Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Fish And Temperature Lab

Pascal Sellier - Take III

My dear Andre,

Thanks for the staging of our dialogue. The symbolism is perfect Venetian to our exchange of missives that could imagine being conveyed by messenger braving a thousand dangers, horseback or Commander Atlantic for the sole purpose of allowing us to expatiate kindly, as was done during the century.

Venice, its intrigues, its palaces, masks, playful pleasures, its sweet and playful swagger ... His resonant corridors severe multiple cries of pleasure, pain, joy, and surely some trouble.
Thanks again to ensure my anonymity, but Pascal Seiller neither my name nor my name. The first is the reflection of my commitment to the mathematical rigor of Descartes, the second the name of a next-door neighbor of my parents. No PIN, or anagram analogy possible. A nick in which I move on the canvas as I would suggest hidden on the edge of the Grand Canal.

The Grand Canal, one evening in March, I walk a good step for me to make an appointment secret deliciously extreme, which I would return at dawn, sighs, murmurs and shouts yet gently tickling my eustachian tubes. The eyes still filled curves of diaphanous that I, in turn, appreciated, and unveiled palpated before drawing the rod, the whip, darker geometric figures as signs cabalistic two twin moons. I then rotundity, this time by hand, covered with a veil uniform, rosacea, hardly less intense. This ceremony completed, I then served on the whims of my beautiful manual search, then sexual its intimacies. And until the morning, her tears, her cries and sighs have been my only guide in the pursuit of pleasure of mine and his.

And just when adjusted, I just drove to her husband's room, he found at first glance and lustful inquisitor, his red cheeks, bright eyes, the disorder of her makeup and her hair, his vaguely absent, all signs that the night was good as he had imagined at the echo of our antics. And when her voice hoarse and tired, she whispered, "I love you ..." He greeted in his arms. Softened his beautiful was able to scream hoarse, crying at having dry eyes, so that it is the pleasure that I tell him and she tells him that night of destruction.

Why he remains impassive, enigmatic, like a mountain in the rain before the authorized story of misbehavior and sponsorship? The wealth of a great industrialist and exercise of market power that reaches each of us in the newspaper he found that they have an insatiable desire spurs us to pursue a mirage fleeing, chasing a rainbow sky to do never catch? He experienced enlightenment on all things look per tinent which guess in emptiness? We consider there to be frolicsome colts let loose in the steppe, drunk galloping? And why does he show an inexplicable complacency before the tremors lost a much younger woman, infinitely more fireproof and whose nerves stretched, meaning maddened by an imagination that likes to run amok are demanding ever more delights new and more ensauvagées? Is this the price agreed for it to return at dawn?

"The slave is the master. "Nietzsche said. It decides, it is she who suffers, she enjoys. One who enjoys to engage ... And while I deploy the ingenuity that makes me the dancing master and do in this ball of sobs and groans ... he has risen through the discipline of meditation to a sovereign altitude ... From there, he considers our frolics with equanimity.

I spank her often in the following months, I kiss too ... In Venice, and Paris. With consent of his philosopher husband, knowing that we will exhaust the resources of these inevitably over vanities off the rim of which can be completed at the hospital if they do not catapult you into the gutter.

We explored all the intricacies of all our desires. She was my slave, my purpose, by an act of complacency which I appreciated all prices, all adorable value.

I am using these final terms. She was, really. But it was because she had decided. It never took much pleasure as when it was over. It feels somewhat paradoxical that we have often mentioned together. No longer become an object to be manipulated, which shows that using the plunge into a trance, ecstasy of irresponsibility abandoned that ultimately gave him orgasms devastating.

Her husband was now excluded from our games. Why flout the generous donation that his philosophy, and probably his wisdom, gave us? We were telling him, everyone on our side, what we did want to tell him. Alibis consistent with marks left on her body with my fantasies; footsteps as if he cherished long consulted the map of an unknown country, a remote area with pristine territories yesterday and today were conquered the words "Hic Sunt Leones.

Richest owner of a shipping as the boldest navigators were complete, he assured his wife a lifestyle out of the ordinary, but did not know sail on the high seas and explore the vertiginous abyss where she longed to be abolished. She would have left it for the world is what formed the bulk of their contract, and the idea we have never touched neither one nor the other.

Her name was Irene and best friend Juliet.

Juliette Irene introduced me one evening at the end of the press preview of a film in which it saw its star emerging. Breakthrough in the strength of the wrist, thanks to one of those small miracles made working away from the limelight with an energy determined that the muscle and soul forge the spirit.

We dined together at The Dome with a squad of starlets and frisky fellow jokers, members of the production team, press agents and technicians who were keen to offer the tour to mark the grand dukes blow.

dragged into this shindig, Irene and Juliet were a happy pair, reigning master of the small friendly company who like a good bottle of champagne submarine crew in distress. The leader of the band, press secretary of his state, sounded the rally to end the evening at Castel. Irene grabbed me by the arm and Juliet by the other and we bake in a taxi. Once installed, our young ladies exchanged a friendly chatter barely audible burst of laughter for a long time. The two young women calmed down with great difficulty. With tears in her eyes, Irene managed to articulate "At Bristol, please ..."

Irene wiped her eyes shining with his handkerchief. They were bathed in tears, but laugh, their expression was nothing to do with the indefinable glow when I found that after long and thorough spanking, I walked into his mouth even further, to unbosom myself brushing the uvula at the back of his throat.

I contemplated e Juliette No smiling, too, carefully dabbing the bottom of her eyes. She could surely not imagine that at this moment behind my polite smile, I tried to imagine the tone of her screams as spanking, or admit, the taste of her sex.

It was past two o'clock in the morning and we were the last customers of the Bristol Bar.

After several vodka lemon, Irene, now freed liberated woman, had less and less restraint in the evocation of our relationship, its ins and outs.

Juliet laughed frankly anecdotes from her friend. Irene told him in detail how one evening, returning from the forest of Compiègne she had it bestowed a magnificent blowjob, but she had forgotten that there were no tissues in the car. She ended her story there, for a fun shortcut, concluding that it had an aftertaste hazelnut and since then, she appreciated.

Juliet, not embarrassed, burst out laughing. There was a sweet chemistry between the two young women and they associate me happy. As time passed, the more I felt that Irene was getting warm. Alcohol, as far as the late evening we had planned, now directing his comments invariably on sex. She questioned Juliet on her adventures past and present, its pre conferences. Juliet replied with a snort, yes or no, damn intrusive questions of my partner untenable.

Then came the psychological moment. Irene dropped somewhat tipsy in a playful tone:
"You know it gives me a spanking ... I sometimes whip ... and the worst ... the worst thing that I like it ... I am enjoying ... "
The look that gave me these words to Juliet was indecipherable. All I could say only that there was not in his eyes disapproval or contempt that can display profane.

Irene continued:

"Have you ever tried ...? I mean, erotic spanking ... "

Juliet, her hands quietly folded in her lap, do laugh more. She looks at me and whispers:
"If not ... well ... ... No, I never tried ..."

I was dizzy. I had it wrong. She did not say that women usually say to whom we talk about erotic spanking, the eternal "I do not see what he can There have Erot ic in there, get spanking for pleasure? must be disturbed ... "

No, in Juliette, nothing like that. Just his eyes fixed, chestnuts, liquids, dilated pupils, and I could not tear myself away.
Then she seemed to come out of a dream and looking at his watch, exclaimed

"Oh ... .. three hours "I must go, I have a crazy agenda tomorrow ..."

Coming out of Bristol, on the sidewalk, our paths would separate. Juliet was returning home and Irene and I would finish the night both at home and me in it.
"I must know. I must know. "Drag my card in his hand ...? No one! Drag him in the ear "If you ever want to try spanking, I'm Yours? Nullissime!

At the time of parting, I threw myself at risk to take me as an impertinent blackguard:

"When you have decided on the day when you feel ready, call Irene, I am very honored to be your teacher, with his permission of course ... "
She stared for a moment, then his eyes met those of Irene aback, and without a word she turned about to spin into a taxi stand where two cars were waiting for their ultimate client of the evening.
Irene and I were now alone on the sidewalk like two drunks. Piqued, she got the tone. In fact, it was a hair of the outburst that our conventions excluded:
"So like that, I do enough for you more ... dream Mr. buttocks of my best friend ... and now you want to more than I play the matchmaker? "
Ignoring the first member of his sentence, also inaccurate, I answer the second proposal as if it were obvious.

"When you talk of her, nothing is hidden ... tell him everything ..."

She looks at me, sobered:

"How it all even ... clips ... links ... "

" Tell him everything ... he admits the pleasure you draw ... describe him this pleasure is the best ... your best friend, you do not want to share the secret of absolute fervor with her ...? It is likely that it has the same inclinations as you ... I guess when you spoke of whipped ... And it's not me who should initiate it, but you ... Have you ever wanted to change the registry? Provide the ecstasy you live? "This

Juliet is shortly to your door ...




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