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Po Box 23, Telferner, TX Chris Stines FNP. Sichaun Garden. Website Menu. Slick's Oil Change. Pit Stop Express. All Season's Fence. She moves her hand underneath you, squeezing your cheeks as her own cheeks tighten around you in an indulgent draw. Her mouth takes leisurely pace down the softening length as you come fast, the dregs of your spent passion drip onto her bottom lip; her eyes open as she looks up at you, tongue swiping across her mouth, like a cat lapping up precious drops of cream.
Swinging her legs off the sofa, she stands; slowly, her gaze unfaltering, she pulls the zipper down from her dress and lets it slip to the floor. As you reach for her she turns and walks down the hall; turning towards the bedroom, pausing long enough to slingshot her black lace bra into your lap. You shake your head as you follow to finish what you started. Articulating and finishing someone else's unfulfilled fantasy Memories of three-inch stilettos and stockinged feet kneeling before pale legs crowd in on her as tears threaten to overwhelm her resolve.
Moments of laughter, moments, of contentment, moments of passion. Her bruised flesh, tender to the touch, brought upon by exquisite pleasure.
Then there was the moment the pleasure turned to pain: her pain. Tears and confessions, a shattered spirit beginning to heal because of supposedly sincere words. Words that turned to ash as the excuses dripped from his lips on the day the tears refused to be held back.
Back against the closed door, she crumpled to the ground an anguished cry silenced as salt water streamed. Blond hair, blue eyes, hard muscle, sweet smile. Whispered conversation, bubbling laughter. A brush of legs, a lingering gaze; swift seduction is always easy, but it rarely ever feels right. She beckons, he follows; he touches, she yearns. The music gets louder, the lights get brighter; their bodies embrace as they take temptation to the dance floor. Fingers in his hair, hands around her waist, flesh moving in tandem to some secret melody inside their heads; mere moments on the dance floor turn banked lust into a raging tempest.
His hands lock her arms to her side as she twists around, blue eyes meeting brown; stockinged feet tiptoe off three-inch stilettos as her face lifts to his and his hands slip under her shirt. Their lips touch as the music and crowd fades; her body ignites as her spirit shatters once more. Not really a proper piece, but it needed to be written; comments always welcome : -BR. Luck O' the Irish. It started with a kiss. Walking through the crowded pub towards the main bar, needing a drink, the current boy toy struggling to follow in my wake, I collide with the brunette amazon as shaggy haired Garret, the skater-boy stoner catches up to me and grabs my hand.
Garrett bristles beside me ready to pick a fight as I stand in front blocking his way:. She leans forward, taking my face in her hand, and brushes her lips softly agains mine; surprised my lips part and she deepens the kiss, tongue sweeping in, teeth scraping.
I lean back and smile:. I grab his neck, one hand fisted in his hair, the other under his shirt; his hands grip my waist as I show him exactly how I know he likes it: ungentle, fast, desperate.
His obvious pleasure proves my point and I should have been content, but all I can think about is her. I decide to go home alone that night. On impulse I do a quick scan of the darkened room. Shaking my head at myself I turn to leave, when a hand takes mine:. She just smiles and traces a fingertip down my arm, goose bumps rising on my heated flesh. We leave the bar and catch a taxi; the silence in the backseat is almost unbearable.
We get off on a tree-lined street in front of a three-floor walk-up. She walks up to the building with confidence, not even fumbling for her keys. She holds the door open and I walk past her into the brightly lit hall:. She unlocks the door and flips the switch; the room is bathed in a soft glow as she leads me into the dimly lit room. I look at her for a minute and then I surprise myself by pulling her towards me, hands around her waist, face inches away. She closes the distance between us, mouth fused on to mine.
My arms crush her body against mine as she devours me with her lips; her hands tug at my jacket as she pulls me to the couch and onto her lap. Her mouth moves to my neck as I free myself from the cotton cage and my legs wrap around her torso. Somehow the sheer simplicity of her underwear is more erotic than any silk or lace.
She pulls me close and shifts so that I end up underneath her. She unbuttons my dress and pulls it down and off. Butterfly kisses trail down the line of my cheek, to my collarbone and down my stomach, fingers tracing light circles around my satin covered nipples. I squirm under her, nails digging into soft skin.
She reaches behind her and unclasps her bar. Perfect porcelain globes sway in front of me and I prop up onto my elbows, my tongue swirling against her pert pink nipples. Not to be outdone she slips her hand into my panties stroking my already wet slit.
She slips in one finger and I transfer my attention to her other nipple. Her finger and my tongue move in tandem, matching rhythms with ease. She slips another finger in and I switch from tongue to teeth as we both moan softly. In reply I suck hard with my mouth and pinch softly with my fingers; freeing one breast I look up at her:.
She flips me over and takes one breast into her mouth and the other into her hand. Slowly biting and squeezing, the opposing sensations cause my eyes to flutter close just for a moment to savour the feeling. Oswald or Mr. Hadel or whoever else he called himself- was the sole gunman in the Kennedy Assignation and I believe the evidence suggests, that there was no conspiracy. The last time I had such an epiphany, I was on a jury deciding the fate of a county sheriff Reading the Warren Commission Report was the moment in which I suddenly see and understand things in a new and very clear way.
The last time I had such an epiphany, I was on a jury deciding the fate of a county sheriff accused of purchasing stolen goods. Without having heard any evidence, I was certain the sheriff was guilty. After sitting thru a two day trial and critically evaluated all the pertinent evidence and I was forced to change my mind- not guilty. I entered the deliberation room assured that my fellow jurors shared my sentiment. I found out that I was in agreement with only three others.
After more than two hours of deliberation, the other three jurors changed their minds and I was the lone hold out. And I held out, ultimately to the exclusion of all other. The trial ended, and ultimately the state decided against a new trial and all charges were dropped. Having read the full Warren Commission Report, I now am convinced that what I believed all these years was wrong. I have more faith in the Warren Commission in telling me what happened than I have with anyone who has not read the evidence.
After reading the report, now, if he had been still be alive- I would go back and apologize to Senator Arlen Specter for what I said to him about his Magic Bullet Theory.
View 1 comment. Jan 20, Elisa rated it liked it Shelves: history. I had to read this in spite of so many comments that this is pure fiction. Since the Commission, with their limited access, concluded that Oswald was the killer and acted alone, more than half of this book is dedicated to Oswald, a frustrared and antisocial loser, whose apparent motivation was to go down in history any way he could. Jan 16, Neal Karlen rated it did not like it. The Warren Report!! The best novel I've read in years!
Still, what is left to be said about this marvelous work of fiction, which scholars and buffs have pored over since it was originally put between boards by the Government Printing Office in , in a first edition more expensive than "Catcher in the Rye. Like Doctorow's at best fiction I put Billy Bathgate first, Ragtime second the Warren Report is a hearty gumbo mixing real life with truthiness to unalloyed bullshit.
Perhaps it's time to it go? Like many authors whose first effort gets all the buzz, there never comes a second. Best line in he novel? A line backed up by the esteemed Gary Wills, in his book "Ruby" In dialogue as realistic as, well, reaism as Tarantino's "Pulp Fiction" or "Inglorious Basterds [sic], the scene is set.
Jack Ruby, who was actually pals with my Great Uncle Augie, guts-shoots Lee Harvey with great acumen, and is immediately wrestled to the ground in the basement parking lot of the Dallas Police Department All of the cops had long known Ruby,a a pathological glad-hander who liked having the thin blue line around his "Carousel" strip club.
For over a decade he'd given free admission and drinks to virtually eveny one on the force. And what dialogue! Ruby is wrestled to ground. The first words come from a Dallas police officer: Officer: "Jack, why'd you do it? Jack Ruby also happened to be a psychopath, the first lantzman I've ever met or seen on a home entertainment center burdened with that particular mental illness.
A shanda, that Jacob Rubinstein, a shanda! Sandy Koufax had already begun the greatest five year streak of any pitcher ever, and was throwing the fastest, hardest fastball that's ever been seen.
Jack, what you did wasn't necessary. But this novel certainly is: never before have I read prose that simultaneously showed truth is stanger than fiction, AND fiction is stranger than truth. A grand Balzacian cast of cuckoos and social disorder, as well as the first ever instance of a nation "binging" on tv shows, as they would on "The Wire" and now "Making a Murderer.
Kennedy is a fascinating look at the events of that fateful day in Dallas fifty years ago. As interesting as the report is in general, the added bonus separating this edition from any others is the new introduction by the late Senator Arlen Specter, who served as assistant counsel to the commission.
His lengthy look back at those days of the investigation is an unrepresented opportunity to read his thoughts and This edition of the Warren Commission's Report on the assassination of John F. His lengthy look back at those days of the investigation is an unrepresented opportunity to read his thoughts and careful analysis of the commission, those involved, the investigation itself and, most important, the ultimate findings of the commission and the report.
Whatever one's feelings are about the murder of our 35th President, any research into that moment in our history has to start with this Official Report - and that research is made all the easier to read and more informative, with this nicely produced, well formatted e-book edition and its excellent introduction by Senator Specter. Having studied almost everyone's take on the JFK assassination, it was back to the very beginning to peruse Earl Warren's version of events.
Perversely, I have quite enjoyed the experience. Not that I have any intention of following this up by the accumulation of the twenty six volumes. The original 'Official Report', which Chief Warren and his six fellow committee members delivered to President Johnson in took up almost nine hundred pages.
My version, published by Important Books in , runs to just under four hundred pages, being stripped of the original Commission Exhibits and Notes. With a Foreword and eight chapters, this doughty band of legal beagles pronounced this 'case closed' in true 'Posneresque' style. I have managed to refrain from scribbling in the margins and have kept my copy in it's pristine condition, but only just.
First I want to explain, a book written about the death of an amazing man will never get a 5. That being said, it was an very non enlightening book. I was flabbergasted with the applied science. I am not sure how others feel, I have a tendency to not look at other reviews when I do one, but for myself, the book was amusing.
Dec 27, John rated it really liked it. The truth Have any conspiracy theorists actually read this? So much detail but not in the least bit tedious. He did it! Aug 15, Donald Trump Parody rated it did not like it.
Feb 04, Adelaide rated it liked it. I feel like The Warren Report gets a horrible reputation. It's a wonderful and iconic testament to the American government's lack of creativity. It's certainly not their first or last foray into the world of fiction, but by far their most notorious and far reaching.
Mar 10, Elizabeth Barrera rated it did not like it. A fantastic work of fiction by the least creative political minds of the 20th century. Nov 01, John rated it liked it. Once I did there was talk of an Assassination and it seemed odd but my mind easily conjured up perhaps a discussion about Abraham Lincoln. Suddenly in a few startling seconds those thoughts were dashed as reporters relayed the shocking news of an Assassination in Dealey Plaza in Dallas , Texas of President John F.