The Blonde, the Market, and the Drunken Blonde Mature content No. 35 Published July 16th, 2017 5:49am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Whilst standing in the bar conversing with others, a figure from our recent past glided by and then stopped to say hello. She was decked out in black yoga pants, a tank, and running shoes. Her wavy blonde hair flowed behind her to mid-back and her eyes lit up a bit upon seeing us. She immediately smiled and embraced us. The entire few moments were nearly crippling due to our past writing about her. She is quite pleasant and generally in good spirits when we see her, and this lends to the brightness of her big, beautiful eyes. We know from prior conversations that she stands five foot eight and that really makes her stand out in any room. Even in running shoes her height is difficult to miss. The woman is beautiful from head to toe and the room changes upon her entering. Her elongated arms and fingers are the stuff of dreams. Having a short conversation with this beauty is generally an exercise in distractions. We try to listen to her words but the tough part is avoiding staring at her eyes or cheekbones. We have complimented her in the past and told her she is a rarity but she simply tossed our words away and behaved as if she did not look any different than the average woman on the street. Right. We know through study exactly what she represents. The numbers are there -- waiting for us -- but we will not pursue someone so close. We cannot push in such a direction, and as ideally suited as she may be to our research, the woman's heart and mind come first. Conversation must be enough. Seeing her float across that room was something unexpected, and we mean to the nth degree. What a fucking sight. The tall one We passed her as she walked into the market and headed toward the back of the store. This caused us to follow along -- to a point -- and attempt to see more of her. And the chance paid off, in a manner of speaking. She walked like the Raven -- a gait which was symmetrical and flowing like nothing else. She was not necessarily in a hurry, but her long legs carried her at quite a pace. We observed as much as would could in such a short time... flowing hair, thin arms, tapered neck, and a narrow enough waist to send us into familiar territory. Yes, that of so many past occasions. The woman was gorgeous from any angle. We yearned to have the fucking QR cards in our hands but such was not the case. Still, we availed ourselves of the opportunity to gaze at her from a distance. We noticed that her wrists were extraordinarily thin and followed suit with slender fingers and sharp shoulders. At every step we dreamed of measuring and photographing. We felt the overwhelming need to be close enough to record all of her. When she stopped herself and stood still, her feet were paired and this served to show off the varying radii leading from the ankles to hips. She was structured like the Raven while standing, and this led us to the past outing in which we politely asked the Raven to stand similarly, and the resulting shape was enthralling. The memory of that day's activities coupled with the girl in the market brings us into familiar and uncomfortable territory. And thus we must record our reaction in real terms -- those which are most damaging. Like... Um... Maybe we will give up and take the knife to heart. Yes, that is where we fall most often when the need arises to explore this most dire of obsessions. We cannot help but head in such a negative direction. We have been in such a place so many times that the reaction has become second nature. We know it intimately. Walking through the market, displaying it all The woman was fairly tall -- likely five foot seven or so -- and strolled about the bar in three-inch heels. She wore all black from head to toe and her top was displaying some sort of push-up bra which proceeded to make her breasts very visible and quite prominent. The tight jacket which clung to her shoulders was wide open in front, and her mid-length hair brushed back and forth upon the collar as she moved around. Her pants were nearly seamless and wrapped her shape beautifully, leading our eyes to a magnificent thigh taper and very narrow ankles. As she walked from the bar to the alley, we could see that she was uncommon and perfectly suited to our needs. Her legs were the stuff of our dreams throughout the past few years. She was obviously wearing something underneath which had no rear, and the resulting appearance was so smooth that we almost could not look without that familiar pain. That woman was unreal to the point of making our evening extremely arduous. She had a very thin, almost pointed nose, midrange eyes, and a continuous smile which made it quite obvious that she was fairly drunk. Her behavior was entertaining and she appeared to be enjoying the evening with friends. No one paid attention to us -- hovering near one of the dim tables -- so the opportunity to view her became abundant. We remained for more than an hour after first sighting that beauty and knew all along that the situation would end very badly for us and drive the keyboard without limit. The more we watched her move, the further down we slid... As usual. Seeing such a form always sends us downhill and this occasion was no different. We felt the need to flee from the company of others and analyze alone while attempting to control the negative and damaging thought processes. She brought on thoughts of Julianne due to her long upper thighs and the manner in which her outer thigh transitioned to the lower hip. Julianne's images show the same type of defining radii in certain positions. Her thighs were confusing from some angles, and they appeared to be fuller from the side than from the front. This pushed her form into a territory of which we are unfamiliar while seeing a woman in person. Her legs were already long while she stood still, but then she would unquiet her body and wander (full of alcohol, to be sure), and this motion changed the shape of her thigh muscles and hip structure to appear as an extreme anomaly. Honestly, the sight was devastating to our already diminished ability to remain in public. The whole situation is fucked in every conceivable direction. The level of discomfort we felt while in her proximity pushed our already deviant minds toward taking an image for protracted study. Such an act would have been unacceptable (despite the one occasion in which we did so), and leaves us to believe that eventually we will fall far enough into a hole enabling us to socially withdraw completely and resulting in a mass of covert images. This is bad. Similar to Julianne's thigh numbers All three of the encounters are similar enough to situations from the past, and this means here we sit yet again... Spewing and drinking. Yes, there is no other way at this late date. We simply do not know which way to turn nor can we entertain any different direction. This is it. Lovely. Apparently, the development server is our only friend. Heh. Although we are trying to make a change, finally. While the trend of our isolated self-implosion continues here, other aspects of life are beginning to improve at a slow pace. We work steadily, relax at home, and venture out into the world on occasion, and the underlying feeling is that we should enjoying things more. The days of the past with their confusing data, flying projectiles, and weekends in the backyard sun are still at hand, and the memories are difficult to consider. Of course, we cannot change any of it and that is part of the problem, but the fact is there are still aspects of this life which bring us up (the advent of the mobile equipment being top of the list right now). The end of June and into the beginning of July have shown us the contrast between the near past and present. The comparison -- while ill-advised -- is tough to consider, but we are attempting to calculate where we can go rather than where we have been. This may be a first. The sightings do not help, although they are unrelated to the decisions which brought us to the ocean. We are certain that they will continue beyond our control, and rather than placing ourselves neatly into the Goddamned compartment to wallow and begin the coordination with our past, we need to maintain a separation between the ideas and the mistakes. We need to keep the downward aspects of the obsession to the side and hopefully nestle into the realization that we had a choice but ignored it. We dove in with both feet. That was not a mistake, and has absolutely nothing to do with the lousy decisions. Ten is gone, over, done. Eleven brought us to our knees but equally done. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen... whatever. They are all different and every one better than the previous, in a manner of speaking. So here we sit in front of the development server, just like other occasions, and the improvements are becoming clearer than in the past few months. Yes, we still fall when the times in which we lose control arrive and that is beginning to be ok. We know what to expect and now we try to understand that the separation can keep us going. The whole thing is a waffle. Yes, a waffle. What? Hmm... each issue and/or aspect of our existence sits quietly in the little squares and we can keep them isolated. The obsession has proven tough, the past is the same, but they are unrelated and can be dealt with one at a time. If that is not positive thinking, we do not know how else to describe it. One step at a time, right? Hopefully. Disparity we MUST record During the initial period of the discovery and the image which brought us to realize our need to understand, we could not deny the thrall of the model's unusual dimensions. From there... you know. The images began to pile up and the sum led us to press the site into our needed outlet. Cut to many years later, and the entries related to physical attractiveness now are the lion's share of this content. Of course this change occurred over a long period. And this newest of writings arrives with positivity and hope. We will continue to analyze the goddess-like shapes which bring us to unrelenting frustration, but at the same time we will consider any path which brings us out of the darkness and into something we badly need: a bright future. From this point on, we shall make it happen, and while that statement has come from a past dark place, this one represents our need to survive. And the last time those words were uttered, we were sitting next to the Raven at Val's. Wow. And... ciao." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
The Blonde, the Market, and the Drunken Blonde Mature content No. 35 Published July 16th, 2017 5:49am pdt read ( words) Past entries "Whilst standing in the bar conversing with others, a figure from our recent past glided by and then stopped to say hello. She was decked out in black yoga pants, a tank, and running shoes. Her wavy blonde hair flowed behind her to mid-back and her eyes lit up a bit upon seeing us. She immediately smiled and embraced us. The entire few moments were nearly crippling due to our past writing about her. She is quite pleasant and generally in good spirits when we see her, and this lends to the brightness of her big, beautiful eyes. We know from prior conversations that she stands five foot eight and that really makes her stand out in any room. Even in running shoes her height is difficult to miss. The woman is beautiful from head to toe and the room changes upon her entering. Her elongated arms and fingers are the stuff of dreams. Having a short conversation with this beauty is generally an exercise in distractions. We try to listen to her words but the tough part is avoiding staring at her eyes or cheekbones. We have complimented her in the past and told her she is a rarity but she simply tossed our words away and behaved as if she did not look any different than the average woman on the street. Right. We know through study exactly what she represents. The numbers are there -- waiting for us -- but we will not pursue someone so close. We cannot push in such a direction, and as ideally suited as she may be to our research, the woman's heart and mind come first. Conversation must be enough. Seeing her float across that room was something unexpected, and we mean to the nth degree. What a fucking sight. The tall one We passed her as she walked into the market and headed toward the back of the store. This caused us to follow along -- to a point -- and attempt to see more of her. And the chance paid off, in a manner of speaking. She walked like the Raven -- a gait which was symmetrical and flowing like nothing else. She was not necessarily in a hurry, but her long legs carried her at quite a pace. We observed as much as would could in such a short time... flowing hair, thin arms, tapered neck, and a narrow enough waist to send us into familiar territory. Yes, that of so many past occasions. The woman was gorgeous from any angle. We yearned to have the fucking QR cards in our hands but such was not the case. Still, we availed ourselves of the opportunity to gaze at her from a distance. We noticed that her wrists were extraordinarily thin and followed suit with slender fingers and sharp shoulders. At every step we dreamed of measuring and photographing. We felt the overwhelming need to be close enough to record all of her. When she stopped herself and stood still, her feet were paired and this served to show off the varying radii leading from the ankles to hips. She was structured like the Raven while standing, and this led us to the past outing in which we politely asked the Raven to stand similarly, and the resulting shape was enthralling. The memory of that day's activities coupled with the girl in the market brings us into familiar and uncomfortable territory. And thus we must record our reaction in real terms -- those which are most damaging. Like... Um... Maybe we will give up and take the knife to heart. Yes, that is where we fall most often when the need arises to explore this most dire of obsessions. We cannot help but head in such a negative direction. We have been in such a place so many times that the reaction has become second nature. We know it intimately. Walking through the market, displaying it all The woman was fairly tall -- likely five foot seven or so -- and strolled about the bar in three-inch heels. She wore all black from head to toe and her top was displaying some sort of push-up bra which proceeded to make her breasts very visible and quite prominent. The tight jacket which clung to her shoulders was wide open in front, and her mid-length hair brushed back and forth upon the collar as she moved around. Her pants were nearly seamless and wrapped her shape beautifully, leading our eyes to a magnificent thigh taper and very narrow ankles. As she walked from the bar to the alley, we could see that she was uncommon and perfectly suited to our needs. Her legs were the stuff of our dreams throughout the past few years. She was obviously wearing something underneath which had no rear, and the resulting appearance was so smooth that we almost could not look without that familiar pain. That woman was unreal to the point of making our evening extremely arduous. She had a very thin, almost pointed nose, midrange eyes, and a continuous smile which made it quite obvious that she was fairly drunk. Her behavior was entertaining and she appeared to be enjoying the evening with friends. No one paid attention to us -- hovering near one of the dim tables -- so the opportunity to view her became abundant. We remained for more than an hour after first sighting that beauty and knew all along that the situation would end very badly for us and drive the keyboard without limit. The more we watched her move, the further down we slid... As usual. Seeing such a form always sends us downhill and this occasion was no different. We felt the need to flee from the company of others and analyze alone while attempting to control the negative and damaging thought processes. She brought on thoughts of Julianne due to her long upper thighs and the manner in which her outer thigh transitioned to the lower hip. Julianne's images show the same type of defining radii in certain positions. Her thighs were confusing from some angles, and they appeared to be fuller from the side than from the front. This pushed her form into a territory of which we are unfamiliar while seeing a woman in person. Her legs were already long while she stood still, but then she would unquiet her body and wander (full of alcohol, to be sure), and this motion changed the shape of her thigh muscles and hip structure to appear as an extreme anomaly. Honestly, the sight was devastating to our already diminished ability to remain in public. The whole situation is fucked in every conceivable direction. The level of discomfort we felt while in her proximity pushed our already deviant minds toward taking an image for protracted study. Such an act would have been unacceptable (despite the one occasion in which we did so), and leaves us to believe that eventually we will fall far enough into a hole enabling us to socially withdraw completely and resulting in a mass of covert images. This is bad. Similar to Julianne's thigh numbers All three of the encounters are similar enough to situations from the past, and this means here we sit yet again... Spewing and drinking. Yes, there is no other way at this late date. We simply do not know which way to turn nor can we entertain any different direction. This is it. Lovely. Apparently, the development server is our only friend. Heh. Although we are trying to make a change, finally. While the trend of our isolated self-implosion continues here, other aspects of life are beginning to improve at a slow pace. We work steadily, relax at home, and venture out into the world on occasion, and the underlying feeling is that we should enjoying things more. The days of the past with their confusing data, flying projectiles, and weekends in the backyard sun are still at hand, and the memories are difficult to consider. Of course, we cannot change any of it and that is part of the problem, but the fact is there are still aspects of this life which bring us up (the advent of the mobile equipment being top of the list right now). The end of June and into the beginning of July have shown us the contrast between the near past and present. The comparison -- while ill-advised -- is tough to consider, but we are attempting to calculate where we can go rather than where we have been. This may be a first. The sightings do not help, although they are unrelated to the decisions which brought us to the ocean. We are certain that they will continue beyond our control, and rather than placing ourselves neatly into the Goddamned compartment to wallow and begin the coordination with our past, we need to maintain a separation between the ideas and the mistakes. We need to keep the downward aspects of the obsession to the side and hopefully nestle into the realization that we had a choice but ignored it. We dove in with both feet. That was not a mistake, and has absolutely nothing to do with the lousy decisions. Ten is gone, over, done. Eleven brought us to our knees but equally done. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen... whatever. They are all different and every one better than the previous, in a manner of speaking. So here we sit in front of the development server, just like other occasions, and the improvements are becoming clearer than in the past few months. Yes, we still fall when the times in which we lose control arrive and that is beginning to be ok. We know what to expect and now we try to understand that the separation can keep us going. The whole thing is a waffle. Yes, a waffle. What? Hmm... each issue and/or aspect of our existence sits quietly in the little squares and we can keep them isolated. The obsession has proven tough, the past is the same, but they are unrelated and can be dealt with one at a time. If that is not positive thinking, we do not know how else to describe it. One step at a time, right? Hopefully. Disparity we MUST record During the initial period of the discovery and the image which brought us to realize our need to understand, we could not deny the thrall of the model's unusual dimensions. From there... you know. The images began to pile up and the sum led us to press the site into our needed outlet. Cut to many years later, and the entries related to physical attractiveness now are the lion's share of this content. Of course this change occurred over a long period. And this newest of writings arrives with positivity and hope. We will continue to analyze the goddess-like shapes which bring us to unrelenting frustration, but at the same time we will consider any path which brings us out of the darkness and into something we badly need: a bright future. From this point on, we shall make it happen, and while that statement has come from a past dark place, this one represents our need to survive. And the last time those words were uttered, we were sitting next to the Raven at Val's. Wow. And... ciao."
The Blonde, the Market, and the Drunken Blonde
Mature content No. 35 Published July 16th, 2017 5:49am pdt read ( words) Past entries
"Whilst standing in the bar conversing with others, a figure from our recent past glided by and then stopped to say hello. She was decked out in black yoga pants, a tank, and running shoes. Her wavy blonde hair flowed behind her to mid-back and her eyes lit up a bit upon seeing us. She immediately smiled and embraced us. The entire few moments were nearly crippling due to our past writing about her. She is quite pleasant and generally in good spirits when we see her, and this lends to the brightness of her big, beautiful eyes. We know from prior conversations that she stands five foot eight and that really makes her stand out in any room. Even in running shoes her height is difficult to miss. The woman is beautiful from head to toe and the room changes upon her entering. Her elongated arms and fingers are the stuff of dreams. Having a short conversation with this beauty is generally an exercise in distractions. We try to listen to her words but the tough part is avoiding staring at her eyes or cheekbones. We have complimented her in the past and told her she is a rarity but she simply tossed our words away and behaved as if she did not look any different than the average woman on the street. Right. We know through study exactly what she represents. The numbers are there -- waiting for us -- but we will not pursue someone so close. We cannot push in such a direction, and as ideally suited as she may be to our research, the woman's heart and mind come first. Conversation must be enough. Seeing her float across that room was something unexpected, and we mean to the nth degree. What a fucking sight.
The tall one
We passed her as she walked into the market and headed toward the back of the store. This caused us to follow along -- to a point -- and attempt to see more of her. And the chance paid off, in a manner of speaking. She walked like the Raven -- a gait which was symmetrical and flowing like nothing else. She was not necessarily in a hurry, but her long legs carried her at quite a pace. We observed as much as would could in such a short time... flowing hair, thin arms, tapered neck, and a narrow enough waist to send us into familiar territory. Yes, that of so many past occasions. The woman was gorgeous from any angle. We yearned to have the fucking QR cards in our hands but such was not the case. Still, we availed ourselves of the opportunity to gaze at her from a distance. We noticed that her wrists were extraordinarily thin and followed suit with slender fingers and sharp shoulders. At every step we dreamed of measuring and photographing. We felt the overwhelming need to be close enough to record all of her. When she stopped herself and stood still, her feet were paired and this served to show off the varying radii leading from the ankles to hips. She was structured like the Raven while standing, and this led us to the past outing in which we politely asked the Raven to stand similarly, and the resulting shape was enthralling. The memory of that day's activities coupled with the girl in the market brings us into familiar and uncomfortable territory. And thus we must record our reaction in real terms -- those which are most damaging. Like... Um... Maybe we will give up and take the knife to heart. Yes, that is where we fall most often when the need arises to explore this most dire of obsessions. We cannot help but head in such a negative direction. We have been in such a place so many times that the reaction has become second nature. We know it intimately.
Walking through the market, displaying it all
The woman was fairly tall -- likely five foot seven or so -- and strolled about the bar in three-inch heels. She wore all black from head to toe and her top was displaying some sort of push-up bra which proceeded to make her breasts very visible and quite prominent. The tight jacket which clung to her shoulders was wide open in front, and her mid-length hair brushed back and forth upon the collar as she moved around. Her pants were nearly seamless and wrapped her shape beautifully, leading our eyes to a magnificent thigh taper and very narrow ankles. As she walked from the bar to the alley, we could see that she was uncommon and perfectly suited to our needs. Her legs were the stuff of our dreams throughout the past few years. She was obviously wearing something underneath which had no rear, and the resulting appearance was so smooth that we almost could not look without that familiar pain. That woman was unreal to the point of making our evening extremely arduous. She had a very thin, almost pointed nose, midrange eyes, and a continuous smile which made it quite obvious that she was fairly drunk. Her behavior was entertaining and she appeared to be enjoying the evening with friends. No one paid attention to us -- hovering near one of the dim tables -- so the opportunity to view her became abundant. We remained for more than an hour after first sighting that beauty and knew all along that the situation would end very badly for us and drive the keyboard without limit. The more we watched her move, the further down we slid... As usual. Seeing such a form always sends us downhill and this occasion was no different. We felt the need to flee from the company of others and analyze alone while attempting to control the negative and damaging thought processes. She brought on thoughts of Julianne due to her long upper thighs and the manner in which her outer thigh transitioned to the lower hip. Julianne's images show the same type of defining radii in certain positions. Her thighs were confusing from some angles, and they appeared to be fuller from the side than from the front. This pushed her form into a territory of which we are unfamiliar while seeing a woman in person. Her legs were already long while she stood still, but then she would unquiet her body and wander (full of alcohol, to be sure), and this motion changed the shape of her thigh muscles and hip structure to appear as an extreme anomaly. Honestly, the sight was devastating to our already diminished ability to remain in public. The whole situation is fucked in every conceivable direction. The level of discomfort we felt while in her proximity pushed our already deviant minds toward taking an image for protracted study. Such an act would have been unacceptable (despite the one occasion in which we did so), and leaves us to believe that eventually we will fall far enough into a hole enabling us to socially withdraw completely and resulting in a mass of covert images. This is bad.
Similar to Julianne's thigh numbers
All three of the encounters are similar enough to situations from the past, and this means here we sit yet again... Spewing and drinking. Yes, there is no other way at this late date. We simply do not know which way to turn nor can we entertain any different direction. This is it. Lovely. Apparently, the development server is our only friend. Heh. Although we are trying to make a change, finally. While the trend of our isolated self-implosion continues here, other aspects of life are beginning to improve at a slow pace. We work steadily, relax at home, and venture out into the world on occasion, and the underlying feeling is that we should enjoying things more. The days of the past with their confusing data, flying projectiles, and weekends in the backyard sun are still at hand, and the memories are difficult to consider. Of course, we cannot change any of it and that is part of the problem, but the fact is there are still aspects of this life which bring us up (the advent of the mobile equipment being top of the list right now). The end of June and into the beginning of July have shown us the contrast between the near past and present. The comparison -- while ill-advised -- is tough to consider, but we are attempting to calculate where we can go rather than where we have been. This may be a first. The sightings do not help, although they are unrelated to the decisions which brought us to the ocean. We are certain that they will continue beyond our control, and rather than placing ourselves neatly into the Goddamned compartment to wallow and begin the coordination with our past, we need to maintain a separation between the ideas and the mistakes. We need to keep the downward aspects of the obsession to the side and hopefully nestle into the realization that we had a choice but ignored it. We dove in with both feet. That was not a mistake, and has absolutely nothing to do with the lousy decisions. Ten is gone, over, done. Eleven brought us to our knees but equally done. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen... whatever. They are all different and every one better than the previous, in a manner of speaking. So here we sit in front of the development server, just like other occasions, and the improvements are becoming clearer than in the past few months. Yes, we still fall when the times in which we lose control arrive and that is beginning to be ok. We know what to expect and now we try to understand that the separation can keep us going. The whole thing is a waffle. Yes, a waffle. What? Hmm... each issue and/or aspect of our existence sits quietly in the little squares and we can keep them isolated. The obsession has proven tough, the past is the same, but they are unrelated and can be dealt with one at a time. If that is not positive thinking, we do not know how else to describe it. One step at a time, right? Hopefully.
Disparity we MUST record
During the initial period of the discovery and the image which brought us to realize our need to understand, we could not deny the thrall of the model's unusual dimensions. From there... you know. The images began to pile up and the sum led us to press the site into our needed outlet. Cut to many years later, and the entries related to physical attractiveness now are the lion's share of this content. Of course this change occurred over a long period. And this newest of writings arrives with positivity and hope. We will continue to analyze the goddess-like shapes which bring us to unrelenting frustration, but at the same time we will consider any path which brings us out of the darkness and into something we badly need: a bright future. From this point on, we shall make it happen, and while that statement has come from a past dark place, this one represents our need to survive. And the last time those words were uttered, we were sitting next to the Raven at Val's. Wow. And... ciao."
Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
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