I left my heart in San Francisco
High on a hill, it calls to me.
To be where little cable cars
Climb halfway to the stars!
The morning fog may chill the air
I don’t care!
My love waits there in San Francisco
Above the blue and windy sea
When I come home to you, San Francisco,
Your golden sun will shine for me!
As I wrote in a recent post, I visited San Francisco in the mid nineties. The city is unique. The bay. The Golden Gate Bridge (and the Bay Bridge). The TransAmerica building. Cable cars: those ultimate icons of the city. I fell in love.
And the ladies are quite presentable as well. Visions proudly offers you now the thirty-fifth Magic of Women gallery, the women of:
SAN FRANCISCO
Anyone can see the gallery – only Flickr members with safe search off can see the photos below. Join Flickr Free!
Shots too hip for the gallery: Alamo Square, Anza Vista, Castro, Chinatown, Cow Hollow, Dogpatch, Eureka Valley, and Haight Ashbury
It’s not the slightest bit Christmassy, but this just can’t wait. Its urgency is palpable. (go on, palpate it)
Spork, a humble re-edit of Zachary Quinto’s audio track from the recent Star Trek movie is nothing more than the greatest iteration of fan fiction in the Kirk/Spock slash canon, including the hitherto-untouchable Closer music video.
stolen from Movieline
His lower lip swollen, Spock looked up at him. It was difficult to tell, but it was possible that he was pleased.
Spock wasn’t finished. Abruptly he stood up. “Gngngfnferrrrnrrfgggg!” Kirk was more than slightly confused. “What?” Spock was forced to swallow.
Go on, read the whole thing. You know you want to.
The shoots I’ve scheduled the last two days have been cancelled. Yesterday because I started to feel under the weather, today, because the model did. I spend the evening quietly working through the enormous backlog I have a of photos, thinking about the people I’ve shot with, the shoots , all the things that have happened over the last year. I can see the work I did with models after meeting them, but not really knowing them and the difference that a year of becoming familiar has made.
So I’ll sit here today, drink hot cider and flip though the year in photographs. Pretty creatures, dirty moments, great adventures. Today will be my year in review, which in my case (and to your good fortune) included pretty women, so I’ll be posting moments from the year here nearly daily for you to enjoy…
In the depths of Montreal’s dark alleys and small communities lies a world that is just begging to be explored…a very perverted world that is.
She was young and talented, smart and sexy – the perfect lady to spend a rainy Wednesday night with. I found her on one of those free ads site. Her ad stated : “Ex-ballerina for a great massage”, that pretty much sealed the deal because after all I figured ballerina = wearing tights and you’ll figure out by reading this blog that tights and pantyhose are very much on my top list of things I like. Anyways, we settled for an evening massage and I met her at her loft that was only a few steps away from my own place.
She greeted me with a sweet smile and I caught sipping away at a beer while folding her laundry. Somehow catching her as such just made things a lot more realistic and sexy.
As I removed my clothes and got comfortable on the table, she watched over me, making me blushing just a bit. Once laid down, her hands made their way on every single muscle of my body. Up and down, soft and hard. She eventually removed everything she was wearing and that’s when I asked: “Would you mind slipping into something special?” She agreed. I pointed out that I had brought a pair of sheer pantyhose and she would find them in my coat pocket. She proceeded to putting the pantyhose on and although I couldn’t see much without my glasses, I could her slipping into the sheer hosiery, thus causing me to get even harder.
As the massage continued, I eventually slipped over and she got back on the table, letting her breasts slide along my chest, bringing her head next to mine, letting me smell her hair, feel her warm breath. I couldn’t have asked for a more relaxing moment…the feel of her warm body, the slippery hose closely touching my twitching cock…oh good times !
Eventually her hands slipped onto my cock. Lubed up, she started stroking me, slowly and softy- building up and tightening her grip around my penis, my hips moved with the rhythm of the strokes, my moans getting louder, my breath getting deeper…but nothing was happening…
It wasn’t her, really. Everything was there, believe me. I just have a hard time cumming sometimes…It’s practical but not so much when you’re being timed. And so I suggested a different way of ending; I got up beside the massage table, had her lie down, exposing me her beautiful arched hosed feet. Now, I’m not much of a foot person but I occasionally a nice clean pair of feet encased in nylon – and so under her watchful regard, I masturbated away holding her feet in one hand, stroking with the other.
Not long after I spunked my creamy white cum all over her feet, almost collapsing myself.
We joked a bit – i cleaned myself off, she removed the pantyhose and we parted.
It is an enchanted, perverted, topsy-turvy world, in which Monsieur le Capital and Madame la Terre do their ghost-walking as social characters and at the same time directly as mere things. (Economic Manuscripts of 1861-4, vol. 5)
Capitalist production first develops the conditions of the labour process on a large scale … but developing them as powers which dominate the individual worker and are alien to him. Thus capital becomes a very mysterious being. (Capital. vol 3)
PS. Revision of chapter 5 of In the Vale of Tears now done, from which these quotes come, as well as revision of chapter 6 of Criticism of Theology complete. Three to go and a ten year project will be done. Wonder if I’ll celebrate.
The early twentieth century writer and wiseass Dorothy Parker said, “men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.” But what did she know? She dead. Of course she also said, “women and elephants never forget,” which seems nearer the mark.
Contrary to Ms. Parker’s supposed wisdom, I find girls in eyewear sexy. If you do too, then put on your specs and get an eyeful:
