‘Readers of this blog, being erudite types, often to be found in exclusive salons discussing the role of foreshadowing in literature with other members of the intelligentsia (when they’re not sitting in front of their computers, trousers around their ankles, wanking to porn, obviously) will instantly have recognised the quote as one of Tolstoy’s and will thus, with sinking heart but a dreadful sense of inevitability, have discerned that today’s is another of those boring historical posts in which ladies rarely show their tits or dress up in exciting latex outfits.
Never mind, there’ll be a ‘normal’ post on Tuesday. In the meantime, try to get excited about finely-turned ankles and flirtatious badinage… or just go and whack off to whatever you can find on ImageFap, I don’t care.
Serves him right for being such a forward young man, I suppose.
Tolstoy and Testicles
I, for one, am looking forward to Tolstoyan doorstops running to 800 plus pages that recount the adventures of similar forward women. I expect to see plenty more intrigue, defiance of convention and grand (or bruised, or severed) balls on your website.
Given the first encounter here, however, I have no doubt who’ll be expiring tragically under a train at Obiralovka Station.
До свидания!
PP
I wouldn’t know, PP. Right now, I’m copying out Anna Karenina, page by page, in the time that used to be ‘spare’, at the behest of my SO but I haven’t got to that bit yet. I find it quite hard going but then I don’t speak Russian or understand the Cyrillic alphabet, so I do have to concentrate. She has a boyfriend from that part of the world – Mykhailo – who occasionally conducts spot-checks, although I have a suspicion he’s not always that careful and just tells her any old thing.
I’m also supposed to replace all patronymic names with matronymics, so I have no idea who the heck anyone is.
But great literature is supposed to involve suffering, right?
Best wishes
S
Two at once.
Can you imagine….
Широко открыть.
Mr M
Yes, the two noble ladies in the caption found it hard to imagine as well. When the preparations were being made they had something of a debate – and eventually a wager – as to whether the two lads would combine forces, so to speak, both at the same end or would instead take up opposite ends and squeeze the recipient between them, possibly taking up a back-and-forth rhythm like a piston. In the event, the active participants were all so enthusiastic (and the passive participant so very passive) that all the various combinations were tried, so the ladies’ bet had to be called off. Proper sportswomen, though, each insisted on paying her forfeit in full when they finally went up to the bedroom together.
Чему́ быть, того́ не минова́ть
S
By the way, M, PP, chaps, I spend a lot of time on this blog teaching my sp*m blocking filter thing that comments in Russian are generally the product of advertising spambots, offering anything from porn (obvious enough, I suppose, despite the obsession this blog has with men not having sex), hit-man style assassination (yes, really… well, probably no, not really, but that was what the dodgy link claimed to offer) to – just this morning – window fittings (“Yes, I heard about your products while wanking on a BDSM-themed blog. Do you do Velux windows made to measure?”).
Sorry, where was I? Anyway, let’s not confuse the poor old sp*m filter with comments from actual commentators (or at least thoroughly perverted and witty spambots – my compliments to your creators), OK?
I did used to have a frequent Russian commentator but he seems to have gone rather quiet lately. Possibly all the Slava ukrayinkam stuff, or possibly just one of those things.
Best wishes
S
She takes me and arouses me. She then gives a little sex. Then the degradation begins. You know the feeling. You’re aroused but somehow not good enough. She uses her denial to undermine my self worth. I feel not worthy. What’s wrong with me? I try this and that to gain her favor, all to no avail. I’m not good enough.
I’m sunk and in her web. Now she degrades me to her self amusement. I’m depressed and frustrated.
I feel so down that I crave her beatings.
I’m deep in the hole. The more beautiful she is, the more dangerous she is.
Her beauty has ruined me. I’m so sad. I’m an easy target for more abuse, denial. and frustration. And so it goes; a slave to women. I can’t resist, women, as a result, use me, deny me, and torture me. I feel worthless.
More:
The more I beg; the more it amuses the ladies. One bite of the apple, and I am doomed!