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I'll miss you! ¡Buena suerte!

Wednesday, June 28, 2006 by Mellie



I hold few things of extreme importance in my life, but this woman is one of them. She's been one of my best friends for nearly 10 years, and I just wanted to take this opportunity to wish her all the love, luck and good fortune that Seattle has to offer. Plus, gentleman, she's single. *hint hint*

Love you, K. I know you'll do just fabulously in the Emerald City. Don't forget to drop a bitch a line. *grin*


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Sunday, June 25, 2006 by Mellie

I'm restless. The thunder rumbles overhead, flashes of lightening momentarily brighten Bear's office, and all I can think of is stripping off my clothes and running out into that warm summer rain.

A few minutes ago, I was out there. I felt edgy and needed to just go; to just drive somewhere. I drove around town, watching the storm roll in from the west, and tried to feel cleansed. Even the storm brought me no excitement. I noticed that the raindrops looked differently though, like little glowing drops of crystal as they bounced off my windshield.

I worry that roaming is in my blood. I'm afraid that I can never be content anywhere; that I can never be still.


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Wednesday, June 21, 2006 by Mellie

I'm not a vain person - I grew up in the heartland of America with all the same issues that every other awkward pre-pubescent girl had. I fought against the mainstream images being force fed to our culture. There were plenty of times that I thought I was ugly, fat, had bad hair, etc.

But now, well, now I seem to be growing into my own skin. This pale shell that has held and embraced me for the past few decades is finally starting to feel like home. I love standing on one leg, the other stretched out behind me like a swan, feeling all the muscles in my body working to keep me steady. I love the indent in my shoulder that inspires kisses and comments. There are times that I lay in bed at night, running my hands over my body and praising it for being so good to me over the years.

Of course I have flaws, who doesn't. I've brought a child into the world and I didn't escape unscathed. But I refuse to let anyone tell me that I'm not beautiful because of it. I notice the attention I get when I'm out, the way men orient themselves to my position. I see the effect I have on both genders. I enjoy that, especially with my animalistic nature. I've worked hard for it.

And damned if it doesn't look the most beautiful with teeth marks and scratches in it - that carnal lifeblood dripping slowly down my Irish skin. The bruises that form in an explosion of color soon after pressure is applied. I'm so lucky to be able to remember events days later by simply looking at my skin.

I'm pale. I'm Irish. I have freckles. I burn when I try to tan. My eyes are so blue that even I sometimes get lost in them. And I love myself.


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Monday, June 19, 2006 by Mellie

Generally, I'm a slave to my baser instincts. I exist somewhere between (if you follow the triune brain theory) the reptilian complex and the limbic system - feeling my way through life. I'm a creature of tactile sensations - the feeling of freshly washed jersey sheets on my naked skin, the way my hair has just begun to reach and tickle my shoulders, how soft kisses on my jugular vein makes me either feel fear or safety (fight or flight at its most basic level).

This afternoon, bent over the bathroom sink, I attempted to think more about it. Thinking, however, wasn't coming to me. Guttural sounds, mewling, panting... that was all I could focus on. The way the edge of the bathroom counter caught and battered my pelvic bones, the drip drip drip of the cold leaky faucet on my right wrist, my breasts gyrating against the frigid steel , the crown of my head banging noisily against the bathroom mirror... those things were my priest and my temple. I wasn't thinking, I was being. I was doing.

So what if my quadricep muscles were still burning from 2 hours at the gym? So what if I needed to go grocery shopping or buy new sunglasses? Who cares if I had a million phone calls to return and bills to pay? My skin tingled, my head shut off, my pussy was wet and his cock was the only thing demanding my attention.

I bowed to the religion of the flesh. I worshipped, I reveled, I meditated... and it refreshed me. Just give me a good rut, a hardcore fucking, and it always sets my head straight. It's better than any church I've ever been in or therapist I've ever seen. If you want to get to know me, to get close to me, it's easy. Just stroke my reptilian brain, baby. Charm me with words, grab me with your intelligence, sure. I'm interested. Making me want to crawl to you on my knees, now that takes a certain something else. And it has nothing to do with charm.


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Saturday, June 17, 2006 by Mellie

I finally got around to watching Iris, which had been sitting on the top of my entertainment center for about 2 weeks now (thank you, Netflix!). I hadn't heard much about it, but was really touched by the movie.

First and foremost, besides being a love story, Iris terrified me. The thought of losing language, of not being able to speak, write or otherwise communicate is one of the most frightening things to me. Writing, here or elsewhere, really sustains me. There's something so soothing about the tappity tap of the keyboard, knowing that I will be left empty and peaceful when I'm finished.

Some people drink, some people go to the range... I write. Horrible habit, I know. You'd think one of these days I'd actually be able to say something.


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Monday, June 12, 2006 by Mellie

After I had come too many times to count, the insides of my legs glistening with moisture, it was his turn. For whatever reason, Bear isn't able to come inside of me too often. It's just part of him; a part that I accept, love and embrace. When the time comes that I'm too exhausted to hold myself up or have any more orgasms, we usually end our "sessions" with Bear masturbating wherever I deem worthy. Sometimes I like to rub it into my side, other times I'd rather him coat my breasts with semen. Today, I decided that I would like to feel him come inside me (even though to do so takes "outside" influence).

Anyway, long story short, he's officially said the strangest thing anyone has ever said while laying on top of me (and I've once had a guy say "oh daddy" while fucking me). As he's coming, panting, sweating, moaning... he says, and I quote, "you owe me." Not "god, I fucking love you" or "you're so beautiful." "You owe me." I must have laughed so hard that I almost wet myself. It was priceless. Ah, the little lovely things about being in a long term relationship. But yes, my pussy thanked him.


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Ah, the dreams of 6/6/6.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006 by Mellie

Last night, I found myself in a shed with you. You loomed over me, larger than life, wearing nearly all black. Your shirt, ironically, had the word "prude" emblazoned on the front in big red letters. I remember trying to run, springing towards the door with an almost alien precision, and having your large hands pull me back inside.

The rest is bits and pieces in my subconscious mind - clothes being torn off, skin being cut and bled, my impending violation... and the orgasm that seized me as I woke before the alarm clock this morning spoke more than words possibly could have. It was delicious, darling, thank you.


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Sunday, June 04, 2006 by Mellie


I held her against my chest, the flesh of my flesh. My cheek lay against her golden curls as we rocked back and forth to the music, deep in our temporary autonomous zone. I sang softly into her ear as I felt her drift off to sleep, felt those thick eyelashes against my collarbone as they blinked their last blinks of the day. Our hearts beat together, as they did before she was born, and my love for her was the most pure and simple thing in the universe. At nearly five years of age, she's still my little girl. She's not too big to pick up and dance with yet. She's not old enough to hate me or to yell horrible things at me after I've denied her some privilege. She's sweet, she's free, she's without a care in the world. She's my future, our future.

I simply can't think of anything more beautiful and poignant to say than that. This ramshackle family, my wonderful concoction... you both mean the world to me. Although I can only currently dance with one of you, words cannot describe how much I ache to combine again and dance together for the rest of our lives.

Life throws us curve balls, and no one is perfect, but you're all I have. You're the concrete things in my life, you're the ones that mean the most. You'll always be, and have, my heart.


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Poor Aine, or that goddamn vagina!

Friday, June 02, 2006 by Mellie

I would like nothing more than to tell you I've spent the last couple of weeks bend over some bed somewhere with my ass in the air being treated as I need to be treated. That, unfortunately, would be a lie. It's more that I've been in bed, fucking myself until I'm red and raw, thinking of more and more extreme things while I soak the sheets through. You guys are such lovely inspiration for fantasy, but anything can and will trigger me these days. I feel like a 13 year old boy, as much as a voluptuous twenty-something girl (side note: it's come to my attention that calling myself a girl isn't "feminist." If feminism is having to call myself a woman, fuck being a feminist. I'm a girl, damnit, and I don't have to grow up if I don't want to!) can.

So, I am alive. Certain parts of me more than others, it seems. My will and drive to write seems to be related to my sexual escapades lately, which is why nothing of any merit seems to get written. I'm trying, but all I can think up are the myriads of fuck thoughts in my head that wouldn't even begin to make sense in words. Men in bathrooms, women at bars, orgies, hands, pain, rape... it's pretty jumbled and incomprehensible unless I'm masturbating. And, although I'm good, I haven't quite mastered the one-handed typing approach. I learned a long time ago that I would be slave to my appetites and, as I haven't really been "getting any" as of late, they seem to be raging all the more strongly.

Won't someone put me out of my misery? Wish Bear would let me get that stunt cock I've been joking about. *laugh*

Oh, also, I've run pretty dry of ideas for photosets and am now turning to you. Shout out any ideas or anything specific you'd like to see and I'll be happy to try and make that happen.


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about


"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. -- Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

I'm like that, I'm the untaken road. I walk the path that's filled with jagged rocks, spooky trees and no sunlight - but I come out the other side wiser. It's always worth the price.


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