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Stained Glass – Undertaking Suggestions

Stained glass has been with us for much more than a thousand a long time. Men and women are fascinated by the attractiveness of light-weight which passes through the artwork and the visible radiation of light-weight into a place. Most persons imagine of the conventional cathedral and church home windows.

Stained glass artwork was created to aid converse tales to the masses of persons who could not examine. Books and other published is effective have been limited for the couple of and have been not readily available to the standard public. The artists assembled parts of glass paintings which have been held collectively with direct to explain to spiritual tales or to depict non secular beings.

These days, stained glass kits are readily available and there are several guides about this matter. As an artist and craftsman you have the choice of using picked elements for little or significant jobs dependent on your talent amount and device alternatives.

There are several jobs which can be carried out with stained glass. Charges will be dependent on your assortment.

Stained Glass Undertaking Concepts:

    1. Glass doors

 

    1. Inside décor of residences and places of work to compliment with light-weight, artwork, and coloration

 

    1. Exterior home windows to permit sunlight to stream through artwork highlighting a place with light-weight, temper, and energy..

 

    1. Dwelling decor – lamps, mirrors, panels, place dividers, and containers

 

    1. Home furniture

 

    1. Jewelry

 

    1. Glassware and dinnerware

 

    1. Inside and exterior containers

 

    1. Wall hangings and other artwork parts

Hand tools and electrical tools may perhaps be employed. Much more often than not hand tools are most often employed. If you make a decision that this hobby may perhaps grow to be a business enterprise then electrical tools would be important to pace production.

There are some hazards functioning with glass and if you want to stay away from this medium other elements may perhaps be substituted.

    1. Acrylic panels: Acquire a distinct acrylic sheet and transparent paints made for stained glass application. On completion of this job its visual appeal will be extremely identical to glass. It will insert attractiveness to the household inside, is fewer high priced, will save time, and safer than true glass. Other tools may perhaps be important dependent on the sort and sizing of the job.

 

    1. Plexiglas: is also an acrylic but is manufactured more powerful and will price much more than typical acrylic but it has a more time lifetime than true glass and not as high priced.

 

    1. Glass paint and faux major: paints which can be employed are enamel and formulated acrylic tints made for glass. Direct trimming is employed in conventional do the job. Fake major is pretend and readily available as a liquid or paste.

 

    1. Resin: Liquid acrylic normally employed for little jobs and jewelry.

 

    1. Colored tissue paper

 

    1. Melted pony beads

 

    1. Contact paper

 

The Most Strong World in Vedic Astrology

Vedic Astrology is a component of Astronomy. It starts the place Astronomy ends. The planets that revolve around the sun develop a grave effect on the life of persons on the earth as effectively.

For knowing an individual’s horoscope, the nine zodiac planets kind the single most significant standards. But it depends majorly on the place these planets are placed in relation to each other.

Some of the pretty primary matters in life which are defined by planets are

    • Pleasure in an individual’s married life

 

    • How a lot of children would a couple have

 

    • What is the vocation that a individual would pursue

Alternately, each of the planets also symbolizes some pretty significant matters in life.

Just as an instance, Venus planet in astrology is the symbol of really like and when effectively placed, it brings about really like and happiness in a person’s life. In the very same way, if the planet Venus is affiliated with malefic planets, or if it is placed in a property which is not profitable, some difficulties in one’s really like life are probably.

Let us run through some of the pretty primary strategies of figuring out planetary strength. These are by no usually means complete but continue to would give us a wonderful diploma of notion about how a certain planet would impact us positively or negatively.

A host of other factors also occur into perform and these would involve component and conjunction of other planets, and also the certain Nakshatra whereby the planet is placed.

But the next would be the primary strategies of accessing the strength of a planet.

BENEFIC AND MALEFIC PLANETS

In a pretty normal way, Moon, Venus, Jupiter and Mercury are thought of benefic planets

Though Sunlight, Mars, Saturn, Rahu, and Ketu are thought of as malefic planets

But each planet is possessed with its possess attributes and getting benefic and malefic has a great deal to do with the placement of the planet in one’s horoscope.

FAVORABLE AND UNFAVORABLE Residences

In Vedic Astrology, residences far too are divided as favorable and unfavorable.

Planets placed in residences 1, two, 4, 5, 7, nine, and 10 are thought of favorable.

Equally, planets placed in residences 6, 8, twelve are thought of malefic.

The nearness of the planets, the normal character of the planet and the placement of the planet in a certain Dwelling of your Start Chart, collectively constitute to its strength and weakness. Therefore the planets on their possess are not powerful or weak and for that make a difference we can’t issue a single planet to be the strongest amid all. If a certain planet is placed in the proper property, it may possibly boost your life and convey all the riches, fame, glory and the matters that indicate the most to you, making it a more robust planet for you. In the very same way, it is”Just one for Just about every”.

We will now define a couple of characteristic attributes of all the planets that are thought of when researching Astrology. The planets have a certain distinct attributes of their possess, having said that, when it is in conjunction with other planets it may possibly also get affected with the other planets. The placement of the planets is as a result of grave worth.

Sunlight: Sunlight is the atma (soul) of all planet and individuals as effectively. It is the King of all planets and as a result possesses a variety of optimistic attributes such as getting a fatherly figure, has huge strength, holds self-regard, is just, and authoritative.

What the planet Sunlight overlooks is one’s bodily well being and vitality. So how an particular person jobs himself on to the environment is really dependent on the planet sun.

When Sunlight is powerful in one’s horoscope, the particular person is pretty energetic, and Sunlight will make the particular person a centre of attraction.

But is the Sunlight is weak in an individual’s horoscope, the constitution could be weak and the individual runs the threat of getting ego centric.

Moon: Moon is connected to the intellect. It functions as the mom of all, and imparts really like, peace of intellect, positivity and thoughts. Moon is revenue. It also signifies h2o and greenery. It is closest to the planet earth and as a result affects us a great deal.

The planet moon is the ruler of one’s seems and thoughts. With the moon properly placed, the particular person is delighted, and the moon brings about a bigger diploma of social and bodily attractiveness.

This in change brings about success in life, as a delighted individual would properly integrate with other people.

But this is in contrast with a moon which is not placed properly, and could result in nervousness or despair, or even hardship.

Mercury: Mercury depicts Intelligence. Folks with a powerful placement of Mercury in their Start Chart are business minded, have better greedy energy, can believe logically, very good in math, are agile and alert. It also signifies speech and other business connected to it.

Mercury is the swiftest planet in the photo voltaic method. It regulations our intelligence and also influences our capability to connect.

With Mercury properly placed, an particular person is possessed with large intelligence. Mercury also provides dexterity due to the fact Mercury regulations one’s palms as effectively.

Some of the attributes of persons who have the planet mercury properly placed involve an aptitude talking, creating and training.

Nevertheless, if the planet mercury is weak or afflicted, this would negatively impact an individual’s capabilities in these spots. This may possibly even translate to a severe talking design and style at situations.

Venus: Venus depicts really like connection and business. It enhances your sex life, way of life, and convey alongside revenue and prosperity of all variety.

Though Venus is the planet of really like, it also signifies gals in normal. Venus symbolizes splendor artwork and socializing, and the planet in essence stands for all very good matters in life.

When Venus is powerful in one’s horoscope, it augurs optimistic for one’s relationship as the couple finds contentedness in their life and also produce an appreciation for arts.

But if the planet Venus in one’s horoscope is debilitated, it could guide some form of disharmony in associations. Just one may possibly even face a issue in relating with other people.

Mars: Mars depicts courage, bravely, complex and scientific strength and self confidence. Folks with a powerful Mars are wonderful soldiers, policemen, engineers, medical doctors and connected professions affiliated with it. It also signifies land and genuine estate.

The planet Mars is the planet of atheletes. It signifies action. And with the planet Mars, we could occur to know about how a lot initiative does an particular person essentially have to convey about modifications in their life.

When Mars is powerful, the particular person is possessed with an capability to outlast his competitors. He is really possessed with the capability to get up and go.

But when Mars is afflicted, the individual may possibly stop up getting the kind of an particular person who fights far too a lot.

Jupiter: Jupiter is known as Expert – the instructor. Folks affected by Jupiter are spiritually smart and knowledgeable. Jupiter supports really like, connection, and travel. It depicts knowledge and education and learning of the individual. Just one is also inclined in direction of performing effectively to mankind.

Jupiter is a wonderful beneficiary, and it symbolizes knowledge, religion and enlargement.

The planet Jupiter also tells us about how a lot prosperity would a individual earn in his life time.

With a powerful Jupiter in his birthchart, the individual is probably to be a effectively educated individual who is effectively to do.

Often when the Jupiter is afflicted, material prosperity fails to observe.

Saturn: Shani is a hermit and depicts time aged age, poverty and life. It is a judgmental planet, and the individual with a powerful Shani can do very good in politics, business, and other such sectors that requires your self-self confidence. Just one with a powerful Shani is hardworking, self-empowered and productive in life.

Saturn is the planet of reduction, but yet assists us fully grasp our limitations. It assists us recognize the matters whereby we can’t convey about a modify.

Saturn is the ruler of self-discipline and tough operate. It is about duty, longevity and reduction that Saturn teaches us.

When a single is blessed with a powerful Saturn in his birthchart, you could expect the particular person to be fully commited, and with a commitment to regulations and traditions.

Nevertheless an afflicted Saturn could make a single undisciplined, or even irresponsible.

Uranus: Uranus has all the attributes of Mercury, having said that, it is a lot far more forceful or serious. We can term it as the improved version of Mercury. It denotes serious knowledge and intelligence, or serious modifications (drastic) that a single can practical experience. It also denotes modern technology, hypnotism and black magic.

Uranus transpires to be a mysterious planet, and signifies a phenomenon which is unpredictable or strange. When Uranus is well known in an individual’s start chart, he pays a deep regard to his originality and liberty.

With the Uranus favorable, the intellect is sharp and the individual is possessed with a want to be unconventional.

Neptune: Neptune is the improved version of Venus. It denotes instinct, splendor and social life. It is also known for producing confusion in the property it is placed in.

Neptune, in a lot of senses could be observed as the inverse of the planet Saturn, which is staunch and impassive. The planet is an idealist, but could stop up getting an escapist at situations.

If the planet Neptune is balanced, the particular person is renowned for his splendor or community image. However a Neptune not effectively placed could convey the individual nearer to illusions in life. He or she may possibly even produce difficulties with medications or alcoholic beverages.

Pluto: Pluto performs on a mass scale. Just one may possibly come across large matters taking place to them (both very good or terrible). It is a just lately found planet. It relates to mass, social and religious life, and political activities.

The planet Pluto is known to amplify the outcome of whatever planet it touches. Though Pluto is affiliated with energy, it does so in a way which is overall or compulsive.

It is also known that the planet Pluto operates beneath the floor.

When Pluto is effectively placed, a single exercises increased energy above other people and enjoys increased prosperity.

But a terribly aspected Pluto can result in misery.

Rahu: Rahu depicts the ascending north node and affects the moon the most amid the planets. It convey identify and fame, sudden modifications, international travels to identify a couple of. It also aids in therapeutic illnesses.

Rahu is the astronomical issue, the place the orbital path of the Sunlight intersects with the higher orbital path of the moon.

In normal, the planet Rahu is thought of to be malefic.Nevertheless when affiliated with benefic planets, the planet Rahu brings about success, and wonderful riches as effectively. It could even pave way for refined arts or scientific discoveries.

But when Rahu is afflicted, it could result in malefic consequences as effectively. This is vastly dependent on the planet it is most effectively related to.

Ketu: Ketu depicts the descending south node and affects the sun the most. It is worshipped for spirituality and also performs in favor of modifying activities, incidents and breaking associations.

Ketu, just opposite to the planet Rahu is the issue the place in the orbit of the Sunlight intersects with the decreased orbital path of the moon.

Just like the planet Rahu, Ketu far too is thought of to be malefic. But it could present a pretty optimistic strengthen to an individual’s horoscope when it combines with favorable planetary configurations.

Planet Ketu is possessed with abilities to convey persons to the above worldly realms

All zodiac planets have their possess significance in astrology and can choose a individual to Rags or to Riches dependent on their placements, their conjunction, the Zodiac Symptoms and Nakshatras. However, a single may possibly also lessen the sick consequences of the planets to a certain extent by implements certain solutions. Just one may possibly appease the ruling deity and surrender and may possibly attain really like, well being, prosperity, prosperity, abundance, and all matters that indicate a great deal to you.

What Could possibly Potentially Go Improper? 5 Rational Fears Nowadays

Have you ever thought of, what may well quite possibly, go mistaken, since of the steps, or failure to act, of our general public officials? The reality of general public leadership, is, while, we normally blame and complain, about what, these leaders, do, the true blame, need to go, to the American citizens, and its willingness, to consider, the vacant guarantees, and rhetoric, instead than demanding the truth, and applicable, sustainable, feasible solutions! In these days, of so several, wrong information, 50 % – truths, and populist, overly – simplistic rhetoric, our country dangers, losing its identify, and its location, in the environment, for representing the best, democratic, liberty, and independence – based, choices/ possibilities. With that in intellect, this report will briefly try to look at, evaluation and go over, five rational fears, we all need to have, since of the current political natural environment.

1. Why we elect, who we elect? The character of political leaders: Examine, why we vote, for particular candidates? History displays us, most voters elect and pick out, people, based on their populist rhetoric, and guarantees, instead than types, who make guarantees, which feed, their particular agenda, biases, and prejudices! We need to look at, and analyze, the important character of an particular person, their motives and motivations, and the most effective way, our country, need to proceed!

2. Atmosphere: Although the rest of the environment, at minimum, acknowledges, the reality of local weather improve, and how people have an impact on our natural environment, President Trump decided, to have the United States, take out itself, from the Paris Accords (one of the only nations, to do so). He described, this go, by diminishing the prevailing viewpoint of the large majority of specialists, and utilizing, reducing laws, as one of the justifications. Sad to say, nevertheless, as President Macron, of France, recently stated, the environment, does not have, a Planet B, since, the long run and sustainability of our environment, is at – possibility, since of the failure to make feasible, sustainable solutions/ choices, now!

three. Electrical power (oil and gas, etcetera): President Trump’s final decision to reverse the gasoline economy specifications, for vehicles, explaining it, in phrases of financial choices, etcetera, unless of course/ right until, we focus on reducing our dependence of fossil fuels, our natural environment, electrical power – independence, etcetera, is, at – possibility! Shouldn’t The us be the chief, instead than trailing, most of the rest, of the made nations, of the environment?

four. Social Coverage: Why does it appear, Donald Trump, equates, producing The us good, again, to reducing, our emphasis, on social justice, freedoms and liberties, we have emphasised, and fought for, for generations? The environment has been emphasizing increasing this emphasis, but we have been going in the reverse course! What makes The us, good, unless of course/ right until, we focus on what has, historically, manufactured us, so?

five. High-quality of existence (liberty and independence): For generations, the rest of the environment, has seemed, at the United States, to be a chief, in the fight for liberty and independence! We have to have to re – focus on this essential eyesight!

What may well quite possibly, go mistaken, if we proceed, as we have been, in these previous sixteen months, or so? Long term generations will glimpse back, and how, will we make clear this?

How To Be A lot more Beautiful And What Will make A Woman

It really is not the butter-pecan ice product which is holding you back from what can make a serious woman, you know. How to be additional attractive is in solving a Particular (and I am going to explain to you how in a moment), that clears the way for miraculous modify and growth.

How to glimpse attractive and getting the serious, luminous you starts listed here (see and consider a peek!).

If you’ve got ever wanted to get unstuck from a bad area in your existence, this is the kind of compassionate, insightful, inspirational support you have to have for what can make a woman.

The Real challenges that keep you back are NOT about also considerably foodstuff (even sweets and junk foodstuff!), your wrinkles, your bra dimension, or your money predicament.

You are likely to have to quit functioning from these self-projected interior creatures in the dim, and start out staring them straight in the eyes and explain to them WHO IS Truly IN Management.

Hold in brain as you contemplate my message in this write-up what the Course in Miracles states about letting go of self-projected worry:.

” Kids perceive terrifying ghosts and monsters and dragons, and they are terrified. If they question another person they have confidence in for the which means of what they perceive, and are ready to let their have interpretations go in favor of reality, their worry goes with them.”.

How do you explore what can make a woman?

Solve the Appropriate difficulty:

– Crippling worry needs to turn out to be vibrant optimism and how to glimpse attractive.

– Disappointment will have to transform into knowledge and a desirable woman.

– Sloppy behavior turn out to be correct interior-commitment.

– Doubts dissolve away and you Finally see your ambitions commence to be accomplished!

If you’ve got ever felt neglected, unworthy, or disposable, and scared of existence, you can master how to transform that mistaken-minded, moi-centered considering all around into correct-minded, spirited feelings and actions for what appeals to adult males to females.

The Training course in Miracles further states, “When a youngster is aided to translate her ‘ghost’ into a curtain, her ‘monster’ into a shadow, and her ‘dragon’ into a aspiration she is no extended scared, and laughs happily at her have worry.”.

You have to have a community of smart, loving females with comparable ambitions and struggles who are now desirable females.

There is just no cause to NOT consider a glimpse at what can make a woman!

Earlier I held a dialogue on what is it about the Gals Males Adore: and is there a solution to maintaining your person from leaving?

It could be just the breakthrough your existence needs correct now!

It can be amazingly difficult to find a safe, Non-public area the place you can overtly specific your fears, self-question, and wants devoid of emotion judged or shamed.

You can find other folks who will enthusiastically present the guidance you have to have to completely transform into the self-confident, acquired-it-together, radiant and attractive woman you are meant to be.

Discover your THUMBS-UP tribe of females and mentors buddies, since you totally do are entitled to this!

If you are severe about seeking self-growth and personal transformation as a woman, really don’t attempt to do it all by your self.

You have to have men and women who can correctly manual, recommend and suggest and mentor you.

You will never believe what is accessible on the net now, but I assure you it is totally new, new, and revolutionary.

Just about everywhere you go, there usually seems to be some terrible critic or harmful particular person waiting to tear you down and explain to you that you’re no great.

Well is just not it time that ample is ample?

Yes, I imply it is up to you from within your self to go from “a unhappy and confused mess” to “splendidly wonderful” all by way of you.

(Once again, I will have to incorporate there lots of alternatives and enlightening material on the net for a clearer knowledge of what is actually likely on now with interactions and adult males, and what adult males enjoy about females.)

To the attractive you!

When Should really You Get started a Loved ones?

Many females marvel when it will be the finest time to get started a relatives. The fact is, you truly are unable to just decide on an age and establish that it is the finest age. This is just basically not the circumstance. There are a lot of diverse components that go into determining when it will be the finest time to get started having small children. This is a thing that will vary from just one lady to one more. Guaranteed, there are suitable ages, but none of them are going to be exact for all people out there. This is since so a lot of persons have diverse tips of what will make them ready to be a parent. These are all significant and legitimate items to contemplate.

There are a lot of diverse arguments that say that persons really should get started having small children in their early adulthoodlet’s say all over the twenties. Very well, the persons that say this do have legitimate factors, but it is basically not going to give you a textbook reply to the problem. Most persons that say that beginning a relatives at this age is a great idea will give reasons these types of as the point that they will be younger and be in a position to retain up with the small children. They also come to feel that they will have a great deal a lot more vitality and will be in a position to handle working with a newborn toddler. Then you also contemplate that by the time they are in their late teenagers and early twenties, you will even now have some youth left and be in a position to are living a minor. These are all items that persons contemplate when having small children in their twenties.

Then you have the persons that feel that the thirties are the finest many years to get started a relatives. For these persons, they also have a legitimate argument on their palms. They say that by the time they are in their thirties they will be a lot more secured in their professions and be superior in a position to support the relatives monetarily. They also come to feel that they will have a lot more worldly understanding and be in a position to superior increase the small children. Subsequent the understanding is endurance, which is obtained in time. These are all great reasons that they opt for to hold out until eventually they are in their thirties.

Very well, then you have to appear at it from an total standpoint as nicely as a scientific standpoint. For adult males, it does not truly matter scientifically. They carry on to be in a position to reproduce far into their more mature lifetime. This is just a point of lifetime and mother nature, and how the human entire body performs. For females, it is a diverse story. Gals do have a organic clock that is ticking. This is since they only have a specific range of eggs in their ovaries. When these are gone, then her likelihood of staying in a position to get pregnant and have a toddler will be more than. This is not a thing that you really should truly fear about that a lot however. Stressing more than a thing that does not typically transpire until eventually mid forties to early fifties is just not useful. By this time, most females would not dream of beginning a relatives. They are at this stage looking to settle down and get pleasure from lifetime – regardless of whether they are alone or with a spouse.

When you appear at the total factors of see, you will will need to just contemplate your person circumstance. Do you see by yourself ready and in a position to have a toddler? Are you ready to be up at night with a newborn? Are you responsible? Do you have a spouse that will assist you with the toddler? Do you come to feel that you will will need just one if you do not? All of these are answers that persons could only be in a position to reply for by themselves. It is for this cause that no just one can give you a definitive reply on when the finest time to get started a relatives is.

As you can see – pinpointing when to get started a relatives is completely up to you and your husband or wife, or spouse. Allowing someone else decide for you, or acquiring an invalid textbook reply is basically not useful. Acquire the time to make confident that you are ready before you get started in the toddler earning process.

Who Is A True Feminist?

One of the current wars where the minority is trying to impose their belief and conviction on the majority through bullying is the issue of Feminism. The self acclaimed feminists flaunt the facts-or lack thereof-in your face and dare you to disagree with them and face attacks. Most times, as Jonathan Swift the humorist is would say, the difference in opinion is usually over things indifferent. But Feminism goes beyond their narrow prejudices. It shall be my endeavor in this article to throw a little light on the role of the female in all parts of creation, and particularly the Human female in the Physical world.

Once again I am constrained to go back to the point of big bang. At this height were the two species of spirit-male and female-separated, for in the Divine realm there is no male or female for they are sexless. Hence the Archangels, for example, are sexless by virtue of the fact that they are found in the Divine realm. But there exist a prototype of womanhood even in the Divine realm, and She and those that dwell in the Garden of Virtues, part of her kingdom, possess feminine attributes.

At the summit of creation, and every descending plane thereof, the woman appears before the man as a necessary bridge. This is done right up to the physical world. Because of the higher nature of the woman soul, they thus become bridges through which new souls are incarnated on earth. This is because they are half a step above the man, and thus can pass as a transmitting channel to new offspring. Being finer in intuition and more delicate therefore, it is imperative that Man was incarnated first on earth as rougher and coarser copy of humanity. It is only after the incarnation and birth of man through highly evolved Apes (see my article Evolution vs Creation) that the woman followed. This was captured allegorically in the Biblical account of how man was created first, and woman created from his ribs. Thus in the link upwards, woman has a stronger connection with the beyond. Her activity is much more soft and spiritually higher than that of Man. What she lost in physical strength she makes up in spiritual strength.

It is therefore ridiculous for Women to seek equality with men-akin to a man insisting he is equal to his gate-man.

Unfortunately that is how it is today on earth. Women want to do coarser jobs on earth because according to them, what a man can do, a woman can do better. Even in practical terms it is impossible, for no woman can urinate across a gutter, and, despite the struggles of science, no man can get pregnant and have the child, unless he is a distorted soul, that is, he is a female soul in a male body. (See my articles on abortion, and the gay question).

In the new time such abnormalities will never be permitted to exist, and women will respect their role in creation, knowing their place is in the home and hearth.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/9876646

Our Five (Maybe Six) Main Senses

We have five or six main senses, so I’m told. I’ll skip some that one might think of like ‘common sense’ which your parents tried to instill in you. Or maybe ‘sense of time’ which goes much faster when you’re having fun for some reason. There’s ‘sense of pain’ which can really hurt on your body or just in your heart. And then, ‘sense of direction’ which is more irrelevant in these days of gps units. There are a lot more, but I’ll cover them in a later article.

Some are easy to imagine and understand real easily. Like seeing, for instance. It’s easy to understand seeing. We use our eyes in this case, and we get certain perceptions from the size, color, and shape of those images. Seeing can be motivational, too. Whenever I see a fully chromed out bike, I want to get out on mine on the highway and go fast enough to get bugs in my teeth. But then what about seeing with our eyes closed? Are we seeing when our eyes are closed and we can imagine what it is there in front of us? Or what if we know someone is behind us and we know what they look like even though they aren’t in our direct vision? How do we know what size of person is there? If the thought of what they look like is present, and it’s just in our mind that we know something, then are we seeing with our brain, or our heart, or our imagination? Is that still seeing? I wonder. Sometimes we see things that make us cry even when they’re not really right there in view. Like when someone talks about the bravery or tragedy they have been involved in. Or imagining the sacrifice of our servicemen in some current foreign war. I cry when I think about that.

The next sense might be our hearing. Sometimes we can’t hear something that happened. If we didn’t hear it, was there still a sound? If the sound was in some range that our ears don’t pick up, did we hear it but not process it in our brain as a sound? Sound is a mechanical vibration in the air. How can vibrations in the air be recognized as anything but noise? And then they would just be a sound of soft or some degree of loud. When I’m driving along in traffic sometimes, some nice person might be playing his rap music at about 140 decibels and have all his windows open. When my whole car is shaking, is it hearing the music and trying to vibrate in time with the beat, or what? What if someone comes up behind and you can hear the rustle of their clothing, or striking of leather shoe on ground. That makes a wave length of some kind-so maybe different items make different wave lengths of noise. How do we know what it is if we’ve never heard that sound before? How does the frog in the desert know the sound of water? Very strange.

Tasting would be next. We can taste with our tongues, right? Can we taste with anything else? How about the rest of our mouth? Suppose you take a big gulp of a vanilla shake you got at the diner in one of those big silver tumblers they put under the mixing machine. Now if you swallow it right down, you get throat freeze and you can’t breathe, let alone taste anything. But if you slosh it around in your mouth, you can taste if fully and the vanilla flavor envelopes your whole body and makes you like the sensation so much you pour a little of your neighbor’s stash from their tumbler into yours when they’re not looking. You can do that by pointing out one of the posters on a wall to the right rear and keep talking about certain features to keep their head turned long enough to get away with it. So we’ve established that taste buds are throughout one’s mouth. Oh, I went to a party once where we were comparing the taste of different beers. We would go down the line and sample some of each beer. Some fools would spit theirs out into a bucket after tasting it, but that sounds stupid to any college student, so I swallowed mine. For some reason, the host had put all the worst tasting ones at the end of the line. All of them tasted pretty great. Which goes to show how a long line of something can enhance receptive taste buds.

What’s next, touching? Feeling? One or the other. Are they the same thing? I know if my favorite body of the opposite sex is sitting next to me, and she is touching me slightly, I have a certain kind of feeling. Most of the time we use our fingers to touch. If you’re playing touch football, it’s okay to touch the opponent with any part of your hand or body; so then that must mean that our whole body is a touch zone. Sort of like Auto Zone except you can’t get your battery charged the same way. When in the fall and you’re out in the yard after raking up all the leaves, you can stand under any tree and another leaf will fall down on you. This will happen for several weeks as fall lasts for that whole period of time. And when that leaf falls on you, you can feel it as it “touched” the skin on your head. On my head anyway since there isn’t much hair between the leaf and my scalp. Since the leaf is inanimate, and we’re not talking about inanimation at this time, then you could say you touched, or felt, the leaf. So we know that leaf touching is a sense if you don’t have much hair on your head. Come to think of it, people do say things about having sense in one’s head, but I digress. I know you can touch snow and your hand will feel cold; or you can have a cold and your mom will give you chicken soup and your nose will run and your cold will feel better. I’m not sure what that last part means, but it works.

I’m not sure what the next one is, oh, wait, maybe it’s smelling. Yes, smelling. Some of us smell more than others. As a former elementary school teacher, I can tell you that kids smell pretty bad sometimes. We often send them out to run around on the playground when it’s sunny and warm and they are wearing their classroom clothes. Many of them wear the same clothes all week, too. Some things smell pretty good. Chocolate comes to mind, as does baking zucchini bread. Dirty oil that’s just come out of your pickup’s transmission and smells burnt does not smell good. Sometimes the sense of smell gets mixed up with taste. Milk that’s been too warm and smells funny will always taste sour. Women who’ve just taken a shower but not put on any perfume or anything smell really good. Almost as good as chocolate. Their hair, too. Men don’t like all the add-on smells as much as clean. They like to breathe in the smell of a woman.

I can’t remember for sure what else. Maybe it’s french fries. French fries smell good, taste good, feel good, and even look good. Except for the scrawny ones that look like burnt up chicken feet-they’re not so good. They’re best when they come from Idaho. I don’t know why that is. (Most of the citizens of Idaho look like Mr. Potato Head, I understand. Can somebody confirm that?) Some people call french fries by the name of freedom fries. Then there’s your country fries and home fries. They’re the plumpest of all and come best when they’ve got some skin left on them. To have a good sense of french fries, you have to have the proper surroundings. Drive-in burger places are the best, especially if you are in a convertible. Restaurants that feature old 50s posters of movie stars that were popular then have pretty good fries, too. Most of the young women waitresses in those places don’t really know how to dress, however. You hardly ever see them with authentic poodle skirts and loafers with a penny in the front. And the guys don’t know you have to have black shoes with white socks, high water pants and your t-shirt should be rolled up with a pack of cigarettes in the sleeve. Of course, nowadays with the cost of a pack at about what a week’s pay was back then, maybe they should skip that. Fries that are real juicy are the best so you don’t need to break open so many of those little packs of ketchup of which half ends up on your hands. Then you smell like ketchup for the rest of the evening. That’s why it’s best to experience the sense of french fries last thing in the day so you can go home and take a shower.

And that’s that.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/9255709

Pierce Me!

There are various ways by which humans apply art to the body, these are called Body Art. Body art is done for the aesthetics, status, or identity. Some cultures adopt one and criticize the rest, or sometimes, adopt a fair share of one and condemn its ‘excessive use’. Body Art includes piercing (for the purpose of wearing jewelry or other ornaments), tattooing, branding, and scarification. I will treat ‘Body Piercing’ in this article.
I still don’t get the unfair criticism of Body Piercing. We express ourselves in different ways. I come from the Yoruba Tribe in Nigeria, a place where virtually all female pierce their ears, mostly from birth. And in this same society, nose piercing is considered as a sign of waywardness. I think nose piercing is cool, but really, they all don’t make sense to me, not even ear-piercing. I was at a gathering some time ago and I saw a woman probably in her mid-50s with her ears pierced in about 5 different locations each. She adorned the ears with beautiful jewelry. It was a beautiful sight, I must confess. But at that same gathering, I could see some people eyeing her with disdain. I don’t know if they were irritated by the fact that it was ugly to them or they just felt that it was wrong to pierce one’s ear in more than one spot.
Ever heard of The Taínos? It is a beautiful set of islanders in indigenous Columbus.

“The islanders were friendly and open to trade with the Spanish sailors. They traded anything for anything: balls of spun cotton, parrots, and spears for the sailors’ glass beads, red caps, and trinkets. Most interesting to the explorers, however, was the fact that the islanders had small pieces of gold pierced in their noses. In addition, they told Columbus that the inhabitants of other islands wore gold bands around their arms and legs. They also described countless islands, all like theirs. The Spaniards, believing that they had arrived in the Indies, soon called all islanders Indians.” -Microsoft ® Encarta ® 2009.

This is just to show that a pierced body doesn’t affect a person’s behavior, therefore stereotypes against body piercing is unreasonable and baseless. The next time you see a person with a pierced body, as unreasonable as it may seem to you, the worst you should do is keep your mouth shut.

If you see me with a pierced body, it isn’t just the piercing process that hurts, your words too pierce me.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/9475427

Happy Ending Erotic Massage

It had been a shock, though it shouldn’t have been. He was fifteen, after all, and healthy, and it was utterly ridiculous that I had not anticipated acquiring this knowledge at some point. Some of it had to do with the way I found out, walking in on him, already halfway across his room before I looked up and realized why he was frozen, with a pained, desperate look in his eyes, hunched over as if his stomach pained him. But, even though I am no innocent and know men have their desires and the various ways they tend to them, I somehow had forgotten to notice that my sweet boy was grown up. Almost a man himself.
And the rest of the shock had to do with how I had responded, after the initial full slam of mortified embarrassment. How I had tried to make it seem perfectly normal as I gathered up the clothes I had dropped in my haste to avert my eyes. How once that frantic need to not embarrass my son or give away that I was shocked and dismayed…..how there had been a pulse inside of that fading heat, a pulse that lingered somewhere low in my abdomen and drew my eyes inexorably over to his hands, clutching himself. How I was on the verge of telling him to continue, that it was natural, that I would just finish putting away his shirts and socks and underwear. A very unmotherly desire to see my son masturbate.
It was a heat that I thought I would never experience again, and I wrenched myself from that lingering look, and prayed he had not noticed. I had shut the door with a promise that I would always knock from now on. With a determination to shut away that rush of bewildering desire. And yet, I could not shut it out. I could not focus on my chores. My face buzzed intermittently for the next hour as I kept seeing over and over his lanky, young body, entirely nude for some inexplicable reason, his hands covering himself. I kept imagining what would have happened if I had told him to continue. The beginning of that imagination, anyway. I refused to entertain the thought, and jumped away from half formed thoughts, sometimes with a physical turning of my head. I realized he would probably not be coming out of his room tonight.
When I could not shake the thoughts or the increasing restlessness and swooping feelings, like the sensation of that first drop from a rollercoaster, except sweeter…..I retired to my own room, and I played my fingers over my own sex, not with the desultory efficiency that I usually conducted this task every few months or so. I came again and again, feeling as if my entire body was involved in the release. I bit back cries and shuddered and indulged as I had never indulged before. And I could not help wondering if we were masturbating at the same time. I could not stop myself from imagining him just next door, spasming into his hand, spilling onto the carpet. I could not help the immediate, sharp sweet release as I saw him, over and over again, only this time I stayed. Only this time I helped….. I gave in to the thoughts.
Shocking, yes. But, it was only masturbation. It was my head only, and while I apparently could not control myself in this, there was no need to treat him any differently. There would likely be a few weeks of awkward dancing around it, and he would likely begin locking his door, and he probably hated that it had happened at all. No need to bring it up. Force normalcy and don’t talk about it.
I masturbated again this morning though. I was sore from last night’s abuses, but I woke up aching and needful and I could not go through the morning routine of waking him up ten times before dragging him from his bed and making him eat his breakfast before Roger came by to pick him up. Dear Lord, I could not have touched him and felt that spark of immediate possibility. I came as the insistent blaring of his alarm sounded through the thin wall separating our rooms. I came to the surety that, as a strapping young man inundated with hormones and the constant build of testosterone, he would wake up hard. That in his heavy lingering sleep, he would not notice if I simply….brushed it with my fingers. That he would already be coming into my mouth as he woke with a start, and he would not have the presence of mind or the willpower to reject.
Just thoughts.
I washed my hands and poured his cereal and woke him up a dozen times. And he did not look at me, he moved slowly as if he was reluctant, and I hated that last night had happened. I daren’t run my fingers through his hair and kiss his cheek this morning. When Roger walked in, tossing back a Red Bull and full of morning jocularity, he had appraised me with a lingering look that told me all I needed to know about how experienced my son’s best friend was. He became almost flirty as he leaned against the sink and told me I looked very nice today, Miss Davis. And my son had pushed away from the table, pushed between us to dump his bowl in the sink and, still not even glancing at me, hauled Roger to the door, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.
I sat for a long time at the table. I experienced the cool prickle of shame on every down beat of the bloom of desire. It had been so long since I had wanted anything sexual, and now….now with a desire stronger than anything else I had ever felt, I wanted to know my son. Intimately, lavishly, and unconcerned with the psychological fuckery. I tried to tell myself it was natural, but I knew deep down that the fact it was my son was a large part of this sudden need.
It became my obsession, this morning. How long had he been jerking off? Did he have a girlfriend? Or, perhaps a boyfriend. My mind flashed onto Roger and his easy, knowing look, but Roger was definitely straight. Did he have a collection of magazines? Except it wouldn’t be magazines, now, would it? Not these days. No, it would be the internet. Porn. What porn did he jerk off to?
That question stayed. And it was easily answered. I turned on his computer, logged into the master account, and pulled up his desktop. I brought up the internet history first. There was a lot. He spent a lot of time on the computer, something I could not stop him from doing. He needed the computer for homework, for his papers and Facebook and whatnot. But his internet history was scrupulously clean. I felt a hard disappointment as I scrolled through the last week. Perhaps he did not search internet pornography. I knew that couldn’t be the case.
So I delved into his folders. I looked for downloaded videos, and finally hit upon them, in an unnamed “New Folder”. I opened the videos, many of them the darkly lit kind of home made videos, amateur porn. They often featured pretty girls, naturally endowed, not shaved, and enjoying themselves. I was happy to see he did not seek out the plastic, over-acted and hard-bright professional videos. He came to reality, and I shifted a little, imagining him playing the videos, right here in the same seat that I was perched on.
When I had forwarded through his smallish collection, I clicked the next folder within, another unnamed folder. Curious why these would have their own separate place – perhaps they were his favorites.
The breathless blush slammed into me again as I saw his dark, lovely eyes looking up at me from the video thumbnail. Enough was visible to see that he was nude – or at least shirtless. There were three videos, and I moved the cursor onto the first one, in a daze. I clicked it.
He was settled on his futon, and I watched as he stared into the camera, pumping his hand up and down over himself, his muscles tensing. I got my first good look at my son’s uncircumcised penis and could not look away. I watched the foreskin slide over and down again, met his eyes as he made himself come for the camera. I did not skip through the video. I watched the entire eight minutes, my mouth watering and my throat dry, the nerves singing over my entire body. And when he came, I felt a gush of warm wetness spill from me, an overwhelming desire, soaking my panties and making me whimper out loud.
I moved as if in a dream, to close that video and start the next. This time he was standing, only his legs and lower half visible as he tugged on himself. The vantage was so that I could imagine kneeling in front of him, my face turned up to watch him pleasure himself over me. Who did he make these videos for? The frightening thought came to me that he was sending them out over the internet for others to watch, for perverts to get off to. Except, here I was, in the privacy of my son’s room, practically passing out from the rush of desire that his young, sweet body was rousing inside of me. I was the pervert.
I accepted it. My hand was already buried between my thighs, and I realized I had been pressing against my wrist and fist, grinding unconsciously against myself. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and stood. I hesitated only a moment before undoing my pants and pushing them, and my underwear down to my bare ankles, settling back into the chair and groaning at the thought that I was likely sitting on dried come. My son’s dried come, against my naked and slick vagina. I shifted deliberately back and forth, the canvas fabric providing enough friction across my engorged labia as I imagined I was re-wetting his spilled semen with my own juices. And I came as he did, without having to touch myself at all.
I glanced to the time at the lower right of the screen. I still had several hours before the high school let out, and I already knew how I would be spending them. I would not get a damn thing done today, but I was beyond caring. I closed the finished video and clicked on the last one, hitting it to full screen and settling back, sliding my fingers into the puffy and swollen lips of my vagina, revelling in the delicious slickness.
He was standing again, wearing tight briefs, and he was hard. He grabbed himself for the camera, squeezing through the fabric and pushing down on himself. He was certainly beautifully endowed. I was beyond wondering why he was filming himself masturbate, only waiting breathlessly for him to really start, sliding my fingers over down to my clenching, grasping opening. Come on, baby, I thought wildly. Show me. Take off your underwear. It’s okay.
I came to the thought of saying this to him in real life. He did not remove his underwear. He sat down onto the futon, and I realized he had a tshirt on as well. This was a relatively recent video, as his hair had begun growing back from the last time he buzzed it off. I guessed it was only a few weeks old.
In the video he glanced up, listening, searching with his eyes, pausing. Then he looked back at the camera before picking something up….A pair of black panties. I paused, a cooling sweeping over me. For just a moment I wondered whose they were, but I knew very well. Or, I thought I knew. I was wearing a pair just like them, part of a three pack. And I only had two pairs left from that pack. My mouth went entirely dry as he folded the fabric over and around until he was staring at the gusset. He brought my panties up to his face and ran his nose along the soiled gusset, and a sound – like a gasp and a whimper – burst from between my lips. I couldn’t move as I watched him pull in several deep sniffs. I saw his sensuous lips part and his tongue flicked out, lapping at the fabric, and suddenly I was masturbating furiously, crying out with utter abandon as I watched my son savour the scent and flavour of ME.
I came three times in rapid succession, even as my mind told me over and over – this means nothing, he just wanted underwear, mine were convenient, OH GOD WHY CAN’T I STOP COMING. I pulled my hand away and squeezed my thighs together, almost crying, gasping breathlessly. On the screen, my sweet boy suddenly put down the panties and removed his shirt. He kept his skin tight briefs on. He picked up the panties again in both hands and buried his whole face in them before letting go with one hand and reaching between his own legs to push and grasp at himself. I watched him close his eyes with an almost heavenly reverence as his pink tongue flashed out again. He drew the panties into his mouth and bit down on them, chewing a little, before going back to sniffing them and licking them as he squeezed himself between is splayed legs.
I watched, my mouth gaping stupidly, breathing harshly over my own too dry tongue as he finally stood again and shucked his own underwear. He sat back and smelled my dirty panties as he began to truly masturbate for the camera. I didn’t know which to look at – his beautiful penis or my panties in his mouth. It was quickly resolved when he draped my black panties over the head of his penis and started to masturbate with the fabric of them.
I was sitting forward now, my face only inches from the screen, and I pushed my own hand between my legs again, briefly thinking I would need to use the hair dryer for a long time to dry his seat before he came home before completely losing myself in the sinfully erotic nature of watching my son masturbate with his mom’s dirty underwear.
He leaned his head back as he slowly drew the fabric up and down, and he spoke the first word he had spoken in any of the videos, in his too manly voice which had deepened three years ago, and seemed so incongruous with his build and his youth.
“Oh, mom,” he said.
I froze again.
“Mom,” he practically whimpered. “That feels so good.”
My fingers were not moving, I was completely still, but suddenly my body convulsed and I came anyway, sobbing out a surprised cry. I watched as he pushed the fabric aside and licked two fingers of his right hand and ran them lightly over his shiny head. “Oh mom, oh please, it feels so good when you lick me….”
My mouth, so dry just moments before, flooded with saliva and I could practically feel his bulging head against my tongue. My fingers were moving of their own accord now, my mind no longer insisting that this was wrong. I could not think, there was no room for thought. He wanted me, he was masturbating to the thought of me me flicking my tongue over his cock, as I had masturbated this morning to that very thought.
I stopped noticing the peaks of orgasm, they were so close together as to seem almost one long orgasm felt in swells and falls. He shifted and turned to lie down along the length of the futon, on his back and continued to masturbate with my panties around the base of his penis, only now he was pumping his hips up and down into the air, slowly, sensuously, barely moving his hand at all, and I imagined him beneath me – something I had purposefully kept out of my head. I imagined myself sitting atop my son and having him pump up into me. I pushed my fingers into my painfully tight opening and came harder than I had ever come before.
All the while, he uttered “mom”, sometimes begging in a strangled whisper, sometimes saying it loudly with an insistent urgency. He picked up the camera and moved it around so that I had a close up view of my panties strangling the base of his hard on. A close up of his head, shiny with precome, a close up of the thin stretched foreskin enveloping and releasing the tip.
It was when he moaned, “Oh, mom, your pussy feels so good,” that I was reminded of the fact that I was masturbating to my son. Instead of falling from the edge of arousal, though, it only pushed me harder. I whispered his name out loud, testing it on my tongue, and was blinded by another sweeping orgasm. I pumped my fingers in and out of myself, imagining my sweet boy filling me, spreading my lips with his width, begging me….
“Mom, I’m going to come,” he cried out. “Oh mom, can I come inside of you?”
My fantasies had never gone so far. I ground down onto my knuckles and gripped the edge of his desk with my other hand and said, “Yes, baby, come inside of me.”
He spurted, ropes of thick come fountaining into the air and I was sobbing out his name, and I came too, suddenly wanting nothing more than to actually feel him come deep inside of me, to have him drip from me, to look into his eyes – which were not visible from this point of view – as he cried out for his mom, and clutched at me.
The aftermath of that wild abandon was worse, in a way. I watched the screen as the portion of his abdomen that was visible heaved slowly up and down, wishing he would move the camera so I could see his expression. Was he disturbed? Euphoric? Was this a fantasy he regularly indulged in, or a once off? He had come harder in this than in the less thematic videos, but, did that mean anything? I could see a glob of white come quivering on the black fabric of my panties, still wrapped around his slowly softening penis, and I felt a strong urge to suck that up into my mouth and mash it with my tongue, consume it with a slow swallow.
He did not move the camera angle. One moment I was hanging on the verge of desire – a desire that somehow entwined with a sudden surge of love for my precious boy – and the next second, the screen went dark, the video was over.
I slowly extricated my aching fingers, clenching them and loosening to relieve the ache, feeling a little numb, perhaps in a state of higher shock than last night’s initial awakening. I tried to feel chagrin, or shame, or disgust…. Maybe that would come later.
It hasn’t yet. And I have downloaded that video for myself. It is enough, for now. It is enough to know that at least once, my beautiful boy came to me – specifically me. To the smell and taste of me, to the thought of burying himself in me. That is enough.
[LATER]
Tonight something happened that I will never forget, for as long as I live. As I type this, feeling loose and sated and trapped in a state of surreal wonder and almost giddy contentment, my son is sleeping in my bed. The sheet is draped over his naked body, rising over the contours of his chest and legs. One arm is curled over his head, his hand in a loose fist, his sweet mouth open as he breathes in long breaths of sleep. He looks so young and strong, so vital. His lips move every once in a while, and I hear him sigh that one word that makes my heart trill; “Mom….”
The last two weeks have been full of a strange duality. The day he came home after I found his home videos, I realized that something inside of me had been broken open to the point that it couldn’t be repaired. I followed through with our routine, knowing my role from years and years of doing so with him, but there was a presence inside of me – a presence that was wet and dark and pulsing, a presence that watched my son avidly as he sat at the kitchen table, one hand buried in his lengthening hair as he slumped over his homework. This …. awareness focused deeply on his mouth as he lifted the spoonful of spaghettios; it trembled with need as his lips closed over the metal and I watched him swallow the bite. He looked up at one point and I almost flinched away from his gaze, certain that he would see my lust in the clear bright study of my eyes, the high colour on my cheeks, the throbbing fullness of my own lips. Instead, I smiled at him and told him I loved him, and he didn’t smile back – our encounter had happened just the night before, after all – but he blushed sweetly, a burning blush that seemed to travel slowly down from his cheeks to his neck, under the collar of his t-shirt. And I was strongly reminded of him coming to the thought of me.
After he was finished with his schoolwork and had disappeared into his room, I picked up his empty bowl and spoon and took it to the sink. A sudden urge overtook me and I put his used spoon in my mouth, curving my tongue along the dip of it, shuddering with pleasure at the thought of tasting his saliva. I found myself doing many odd things like that over the next two weeks. Rummaging through his dirty clothes and savouring the smell of him. When he showered, I would retire to my room and masturbate furiously as the sound of the running water thrummed through the house, through me, and I imagined him tugging at himself in the shower, imagined walking into the bathroom and offering my assistance. Imagined fucking my son. It was a darkly lit two weeks, and I believe I kept my composure through it, though I slipped twice.
The first time was last weekend. Some of the embarrassment and tension had slipped away and we had fallen back into our normal pattern of interaction; I was Mom, he was my exasperating 15 year old son. The duality was still there, watching him with lust, but it was easier to keep it in the back of my mind. I had come to the realization that no matter how badly I wanted to taste him and feel his bare skin against mine, it would not happen. And with that came a sort of peace from my obsession, and I could resume life with an easier step.
On Saturday morning, he asked if he could spend the day with Robert; they were planning to go up to the skate park and be moody and cool. I told him I didn’t mind as long as he left time to mow the lawn – it was supposed to rain all next week starting on Sunday. He agreed and we went about our separate mornings; I had a few errands to run, some bills to pay. I got back home at noon and he was already gone. I put away the two bags of groceries and lowered the blinds in the house and went to my computer – located in the common room – and opened up my hidden folder. I spent a good hour masturbating to my son’s singular video, still surprised at how sudden and intense the arousal was after two weeks. My obsessive watching and imagining had not dulled the spark and desire. After that hour I planned to shower….but instead I pulled my panties back up and shifted around, wetting them. I went about the rest of my daily duties in a kind of feverish state, alternately feeling extremely aroused by what I was half planning, and somewhat ashamed.
When my son got home right before sunset, he went right out to mow the lawn. He came in reeking of grass and fresh sweat and asked what was for dinner; I told him waffles, with a smile. He smiled back at me, and said he was going to take a shower.
“Alright, baby. Just leave your clothes outside the door; I’ll throw them in the wash with mine.” He waved a hand in acknowledgment as he turned away. I waited, my body buzzing with a dangerous feeling; elation and that strange roller-coaster fall sensation. When the shower started up, I stripped quickly, grasping my still-damp panties in one hand and went to the bathroom door where his jeans and t-shirt and boxers were crumpled right outside. I bent to pick them up, wholly intent on this plan, when I realized the door was ajar.
I am not entirely naiive. The fact that my 15 year old son had left the bathroom door slightly open seemed a gross transgression, far outside the norm. If I had been a boy his age, I would have closed that door tight and thrown the lock. I stayed there for a moment, naked, staring at the band of light and the steam curling lazily from the crack, and I leaned forward just a little to try to see him, wondering if he had left the door open in an absent hurry or if it was somehow an invitation to me. That last part was ridiculous. I shook myself and stood, my inner thighs once again slick with arousal, and I almost forgot my plan. I let my panties fall from my fingers, onto the floor between the bathroom door and his room. I hoped he would assume they had been dropped as I carried the load to the wash. I hoped he would ignore them….no. I hoped he would take them and pick them up and use them, perhaps in a new video. I threw on a thin, sky blue camisole and a pair of cotton shorts. Saturday dinners are usually very casual affairs.
That night as I made my way to the laundry room, the panties were gone from the hallway.
The second time I slipped was when he came home with his mid term report card, on Monday. He had gotten mostly B’s, one A, and a C. We were standing in the kitchen together as he slung his back pack off his shoulder and handed the envelope to me, smiling with an earnest pride that made my heart sing. I looked at his grades and shouted, “Oh my God! Congratulations!” He ducked his head, smiling even more and blushing. I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug, full of pride for him. He seemed to freeze as I squeezed him, praising him for bringing his math and geography grade up and managing an A….I felt him try to pull back a little and all of a sudden that other part of me, the dark and lustful part realized why.
I should have let him go. Instead I pressed in closer, no longer talking, but needing to feel him against the length of my body. He shifted his hips back but I held him, and he let out a little sound, like a breathless “whoof” next to my ear as my thigh brushed his very obvious erection. Still I held on, my heart racing, my blood risen to the surface of my skin and singing, my muscles tight.
“I’m so proud of you,” I said again, though now my voice was a whisper. I turned my head slightly so that my mouth was almost brushing his ear, so that his hair moved in the breath of my whisper. I drew back a little and planted a lingering kiss on his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, wanting so badly slide my lips onto his, to reach down and grasp the belt loop of his jeans and tug him forward against me. I hung on the brink of that action for more than a second, quivering, every part of my body needing me to do this one thing.
Of course, I didn’t. I let him go and managed to smile at him. His entire face was a bit pale, his dark eyes wide and almost frightened looking. As I stepped away he hunched forward a little and tugged the hem of his shirt down, trying to do so casually. My eyes fell to the motion of his hands and he spun away, going to his backpack and picking it up, walking a bit stiffly. “I have a report to write,” he mumbled, and he disappeared into his room, shutting the door all the way. I waited, but I did not hear the latch of the lock. And again, I thought to myself, that was very strange behaviour for a boy unwilling to have his mother walk in on him. I lowered myself into the kitchen chair and sat there, staring at the report card, wanting to feel some sort of misery at what I had done, what I had almost done. But all I could do was strain my hearing, trying in vain to hear whether he was masturbating.
Then, today happened. Or, I suppose, now it was yesterday; I can see on my clock that it is twelve minutes past midnight. Wednesday. He came home from school with a permission slip for me to sign. He handed it to me without a word and went to refrigerator for a soda. I looked down and saw that the school was asking parental permission for my son to attend an in-school sexual education seminar. Because he was under 16, they needed my signature. The option for kids who did not have permission was to sit in the cafeteria and watch a nature show documentary. I was sitting at the kitchen table, and I looked up to see that my son was blushing hard and studiously examining his shoes.
I picked up my pen to sign; of course sex ed is important, but before I touched pen to paper I looked up at him again. We had had a version of “the talk” several years ago, but he had still been a boy then. I knew now how much he’d grown.
“Are you still a virgin?” I asked gently. I told myself it was responsible of me to ask, the right thing to do. After all, I was his mother. But no, that was not the only reason. Of course it wasn’t. I was very interested in what he had to say.
He flushed even darker and stared at me, taking a quick swig of his soda and clearing his throat. “Um, yeah?” he said, in his slightly sarcastic voice. His, “what’s it to you?” voice. I nodded and looked down at the permission slip, again not seeing the school document. I felt as if I couldn’t quite catch my breath, and my palms were suddenly slick with sweat. I dropped the pen and wiped them on my thighs beneath the table. I cleared my throat then.
Without looking up I said, in as casual a voice as I could, “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” I did look up then, and he wore a pained expression. “If you have any questions, or anything, if you need condoms or -” a blowjob,I thought wildly, “-anything, you can come to me. No judgment.”
“Jeez, mom,” he said, refusing to look at me. I felt an immediate rush of chagrin. I hadn’t meant to embarrass him, and had I taken it too far? I wiped my palms again and picked up the pen once more.
“I mean,” he said. I looked up and he had stepped closer to the table, still looking pained but suddenly very sweet and open. “Thanks,” he said.
I signed the paper and handed it to him with a flourish, trying on a teasing grin. “Have fun,” I said.
“Yeah, right.” He stuffed the paper into the front portion of his backpack and zipped it up. We stayed like that for a very long, awkward moment. I could feel myself sweating heavily now, my armpits slick with it, my blood racing. It was that same feverish feeling that had sat upon me when I was planning to leave freshly soiled panties for my son to find. I kept trying to push the thought, the frantic thought of him being a virgin, of him having never experienced that. How much had he experienced? It wasn’t my business. I couldn’t help wondering.

Happy Ending Erotic Massage

I stood up suddenly, making my son raise his eyebrows in surprise.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said, needing to masturbate, to assuage this ravenous need, this unasked question from between us. Do you want me? I clenched my teeth together and walked quickly to the bathroom, shutting the door and leaning against it for a moment, my heart still beating very fast, feeling sweaty and feverish. Do you want me to take your virginity?
I stripped quickly, dropping my clothes where I stood, and turned the shower on hot, as hot as I could stand it. I stepped in and leaned against the cold tiles, slipping my hand between my legs and closing my eyes, imagining him putting his hand there. Imagined directing him on how to make me come.
I came several times, to the point that my legs felt like jelly, but I could not shake the feverish feeling. I eventually took a perfunctory shower – how long had I been in there? – and twisted it off with a final, savage yank. The water stopped. I opened the curtain….and realized there was no towel.
I looked at the untidy pile of my clothes on the floor, and at the small hand towel hanging by the sink. I looked at the door. In a voice too soft to be heard, I called my son’s name. I was starting to sweat again, as I dripped on the bath mat. Just having called his name was enough to set me spiralling deeper into the immense need, and I closed my eyes. No, it was fine, I would dry off with my pants as best I could, maybe I could manage to wrap them around…..
“Mom? Did you call me?”
My heart slammed up a notch. I took a step towards the door. How had he heard me? Unless he had been standing right there.
“Mom?”
I swallowed several times, my throat dry. “I …” my voice cracked and I tried again. Jesus, he had to have been right outside the door to have heard my tiny call. “Could you get me a towel, honey?”
Silence for a few excruciating heart beats. “Yeah,” he called back.
I waited on the cusp for what seemed an eternity, alternately shivering and sweating. I’d need another shower, and I might need to think about sending him to stay at my brother’s house for a while. This wasn’t going to work out, I needed to realign my thoughts. I was his mother for fuck’s sake.
The knob turned and his arm appeared, holding a towel. I stared at it, unable to move.
The door opened further and he stepped in and froze, looking like a deer caught in headlights, stunned and frozen in place as he saw me standing there. His eyes raked me from top to bottom and he flushed bright red, and I closed my eyes, trembling a little, biting back the rising sigh caught in my throat. When I looked again, he was still there, still with his arm out, the towel clutched in his white knuckled fist, his eyes locked on me, on the dark shadow between my legs. I reached out and took the towel from him.
“Thank you,” I said, in a voice that was more like a whisper. He nodded rapidly and felt clumsily for the door. I drew the towel against me, still shivering now but with a thrilling and dangerous anticipation. I did not wrap it around me, just held it between my breasts, waiting for my son to leave, or stay. I didn’t know what. I was close enough that I could reach out and touch his chest, if I had the ability to move.
His eyes finally travelled up to mine, and he looked struck dumb. His quest for the door had stopped.
I licked my lips and tore my eyes from him, looking at that door. “Were you outside the door?” I asked. The words just spilled from my mouth without conscious thought. My son turned an even darker shade of red.
“I was waiting to take a shower, um, and I thought you were….I had to pee,” he finished. I looked down at him and he immediately covered himself, crossing his hands in a pitiful attempt at casualness.
I swallowed again. “Don’t let me hold you up,” I said, slowly gathering the corner of of the towel and pulling it around myself, flashing my body one more time, affecting a nonchalant manner that was only surface deep. Inside I was a taut wire, a gleaming steel sheaf of nerves and muscles. I could feel the last two weeks of need bursting within me as I tucked the towel under my arms and gestured towards the toilet, the shower. I knew he was hard, and I knew that he wanted me. Every time his desperately wandering eyes settled on me, they lingered, and oh, yes. He was hard. Suddenly none of my reasons for keeping this secret to myself mattered. He wanted me, he was desperate for me, and in a mingling of sexual need and motherly devotion, I wanted to ease his agony.
“Go on, I just need to brush my teeth and hair. Don’t mind me.” I stepped around him to the sink and started the water running. I looked up from under my eyebrows, watching him in the reflection of the mirror. He did not go to the toilet, he did not even move. But his eyes were on me all the same, his mouth open.
I began brushing my teeth, bending over the sink and thrusting my hips back to spit the thick white paste from my mouth, shifting my stance. In the mirror, he was staring at my ass, and I thought I saw his hands move a little. A small press into his clothed crotch. I felt the need strum higher in me and leaned further to spit again and rinse my mouth, bending at the waist and feeling the towel ride up high over the backs of my thighs. I could feel myself pulsing and aching down there, and when I stood and turned, my son froze again.
“If you need to shower, please, go on. I left enough hot water.” I paused and lifted an eyebrow. I reached out to touch his face and saw his breath hitch. “Are you alright, honey?”
He pulled away from my hand, his eyes slipping closed for the briefest moment. “I’m just waiting for you to….”
“Go?” I finished for him. “Suit yourself. I’ll be a few minutes more, I just need to put on lotion after I brush my hair. If you are embarrassed, don’t be. I assure you I’ve seen you naked before.” I stepped a little closer and put my hand on his taut forearm, curling my fingers lightly around his chorded wrist. I looked up at him from under my lashes. “There are no secrets, between us.”
He stared into my eyes, his lips moving, forming words he could not manage. I smiled and took my hand away, reaching for my brush. “Don’t worry about me. Just, you know, do your thing.”
He looked too incapable of thought to realize I could easily brush my hair and put on lotion in my own room. I started brushing, still watching him, a small voice inside asking me what I was doing. I ignored it.
My son turned so that he was facing away, towards the door, and he pulled his shirt off over his head in one quick movement.
My own breath caught as I stared at his back, young and sinewy with the muscles of youth. He kicked off his shoes and pushed down his pants, but not his boxers, stepping out of them. He glanced back at me over his shoulder and I realized I’d stopped brushing my hair. I set to it again, still keeping my eyes on him.
He turned on the shower without removing his boxers, still facing away from me. For the briefest instant I could see the tent he made with his hard cock pressing against the fabric, and another deep pulse of need flared within me. He was so close, in real life, standing there almost naked and so aroused that he couldn’t even move properly. I watched his shoulders tense, and then he shoved off his boxers and jumped into the shower, drawing the curtain closed….and then letting it fall back. I looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he turned to face me, the water flattening his hair to his head. He looked at me with pleading eyes, and he slowly reached down and grabbed himself, gripping his impossibly hard erection, the foreskin slipping back a little to reveal his shiny wet head.
I just as slowly set my brush down and looked back into his desperate eyes.
“Mom,” he said, and I didn’t exactly hear him, though I could see his lips forming that word. An electric jolt of powerful energy surged through me and I felt my wetness oozing warmly down my thighs. “Please,” he said, a little louder. “Please…..”
I didn’t make him finish the plea. I dropped my towel and stepped forward, into the shower with him, my eyes still locked on his. A look of gratitude swept into his eyes.
Do you want me? My mind seemed to breathe the question. But I knew the answer, and did not need to ask it. I moved close to him, so that his knuckles grazed my thigh as he gripped himself. I lifted my hands to his face, and the moment my fingers touched him he seemed to sag, his eyes fluttering, a moan escaping his lips. I waited for him to focus on me again, needing to be sure, though I already was. I felt as if I would faint, or float upwards into the rising steam. I had never wanted something more than this, and I could hardly believe it was happening.
His eyes focused on mine, still pleading, his pupils so dilated I could barely see the rich dark brown of his irises. I tilted my face and stretched my neck out and planted the softest kiss upon his lips, feeling my love for this sweet boy and my lust for him expanding as I brushed my lips across his. I had expected a spark, or a bolt of damning lightning. Instead, the sweetest chord of desire bloomed from that joining and seemed to travel over me with a gentle, rising heat. This was right.
This was right.
I wanted nothing more than to bury my hands in his wet hair and pull him into a lover’s embrace, but I remembered what he had said earlier. He was still a virgin, and I had no way of knowing how far he had gone before with a girl. I released him from my hands and lips with a sigh and opened my eyes to see him, less than an inch away, his own eyes closed, his brow furrowed deeply. After a second he let out a little whimper and I stepped back half a step. Waiting.
He opened his eyes and tried to speak, but no sound came out.
“Let me wash you,” I said, reaching around him for the scrubby thing. I poured liquid soap onto the rough netting and clapped the lid shut. I started rubbing the soap into the scrubby, working out a rich lather, staring down at the suds, almost hypnotized, hanging on the brink, my mind a clamouring blankness. I found that I, too was having difficulty speaking. I reached out and gripped his shoulder, turning him towards the shower head. I pressed the scrubby thing to his back and began, making slow, widening circles with the soap from one shoulder to the other, and down across his flesh. His shoulder blades and muscles flexed and as I worked the soap into his skin, he put a hand out to brace against the tiles. His other hand was still in front, holding himself, though his arm did not flex with movement.
I turned him back to me and we stood there as the spray washed the soap down his legs, pooling around our feet and swirling to the drain. I poured more soap on and pressed the scrubby against his chest, watching him tremble a little. I ran it along his arms and over his flat stomach. He still held onto himself, and the further down that I moved along his abdomen, the more he shook. His eyes were on me, wide and almost fearful, but there was a hunger in the way he watched me. I crested the roller coaster and dropped every time I saw that almost possessive need. He was leaning towards me unconsciously, and I rested my free hand on his chest to keep him from falling forward.
A moan escaped his lips as I moved the scrubby from his upper pelvis to the left, washing his thigh. I wanted to touch him, to replace his hand with mine, but there was an invisible barrier. I came as close as I dared under the flimsy guise of bathing my son. I didn’t even dare to look directly at his erection. A part of it was the knowledge that once we crossed that barrier, nothing could ever be the same between us. Another part was a desire to hold onto this moment of anticipation for as long as possible. I knew he was in a sort of sexual agony; the hand he had wrapped around his penis was almost white from the pressure of his grip, and the tip of his head that was peeking out from his taut foreskin was almost purple. I turned him again to face the spray and as he let it wash over his soapy body, I gathered another pool of soap onto the scrubby.
I reached out a hand and touched his side. He almost flinched, and then his ribs expanded under my fingers in a deep breath.
“Will you wash me?” I asked him.
He stilled, his breath caught in my hand, then he expelled it in a rush. I reached my other hand around him, holding the scrubby out to him face up. Now I was almost embracing him, and as I waited for him to take it from me – I had no doubt that he would – I gave in to one of those sudden, strange desires. I licked his back, between his shoulder blades, barely managing to stifle my own whimpering moan. He tasted faintly of soap, and water spilled over my tongue as I dragged it over his warm skin, but still….I was tasting my son. I shuddered as he arched his back at the strange action and immediately submitted to it, seeming to melt a little, almost pressing back into me. I pulled my tongue back in reluctantly and pressed my lips to him briefly, and sighed, closing my eyes.
I said his name. “Wash me,” I said again, my mouth moving against him.
I felt him take the scrubby from my hand and I immediately turned to show him my back. I waited, knowing he was staring at me, wondering if he would, wondering if he was jerking off behind me now that I couldn’t see him.
I felt him touch my left shoulder very lightly, with his fingers. He wasn’t holding onto himself anymore then. He slid them over my wet skin and gripped me lightly as he pressed the scratchy scrubby to the center of my back. He drew it back and forth, too lightly and quickly. I doubted he was getting any real suds.
“Harder,” I said.
His hand paused, then he pressed the scrubby more firmly and slowed his motion. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the feel of his fingers still resting on my shoulder, as if he were holding me in place. When the direction of the scrubby shifted and slowed even more, my entire body pitched into a roiling torrent of focus, shifting to the scrubby’s path. He drew it from the middle of my back to my side, and with excruciating slowness, ran it up over my ribs. He slipped it forward, following the curve of my body and now he was washing my front right side, just under the swell of my breast.
What he was doing could hardly be called washing, anymore. He inched the scrubby up ever so slowly, and I opened my eyes to look down and watch the progress of his soap frothed hand as he dragged the scrubby inexorably upwards. His other hand slipped down from my shoulder and settled on my left side, just under my ribs.
My entire body pulsed with the force of my rapid heartbeat. The scrubby stopped, just at the heavy curve of the bottom of my breast, and my son remained standing like that for what seemed an eternity. I couldn’t move, either, and it truly was agony, wanting to beg him to just touch me, please, cup my breast and feel my nipples and please, oh please….
His other hand crept forward, up my ribs, and he did. I couldn’t stifle the sound I made as his feather light touch caressed the underside of my breast before letting the weight of it rest in his palm. I hunched forward a little as I moaned, and his hand spasmed a little as his thumb brushed my nipple. He dropped the scrubby and brought his other hand up to cup my right breast and he pressed them with his hands, moving them in a slow circular motion, squeezing them. I moaned again and as he massaged my breasts from behind, I felt the tip of his penis gently poke my ass and he moaned too.
“Mom,” he cried out, and he pressed himself harder against me, his erection like a burning steel rod as he humped harder into the soft flesh of my ass cheek and it slipped down to poke at the underside. I couldn’t breathe, my mind inundated with nothing but the roaring desire to have it poke between my legs, along the crack. I shifted my hips and with his next insistent thrust forward he was there. I arched my back, rubbing my ass up and down and the sounds he was making were almost like quiet sobs. I turned suddenly and his hands fell to my waist. I closed the small distance between us so that the tip of his penis pressed into my belly and kissed my son fully on his mouth. He moaned into my mouth as I pressed his lips open with mine and slipped my tongue forward, finding his. He kissed me back with all the eagerness of a 15 year old boy as he continued to hump against my stomach with a mindless instinct.
“Mom,” he murmured against my mouth, his lips sliding over mine as he begged me. “Oh mom, please,” he said.
I moved my questing mouth down to his jaw, his neck, his chest. I lowered myself to my knees, kissing down his stomach and he made that soft sobbing sound again. I placed my hands on his hips and tilted my chin to look up at my beautiful boy, blinking through the spray of the shower. His penis was hard and hot along my neck and he was watching me, his face scored with an agony of pleasure. Still watching, wanting to see him react, I continued to kiss down along the dark, wet hair surrounding the base of his erection.
I couldn’t remember the last time I drew a full breath, I was panting shallowly between each kiss, my mouth flooded with saliva, and strangely I had tears stinging the backs of my eyes. I needed him with a need that could not be denied, and he needed me, too.
I turned my face and slipped my tongue out, curling it around the base of his shaft and a full body tremor ran through me. I pulled away and looked back up at him; he was staring down at me with his mouth slightly open. I moved my right hand in from his hip and closed it around him. I lovingly licked the tip of his penis, and his knees seemed to give out a little, his penis pulsing in my hand and against the back of my tongue. In my mind’s eye, I could see him sitting with my panties around his dick, touching himself and saying, “I love it when you lick me, mom,” and a groan issued forth from my parted lips and my eyes slid closed at the taste of his salt. His slick precome ran along the back of my tongue as I lapped at him slowly and he shuddered and whimpered above me.
I moved my lips over the half exposed head and drew him into my mouth, my heart hammering painfully, saliva spilling out around my tongue as I slid my lips further, my throat pulling him in with the negative pressure of suction as my tongue continued to explore the contours of my son’s penis. I could hear him gasping over the rushing sound of water and as I shifted on my knees I was made aware of how slick I was between my legs. I let his penis rest against the back of my throat for a long moment, breathing heavily through my nose, my eyes still closed, my tongue furling over and around him. Then I drew back and moved my hand with my mouth, revelling in him. I increased the suction in my mouth a little, flicking my tongue over his head with every draw back, not really focusing on him so much as the feel of him in my mouth.
I wasn’t thinking anymore, losing myself in the moment entirely. I don’t remember starting to touch myself, just that suddenly I was coming over my fingers as I wildly sucked and sucked, and when I cried out around his dick his cry followed a moment after.
“Oh God, mom, I’m…I’m going to…”
I enveloped him entirely in my mouth, licking the underside of his shaft with my tongue and clamping down on him to keep him there. Hot spurts of thick come hit the back of my throat and I sputtered a little before sucking harder and swallowing convulsively. He bucked, ramming my throat a little and I felt him grab ahold of my head, his fingers sliding over my wet hair as he sobbed out. His come frothed up a little; there was so much of it. I drank of my son deeply until his shuddering slowed and his fingers loosened. I drew back slowly, feeling drained and floaty. His penis exited my mouth with a slight “pop” and I sat back on my heels, licking my lips and extracting my hand from between my legs. I could feel my face buzzing with a flush born of extreme arousal and a sudden realization of what I had done, the taste of his semen coating my tongue and making me shiver.
I looked up and saw that he was shivering too, and a moment later I realized the water had run cold. I stood up and reached around him to turn off the water, wrapping an arm around him to lead him from the shower. I bent down to pick up the towel, shivering as well. He moved in a dazed way, and I draped the towel over his shoulders, drawing it up to ruffle dry his hair, our cool skin touching. I gathered the ends of the towel under his chin and held them closed as I finally looked into his eyes. He still seemed dazed, but gratitude shone from him, as well as a questioning embarrassment. I pulled him into a tight hug, and after a moment, his arms slipped around me and he buried his face in my neck.
We stood like that for a long few minutes, the sound of the dripping water and his ragged breathing. Eventually his shivering slowed, as well as his breath, and he pulled away a little.
He took the towel from his shoulders and clumsily tried to wrap it around me. My heart swelled to near bursting as he earnestly patted my arms and back dry. My sweet boy, oh, what….No. It didn’t matter. He loved me, I loved him. And now he knew that I, too, wanted him.
“We should get another towel,” I said. He nodded a little. “Do you want to….” I swallowed back a fear of disappointment. “Do you want me to let you go to your room?”
He shook his head, again looking a bit lost and questioning. “No,” he said.
I grabbed my hairbrush and lotion. “Come to mine,” I said.
He followed obediently, walking with the unthinking confidence of youth even in his nudity. He paused at my doorway.
“Sit on the bed,” I said, gesturing with my brush. I set down my items and toweled off completely as his dark eyes watched, following the movement of my hands and the towel. I began to tuck it in place around my breasts, then looked back at him over my shoulder.
Instead, I pulled it away and hung it on the hook on my door, the air conditioned air raising goosebumps along my arms. I went to the bed and sat down a couple feet away from him, as naked as my son, and began brushing my hair. My fingers felt nerveless, and a tense silence bloomed between us. I pressed my legs closed and barely managed to bite back my sigh as I remembered swallowing his come just moments before. My eyes fluttered closed a bit.
“Mom?” he asked, quietly.
I focused on him and smiled. “Yes, baby?”
“Are you….are you mad at me?”
Heat rushed to the surface of my skin and I fumbled over my words a little. “Oh, no, I’m not at all. I….I wanted to do that.”
He swallowed visibly. “You did?”
I nodded, and adopted a natural tone of conversational voice, though my belly trembled a little at the thought of needing to assuage my son that I wanted to fuck him, and desperately. I set down my brush and gooshed lotion onto my hand, rubbing it briskly onto my arms. “I’ve thought about it since I walked in on you a couple weeks ago.” He flushed a bit at this and sat forward a little. His eyes flicked to my breasts, swaying with the motion of my ministrations. I pretended not to notice. “I know it isn’t something that is….done, really, but I, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And now that it’s happened, I don’t regret it at all.” I paused. “Do you?”
He shook his head quickly, droplets of water spraying lightly onto my skin from the still wet ends of his hair. I smiled and reached out to touch him with my fingers, brushing along his shoulder down his arm. “I want to do it again.”
He let out his breath with a painful sigh that ended on a rising groan and put his hands in his lap, hunching further. My mouth flooded with saliva again as I stilled. So soon? God, he was young. Of course.
“You don’t need to hide yourself from me,” I said, grasping his arm and gently pulling his right hand away. He resisted a little then let his hands fall back. Yes, he was hardening again, rising inexorably from his lap, the skin seeming to stretch and tighten. I felt another gush of wetness between my legs and wriggled my hips a little. I licked my lips as I stared down at his lengthening erection, then shook myself. His penis seemed to jerk a little as I wetted my lips. I sought something to distract me, because now all I could think about was having my son’s penis pushing into the warmth that was spreading from my center. I reached for the lotion again.
“Can I…”
I glanced at him, and he was looking so uncertain. Yes, I wanted to say. Whatever you want, yes, please, my darling.
“Can I put your lotion on?”
Every nerve in my body seemed to flare and sing. My lips felt swollen and buzzing, the heat between my legs surged with another wet gush and I almost whimpered. I couldn’t speak, so I simply nodded and handed it to him.
“Where?” he asked.
“My, my legs,” I whispered. I felt a rush of shame that I hadn’t shaved in the last week, though my leg hair had always been light and soft.
My son slid down off the bed and knelt before me, pressing a palmful of lotion into his hands. He hesitated, then lightly grasped my ankle and smoothed the cool lotion up my shin, pressing it around my calf and back over my knee. I watched the progress of his hands with a suddenly dry mouth, my mind blank and pulsing, and I felt an ache for him so deeply that it was almost painful. As he raised up on his knees to rub the lotion into my thigh, I could see that he was fully hard again, his penis standing rod like before him. It brushed against my leg, just under my knee, and I convulsed a little, letting my legs fall open. His hands paused, then he slid one lotion slick hand down around my inner thigh and pressed himself against my leg, his gaze flicking up to mine with a sweet apology in his dark eyes. I spread my legs further and his fingers dug a little harder as he massaged his way along my thigh.
He paused again, just at the top of my thigh, where my leg joined at my center, my inner lips glistening with pulsing wetness. His mouth was open and he was breathing hard, staring down at my pussy, unconsciously pressing himself against my leg with tiny thrusts. I waited, unable to breathe, and when he remained too long like that, I shifted my hips forward so his fingers and knuckles brushed against my painfully sensitive folds. I moaned a little and he looked up at me again, his mouth still open. He watched my eyes as he let go of my thigh and lightly caressed me. I shuddered and cried out, arching my back. I felt his tentative fingers bolden and he slipped them between the deliciously slick and puffy folds, stroking me.
“Oh,” I moaned out.
He continued to slide his fingers through and around me, exploring. “Does that feel good, mom?” he whispered.
I opened my eyes and nodded, unable to speak. I opened my legs further as his roving fingers slipped along my center and he found my pulsing, grasping opening. I moaned and he pushed a finger inside slowly.
I gasped out his name and his mindless humping became more insistent, though now he was humping the side of the bed between my legs.
“Mom,” he said, sounding strangled as he pushed his finger slowly in and out of me and I tightened and released over my son’s probing finger. “Mom, can I…..” He was grinding himself against the bed now.
I reached out and grasped his shoulders, pulling him to me and wriggling forward on the bed, kissing him deeply and running my hands through his hair. “Yes,” I said against his eager mouth. “Yes.”
He pulled his hand from me and stood up, stumbling a little in his haste. I shifted back on the bed and pulled him onto it, covering his mouth again as he laid back beside me. I clambered over his thighs and pressed myself against his rock hard member, sliding my wet pussy along its length. His cries were muffled by my wide, devouring mouth, his breath hitting my throat with each desperate expulsion. I moved my hips up a little so that his hard head was pressed against my opening.
With a muted cry of my own I pushed down, slipping around the head of my son’s cock, pushing further until he was fully buried inside of me, and I came. I came so hard that I shuddered, shaking us both with my ecstatic embrace. I wrenched my mouth from his and dug my fingers into his shoulders, still coming, squeezing him tightly with my pussy, not even moving over him, just orgasming because he was in me, he was inside, and it felt so incredibly wrong, and immensely right to have my natural son once again within me.
My shuddering stilled and I realized his fingers were digging into my sides with grasping spasms and his head was thrown back, his throat exposed to me, his face twisted in a look of supremely agonized pleasure. I drew up along him and pressed back down and he sobbed out, “mom,” over and over.

Plastic and The Earth

From mobile phones and PCs to bike head protectors and hospital IV sacks, plastic has shaped society from multiple points of view that make life both less demanding and more secure. Be that as it may, the engineered material likewise has left unsafe engravings on the earth and maybe human wellbeing, as per new compilation of articles composed of researchers from around the globe.

You must have witnessed that grocery shops nowadays don’t utilize plastic bags. They distribute every one of your things in either paper packs or fabric bags. So what happened to the plastic bags that we utilized? There is a reason plastic is gradually vanishing. Indeed, it is a conscious exertion by everybody as plastic is extremely destructive to our livelihood and environment. Obviously, now you would need to know why.

It was the 1950s, when people were looking for something new, cheap and powerful that can change the idea of building technology. Industrial advancement of non-renewable energy sources into a wide exhibit of plastics changed definitions in everything from insulation to mechanics to paint, and plastic is as yet a pervasive part of each building assembly. Tragically, the effects of plastic creation in its many structures are overwhelming in each period of its life cycle. While there is a typical general understanding that plastics have negative ecological affiliations, a closer comprehension of what sorts of plastics make what sorts of effects will engage us to enhance the poisonous footprint of our buildings.

Plastics are not innately terrible, and they have many redeeming environmental features; actually, a significant number of the procedures we use in our daily use include focusing on utilization of plastic products. Their formulation into adhesive commodities passes for the production of engineered hardwood and sheet commodities from recycled wood, and their formulation into the excellent padding and sealant goods increases the potential performance of our buildings.

The feedstock of plastic is fundamentally oil or natural-gas, despite the fact that bio-plastics are influencing advances in the general market to share of plastic items. Evidently issues develop in regards to the limited measure of accessible oil assets, and the contamination related to oil extraction and refinement; the monstrous Gulf Coast oil spill of 2010 is just a single of the more infamous of the many environmentally devastating mischances that are not every now and again considered notwithstanding the standard contamination effects of extraction and refinement, which are broad.

Poisonous chemical discharge amid manufacture is another noteworthy source of the negative ecological effect of plastics. An entire host of cancer-causing, neurotoxic, and hormone-problematic chemicals are standard ingredients and waste results of plastic manufacturing, and they definitely discover their way into our environment through water, land, and air contamination. A portion of the more natural mixes incorporates vinyl chloride (in PVC), dioxins (in PVC), benzene (in polystyrene), phthalates and different plasticizers (in PVC and others), formaldehyde, and bisphenol-An, or BPA (in polycarbonate). A considerable lot of these are steady natural poisons (POPs)- probably the most harming poisons on the planet, inferable from a blend of their determination in the earth and their large amounts of poisonous quality. These are examined in more noteworthy detail later in this part as a consideration of human well-being; be that as it may, their unmitigated discharge into the earth influences all terrestrial and aquatic existence with which they come into contact.

It is in the utilization stage that the advantages of plastics in strength and viability are generally obvious. Despite the fact that most plastics are benevolent in their proposed utilize shape, many discharge harmful gasses in their set up curing, (for example, splash froth) or by the prudence of their plan (as with PVC added substances off-gassing amid their utilization stage). Occupational exposure amid establishment, for example, inhalation of dust while cutting plastic pipe or off-gassing vapors of curing items, is likewise an extraordinary worry for human well-being and the environment.

The disposal of plastics-the “grave” stage, maybe it is one of the minimum perceived and most problematic zones of plastic’s effect on the environment. Unexpectedly, one of the plastic’s most attractive characteristics-its sturdiness and protection from disintegration-is likewise the wellspring of one of its most prominent liabilities with regards to the disposal of plastics. Natural life forms have an exceptionally troublesome time separating the manufactured compound bonds in plastic, making the enormous issue of the material’s ingenuity. A little measure of aggregate, plastic creation (under 10%) is viably reused; the remaining plastic is sent to landfills, where it is bound to remain buried in limbo for a huge number of years, or to incinerators, where its dangerous mixes are regurgitated all through the climate to be gathered in biotic structures all through the encompassing ecosystems.

The destructive impacts of plastic on oceanic life are pulverized and accelerating. In addition suffocation, ingestion, and other full scale particulate reasons for death in bigger birds, fish, and mammals, the plastic is ingested by smaller and smaller animals (as it separates into smaller and smaller particles) and bioaccumulates in more noteworthy and more concentrations up to the natural way of food chain and human beings at the top. Intensifying these issues of steadiness and bioaccumulation is plastic’s affinity to go about as a magnet and a sponge for persistent organic toxins, for example, polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) and the pesticide DDT. In this way, in addition ingesting the physically and synthetically harming plastic mixers, oceanic life is additionally ingesting concentrated amounts of very bioaccumulative intensifies that are the absolute strongest poisons found on the planet. Once more, this bioaccumulation increment in focus as it works up the natural food chain order and into our eating diets.

The last thought of plastic disposal originates from the arrival of POPs and other dangerous chemicals into the earth from the plastics themselves. These mixes display a large group of biological and human medical problems and, similar to plastic, are additionally bioaccumulative. Polyvinyl chloride (PVC) is especially toxic, inferable from its figured consideration of halogenated aggravates (those containing bromine or chlorine), and are especially hazardous if consumed, in which case dioxins are delivered, some of which are among the most unsafe of all human-made mixes. Consider, at that point, the fantastic wellbeing risk of introduction through unintentional or unwitting burning or house fire.

The incandescent lamp is likewise sourced from a class of fire retardants that are generally planned into an assortment of plastic items found in the building business, especially polystyrene protection (XPS, EPS); the impacts of fire retardants are examined in the following segment. All in all, these unsafe chemicals are known to cause the accompanying serious medical issues: malignancy, endometriosis, neurological harm, endocrine disturbance, birth deformities and kid formative issue, regenerative harm, insusceptible harm, asthma, and different organ harm.

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