In tonight's edition of Living In The Buff blog, some photographic work from my ten-year old son.
He has an eye for it - that's the best start. The technical stuff we'll work on as we go.
But here is some of his early photographic work with the Nikon D50 I picked up for him at Christmas this year.
As I mentioned earlier, this was one of the most fun photography assignments I've had in a while. Kayaking the Buffalo River - an industrial and shipping area that has been very much abandoned and unused for sixty years or more.
We got a tour inside one of the enormous grain silos that still stands on the shores of the river - one that is being turned into the world's largest rock-climbing gym. This is some impressive stuff up close!
Here are some example images:
And just press on
Like nothing is wrong
Like life is in light
Like this is my song
It was 6:00AM on Saturday and my alarm was going off. It barely registered with me, but she noticed. I needed to be up early, but my mind was uncooperative and my body wasn’t getting the message. Instead, sleep was calling me to return to its murky world of fantasy.
As I settled back into my pillow from turning off the racket that is my cell phone, I felt her move closer behind me. A sigh, and heavy breath on the back of my neck informed my subconscious that there would be a tug between sleep and being awake. To be awake with her. She reached to me, draping an arm over me and gently rubbing my warm skin. She traced a line with a finger down my arm and up my exposed back. Softly she ran her nails across my skin, teasing me with almost tickling sensation, but cooling me under the ceiling fan and the damp morning air. She continued to tickle and tease; my back, my arm, turning me toward her and offering the same treatment to my chest. She etched invisible circles around my nipples, touching them ever so slightly but enough to make my back arch and instinctively moan my approval.
She pulled the covers down from my waist, exposing my expanding cock. She took her time, continuing to stimulate my skin with barely touching. She teased my balls until they tightened and my cock was at full, standing attention. I heard her happy sigh as she dragged her nails up the length of my shaft.
My mind was reeling between these erogenous touches and the need to remain sleeping. My body twisted against her touch time and time again.
Then the sensation of her hot mouth surrounding my cock. Her had picked up my balls with every stroke between her lips. Her tongue slid against the rigidity of my erection, teasing me further between the warm, softness of her mouth and the hardness of her teeth and tongue piercing. My body was now writhing without conscious direction. The idea of sleep was now long gone and all involuntary actions were now focused on grabbing handfuls of her hair and thrusting my cock deeper into her wanting mouth.
I pulled her away from my cock to look into her eyes. Guiding her with tugs of her hair, she grinned wide and laughed a little as she continued stroking my cock. Her spit was running down my balls, tickling the already tight and aroused skin.
Her smoke gray eyes locked on to mine and she smiled again. She squeezed my cock hard and pulled up on it with force, pulling my hips up toward her enough to be able to go down on me again despite my control of her head. I groaned again with the first warm sensation of her soft mouth returning to my hard cock.
I thrust to her. She let me thrust into her mouth over and over. She pulled away to take a breath, lengthened her body and pressed her face into my neck, treating me to kisses as she continued vigorously stroking me.
My orgasm exploded from my cock in long, roping ejaculations. My body lurched with each stroke, and each contraction. Puddles of come coated both of us.
She smiled and traced a line with her finger through the puddles on my chest, and to her mouth. She coyly smiled at the taste of her finger and pressed her body close to mine.
“Good morning,” she said.
And we fell back to sleep together.
With each day past unfurled,
And still I try to change the world
I cannot let the world change me
No matter how wicked it can be
Based off of your poem it looks like the world has already changed you. The world effects all of us the only thing we can control is how it effects us.
We are a product of how our world shapes us.
But we choose how we respond to the world.
So does the world change us, or is it our choice to change?
Chicken or the egg argument. It can go either way. Science tells us that the chicken came first. However, the egg is simply a vehicle for success in propagation. Eggs were around long before chickens, they just weren't chicken eggs...
...and I'm not even high.
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