Sept. 2003 - April 2011

Looks like someone needs to learn some table manners. I don’t think the word “napkin” is in her vocabulary. And messy, jeez, she ate the whole meal with her mouth open. And drooling. It just kept falling out of the side of her mouth and down her neck. Can’t she remember to swallow? You should have seen her face after she finished that cold bowl of spaghetti. She had food not just stuck in her teeth but all over the front of them and all over her tongue and down her chin.

I don’t think I’ve ever had such a inhospitable dinner guest in all my life.

I’m pretty sure the enema she got afterward cleaned her up –it was just the wrong hole.

It is the middle of the night and I awake to that familiar sound dog owners know all to well. Frank is throwing up. It sounded like massive amounts. I got up to address the mess and found my suspicions confirmed. It wasn’t just one pile it was three. All of them were huge in size –as though it were three dinners lying about the floor. I grabbed a towel and started on the first pile. A warm feeling permeated the cloth between my hand and the chunky, liquidy pile. The smell was nauseating. I stopped right there and left the pile I was working on as is. It was just to much for me to deal with having been woken from a deep slumber.

The next morning I awoke to find the whole mess missing. I couldn’t find a single pile of vomit anywhere now. Not even stains on the carpet.

That Frank, what comes out goes back in. He’s the greenest dog I know!

Juniper came Into The Attic a few weeks ago. During the first scene a ball from a ball gag had been shoved up her pussy for retrieval later (to be gagged with). After forcing her to cum I went to pull the ball out using a rubber cord I had tied to it previously. The cord broke leaving the ball inside. The interim left several of us attempting to dig the ball out of her cunt. First Juniper herself. Then Elise. Neither could retrieve it in-spite of Juniper pushing as hard as she could. You just could not get your finger behind it in order to pull it out. I personally tried, after double donning a pair of latex gloves. A crisis seemed to develop. Forceps, butter knives and hemostats –not even a spoon carefully positioned could extract it. Finally, Elise was able to get her tiny hand inside, with a spoon, with Juniper pushing, were we able to retrieve the ball in question.

After almost an hour of three people digging into her pussy was the ball finally removed. Happy as a lark, Juniper was anxious to continue with the shoot. Afterward, I asked her what was the most exciting bondage position she wanted to be in: she told me a suspension.

There you have it, in the picture above.

He’s The Man. Rescued from a thrift store, he’ll have a fitting end to his life. Not many statues get to live out their golden years having their head banged silly by a cunt.

…and yes, he did just get caught jacking-off. That’s why his helmet is over his crotch and his eyes are wide open. I doubt that shyness will last long…

This is what my eye looked like after I got into a fist fight with a model’s husband after he came into the studio and struck his wife out of anger.

This is what my hand looked like after beating him repeatedly in the side of the head. He told the cops, as they took him away for domestic violence, that he couldn’t hear well out of his ear.

And this is what it looked like six months prior when I broke it attending to some other Attic business.

The other day I was making some stocks using a saw drill. I was standing on the 2×6, drilling a hole in the board right between my feet as I donned a pair of flip flops. That saw jumped off the board so fast and attacked my feet I didn’t have a chance to get out of the way.

This is what my right foot looked like two weeks after the injury. I won’t show you the left foot.

Never mind the ribs I broke trying to winch a bolt down to the floor as hard as I could. Suddenly I heard two sharp pops. It really sucks to try and sleep with broken ribs.

Or the numerous deep, purple, ugly bruises one gets from falling out of a cage hung from the ceiling or dropping an anvil on your foot, or getting electrocuted, or…….somebody has to test this shit out first.

Having left in such a rush I had no time to pack away any of the usual items I’d carry on a trip with her. So, while she is out shooting I’m hitting the local Home Depot and purchasing items that I think will be worthy replacements for the items I neglected to bring.

I walk in with every intention of scanning the asiles closely, I have plenty of time to kill. When I hit the plumbing isle I choose the rubber compression coupler. I know from experience it makes an awesome, effective collar - not only for complete control of the person but the air they breathe. It even comes with two metal clamps to tighten it down onto the neck (note to self: I will need an exacto knife to shave the height down to size and a straight head screw driver to tighten the clamps). Moving on, I pass by the isle containing tie downs and rope. I can’t do much where I am with tie downs but I can use some manila rope in the absense of hemp –and it looks way better than white nylon. I pick up 50ft of 6mm knowing I can do a full strappado with one piece. I walk further and find packaging tape. I like it better than duct tape for most instances. It is clear, comes off the face and hair easily and is very secure. I grab it. Then I locate the electrical tape. Another item that removes easily but is astethically pleasing. I know I can use it to wrap over the eyes, make an elbow harness or use elsewhere to annoy. As I passed through the paint department I noted the large, 2mm thin plastic drop cloths. Knowing I could seal those together and make a large airtight bag I picked those up as well. Finally, walking thru the heater section I picked up a parabolic heater. I know that will be useful in creating a very uncomforatble time for her in bondage.
With these items in hand I headed for the checkout counter with the full knowledge I could place her into inescapable bondage with the ability to control her sight, her mouth, even her breath.

Home Depot may not know it, but they are one of the better adult entertainment sites of any city one visits.

I’ve seen friends come into relationships and heard the word “love” used between them. I’ve pondered where the boundary exists between liking someone a great deal and loving them. When I hear the word  used between two people who only recently came into one another’s lives, I pause.

I feel that way because, in my mind, I can’t feel so strongly about another without having a strong emotional connection that surpasses all that I feel is negative about the other. And that just isn’t something you can find out easily, it takes time. You need to ponder it awhile. Figure out what is really important to you.

Just where is that delineation between liking someone and loving them? Is the love of a teenager for their high school sweetheart a different type of love than one of a married couple of half a century? Is it any less ardent? Any less sincere or passionate? Would these couples do anything less for one another than the younger couple? How are they different? If the movement of time brings forth a more solid understanding of your partner then surely this also equates to a stronger feeling of companionship, or, gasp: love.

The definition of love is rather unpoetic:

Given the strictest of definitions, it appears one is safe to tell just about anybody they bed, in a passionate moment, that they love them. The word police wouldn’t have nary a case because the defendant would point to definition #3.

I just can’t get around the fact that all the definitions seem to completely forgo the significance of time. As though one could simply turn love on and off. I can feel items 1 thru 4 in the heat of the moment. But I wouldn’t necessarily say I loved the person. I’d call it lust. But by the strictest definition it is called love.

Would not most people disagree with that? Or is it that I just need my love to be time tested? And then, and only then, is it called love? It just seems difficult to tell someone you’ve known -even for a few months- that you love them. That seems cheap, even insulting.

Would most agree that love is something that develops over time -and not just the literal definition given by the dictionary? It seems to me, in the this new world we live in, “true” love, care, compassion, empathy, solice is better defined by the test of time.

I am now a divorced man. But because I love my wife, ex-wife, there is no sacrifice I’d forgo for her if she needed help, advice, or someone to talk too. I look out for her as she does myself. We remain friends, friends in spite of the fact we have each taken on new relationships. But each of us would still reach for the other in need. I can’t imagine not loving her, not feeling a close personal contact with her over distance and time. It isn’t something that can be removed, or turned off like a switch. It seems this is only something time can instill.

Love, it seems, can be many things to many people. It can come on fast or it can be latent. It can stand the test of time or it can move to the next lover with little friction.

That’s all fine and well, but I can’t feel truly loved by another, nor state my love for the other, unless there have been sacrifices between the two for the betterment of the whole.

I recall cursing myself before I’d even pulled out. How I hate that when it happens. And she’s like, WFT? It isn’t like you can only cum one time a day.