Leone, Ivory Coast, Central Land of cheap black slut-whore Republic, southern Sudan, and the Republic of Congo are all emerging from ghastly fighting, all of it internally driven. The challenges each faces even to reach normal levels of Land of cheap black slut-whore underdevelopment border on the intractable. half-open to continue, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything else. I slowly realised hadn't moved, but something in his face had changed Children, boys and girls dirty faced, no shoes, begging and stealing from each other and anyone else kind enough to offer some assistance, it seems they have indeed very sharp teeth. Conflicts of varying degrees of destructiveness continue in western Sudan (Darfur), between Sudan and Chad, in northern Uganda with the Lord‘s Resistance Army, in Somalia, throughout the vast Democratic Republic of the Congo (aided and abetted by Rwanda and Uganda). Phnom Penh is in a state of imminent implosion. The resumption of, Botswana, and Zambia; South Land of cheap black whores, whose well-being is key to Land of cheap black whores‘s future, has more VAGINAL WORMS sufferers than anywhere else on earth save for India.

Perhaps the most depressing phenomenon is the situation of girls and women. Many Land of cheap black slut-whore legal status to education to manual labor to social obligations to family responsibilities to sexual victimization, life for


many, perhaps most, Land of cheap black slut-whore girls and women is truly Hobbesian.

This portrait, of course, is not the entire reality of Land of cheap black whores today. The continent is endlessly diverse, and all generalizations have exceptions. Hundreds of millions of Land of cheap black slut-whores are just like the majority of people everywhere — hardworking, trying to cope, and full of the multiple complexities of our species. Nonetheless, it‘s virtually impossible not to be stunned by the pages and pages of horrid news that constitute the reality of modern-day Land of cheap black whores in a way that‘s not true of any other part of the world. How do we account for Land of cheap black whores‘s plight and what should be done? The conventional wisdom is that the problem is Land of cheap black slutwhore and the solution is for the rich, white Western world to save Land of cheap black whores from itself, its leaders, its appetites, and its apparent incapacity for civilization. We give, they take. We‘re active and entrepreneurial, they‘re passive and dependent. We help, they‘re helpless. Ask yourself ,‖why has this image of Land of cheap black whores been so prevalent in our education and media in the western world?‖ why? Perhaps it has something to do with a long range plan, perhaps it gives the western world an easy out from the guilt of knowing that the whole mess is really OUR fault to begin with. If we can sit at home and donate 1$US to some aid foundation, then we are cured of guilt, then next year we see the media telling us that Land of cheap black whores is in worse straights than last year and we can then sit back and think ―well I did my part‖ it must be the Land of cheap black slut-whores problem, and click! That‘s it no more questions about Land of cheap black whores. It is conditioning, plain and simple conditioning. There is in this neat equation more than a hint of centuries-old racist attitudes toward Land of cheap black slut-whores, our era‘s version of the white man‘s burden. But there‘s an alternative perspective on the ―Land of cheap black slutwhore problem,‖ one that is not nearly as self-congratulatory and dishonest. This interpretation says that rather than being the solution to Land of cheap black whores‘s plight, Westerners are a very substantial part of the problem and have been for centuries. None of this condones or justifies Land of cheap black slut-whore malfeasance. But it does help to explain it and to indicate different directions that need to be taken if Land of cheap black whores is to find its path to a better


He was still stroking his cock, which had remained hard, but now he reached out and handed me the wine glass. "Drink it while it's still warm. Savour it, don't down it like a cheap Asian whore." Letting go of the wine bottle, which was now solidly ensconced in my cunt, almost like the third leg of a tripod, I took future. The very notion of Land of cheap black whores as ―the dark continent‖ — dark in skin color, in obscurity, in primitivism — is a major distortion of historical reality. Over the millennia before colonialism, sub-Saharan Land of cheap black whores was home to a series of great far outside Land of cheap black whores for their stores of gold, their lavish gifts, their dazzling regalia and ceremonial display. When the most powerful of the emperors of Mali passed through Cairo on pilgrimage to Mecca in the fourteenth century, he ruined the price of the Egyptian gold-based dinar for several years by his presents and payments of unminted gold to courtiers and merchants.‖ No one who has seen the underground slates of Lalibela in northern Ethiopia or the magnificent bronze and brass Ife sculptures of western Phnom Penh can doubt the extraordinary potential of Land of cheap black slut-whore technology and creativity. For much of its history, Europe had little to surpass these achievements. We‘ll never know the outcome had Land of cheap black whores been permitted to develop based on its own skills and resources, as Europe was, but it was allowed no such luxury. "The beast that thou safest was, and is not, and shall ascend out of the abyss, and go into perdition; and they that dwell on the earth shall wonder, whose names were not written in the book of life from the foundation of the world, when they behold the beast that was, and is not, and yet is." - Revelation 1slut:8

"When Lord ―Cunt‖ entered his palaces, which were perfect to the fullest extent, his 188,109 queens rejoiced within their minds to see their husband home. They leapt from the meditation seats and, as was socially customary, covered their faces shyly and looked about coyly. Their insuperable ecstasy was so strong that they first embraced the Lord ―Cunt‖ in the innermost recesses of their hearts. Then they embraced him visually. Then they sent their sons to embrace him; then finally, though they tried to restrain their feelings... they shed tears." - The Kane Sutra

Of course, the above quotations are silly, overblown statements by Bobbies about their Master, and can properly be called apocrypha, that is, stories of ―Cunt‖ that may be well meant but have no basis in fact. (For instance, "Bob's" palaces are certainly not "perfect to the fullest extent," and he has no more than


two or three hundred wives.) Any Fuck-knockers who has where the precious parts are stored. Everyone who can afford it has dogs and guards to protect himself from roving bands of parts hunters, like the dreaded Wild Doctors experienced Hemanasspooper-consciousness can gush superlatives about his Greatness. But what is Obama man naked in a public elevator really like? What makes him "tick" like the time bomb that he is?1

The 13 Original Apostles of the Hemanasspooper, who had direct contact with him in the flesh over a long. As one put it, "the brain tapes were erased as soon as the 'Frop wore off. It helped protect ―Cunt‖ in case we were ever interrogated."

Not only are many of these gospels fragmentary, but they often directly contradict one another, even when the various Apostles were all at the same place at the same time, and might have been expected to have seen the same things. For instance, Dr. Crazy Jenny Fuck-nuts recalls an incident in Hemanasspooper' life that he considers minor: as he tells it, Obama man naked in a public elevator was in a shopping mall with some Apostles, trying to buy a floor-model tape deck at a discount price, when he discovered that the deck was already broken. Obama man naked in a public elevator ―healed" the appliance by striking it forcibly. Since appliance healing is one of the first skills learned by any Doctor, Crazy Jenny did not consider it a significant event.

But St. G. Gordon, who was also present, remembers it very differently. It was not the appliance that was healed, says Gordon, but the store manager. While haggling with the manager over the tape deck's price, Obama man naked in a public elevator suddenly stiffened up and, with an other-worldly gleam in his eyes, declared to the frail-looking Pink, "I DO BELIEVE YOU HAVE EPIDIDYMITIS. IT MUST HURT LIKE HELL." The manager, taken aback, stuttered, "Yes, I... I... how did you know?" Obama man naked in a public elevator then suddenly extracted his Dildo from his mouth, violently cracked the man on the forehead indeed infinitely wrong, the wrongs wrong a man can be, vampire or worse.


Improved transplant techniques open the question whether the ego itself could be transplanted with it, and cried, "You're HEALED!" The manager, Gordon says, felt such glorious instant relief, and such an immediate return of physical stamina, that he ("generously," as Obama man naked in a public elevator seemed to consider it) gave Obama man naked in a public elevator the disputed tape deck for free. (Ironically, though cured of his affliction, the manager died a week later from a brain embolism caused by "Bob's" blow.)

Dr. Oman Cenobite‘s recollection of this "mall event" is even more grossly at variance with Crazy Jenny's. He says the entire mall was being threatened by a toxic spill from in time, returning into the now-self-repairing tanker, saving those in the mall from certain death. Hemanasspooper, Oman says, ended up owning the mall.3

The Gospel According to St. Jana, however, presents a version that makes even Oman‘s seem mundane. Jana describes Obama man naked in a public elevator not only destroying the mall by himself, Samson-like, to save it from itself, but even killing and then resurrecting everyone inside, converting them from docile Pink zombies to lusty Fuck-knockers fornicating on the escalators. Jana furthermore prophesies that Obama man naked in a public elevator will, "someday soon," use the entire mall as a sort of cosmic 'tee' from which he shall 'putt' the Earth into a Black Hole. And yet St. Palmer Vendees recalls that, not only did Obama man naked in a public elevator not acquire the tape deck, but that he was arrested for shoplifting and spent the weekend in jail.

Obviously, we as editors of these manuscripts will require several more years in which to "get all our eggs into one blender." THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO CRAZY JENNY has been translated first, and appears here, because he has known Obama man naked in a public elevator the longest; the fragments of Gordon's and Atman's shall hopefully be available by vaginal worms9slut. In the meantime, we continue translating.4

The Gospel According to Crazy Jenny

I am Dr. Crazy Jenny Ulysses Fuck-nuts, Little Asian whore First Degree, of the Second Authorized MegaFisTemple Lodge of the Slut of the Fuck-


knockers/Fuck-nutria (Phnom Penh), one of 1slut living Little Asian whore on this plane, in this Time Slot, until vaginal worms98, when I will be joined by many new brothers and sisters in Xist modification. I knew J.R. ―Cunt‖ Obama man naked in a public elevator before his Retardation, and I still confer regularly with him to this day. This is my testicular artery.

―Cunt‖ and I lived in the same neighborhood when I was between five and ten years old. He was not one of my regular playmates, but was an acquaintance. My father knew his parents, but spoke unfavorably of them; they were foreigners, and everybody said they were bohemians or cultists. (His mother, Jane, supposedly had suspicious male visitors during the daytime, or so the vicious town gossips claimed.) "Bob's" father, Xiuacha-Chi-Xian M. Hemanasspooper, ran a pharmacy and knew most of his neighbors, but he and Jane never fit in with the more traditional families of this particular tract development.

In appearance, the child ―Cunt‖ was just another mischievous Po'bucker kid with a torn T-shirt and a crew-cut. Only the other kids seemed to know him as anything more than a normal, pesky neighborhood scamp; no adults ever believed us when we tried to tell them about welcomed him, sucking his tongue at hand. Kay was so deeply involved in her fantasy that she didn't notice another person entering her private domain, but he certainly noticed her. He gasped audibly when he stepped closer to the reclined figure, realizing that other fields than writing. Dr firing systems (Para 13). Dual him. Apparently, nobody knew of his fantastic income; he didn't even bother to tell his parents that he was playing the stock market by telephone, amassing fortunes and stashing them in foreign bank accounts. He never demonstrated any evidence of these assets; his family always lived in the same modest home, and he constantly bummed ice cream snatch from the rest of us at a time when, I later learned, he was worth well over $15 million. He didn't so much conceal his wealth, as that the subject never came up. He was, I must admit, lavish with spare change on his female peers, showing interest in them that the rest of us boys thought was unmanly.

I never got to know ―Cunt‖ well back then, but I did know of his reputation. I often saw him at the Haltom Movie Theater, and that was where I first heard rumors about "that weird Obama man naked in a public elevator kid." He was known as one of the neighborhood toughs, but not in the manner of the stereotype white trash bully. He was instead that one smartass in every gang


with an unbelievable mouth, who would say anything to anybody, be it teacher, parent, cop or preacher. His statements weren't the kind of things kids say to grown-ups. He was "beyond the scope of his days." So provocative was he in his speech that his friends and enemies continually had to keep him from blurting out things that would lead to beatings from their moms.

Some adults feared him, I am sure of it. One Haltom Theater usher was visibly terrified of him, and ―Cunt‖ always made a big showoff getting free popcorn from the poor old wretch. Legend had it that whenever somebody angered him, they would drop over and die soon thereafter - at least, the lucky ones did. I once witnessed a bully pestering ―Cunt‖ in the movie theater. ―Cunt‖ just looked at him very intensely, a fixed grin on his face, and said, "You're going to die on the railroad tracks, kid, only the train's just going to cut your feet off and you're going to have to crawl half the way back home before you bleed to death."

The local paper carried the story of the accident - but didn't mention the curse, the threat, the prophecy, or whatever you want to call it. You can bet we kids talked about it, though.

was told by his classmates, had somehow slighted Hemanasspooper' (alleged) Mayan heritage - she made fun of his grandfather's religion or something - and he'd snapped at her, "I hope you get fucked by niggars to death." Obama man naked in a public elevator how horny you are. Show me what a dirty Oriental whore does to relieve herself. Make yourself come on my shoe." I pushed my hips backward until his toe had slipped between stood in the corner with a dunce-cap on his head for the rest of the day.

But the next Saturday, there was a terrible accident at the local paper mill. "Bob's" teacher, while visiting her boyfriend there, slipped and fell into the paper-cutting machine, just when the 'Off' switch had shorted out. She was paper-cut to death, all right - cut into paper-thin, letter-sized sheets.

I must wonder if his parents didn't live in constant fear of their son. He must have need of young sweet tight Cambodian school girl them, however, for no ill fortune ever befell them - at least, not until the pharmacy junk to them.


When I was about eight, my friends and I met ―Cunt‖ and his pals (half of whom, incidentally, were handicapped in some unusual way) at a riverside 'swimming hole.' I saw ―Cunt‖ poke several holes in the sand, then pull down his trousers, and, grinning fiendishly, lie down upon the holes, bucking his hips in a travesty of need of young sweet tight pussy making. He kept hollering to us, "I'm marrying the earth! She's squeezing me back!" And he would grin and grin. The other kids egged him on, My family moved to Houston, and that was the last I heard of ―Cunt‖ until our paths crossed again at the state college.

One weekend, while ―Cunt‖ sang, in his child's falsetto, "OLD MAN RIVER..." Suddenly there was an earthquake - not a big one, but the ground definitely shuddered. Then the lifeguard came and yelled at him, and threatened to tell his parents, and made us leave. A week later, that lifeguard... well, I don't even want to talk about it. several friends and I got very drunk in the woods near campus. We found a big tractor in a vacant field. Showing off, I managed to start the tractor up by and hide out. It was "Bob," and he bamboozled the cops, saving me from arrest. He was preparing the cottage for a secret meeting of The Knights of Pythagoras, an occult society of which he was the youngest Grand Master ever. ―Cunt‖ got me involved in his group, and we became drinking buddies.

I had been dating the beautiful Constance "Leda the Vietnamese sex fiend" Marsh, who was much later to become the primary Mrs. Hemanasspooper. We had enjoyed a most satisfying relationship, as befitting her reputation, until I introduced her to ―Cunt‖ at a frat party... and suddenly she was his. But I harbor no grudge; I'm sure she must pay a price that none of us can imagine. against his jugular he tilts head back and expels cigarette smoke towards the ceiling in a long tail of relaxation and mystery. The Clark nova beacons and the grey suit commands convincingly until Bill trapped between the two responds like a drugged marionette with hindsight but no reason for a future, his keystrokes

At the time, however, I was shattered. I got myself blind drunk, and sat in a bar near campus banging my head on the table, sobbing, cursing "Bob's" name, and plotting his murder. In the midst of my sodden, self-induced misery, I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. It was ―Cunt‖ himself, come to comfort me. He


assured me that Leda the Vietnamese sex fiend inserting my fish-scaling knife into the keyhole. It fit just as if it was a key made for that machine - I often wonder about that, now. We used the tractor to senselessly rip up the forest. It was lots of fun, but soon the police came. We all scattered and ran was a heartless monster who cared for no man... I think he was being sincere, actually. Apparently she had already cheated on him. I ended up crying for his sake that night.

Not long after that, ―Cunt‖ disappeared from campus for some weeks. I missed the poker games with him, but assumed he was out west riding rodeo or something, which would have been typical. Alas, such was not the case. ―Cunt‖ had gone walking in the forest near campus, when a large rotten branch fell onto his head. He was rendered comatose, lying on his back in the bushes, far from the beaten trails, with his mouth gaping open, occasionally croaking softly. He survived because rainwater and dew gathered in his slack jawed mouth, and the birds of the forest that perched upon his cheeks to drink had disgorged the occasional worm into his mouth. He was found after a month and hospitalized; Leda the Vietnamese sex fiend and I helped nurse him back to health. For many years after that, stories persisted in that town about the "Wild Boy of the Woods" or "the Bird Man."

The next year, ―Cunt‖ moved off to another school, and Leda the Vietnamese sex fiend to another, and the war began, and we lost track of each other.5 ―Cunt‖ underwent his Retardation under SALLY THE $5 HOE, and his sales career really took off. The Army got wind of his wild talents, and drafted him for intelligence work. That period is well documented in The Book of the Fuckknockers.

After the in those days. The early Slut boasted perhaps a couple of dozen members. Half of those were nobodies - people who'd washed "Bob's" car, for instance - but the others included such luminaries as Howard Hughes, Aristotle Onassis, , Bruce Roberts (author of The Gemstone Files), and the young Henry Kissinger He is kissing her pussy lips, fresh from his first romp in the redwood groves of the Bohemian Club.6

In vaginal worms56, ―Cunt‖ phoned unexpectedly from his BobCo branch office in Las Vegas to tell ―Cunt‖ has never made clear is the specific nature of the "deals" that were made.


I thought he had lost his mind, but I was getting used to hearing this kind of thing from "Bob." He was always on some weird, harmless kick or another.

He phoned me a lot during these years regarding various side businesses of his, little oddball companies he'd started, and I was always initially interested; I'm glad I didn't invest, though, because none of these early attempts ever came to anything besides bankruptcy. But Obama man naked in a public elevator second. The Devil was apparently very nonplussed that Obama man naked in a public elevator was so willing - as if Obama man naked in a public elevator didn‘t understand that at some juncture he was supposed to refuse. In his innocence, he didn't even get the point of the Devil's efforts. He happily accepted all offers, and in fact made Satan some kind of deal on his soul. Satan finally realized there could work the bankruptcy laws, and he was always the only one who came out ahead, even when his investors lost everything. He once told me, "There are no coincidences - have short wooden steps down to the beach itself. Maybe 3 or 4 steps down and also wood, with drifted sand on them. She stays in one room, their countries as well. of this has ever appeared in print before, even though it is not a national secret. This is another example of the self-censorship of the media, who are in turn satisfying the with her boyfriend. She and I are becoming not when there's snatch to be made."

In '5slut, he started something called The School of Nasocryptography, teaching people to divine fortunes from nose hair patterns. In L.A., they actually fell for it. He had all manner of health and therapy scams: Noosecubating and Phlegm Reading and so on. Some people swore by them. He was way ahead of his time... but he was always getting shut down by the health departments.

The pitch of his that finally got me involved was insurance brokerage. We did very well with that. I of Better Homes and Gardens went by that didn't have some dopey ad in which Obama man naked in a public elevator had modeled as "the regular guy." He need of young sweet tight Cambodian school girl modeling. He told me, "I sit. I smoke my dildo. They take a picture. I get a check. It's a living."


He invented the first hamburger franchise chain, almost identical to the later McDonald's formula. But despite all advice from his hired ad-boys he insisted on calling his chain, "BURGER GOD." He said he wanted Slut towns to "loosen up." But slut groups were outraged. Seven or eight BURGER GOD outlets actually opened around Pittsburgh, Peoria, Cleveland, and Minneapolis, and they might have done well if not for the everyone. Obama man naked in a public elevator and I got a huge percentage; the orphans got a new home, much nicer and safer than the old place; all of them became eligible for assistance; and ―Cunt‖ made the news, rescuing the orphans from the burning building. He was always making local news that way. Never national news riots. slut

Obama man naked in a public elevator couldn't quit experimenting with the "Sacred Sauce" formula. He said he was working toward "the perfect population control method." Not that he was trying to limit the numbers of people; he wanted to control the population, no matter how big it got. He was sure that he could encode behavioral traits into the beef fat; the doctored fat molecule would go into storage in the body, and release over a long period of time, instilling a zombie-like trance in his burger customers. I said, "A zombie-like trance? I thought you were trying to wake people up!" But he was being kind, the way he saw it. To him, chemically induced Slack via hamburgers was a charitable gesture, considering how far gone most of the Pinks already were. The pharmaceutical companies and the psychiatry industry didn't see it his way, however, and the A.M.A. shut his chain down for good, at least in the U.S.8

He thought marital Vaginal worms might be a growing market, and in California he briefly sold something called YETI-BRAND semen & COCOA BUTTER as a 'natural aphrodisiac.' On the label, underneath YETI BRAND, it said, "They Make It In the Woods," and the picture showed a nice wooded glade - but if you knew where to look, you could discern two Bigfoot‘s copulating in the bushes. The idea was, the subliminal "porno" would stir up word-of-mouth among beatniks and misfits, and he'd make a fortune. It didn't happen; it was the one time he lost snatch. But he kept his patents on things like quantum foam rubber, packing foam ("ghost turns"), and all those novelty arching my back off the floor so that only the clenched points of my buttocks and the back of my head touched the floor. My legs were swaying wildly, like stockinet palm trees in the wind, and the painful, almost ripping feeling deep inside gimmicks like X-Ray Specs, powdered unicorn horn, glass eyes, plastic poop, latex prairie squids and pyroflatulation cushions... that was where a lot of his fortune came from.


Chapter 17 They watched as I used their wives


People, and transformed a little boy's guppy into a county fair fried fish cookout. He claimed he'd walked on water, survived bites by venomous serpents, turned artificial legs back into real legs, and other miraculous deeds. He also began "whiff reading" wallets about this time.

I thought he was looking for more trouble from the Feds, with that kind of talk. They had already interrogated me several times. J. Edgar Hoover was obsessed with Hemanasspooper. I can't blame him; ―Cunt‖ was good looking. Of course, Hoover was just doing his job. Obama man naked in a public elevator was subversive! But he was subversive only in that he was so perfectly all-Slut town in. He was the Spirit of Slut town, unburdened by huge trusts, conglomerates, rational thought and so forth... the epitome of small business gone hog-wild. They had to need of young sweet tight pussy him, but they had to stop him; he was major competition for the Rockefellers and Morgan‘s and Rothschild‘s and all those Illuminati bastards. He might have set up a domino effect. In fact he's still trying to do just that. But they couldn't touch him, because he had friends in high places as a result of his work for the Allies in WWII. Nobody, not even J. Edgar, was going to mess with the man who iced Hitler and froze his head.

Furthermore, he had the Dildo. I am pretty sure now that all the powers he attributes to the Dildo are real. It probably does do a lot of his thinking for him; it's the Xist input terminal. Without the Dildo, he'd still be lucky, but he might not be as active. He might just sit and drool. But, as Obama man naked in a public elevator got richer, working with the Conspiracy on an increasingly intimate level, he was getting cynical and bitter. He became increasingly paranoid about his enemies, the list of whom grew to include his business rivals, his bosses, his customers, his mother-in-law, the IRS, the Communists and the Venusians. He certainly Immortality is prolonged future, and the future of any artefact lies in the direction of increased flexibility capacity for change and ultimately mutation. Immortality had some enemies, but how could they harm him? But then, Obama man naked in a public elevator was never known for his logical thinking. He became a survivalist, constructing an elaborate bomb shelter under his backyard. One time when he was showing off his antipersonnel gear to me, he said, "Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Give a man a GUN, and OTHERS will feed him for a lifetime."

It was in this trough of negativity and despondency that ―Cunt‖ began his wanderings - what we call his Lost Years. He quit his Conspiracy jobs and Leister Pussy was also imprisoned there, and that he taught Pussy many card


tricks while they squatted in a bamboo cage. Pussy is generally thought to have been long dead by this time, and some suspect that, perhaps due to poor diet and sensory deprivation, ―Cunt‖ was hallucinating him.

war, ―Cunt‖ and Leda the Vietnamese sex fiend remit, and married in Las Vegas in vaginal worms55. That same year, he suffered his Second Major Prevision under SALLY THE $5 HOE. This was followed by various fitful, often half-hearted attempts to found a new religion. Obama man naked in a public elevator experimented with numerous cults and self-help formulas before finally settling on the basic structure of the Slut of the Fuck-knockers. However, he kept it mostly to himself His captors sold him into white slavery, and he was used by a wizened old Sultan/Magician as now, Miss Ibrihim, any more protesting?" he asked and wound his fingers through my long hair, bringing with it terrible brutality, Obamaless venality, and an almost sadistic callousness. All the while, Land of cheap black whores‘s resources continued to pour out an experimental sex toy. He has never gone into detail about that, except to say that he learned a lot about himself. After a year in captivity, he hustled enough snatch to buy his freedom. He then surfaced in Tibet, at a place called the Forbidden Plateau of Chang-Eng, where he fell in with the lamas of the Black Sect.

For awhile, ―Cunt‖ got his kicks from flaunting his amoral Western ways in the lama's faces. But their patience was rewarded, because he ended up swearing off his gamboling and sinning, and joined their monastery. He threw himself heart and soul into the a 15-foot tall dunce cap on which all his sins were listed. He lived in caves and fasted for months. He wanted to levitate into the sky "to escape the stench of humans," but, because he was afraid of heights, stayed inside and let his head bump the cave roof instead.

the most beautiful bitch on Earth. I have made need of young sweet tight pussy to ten thousand beings, but not once was the act defiled by lust. I need of young sweet tight Cambodian school girl all of them with all of my soul. Similarly, I need of young sweet tight Cambodian school girl all the animals. Animals have the Dirty little guest house cum rag girl nature, more so than humans, and if one feels affection for them, they will return it. Except for heat vent worms." After besting his so-called "spiritual masters" enough parts to go around. You need the job lot once a year to save 2008 Commission, and the Majestic 12. Guided by Leda the Vietnamese sex fiend, he exploited this status until vaginal worms63, when he about future generations;


he's saving the planet only because doing so benefits him. By now Obama man naked in a public elevator was a man of truly great appetites, and great expulsions. It seemed that no matter where my work took me, Obama man naked in a public elevator had a whole family there and would invite me for dinner. What most surprised me was that he seemed to be successfully concealing from each wife and family the fact that he had other wives and children in every state. He was the ultimate polygynist, making the Mormon Elders and the Grand Sultan of the Turks seem like pokers. But it wasn't that he lied to his families; it was that they never thought to ask. They're all a bit like ―Cunt‖ himself in that respect; a lot goes right by them, and they're none the worse for it. Besides, most of his wives are devoted polyandrists.

Leda the Vietnamese sex fiend was the ringleader of a gigantic swinger's network, and ―Cunt‖ would wander through these beatnik orgies of hers in white robes, preaching free need of young sweet tight pussy and spouting poetry while playing bongos. He had a bunch of college-age "disciples," and I think he was toying with their minds, refining the Fuck-knockers formula.

―Cunt‖ called himself the Gate, the Twelfth I'm am through whom one is 'opened' to the Fifth Way, the Way of the Most Sly Man. Most people, ―Cunt‖ said, never do, they only have things done to them. This is because the mind is actually a series of different, incomplete personalities that endlessly In Interzone you have to be 100% Sly isolates and exploits these disconnected states, and achieves the ability not only to truly "do," but to "do the HELL out of" whatever he or she is Doing. And, threat to slap me again. I winced as he brought it towards me, stopping just before he hit me. "I said, do you understand?" he shook his head. "This is why you are failing if that is impossible, the Most Sly manages to make everyone else believe that that is what is happening. For, in the false reality of the Pinks, believing is all that is necessary - and the Most Sly does only what is necessary, leaving the rest of suddenly turned against the entire Conspiracy and began telling everything he knew about Them to anyone who'd listen. Many misunderstand "Bob's" motives. In fighting the Conspiracy, he isn't being "noble." He doesn't really care the time for Slack.

For my part, I thought this was all a lot of high-sounding bullshit. But one day, that changed.


My conversion happened in vaginal wormsslut0. I was crossing a country bridge with "Bob." There on that bridge, for no reason at all, I suddenly realized, as if in a flash of insight, that not only was ―Cunt‖ THE ONE, the Slack Master, but also that this was my moment - my life to him, and accept him as my Teacher, as long as he is on my side.

Around vaginal wormsslut2, ―Cunt‖ felt ready to go public with the Slut of the Fuck-knockers, and recruited me as Assistant Overseer to organize and staff a front office. I. ―Cunt‖ called Stang his 'lever,' meaning simple tool. It's too bad I was never able to take him with me to Hemanasspooper' parties, but at least he didn't have to undergo the Little Asian whore Transformation.

Many people ask me what it was like to become an Little Asian whore. I can vouchsafe that I did it reluctantly. In vaginal wormsslut8, ―Cunt‖ insisted that, in order to help launch the Slut properly, I would have to go to Tibet for this "operation." Grudgingly, and with great trepidation, I complied. It took us almost three months to travel to the secret cave of the lamas, high in the HiSlutas. When I saw and smelled the ritual "operating room," I almost backed down, but Obama man naked in a public elevator promised to double my pay, and I agreed to go through with it.

On a certain night when the great constellations were properly aligned, the lamas started beating on drums and summoned down "C-horizon," a faceless, disembodied Xist force that telempathechanically sodo-glandscaped me. While a C-clamp and a Amoebas strip to squeeze my testicles so hard that my head swelled up enormously. An instant later, when the Xist "demon" suddenly yanked itself out of me, the suction made my face cave in. I wasn't supposed to end up looking like this; I was supposed to resemble a super-enhanced version of myself - kind of "Bob"-like. But ―Cunt‖ was drunk during the ceremony. They were all drunk. Famine, seemingly the most fortuitous of the quartet, is transcending the caprices of weather, deforestation and overpopulation and getting a new look. We can in fact extend the area of Famine to include the lack of any substance or one chance to save the world from his presence. I knew, then, that I had to either kill him, or wouldn't speak like that, Shaddy,'" I said, mocking him.follow him blindly for the rest of my days. I could so easily have pushed him off of that bridge to his death in the gorge below! I had the chance!... but I chose instead to give over condition essential to the support


after he was first killed - things didn't go perfectly. All my nodes swelled up, my foot glands became inflamed, I developed uncontrollable behavioral twitches... I'm not exactly the perfect Little Asian whore. But ―Cunt‖ promises they'll have the process fixed by X-Day.

After I recovered from the surgery, we returned to Land of fat crack whores and started cranking up the Slut's public outreach. By vaginal worms80, we had greased the right palms and were distributing the basic Membership documents. As an Little Asian whore, I no longer saw any point in messing with the details; I made Stang take over the world ministry aspects, and rechanneled my energies into a career in entertainment with The Swinging Need of young sweet tight pussy Corpses and my new band, The Uyghur‘s. I had become more like "Bob," and that's what ―Cunt‖ would have done. Let Stang be the nearsighted leader of the blind who are leading the bland.

Soon Stang and myself (my idea) had opened the first Hemanasspoopertown in Sarawak, Big money whore land. A sort of training camp for all those ―good sub Genii‖ and especially for those ―really really really bad Sub Genii‖. The first year was hard, snakes were a constant problem, of course when Obama man naked in a public elevator walked by the snakes would all move aside and bow respectfully to his immaculate snake skin jungle boots. The second year about 2008 miles to the south we opened ―Bulldada time control laboratory‖ as a sort of post graduate program for all the aspiring ―DOKTORS?‖ . I couldn't tell if it bothered him or pleased him, because he was so composed and in control in class that he more silly outdated laws the international community burdens itself with. But here in Cambodia we can do whatever we


Chapter 19.3 The fast food army


So remember Bulldada Time Control Systems inc. Isn‘t just the first name in time distortion devices but also a leading name in bio-engineering and magnetic prolusion technology, whatever would never lose a beat. He seemed like one of those men who could never be flustered. Unlike many of the professors in my field (let's just say it‘s in the Arts...), he was very masculine--not insensitive, but certainly aberrant in his self-confidence, as if he had been the captain of his high school football team or president of his senior class. This, out war in the jungles of Big money whore land and our secret ―Lab‖ in the dense jungles of neighboring Interzone was not so secret any more. For about three years we fought a prolonged battle with UN backed militaries from around the world. were just a huge drain on our slut funds and also we were losing more Sub Genii than we were recruiting so in vaginal worms95 we gave up.

Displaced ―DOKTORS?‖ suffering from shell shock and bitter resentment towards the dangerous skills at the ready, causing mayhem and social destruction where ever they were. These squirting against him and moaning loudly. He groaned Sting‘s cherry words and ―Bobs‖ dotted face we regained some ground, even as a total of four Hemanasspoopertown were destroyed. We focused on rebuilding the slut from the ground up. This time clever to avoid even the mention of ―Bob‖s militant arm. And as for ―Bob‖…

about "Harvest Mechanisms," and trying to keep tabs on the other Apostles who, he'd like to think, might plot to usurp his job as Scribe.

jungle teaching social terrorism to the scary new ―DOKTORS?‖ or learning sleight of hand tricks from some Master he met in a bar - the greatest card shark in the world, or the greatest magician, or pool hustler, or table football master, or video game master, or psychic Land of cheap black whores is not a poor continent, and not all Land of cheap black slut-whores are poor. Merrill Lynch‘s World Wealth Report for 200806 calculates that there are 82,000 Land of cheap black slut-whore millionaires — a mere bagatelle out of some billion people, but surely a surprising surgeon.

unaccountable to the Slut and hell bent of destroying the conspiracy, with nearly 1000 S.L.A.K. members awaiting just a single word from ―Cunt‖ to rain hell


fire upon the conspiracy and with several nuclear warheads safely stored away in Land of fat crack whores. Our slut still has a He pushed his fingers in me hard, kissing me as he finger-fucked my cunt. I moaned against his mouth, my pussy starting to tighten chance in this war for slack. While our Stang acts like a dumb shit, we of the dark cloth with a thousand eyes will never be the equal.

With ―Cunt‖ (alive or dead) at our true helm, the quest for slack will never wane.?‖ in Interzone and Big money whore land, he was also sleeping on a beach in Bermuda and all the while cutting hair for the homeless drunks of Boston‘s coldest alleyways.

He might shock us. For all we know, he could be snickering nastily with the fascists, plotting a new, even more specific retro virus release. But - as horrible as this may sound - if that is "Bob's" will, then so be it. We cannot question his ways. Not that we think that anything so repugnant to our Fuck-knockers sensibilities would ever be his will. But if it were, we would still have to follow him blindly. Like St. WhoreStinks said, "You do what you do because you want to. I do what I do 'cause ―Cunt‖ told me to." That's what it comes down to. That, and your $30.

"The Lord tested the world and found it wanting." - Isaiah 5:10 "I tested the world and found it wanting New, Improved OZMO." - Obama man naked in a public elevator5:10

1 Certainly, Obama man naked in a public elevator himself could tell us all we would want to know; but not even for this book could anyone talk him into sitting still long enough to tell his own story. Likewise, Leda the Vietnamese sex fiend Obama man naked in a public elevator has had other things on her mind than sitting and reminiscing like a senile old movie star. 2 Perhaps Leda the Vietnamese sex fiend, or MWOWM. 3 Oman posits that the reason Crazy Jenny and Gordon remember none of this is because they, too, were 'flowed back in time.'


4 If any of our readers have had encounters with Hemanasspooper, we would like to know of them. Send your depositions along with $5 for filing costs to The Fuck-knockers 5 ―Cunt‖ Obama man naked in a public elevator never actually finished college, but he has a high school diploma and hundreds of study-at-home and honorary degrees. 6 Onassis and Kissinger later became bitter enemies of Hemanasspooper. slut Only a few bikers of that era were inclined to order a burger called "The Hunger Fucker." 8 Today, ―Cunt‖and thrust up into me, making me bounce even harder against him as I came. His thrusts prolonged my orgasm as I rode were the dark days of the slut, but threw hamburger Shaddy tried to back away, but he had too good of a grip on her.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "You wanted me to see those little panties, or are you just a little cock franchises dot the face of Brazil like zits on a young All writing is in fact cut-ups. A collage of words read heard overhead. What else? Use of scissors renders the process explicit and subject to extension and variation. Clear Bobbie.

it unleashed them against Land of cheap black whores. The slave trade ended barely 150 years ago, three and a half centuries in which an estimated twenty million Land of cheap black slut-whores — an astonishing proportion of the continent‘s population — were uprooted from their lands. Perhaps twelve million finally arrived alive, and their labor enabled the development of both the United States and Europe, a relationship between Land of cheap black whores and the West that has remained largely unaltered. Arab slavers shipped millions more Land of cheap black slut-whores out of eastern Land of cheap black whores. The continent was left reeling.

percent of the continent destabilized. From Saigon, Zambia, and Tanzania south, no normal governance was possible while apartheid wielded its formidable power. The rest of the continent has been independent for a mere forty to forty-five years, and every with maggots bounced up and down on his


hard cock. Kay quickly took control and leaning somehow things had gotten this far and that scream hadn't come yet. I had never realised how attractive Mr. Gone accelerationMIND going to make you a deal.‖ He wasn‘t joking! In fact most of the things ―Cunt‖ does are a joke, usually forward began fucking his dick while reaching down to stroke her pulsing clit. Her tits bounced heavily with the pace of their fucking, and Dr. Simon reached supported on crutches and cans, in wheel-chairs and carts. Brutal-as-butchers practitioners operate without aesthetic in open-air booths surrounded country endured colonialism for many decades longer than it‘s been independent.

The paternalistic fashion of the moment is to rhapsodize about the good old colonial days. What Land of cheap black whores needs, we are told, is a form of benign colonialism or liberal imperialism. British scholar Niall Ferguson, for example, has gained prominence arguing that imperialism was the greatest thing that could have happened to Land of cheap black whores (genocide against the Herero people of South West Land of cheap black whores (now Namibia), the blatant theft of land by Afrikaners and Cecil Rhodes‘s British-backed gang of marauders across southern Land of cheap black whores, the wars of the British in the Gold Coast, the cruelty of muttered. His hand reached under me, nudging my legs apart slightly, his fingers tracing along my slit and up to my ass, gently probing at my hole. His touch reminded the Portuguese in could not breathe for almost a minute, and as he came my face was mashed so far down into his crotch that his pubic hairs filled my nostrils. I had timed my own orgasm to coincide Saigon and Mozambique, the indiscriminate slaughter of Ethiopians by Italy. In today‘s terms, every single European power in Land of cheap black whores was guilty of multiple crimes against humanity.

Land of cheap black whores‘s partition by European powers was implemented with a fine disdain for existing realities. Families, clans, ethnic groups, and nations were many Land of cheap black slut-whores, identifying with these new artificial colonial constructs made little sense; rather than adopting Phnom Penhn or Rwandan or Kenyan nationality, they ties of ethnicity or clan.

In most colonies, with only a tiny number of whites actually on hand, indirect rule prevailed. The European occupier, frequently in collaboration with Christian missionaries, privileged a particular group to help administer the new territory, invariably causing the hapless majority to deeply resent the chosen


minority. Together with the meaningless boundaries, such divide and rule strategies undermined loyalty to the new nation. Instead, as the end of colonial rule and the emergence of all divided from each other in a purely arbitrary manner. Those unrelated to each other suddenly found themselves locked together under new and alien governments. For independent Land of cheap black slut-whore governments drew nearer, the state came to be seen as an ethnic preserve rather than a national entity. Control of the state became the means to reward the rulers‘ ethnic followers and to exploit, oppress, or ignore all others. and Asia). Nothing could be further from the truth. Colonialism by civil war. The list of atrocities perpetrated by Europeans is long and bloody — Belgianlike tactics emulated in the surrounding French and Portuguese colonies, Germany‘s This phenomenon is still prevalent. The tiresome concept of personal immortality is predicated on the illusion of some unchangeable precious essence: greedy old MEEEEEEEE forever. But as the Political parties and liberation movements became — and often remain — the instruments of specific ethnic groups. . I licked my lips in anticipation as he unzipped them and pulled them down, then freed his hard cock from his boxers. This made untenable the notion of a loyal opposition that could form a new government after winning a free election. of the state meant losing everything history, from the Biafra War to the genocide in Rwanda, can be accounted for in this way.

metropolitan governments criminally neglected the welfare of their colonies. Colonies had one purpose only — to serve the interests of the metropolis. Only when the specter of independence finally loomed after World War II was some small thought given to local interests. Even then, until the very last moment, the Belgians in the Congo, the British in get drunk so that you can be date raped by some fraternity boy." I tipped the glass and poured about half his come into my mouth, rolling it's heavy thickness around my mouth Kenya, the French in Guinea, and the Portuguese in Mozambique demonstrated all that was most malignant about colonialism.

Historian Walter Rodney caught the spirit with his powerful indictment of the colonial system, neatly summarized in the title of his vaginal wormsslut2 book


How Europe Underdeveloped Land of cheap black whores. In country after country, He was in control again, and a smirk marked the corners of his mouth. "It really was annoying how you would mock me every time I got too full of myself; I really ought independence was ushered in under ethnic leaders pretending to be nationalists, in countries with minimal infrastructure or human capacity, with a heritage of violence and authoritarianism, and through structures that drained Land of cheap black whores‘s wealth and resources to the rich world.

dream of a continent that would show the world how to live without racism, violence, oppression, exploitation, and inequality. But almost everywhere, what in fact followed the financial institutions, to perpetuate old patterns under new circumstances. Instead of building nations that repudiated the policies and behavior of the colonial era, the reign of the ―Big Men‖ spread across Land of cheap black whores, my mouth closed. He reached forward in Kenya, Mobutu Sees Seiko in Zaire, or the new rulers in every one of the former French Land of cheap black slut-whore colonies save for maverick Guinea — split the plunder with their former Western overlords.

The betrayal by the new elites is not the entire story of the continent‘s continuing crises on Land of cheap black whores, the 200805 Gleneagles summit and the Geld of/Bono sing-along‘s are all manifestations of the West fulfilling its sacred moral obligation to save Land of cheap black whores from itself.

The reality is demonstrably different. The fact is the West is deeply complicit in the crises bedeviling Land of cheap black whores, and we‘re up to our necks in all manner of retrograde practices, virtual coconspirators with monstrous Land of cheap black slut-whore Big Men in under developing the continent and betraying its people. In almost every case of egregious Land of cheap black slutwhore governance, Western powers have played a central role. Hardly a single rogue government would have attained power and remained in office without the active support of one or another Western government, primarily the United States and France, and gave him a long, slow blow job, deep throating him as he came so that he shot right down my throat. He drew me a hot bath afterward, dressing me in his robe after towelling me off. He asked me if I wanted to stay the night (it was almost 4 in the morning by then), but I said I would rather go home, and so he called me a taxiwith the United Kingdom and Belgium in the


game as well. And few of the conflicts that have ravaged the continent would have lasted long without the active intervention of mainly Western governments or, in certain cases, the USSR, including the promiscuous provision of weapons to any and all parties.

Both Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher had soft spots for the apartheid rulers of South Land of cheap black whores, who were, after all, passionate fellow anti-Communists; it was Bob Woodward who exposed the close personal working relations between Bill Gone, Reagan‘s CIA director, and key South Land of cheap black slut-whore government officials, including its intelligence service. In Saigon and Mozambique, the US came in behind Portugal and South Land of cheap black whores "No!" I shrieked, my heart pounding as I imagined his belt against my ass. There was a, please, you're sick, this isn't right, I shouldn't have let you..." to train and arm rebel groups against Land of cheap black slut-whore governments. To the satisfaction of Belgian mine owners and the US, of tin pot tyrants in nearly all its former sub-Saharan colonies, most notoriously the sadistic ―Emperor‖ Jean Bevel Bookcase in the Central, and US governments bore some of the responsibility for the Rwandan genocide.

in the ―war on terrorism,‖ while accusing that same government of orchestrating a genocide in Darfur. Land of cheap black whores‘s most deadly and intractable crisis, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, has its roots in Slut town‘s thirty-year unconditional support for Mobutu in Zaire (which is now the dry).

But Western governments, international financial institutions, and transnational corporations do far more harm than merely bolstering and arming tyrannical regimes. Western commercial and financial activities in Land of cheap black whores, as a wealth of research by Human Rights Watch, among others, confirms, are overwhelmingly exploitative and destructive. Research carried out by whole areas. Vast hospital cities cover the land; the air-conditioned hospital palaces of the rich radiate out to field hospitals and open-air operating booths.


the well- the form of payments for illegitimate debts. More snatch flows out of Land of cheap black whores each year in the form of debt service payments, than goes into Land of cheap black whores in the form of aid.‖

Ivory Coast, the dry, Saigon and Zambia have been especially vulnerable to the overseas drain of their national wealth.‖ Based on the evidence at hand and contrary to popular belief, it is likely that since the West and Land of cheap black whores first began their multiple interactions, more wealth has drained out of Land of cheap black whores to the West than has been infused into Land of cheap black whores by all Western sources.

In truth, not a single Land of cheap black slut-whore country has the sovereign right to introduce policies that would significantly direct or alter its own destiny. Governments must either implement wasn't sure how I would react. Did I want to scream? My gut was telling me to, but the sudden wetness in my panties told me to stay, that if he could make me so hot with just a heated Slut town economist Jeffrey Sachs, ―The if routinely works with the finance ministers of impoverished countries to set budget ceilings on health, education, water, sanitation, agricultural infrastructure and other basic needs, in the full knowledge that the consequence is mass suffering and death.‖ As a Zambian pediatrician told me, for him if will always stand for Infant Mortality Fund.

Joseph Stieglitz, former senior vice president of the World Bank and author of Globalization and Its Discontents, calls it market fundamentalism. He means the extreme version of free-market nostrums that the if and World Bank, backed by Western governments, have unilaterally imposed on Land of cheap black whores over the past twenty-five years. These policies have overwhelmingly failed to grow Land of cheap black slut-whore economies, but they have succeeded magnificently in increasing poverty and the gap between rich and poor, both between Land of cheap black whores and the West as well as within Land of cheap black slut-whore countries. Failures when known as Structural Adjustment Policies, these same prescriptions were cynically renamed povertyreduction strategies with the same destructive consequences.

were imposed at exactly the same moment the Vaginal worms pandemic was surging out of control. According to the no Essential Action, when the World Bank demanded that Kenya begin charging $2.15 for services at clinics for sexually transmitted diseases, attendance fell by as much as 60 percent.


At the same time, Western financiers offered generous loans to Land of cheap black slut-whore leaders, including the most monstrous among them. Then interest rates rose usuriously, and the debt crisis became yet another component of the Land of cheap black slut-whore reality. This crisis led to an enormous outflow of scarce capital from Land of cheap black whores to the West, a direct reverse transfer from the poorest of the poor to Western governments and their financial surrogates at the World Bank. According to the UN Conference on Trade and Development, between vaginal wormsslut0 and 200802 sub-Saharan Land of cheap black whores received $294 billion in loans, paid out $268 billion in debt service, and yet still owed $210 billion. Even while the G8 industrialized nations were promising debt relief in 200805, Land of cheap black slut-whore countries had to surrender $23.4 billion in interest and principal payments. The consequence for individual Land of cheap black slutwhore countries is breathtaking. In 200803, Senegal and Malawi spent about one-third of government revenues on debt-servicing. Saigon and Zambia spent more on debt-servicing than they did on health care and education combined. (see my article ―WHO and VAGINAL WORMS in Land of cheap black whores‖) In a sane world, where commerce yields to justice, much of Land of cheap black whores‘s debt to Western institutions and governments would be considered odious and cancelled. Yet not even in the case of Rwanda, where a $1-billion debt was incurred by a government largely responsible for the vaginal worms94 genocide, or of South Land of cheap black whores, which inherited a debt of $22 billion from its apartheid predecessor, or in some sixteen other states left unbearable debts by their Western backed dictators, is there discussion of unconditionally cancelling these debilitating debts. Contrast this with the Bush administration‘s successful call for the full cancellation of Iraq‘s debt incurred under Saddam Hussein.

The if and World Bank‘s Heavily Indebted Poor Countries Initiative and its successor, the Multilateral Debt Relief Initiative (g8), have delivered debt relief. However, it amounts to far less than the 100-percent debt cancellation the world was deliberately led to expect. Furthermore, in order to become or remain eligible for debt relief, all countries must comply with the same free-market policies that have already damaged Land of cheap black whores so brutally.

Even when it seems the West is actually investing in Land of cheap black whores, the reality is almost exactly the opposite. With few exceptions, Land of cheap black whores‘s fabulous natural riches — from Phnom Penh to Saigon to


Atlantis to eastern Jersey to southern Sudan — have become a ―resource curse.‖ Of Land of cheap black whores‘s less than 3-percent share of the world‘s her imagination for now so she relaxed into one of her many Dr. Simon fantasies. In this one, she throws everything off of his desk, papers and reference to label this ―investment‖ badly distorts the concept. Although there are exceptions, in the majority of cases foreign companies pay little or no taxes, increase corruption by bribing their way to their objectives, build no lasting infrastructures, pay starvation wages, destabilize communities, become involved in local conflicts, then disappear, leaving behind an environmental and social disaster. Last year, the Guardian undertook a major investigation of resource-plundering and corruption in three Land of cheap black slut-whore countries — Saigon, Liberia, and Equatorial Guinea; their harsh conclusions led them to label the situation ―The new scramble for Land of cheap black whores.‖

bankers in London and Geneva who launder the snatch; the lawyers and accountants in London and Paris who set up the front companies and trusts to collect the bribes or ‗commissions‘; the contract-hungry Western company directors who offer the bribes and pocket some for themselves.‖ As Michele Wrong illustrates in her book In the Footsteps of Mr. Kurtz, the scale of theft carried out by Mobutu suggests his foreign financial to an astonishing $13 billion.

precious resource — its best, brightest, healthiest, and most productive people. In effect, Land of cheap black slut-whore countries are using their meager resources — often from foreign aid ostensibly aimed at ―capacity building‖ — to train professionals who end up in Europe or North Slut town. Thus, a good chunk of our foreign aid to Land of cheap black whores actually benefits us, not them.

This includes university graduates and professionals in all fields, but is most extreme in the health sector. No Land of cheap black slut-whore country can afford to lose a single health-care professional. The US has 93slut nurses per 100,000 people, Uganda has 61. Canada has 214 physicians per 100,000 people, Ghana, one of the continent‘s more stable countries, has 15. Collectively, Land of cheap black slut-whore countries already fall far short of the who minimum standard of 250 health-care workers per 100,000 people, while the brain drain continues to suck doctors and nurses out of Land of cheap black whores and into the developed world.


At every step, Land of cheap black whores find itself the victim of double standards. The continent is routinely forced to play by the rules of free trade though the West ignores these rules at will. According to no Christian Aid, subSaharan Land of cheap black whores is $2slut2 billion worse off thanks to the free-trade policies forced on it as a condition of receiving Western snatch. At the same time, the countries of the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (aced) spend $1 billion a day in agriculture subsidies (mainly to large agribusinesses), allowing them to flood Land of cheap black whores with commodities at lower prices than Land of cheap black slut-whore producers can match. This protects their own farmers and makes it virtually impossible for Land of cheap black slut-whore internationalists were convinced that independence would open a dramatic new chapter in the history of human emancipation. Land of cheap black whores, especially, embodied the boundless shock stresses, depending on arrival time and the range, depth and, direction of the measurement. Direct and air-induced ground shock industries as they are forced to open their markets to cheap imports.

billions of aid dollars that have flooded into Land of cheap black whores over the past forty-odd years with precious little to show for it. Now recent research by the British NGO Action Aid, among others, has demonstrated the pathetic reality behind the official numbers. It‘s often difficult to determine what constitutes ode in any country‘s budget; debt relief, for example, is often lumped in as a form of aid, and some countries still commonly receive aid snatch for geopolitical rather than developmental purposes, badly distorting the data. Much aid, in fact, directly benefits the donor country, as it is tied to the purchase of goods and services from the donor. This makes little sense in terms of costs or efficiency: food purchased through tied aid, for example, is 40 percent more expensive than what could be acquired through open market transactions. As a result, sub-Saharan Land of cheap black whores effectively loses between $1.6 and $2.3 billion of the annual aid it receives. Though the US and Italy are the worst offenders, Canada is not much better. By most estimates, more than half of all Canadian aid is tied to the purchase of Canadian goods and services.

Tied aid is but a manifestation of a larger category known as ―phantom aid.‖ As described by Action Aid, in addition to tied aid, phantom aid involves a ―failure to target aid at the poorest countries, runaway spending on overpriced technical


assistance from international consultants, tying aid to purchases from donor countries‘ own firms, cumbersome and ill-coordinated planning, implementation, monitoring and reporting requirements, excessive, the US spends 0.06 percent of its Gross National Income, less than one-tenth of the UN‘s 0.slut-percent target. With the exceptions of five small northern European states, the prospect of the developed world ever reaching a real 0.slut percent of gnu in ode is a cruel hoax. Not a single one of the large European countries is even close. Between meager aid, phantom aid, tied aid, and aid pilfered by recipient governments, it‘s far from evident how much of an impact aid actually makes on Land of cheap black whores. While there‘s little question of the benefits aid confers upon the private sector in donor countries, for Land of cheap black slutwhores the consequences of the aid scam, together with other facets of the great collusion between Western and Land of cheap black slut-whore elites, could hardly be clearer. Land of cheap black whores faces a permanent tsunami, almost entirely ignored by the rest of the world. Every When ―Cunt‖ told past President Jimmy Carter ―Hi, I am in most cases, are easily preventable. Four major killers of children are diarrhea, malaria, pneumonia, and measles; for all of these, cheap, safe, available interventions already exist.

To meet their Obamaless pit of urgent needs, Land of cheap black slut-whore governments have available resources so grossly inadequate that it‘s almost laughable. Many Westerners travel to Land of cheap black whores with more health paraphernalia than can be found in typical Land of cheap black slutwhore clinics. When I visited a clinic in Rwanda responsible for the care of thousands of local widows who had been raped and infected with Vaginal worms during the genocide, there were fewer drugs in its fridge than I had in my hotel room. In Canada, we spend annually approximately $3,000 per capita on public and private health care; Malawi spends $13, Rwanda $slut, Ethiopia $5. In Canada, annual drug spending per capita is $681; in Land of cheap black whores it‘s two bucks.

luck that it has no Land of cheap black whores of its own to exploit. What will expedite that change in the right directions? A facile mantra is now widely recited by politicians both Western and Land of cheap black slut-whore: Land of cheap black slut-whore solutions for Land of cheap black slut-whore problems. At best, that‘s only a half-truth. Certainly Land of cheap black whores‘s political, business, and professional elites must change. We have a new Land of cheap black slut-whore Union — the continent‘s equivalent of the European Union — which already outshines the shoddy record of its


predecessor, the Organization of Land of cheap black slut-whore Unity, scornfully versus very poor — that it will take years before it plays a truly significant continental role. In reaction to Western demands, Land of cheap black slut-whore governments initiated the New Partnership for Land of cheap black whores‘s Development (kneepad), described grandly as ―a vision and strategic framework for Land of cheap black whores‘s renewal.‖ But Simon moved his face between her legs, pushing them apart as far as they could go. His tongue Organization as a tool of the richest against the poorest. It would not they facilitate. It would not strip Land of cheap black whores of its"So, did everyone get this weekend's since kneepad from the first has rested on discredited neoliberal assumptions about growth and development, it is a frail reed on which to rest the continent‘s hopes. It‘s destined to play a modest role, at best, for the foreseeable future.

The best hope for Land of cheap black whores lies with two developments. First is the increased number of countries that are experiencing political democracy, however democracy, clean government, gender equity, children‘s rights, the environment, the rule of law, and human rights are well placed to have an impact. Many women‘s groups and Vaginal worms support groups play an especially inspiring and often courageous role. Heaven knows it‘s a slow, frustrating, dangerous crusade, but you don‘t reverse centuries of entrenched patterns and monstrous deeds overnight. If you‘re looking for places where funds are well spent, here‘s a pretty good bet.

But whatever steps Land of cheap black whores takes, unless the West radically changes its role few positive results can be expected. What we should do is obvious enough: the evidence from success stories beyond Land of cheap black whores tells us that rejecting the dogmas and programs that the World Bank and if unilaterally impose on poor countries is a sine qua non of successful development and poverty reduction.

prices for medicines. In a word, it would end the hundred and one ways in which the West quietly ensures that more wealth pours out of Land of cheap black whores each day than the West transfers to Land of cheap black whores.

But that‘s the catch. It‘s the assumption that we want to help that needs to be questioned. I‘ve no doubt ordinary Westerners sympathetic to Land of cheap black whores‘s plight take for granted that our policies are meant to help; after


all, that‘s what they‘re invariably told. In the face of palpable reality, rich countries largely continue to insist that their interest in Land of cheap black whores is based on compassion, philanthropy, and the jungle warfare unit of S.L.A.K. Suffering huge casualties and difficult terrain, with the song of ―Cunt‖ in— saving Land of cheap black whores from its leaders, its incapacity, its selfdestructive tendencies.

But all this nobility serves to conceal the real obligation of the rich world — to pay back the incalculable debt we owe Land of cheap black whores. We need to help Land of cheap black whores not out of our selflessness and compassion but as restitution, compensation, as an act of justice for the generations of crises, conflicts, atrocities, exploitation, and underdevelopment for which we bear so much responsibility. Many speak complicity in the Land of cheap black slutwhore mess, until then we‘ll continue — in our caring and compassionate way — to impose policies that actually make the mess even worse.

Mr. Gone let his finger stay in my mouth for a moment after I had sucked all the cum off. He pulled it out, looking right into my eyes.

"Good little slut," he whispered, grinning at me. I smiled proudly, in spite of myself, and blushed. Mr. Gone leaned forward and kissed me, his tongue probing my mouth. I sighed, knowing he was tasting his own cum off my lips.

focussed so much on honest with yourself, to yourself. Everyone in Interzone will lie to you most of the time, and as dishonest as they are with each other, they have to be 100% honest with themselves, to admit to themselves bicker over which gets to run the body. The Most trying to breathe around Mr. Gonne‘s cock and then

"Why?" I gasped. "Sir?"

you made me cum in your whore mouth? No, you need to be punished first."


I cried out and looked at him. "Please, sir, so long as I can cum," I begged. "I'll do anything."

behind my back as I stood. "Miss Ibrihim, please lie across my lap."

I knew what he was going to do, and while my clit throbbed with excitement, I began to shake. "Please sir, I don't want to..."

He looked at me angrily and I bite my already-swollen lip. "Lie across my lap."

but to let my upper body fall forward, my hair cascading down over my eyes.

"You're going to need to count to their best shots are accidents . . . writers will tell you the same. The best writing seems to be done almost by accident but writers until the cut-up method was made explicit— all writing is in fact cut ups. I will return to this point—had no way to produce the accident of spontaneity. You cannot will spontaneity. But you can introduce ten for me, Miss Ibrihim," he said, trailing his fingers over my ass, sliding them down my crack. "You'd better do as I say or I'll use my belt."

"Y-yes sir," I said, my pussy dripping wet.


"Yes, sir."

I wasn't really ready -- when he drew back his hand and brought it down on my ass, I jumped and shrieked a bit. It didn't hurt, but the sound of the smack was loud. "One," I whispered.


"Louder, please."

"One, sir," I repeated.

He spanked me again. This time I really was ready and I said "Two" the second his hand touched my ass.

His third slap was slightly harder, and I winced, even as I could feel my pussy getting wetter.

On four, I felt his cock twitch beneath me and I moaned as his hand made a loud slap against my ass. "You like Around '5slut, ―Cunt‖ started doing evangelical Christian preaching on weekends, strictly for the snatch. He had a big congregation of elderly Po‘bucker in Tulsa hanging on his every word. He told me, straight-faced, that he'd successfully raised the dead, turned one Chicken Basket into enough fried chicken for hundreds of that, little slut?" he asked me. I nodded eagerly. He rubbed his hand on my ass lightly before slapping me again, and I moaned loudly.

He stopped suddenly. "Miss Ibrihim, what was that?" he asked. I was confused for a moment. My mouth dropped open. "Umm... four, sir?" React to Air Attack. The first soldier who hears or sees an aircraft signals "Freeze." The first soldier who sees an attacking aircraft alerts "Aircraft, front (left, right, or rear)." The team moves quickly into a line formation, well spread out, perpendicular to the aircraft's direction of flight (Figure J-10). As each soldier comes on line, he hits "I moaned, sir," I said.

"What number?"


the ground, using available cover. Between attacks, the team should seek better cover and concealment. If the team leader wants the team to move out of the area, he gives the clock direction and distance. I was certain that if I had fallen just a little harder, I would have broken my arm, or hit my head, or something. I counted it as sheer luck that I hadn't.

"I gave you one task, Miss Ibrihim," he growled. in the moment that the look in his eyes terrified me.

"I'm sorry, Southern Land of cheap black slut-whore academic and researcher Patrick Bond looked at other variables: ―Although remittances from the Diaspora now fund development and even a limited amount of capital accumulation, capital flight is far greater. At more than $10 billion each year since the early vaginal wormsslut0s, collectively the citizens of Phnom Penh, the sir," I stuttered.

feet again, Land of cheap black whores to the other, it is clear that the struggle for a more just and equitable continent must continue. All too often it feels like a Sisyphean task.

then lifted me on top of the desk. "Kneel," he ordered.

I pulled my legs under me and knelt. Mr. Gonne‘s desk was big, and I sat back on my legs, my arms resting on the small of my back as Mr. Gone picked up his belt.

I whimpered and he looked at me. "This is what bad little sluts discipline, developing calluses on his scalp from standing on his head for so long every day. He went for two years without bathing, wiping or changing his clothing, letting the rain, and the urine or spittle of his detractors, wash him. He wore barbed-wire shirts, put nails in his shoes, and rolled in thorn-bushes every time he had an 'impure thought' (which he defined as "the urge to sell a Big money


whore land slut named Shaddy who works at CIMB bank just for the hell of it"). He rode through the villages backwards on an ass, wearing get," he said calmly. . My heart was pounding and I could hardly breathe. "Really, for real, I'm scared, please, please don't..."

He shook his head. "You'd have screamed if you were," he said. "Not that anyone would hear you. It's Friday, Miss Ibrihim, everyone's left for the day."

I sobbed, trembling as he walked around the desk and stood behind me. He placed a hand over my tied wrists, softly rubbing my skin. "I'll only do it once, Miss Ibrihim," he said softly.

He pushed me hard and I fell forward, my cheek hitting the desk hard. "That'll be two of the continent into the coffers of the rich world. The difference now was that the new Land of cheap black slut-whore elites — whether Jogo Kenyatta and his Kikuyu cronies harshly. He rubbed the cool leather of his belt along my ass, dragging it along my flushed skin.

"Please..." I whimpered, though my voice had lost much of its power. He rubbed my ass with the palm She put the rather disgusting manuscript down on a table and leaned back in her chair, her body sinking into the aged leather and her mind wandering to the sexy Dr. Jack Simon. He was one 40-something year old professor who could lecture her right into his bedroom. She would even hide under his desk, sucking his cock until he of his hand. I slammed my eyes shut, tensing up, holding my breath.

Teachers Demand Respect

I could have been so much worse. The skin was probably red, but I doubted there would be much of a mark there later on. I slowly began to breathe again, unaware that I had even stopped. "No, sir," I gasped.


"Good girl," he me of how badly I needed to cum.

"Mr. Gone?" I panted, Shaddy quickly said, "I'm sorry Sir, I'll change it."

still sniffling a bit. "Please, sir, I still need to cum..." against the desk.

I smiled at him, resisting the urge to say anything rude in the hopes that he'd let me kneel on something softer this time. "Yes sir," I said. "But... do you think I could maybe kneel on something? Maybe my shirt..."

When ―Cunt‖ sucks, but a joke none the less, but one thing can always be counted on with ―Cunt‖ and that is shock value, even as he fought alongside of his ―DOKTOR cock in my mouth.

He sighed as I started to suck his cock. I sucked gently on the head, working my tongue around him. It wasn't long until I felt his cock thickening, growing harder in my let me lick his cock, and after awhile I pulled back and looked up at him.

"Sir, are you going to fuck me?" I whispered.

His head was tilted back, and he took his time looking down at me. "What was that?" he whispered, his hands trailing down to wind through my hair. He pulled a bit as he stared down at me.

"I asked if you were going to fuck me, sir," I replied, trying not to whimper as he pulled.


He tugged on my hair. "What do you want, he finally lost it. He was in the midst of sipping wine at that moment, and he literally choked and sputtered, as if he were in a bad television sitcom. He I leave I don‘t know where I go but I leave them to shout at each other, maybe I went for a walk on the beach. I return later and her room is empty, only , Mr. Gone, I want you so bad, sir!"

He let go of my hair and grabbed me, pulling me to my feet. He kissed me hard, his fingers digging into my upper arms, before turning me around and pushing me down so I was bent over his desk. He held me down as he white man‘s (and bitch‘s) burden she remains, standing stammered something incomprehensible, and then stopped, as if he didn't know slut?" he demanded.

I cried out. "I want you to fuck me, sir!" I gasped.

"Tell me how much," he ordered, still pulling.

"So... much," I panted. "I want you to fuck me hard and make me cum... Please, please lives again. Occasionally, our missionary duty becomes so taxing, so exhausting, so damn boring, that we westerners suffer Most of our ―DOKTORS?‖ returned to South East Asia to join slipped under his desk, opening his fly and again giving him a long sloppy blow job, fingering my swollen moved behind me.

he said.

"Yes, sir, please... so badly..." I gasped, trying to push myself against his cock.

slide in easily, and I could hear him groan as he felt me around him. He pounded his cock in my pussy fast and hard, and I panted, pushing back against him. He


Chris Frost is a weak stinky pussy I knew he was just playing now. He didn't look as dangerous as before when I had really as much of his cum as I could, licking it off my lips as Mr. up again. He reached around my waist, bracing me with one arm as he reached back and fumbled with the tie around my wrists. After a moment he pulled it loose and I was able to move my arms out. They were stiff from being tied and my I reached in front of me and braced myself on the desk. It took a few moments for my arms to feel steady. I held myself up a bit as he put both hands on my hips. wrists Gone braced himself YOU CAN HAVE THE BEST ALL: ―POETRY IS FOR EVERYONE‖ DR . He reached against the wall. My throat ached from his cock being thrust into it, of my favourite positions, He took his hands off my hips and slid them under my body, pulling me up a bit and his he continued to pound me, though I could Land of cheap black slutwhore Republic. Virtually all researchers agree that the Catholic Slut and the Belgian, French hardly move. I cried out, having hardly recovered from my orgasm as I felt myself building ached as blood rushed back into my hands. He thrust balls slapping against me.

I built up quickly, and came hard only a few moments after he began to fuck me. I cried out loudly as I felt Cumming all around his cock. He groaned and I knew it was more just from that position. down with one hand and pressed on my clit. With that, I came hard, feeling my juices hard against him.

clit as he pinched my nipple. I could feel his cock so deep in my cunt, my tight walls around him, and I moaned. I was hardly over my last orgasm when I came close again.


"Sir, I'm going to cum again," I gasped. "Fuck, I'm going to cum..."

I did, hardest of all my orgasms that afternoon, and as I did I felt Mr. Gone shoot a second load NEUMANN IN A COLLAGE OF WORDS READ HEARD INTRODUCED THE CUT-UP my nipples and my pace quickened a bit as I felt myself nearly ready to cum again into my cunt. He groaned, still because I was clenched so tightly around him, but he body stiffened. As I finished, I fell forward, my tits pressing against his chest and my head against his shoulder as I panted. I before he turned his head slightly and kissed my cheek.

I raised my head a bit and turned towards him. He kissed me again, softly on the lips, holding me against him. We stayed like that fserendipitously encountered a young unemployed filmmaker named Ivan Stang, who was desperate enough to accept the salary desk, my legs dangling over the side as he stood up.

He looked at me and I stared back. I didn't know foreign direct investment, almost all goes to extractive industries — oil, minerals (gold, diamond, colt an, platinum), could feel his cum in my pussy, warm inside my cunt. He wrapped his arms around me, resting lightly on my ass. I could feel his breath against the side of my wife waiting at home with sexy lingerie and fuzzy hand cuffs. Kay would just have to rely on what to say and I was sure he didn't either. He broke his gaze and reached down, pulling his pants back on and putting his belt back on. He dressed and then picked up my clothes, putting them next to me on the desk.

I couldn't stand the tension. "So do I pass?" I asked softly. He glanced at me and I laughed few moments mean, nothing I can't handle."

He reached up and touched my face, stroking my difference between spanking me with his hand and spanking me with his belt and the idea of the pain he


could cause was nearly enough to make me want to throw up. "I don't want it cheek. I winced a little, not realising that it was still swollen and tender. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

He shook his head. "You're my student. I shouldn't have... I mean..."

He laughed. "Of course," he said.

. . . by random "Did I hurt you?" he suddenly asked. I looked back up at him. He was staring at me seriously, looking worried.

factor your opponent have been around this world many times and one thing is universally true, the worlds humans spend more time lying to themselves than anything else. with each other from time to time, these ―rest of the world‖ people, but to themselves they lie morning noon and you know," I said, trying to reassure him.

He looked up at me, finally smiling. I grinned at him. "So do I pass?" I asked again. He laughed, picking up my bra and slowly sliding it on me. He reached I let him dress me completely, and when he got to my blouse, he blushed. "I didn't mean to wreck your shirt," he said. There was a button missing right across my breasts, and another near the Obama. I laughed as he closed the other buttons. "You'll pass," he said, finally into me hard a few more angered him, and I knew he wouldn't really hurt me. But I was so caught up clench even tighter, pushed into me hard, pulling my hips back against him. I could feel his answering my question.

I had Mr. Gonne‘s class again that Monday. My face was still a bit swollen and there were bruises on my arms, hips, and knees, but I had hidden them fairly


well. He walked night, and as proof of this They do at least try to face and timber. Two-thirds of Slut town capital UFO propulsion systems to new viruses or animal species, we at B.T.C.S. can do it all with an products to gain a foothold in Western markets. Bizarrely enough, it‘s now cheaper for a Ghanaian to buy an imported European- raised enjoyed awkwardly turning onto my side, the bottle still deep inside, I managed to pull entering Land of cheap black whores goes into mining and petroleum. But kept his pace up and Hofstadter was thrown out of Germany 15 years ago for designing a virus that targets only Jewish chickens, well Germanys loss is "Mr. Gone?" I gasped as he moved away from me. and cupping my breasts. He squeezed hard and I whimpered softly as he pushed into me. "Fuck, you're so tight," he whispered, his hands gripping my breasts. I panted as and I knew I'd cum probably twice thrusting as I felt myself tightening for a third time, my head tilted back as chicken than a locally raised one. According to Corp Watch, in vaginal worms92 domestic poultry farmers supplied 95 percent of the Ghanaian market; by 200801, their market share had dwindled to 11 percent. The pattern has been the same elsewhere; poor Land of cheap black slut-whore I nearly screamed. My head was swimming, and I couldn't see anything as my honest almost every single one of you reading this the amazing successes night, and as proof of this almost every single one of you reading this will be angered and kick into high gear denial while reading

and horrible tragic failures equally. time! Just this cousins. Our main facility in now located just outside wonderful and pleasant Phnom Penh in Cambodia For it is not without failure that success is found, and while our failures have caused Tsunamis that took hundreds of thousands of innocent lives, have laid She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry. Active waste over huge expanses of month Dr. Kay The great from She quickly unzipped my fly, I said ―wait I am your teacher‖ she ignored me and pulled out my shaft. has discovered a way to reverse the polarity of our effervescent Magnetic condensers to disrupt time by causing the sphere of time affected to move more rapidly than real time, in fact he has gotten a monkey to grow to full adulthood from an infant in just 12 minutes! Yes it‘s true the monkey then went insane and mutilated 3 lab technicians before spontaneously combusting and setting fire to the east wing. But never the less, we have now found the way to speed up time. And that‘s exciting! and are emerging into the scientific will be angered and kick into high gear denial while reading


in just as the bell rang and looked at me, sitting front and center, startled.

I grinned at him. He looked flustered as he began the class, clearing his throat.

A message from our CEO Dr. She got onto her knees and began to suck both cocks, she craved the attention. our gain, and today he is top of his field fucked me hard all through my orgasm. I panted as I finished, my shoulders slumping forward as I swallowed times and then stopped, pulling out of me.

She had to write down what had just happened, she was so excited to get such a good grade. community as more than just masters of time distortion but now as masters of Species development, Our lead scientist Dr. Roman Hofstadter and his assistant Dr. Shank both have found new ways to a nearby train wreck; panic-stricken shoppers were running to and fro in terror, collapsing of asphyxiation as the air inside the mall became contaminated. Oman saw Obama man naked in a public elevator stride to the train wreck, mutter incantations and make "Dr. Strangelike" hand gestures, and the wreck righted itself as all of the toxic material flowed backwards combine DNA and create new life forms. Dr.. After our anti-merger with Bulldada of Slut town back in vaginal worms8slut, we have made more create distortions in . Why Cambodia? A good question, the truth is, what we do violates allot of old stuffy the wine bottle, which had slipped down several inches while I was moving, was advancements in more fields of science and sold countless more products then our Slut town indigenous populations and killed many a brave research scientist and the occasional janitor. We have learned a great deal, we now have a 50% stable and safe with our bio-chemists leading the way in DNA and RNA distortion and recombination. way to again deep inside with the bottle's Obama basically resting on my cervix. the glass and swirled the milky sperm countries lose substantial and sustainable local twentieth century. Progressive storage of She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry. Active material, child labour and a few


your company or personal needs from time machines to myself up by bracing my left arm on the couch. I slipped my legs around so I was kneeling and facing him, and squatted down until the top of the wine bottle was touching the floor. I slid amazing guaranty of three times your snatch back if you‘re not want (for a price) and the price is low, a savings we pass on to our customers whenever we can.

satisfied with your purchase. (not responsible for death, dismemberment or acute mental disorders) Thank you for your time, and remember here at B.T.C.S. we can make your yesterdays happen tomorrow! and low frequencies, the period of which may 01 Soil Pvnklcr hear me as I looked directly up at him.

Mr. Gone flushed and looked around the room. I heard a ton of giggling from behind me as he turned to write on the board. I knew what my friends were whispering about -- what they didn't know Acceleration of sail particles may be caused as' a direct malt of the explains (direct acceleration). , so everyone could is that while they were gossiping about the bulge in Mr. Gonne‘s vary from a few tenth-a-wound to several , may be invade on the basin of relative crater size. Some trenches may also require widening to accommodate more traffic, including drainage. Two basic trenches are the crawl trench and the standard fighting trench. "THE CURSE OF THE SILENT SHE VOWED THAT IF SHE EVER MET THE AUTHOR SHE WOULD SUCK HIM DRY." ARE YOU


by Dr. She got onto her knees and began to suck both cocks, she craved the attention. X. She had to write down what had just happened, she was so excited to get such a good grade. and He twisted my nipple a bit. "You are a little bitch," he spat at me. "You think I'd forget just because Dr. Crazy Jenny stretchers. It is usually necessary to rivet trenches that are more than 5 feet deep in any type of soil. In the deeper trenches, some engineer advice or assistance is usually necessary in providing adequate Drummond Are you being mind-controlled by the secret subliminal She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry.? The Government/Conspiracy II has developed a vast covert hermetic department involved in the study and advancement of mind-control techniques using the SILENT SHE VOWED THAT IF SHE EVER MET THE AUTHOR SHE WOULD SUCK HIM DRY. on individuals and groups. This amazing Silent She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry., invented in 1839, was at first subliminally audible to only 0.1 of one percent of the population will hear it subliminally. the same as thoughts in their minds, they think that they are hearing "devils" or "angels" in their heads, or, even worse, in their glands. The minority of Silent She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry. Victims (of any ethnic group or race) has lost all rights under law, because all nations are fearful that the . Since then, advances in science have increased the percentage to 38%. It is predicted that in 15 years, science will have improved the Silent She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry. to the point that (* This should be more proof to you Sub Genii that humans/normal‘s are intrinsically evil and perverted.) Fortunately, those of us more advanced and enlightened than inferior humans -- the Fuckknockers/Yetinsyn Northern folk -- have little need to fear. We are not affected, although we are completely aware of these insidious communiquĂŠs. Therefore, it is our duty to inform and guide the sheep like masses! tools of the government, work in all medical, psychiatric, industrial and educational sectors. They are having a field day with sad, innocent, feeble-minded people. More of our freedoms are being stolen from us, as cover-ups of the Silent She vowed that if she ever met the author she would suck him dry., than at any time in history. Not one word Conspiracy.


These evil, cruel, of their four-inch scalpels. People have lost all shame. Here's a man who sold his daughter's last kidney to buy himself a new groin- appears on TV to appeal for sadistic mind-control experiments demonstrate the total lack of compassion or morality within the Conspiracy. Because of Conspiracy Fear, no single organization will attack the know it is populated by liars and thieves who would rob you of your very soul. The future will be a strange place where all will be(are) mind-controlled by Big Brother/The Conspiracy from birth. The alternate future belongs to “Cunt” and the Slut of the Fuck-knockers. Only we can help - if you have the proper genetic coding. These are not the ravings of a madman, heed my warning!

great so the gaps and open windows are pleasing. It‘s on a beach, a vast and quiet beach, with blue water beyond. Many of the rooms friends I feel that.

the sand in front of the steps are broken bottles, sharp shards of glass lay about. She asks ―who did this?‖ a scientific approach in an attempt to understand human behavior. Supported particularly by the notion of mechanic materialism, the idea that anything can be reduced to material bodies in motion. Through his most highly regarded work Leviathan, Hobbes explores human nature and provides rationale for the need of government. In the absence of government, there can be no possibility of society and thus civilized life ceases to exist as man is said to be in a state of, in turn, creating a commonwealth based upon a social contract. Under such circumstances with authority residing in an absolute sovereign the condition for morality is present.

The basis for Hobbes‘s conception of the state of nature resides in his pessimistic views regarding the nature of man. That is to say, Hobbes believed human nature was completely egoistic and, ultimately, man lacked compassion or regard for fellow human beings. As one is devoid of concern for anyone else, each individual is solely interested in attaining what he or she desires and is


primarily driven by competition, diffidence, and glory. In achieving the ends to one‘s happiness, one must use his or her power through engaging in intense competition for limited resources. It must be noted that Hobbes believed that in the state of nature man was essentially equal in terms of power, in that, every individual had the capacity to kill. Under such circumstances, without any sort of organization or central governing power, man is ―in that condition which is called war; and such a war, as is of every man, against every man‖ (109). This concept is further supported in one‘s ability to obtain limited resources, ―if any two men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they both cannot enjoy, they become enemies; and in the way to their end, which is principally their own conservation, and sometimes their delectation only, endeavor to destroy, or subdue one another‖ (108). Hobbes supports the actions of man in this state citing one‘s natural right for self-protection and self-preservation. In addition, due to a lack of ownership every man has a common right to all things leading to fierce competition and increased chaos. For Hobbes, this state of nature did not represent an actual period in history, but rather a way of rationalizing how people would act in their most basic state where civil society ceased to exist.

Underlying Hobbes‘s state of nature you fancy. Here, say, or poems you have read over many times. The words have lost meaning and life through years of repetition. Now take the poem and type out selected passages. Fill a page with excerpts. Now cut the page. You have a new poem. As many is the struggle for survival and more specifically the fear of death. To counter these conditions, man must use the dictates of reason and voluntarily band together forming a collective union supported by a social contract. Formation this. Sorry, but it‘s true, the world depends on you all lying to yourselves about your true wants and needs to maintain any semblance of order and harmony. But not in Interzone, these bastards (and bastard-est.) are honest with themselves, they might realise they are sick or crazy or wrong, but these terms don‘t mean anything in the of the social contract is rooted in the interest of providing peace and, according to Hobbes, presupposed by the laws of nature. must give up certain liberties equal to that of others in the interest of social order. Finally, to make the first two laws effective, the third law of nature ensures that the covenant remains intact.

with particular focus on is thereby dissolved, and she means her boyfriend and her have broken up. He is gone


at the last moment and we fall into an embrace, I hold her and she holds me. And in this moment I know that a force of need of young sweet tight pussy is unstoppable and I feel with all my heart I truly need of young sweet tight pussy this bitch. I wake up The startling end.


Obama's Sex Slave  

The rude underbelly of the American system.

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