Oh, how I have the most incredible man I could ever know. Not only is he the most gorgeous thing I have ever laid my eyes on, but his soul...
It is his soul that gives me life. I am so sorry ladies. I do feel guilty keeping him all to myself.
His creativity, honesty, sensitivity, devotion, to feel how it feels to be loved by this man is a privilege. He makes me feel like the most beautiful person alive.
And when we make love...
Mmmmm, I cannot use words to describe Heaven. I can't believe I get to experience him every day for the rest of my life and thereafter. And he is the greatest poet I have ever enjoyed. OH, and he loves to share a taste of me with you! It says a lot when you guys thank him. It's super awesome. You are all great friends. We love ya!

Baby,

Namaste - I love you so. Thank you for being my man.

Your Wife

"...But we should look for the style of the great artist in it, look for completeness and harmony. Nature never works like a conjuror, to surprise, rarely by shocks, but by infinite graduation; so that we live embosomed in sounds we do not hear, scents we do not smell, spectacles we see not, and by innumerable impressions so soflty laid on that though important we do not discover them until our attention is called..."


- Ralph Waldo Emerson, Demonology



...I love you, Presh. Happy day.

Jesus. It snowed like a motherfucker here, now it's all ice...woke up this morning and almost busted my ass walking out to start the vehicle; however, in a spectacle of grace, I managed to regain my composure w/o breaking, spraining, of scraping anything. The snow gods smiled on me this morning.

Still reeling from the stunningly anti-climactic ending to the NFL season - which is truly nothing more than a segway to the point that we finally managed to get some new pics up (see the jersey). Haven't entirely fixed the problems, but managed to figure a working solution out. Buzzkill.

Suffice it to say we missed you guys!



"I press on the elastic sheet, I'm breathing through a slice...",

Mr. S

- Just wanted to let our faithful PMers know we are working diligently to get some new posts in...A ghost in the machine has taunted me these past weeks (technical difficulties too mundane to bore you with), but we miss you guys terrifically! We will be back soon...


Sluts

and everyone butterflying
even these smaller things, somehow out of mind
time-like in their instance or lying

Afternoon begets evening
As if to pack it in for the day and
Pause at twilight to look back and ponder for a second
What worth it all

Tore up the park across the street
Then in the vacuous wake of months, mountains of earth that follow
The speculation becomes to make way for condominiums

Infers the metaphor that is
Unfettered growth

The resilience and the tenacity
The ardor and the temerity
Of life

Yet

Night begets mourning
As if to shuffle in sleepily,
In moments precedent to the sun, settle in and sigh
Bear down then upon twilight and forget for a second
What worth it all

Nor the contemplation thereof

- It occurs to me, in looking through our pics, that they mostly consist of Nat posing. I apparently keep a relatively low profile - random fingers and dicks hovering in the periphery - while we do take pics that I am more 'wholly portrayed' in, my invariable answer to her insistence upon putting these up is "fuck no!"

I have to say: Women personify beauty inherently, and there are far more people browsing the pics on this site (and pornography in general, no?) in search of beauty than those in search of charisma. Let's be forthright - manpics are tolerated, not touted.

Secondly, what can I say; she is fucking stunning. And so depraved...I just feel guilty not sharing! I must admit, I'm grateful (though also a great deal leery) that she has been so willing to share some of our nastier moments, [side: I have to confess some regret at the censored version of the "Love that fucking cock" pic, the absolute greatest aspect of it being her eyes. Takes it to an entirely different level...of you're verified, email us and I'll let you decide for yourself.] yet there remains a snowball's chance you're going to see my face online. Truthfully, we're still on the fence about the uncensored ones we've daringly put up so far. Even though we stamp everything we post, there's just too many dickhead pic stealers, resposters, "traders" et al, out there for my taste.

Alas, her magnificence when she drops her jeans on our front porch or sits on our love seat and opens her legs to me goes not unrivaled by her magnificence on our floor on her shoulders and knees accepting a nice, deep ass-fucking.


Stay Tuned.
G

How much more horrible would it be if only some of us died
Like the discovery indelible marker isn't truly indelible
Time shapes, moves, heals, and destroys
All nouns.

Well, I hadn't given a whole lot of thought to the appearance of that link...sorry to be so annoying. Can anyone tell me whether the blog entry will accept regular html like most or no? Or, more simply, how to change the text of a link?
I know it's a long shot..

Enjoyed a fine weekend w/Mrs. S.; just coming off vacation, we spent our last few evenings together chatting with folks here in the Passion Pit. You nasty motherfuckers. What a load of fun (no pun). Got us so bothered we did a whole slew of new pics that we can't wait to post tomorrow. There are alot of good-hearted folks that chat there, too. What a great idea for a chat room - my only complaint would be that there's only one.
Thanks NN for keeping such a great site, and thanks especially to everyone here for being such a kick-ass bunch. We love it!

- SS

...thought this would be a good one to open with, in my ongoing fantasy that anyone on this site actually reads the blogs. Don't bother if you don't like poetry! <Laughing at myself>



Teeter-Totter:
In a world where there really are no superheroes or perfect bodies
As much as the impetus for their imagination

A poetry of thought
On fire from the friction of reckoning
The festivals of glances and games of symbolism that eventually become
Common words no one recognizes; or can remember the lineage of their age
Can remember why they are called

And these are the names of our days.

So-called and forthcoming inexorably measured in cycles or seconds
Yet forever broken down further and repeating.
The height of wind astrolabe spun vining upward vying for
Arrest in predictions of light.

I’ve heard them say that that proximate a pass would stop us spinning on our axis:
Haywire tectonics
Like the rooms at the old fairs’ houses of fun
Where the furniture had been glued to the ceiling as though it once was a floor,
Or going too quickly to stop before the edge of a curve.
The onset of a cold
The swelling of its glands.
This orb hung in its place in an eternity of dimensions,

A new balance struck.
An augmentation of calendar.
We are rebroken then down these long paths of construction
As the scent becomes pervasive even takes on its own color,
Then glances and games in spans of measurement ever
Repeating and denominated.

A teeter-totter.
Or to think.
Jan2003