Thought Catalog

I Accidentally Wandered Into The Wrong Locker Room And It Was The Best Mistake Of My Life

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 03:00 PM PDT

Shutterstock / jannoon028
Shutterstock / jannoon028

Coach Klein blew the whistle, signaling the end of practice for the day. Ryan finished his lap in the pool and pulled himself out, glancing around the indoor pool complex. He noticed the rest of his team gathering over in the far corner of the pool, and jointed them.

"Okay guys, good practice today," Coach Klein said. "Now I don't have to tell you all about how important tomorrow's meet against McLane is — you already know that. So get a good night's rest, make sure you eat a healthy dinner, and pack some healthy snacks for the bus ride there and back. The bus will get here around 9AM, it's a two hour ride, and the meet starts at 1PM. Everybody clear on that?"

"Yes coach," the team replied in unison.

Coach Klein nodded. "Okay then, you're dismissed! See you tomorrow, guys."

As the team got up and made their way over to the men's locker room at the far end of the complex, Ryan made his way to the coach, taking off his swim cap and shaking the water out of his short brown hair.

"Hey, coach, you got a sec?"

The coach turned to face him, and nodded.

"Sure thing Cooper, what's up?"

"Well I was wondering if you'd let me stay an extra hour today, I've been wanting to work on my flip turns to make sure I've got it down before tomorrow."

"Hmm," the coach grunted. "I don't see why not, it is a Friday after all. And your turns have been a little sloppy." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a key on a long black lanyard, handing it to Ryan. "Just make sure you lock up when you're done and get the key back to me in the morning. We let you seniors get away with a lot of crap, but anything crazy happens and it's my ass."

"Thanks coach!" Ryan said, placing the key on top of his towel he'd placed on a plastic chair nearby as the coach turned to leave. He glanced up at the clock on the near wall. It was 5PM, which was perfect. He'd be out by six, home in time for dinner at seven, and still have enough time to finish his history essay and play a little Skyrim before bed. Ryan readied himself at the edge of the pool and dove in, feeling the cool water flush over his lightly tanned skin.

An hour passed, and Ryan pulled himself out again. He felt like he'd gotten enough practice with the flip turns to feel confident about tomorrow's meet. He grabbed his towel, the key, and made his way to the locker room. He was feeling a little bit of a headache, though, and was starting to regret not eating anything since breakfast. Ryan lowered his head to give his left temple a quick rub, and pushed the door to the locker room open with his shoulder.

Inside, the lockers were set up in rows running parallel to the entryway, so that from the door Ryan could see all the way down to the showers at the far end of the room with a long metal bench running down the center of each row. He walked down to his row, and made his way to his locker. He stopped before opening it, though, and continued on down to the showers.

Ryan laid his towel, goggles, and key down on the end of the bench and pulled down his swim shorts, releasing his penis into the open. He hated wearing the tight shorts, since his dick always tended to find a way into awkward positions and he couldn't adjust it underwater. He stepped into the rows of showers and turned one on, letting himself soak for a short while. He pushed the button on the little shampoo dispenser and got a little on his hands, running it through his hair to clear the chlorine out.

When he'd washed it out, he shut off the water and walked back over to his towel. Ryan clumped it over his hair first, drying it before running it over his slim, toned body. He'd never been much into weight lifting, but cardio and core workouts were his thing, and because of that he managed to keep a lean physique despite a diet of junk food, greasy burgers, and pizza.

He heard the locker room doors open and voices as he walked back to his locker, wrapping the towel around his waist. Ryan figured it was the soccer team, as they usually finished practice around that time anyway. He'd say hi to his buddies Pablo and Eli before heading out.

Something was off though. The voices sounded oddly high pitched. Somewhat…girly. Ryan shrugged it off, and twisted the knob on his lock. But it didn't budge when he pulled. He reset the combo, and entered it again, but still nothing.

That was when he noticed that this wasn't his locker. His lock was green, but this one was red. Ryan looked at the locker two spots down, Freddy Gomez' locker. Or at least what should have been Freddy's locker, as this one had a different lock too.

"Hey!" he heard a voice shout from halfway down the row. "What the fuck are you doing in here!?"

Ryan looked up, and his fears were confirmed. Standing there in green shorts and a sports bra was Taylor Reese, the star attacking midfielder on the girls' soccer team. She had her arms folded just under her breasts, which were easily C’s, but in the sports bra were pushed down to look much smaller. The commotion drew the attention of three other girls, also on the team, all eyeing him intently. Taylor had her shirt in hand, but dropped it onto the bench.

"I… ahh-"

"You what?" Taylor cut him off. "You better have a good fucking reason for being in here, perv."

He glanced at the other girls, who were trading looks that he couldn't quite make out, then back to Taylor. "I… I walked into the wrong locker room!" he forced out. "I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry! I'll leave right now, I swear, I didn't even see anything!"

Taylor looked him up and down, shifting her weight to her left foot and smirking.

"I don't think so, buddy. You're not going anywhere."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, confused. "Umm… what do you m-"

"Do I have to explain it to you?" she interrupted as the other three girls came closer, wearing the same hungry look as Taylor. She closed the distance and pushed him against the lockers, bringing her mouth within an inch of his.

"I haven't had a cock in me in months, and here I have one all wrapped up for me."

As Taylor reached for the towel, Ryan gripped it tightly, holding it up.

"Right here, in front of your whole team?"

Taylor shook her head.

"Not the whole team, just us four. Everyone else went straight home." She turned to the other girls, who were either watching intently or gently fondling themselves. "Sarah!" she called, prompting a girl with sandy blond hair, green eyes and a peachy pink skin tone to step forward. "You've got him first. I'm gonna shower. And I think I'll need some company."

She turned and walked towards the shower, taking off her sports bra and revealing the tan lines underneath. The two other girls followed her, taking their hair ties out and letting it fall, one a deep brown and the other a very light blonde.

He watched as they continued to the shower, but he felt a hand on his face, pulling his gaze in the opposite direction. Suddenly he was face to face with Sarah Tate, a forward on the team. She was a year younger than him, and he'd seen her in a couple classes the year before. He remembered fantasizing about her back then, and this excited him quite a bit.

"So… ahh… do you wanna start, or should I?" Sarah asked, a nervous but excited gleam in her eyes.

Ryan looked over at the other girls, who had stripped out of their clothes and gotten into the showers, then back to Sarah, and smiled.

"I'll start."

He leaned forward and kissed her, and though he could taste the sweat on her lips she was a surprisingly good kisser. He put his hands on her waist as his tongue went into her mouth, and pulled her in close. She grabbed at the outcropping his stiffening cock was making against the towel, running her fingers over it. Ryan grabbed at the edge of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head as she lifted her arms. Sarah grabbed at the towel's fold in an attempt to pull it apart, but he grabbed her hand.

"You first," he whispered with a smirk.

Sarah smiled and bit her lip, running her nails down his chest before taking off her sports bra, letting her perky breasts drop and bounce. Ryan fixed his gaze on them, reaching out with a hand to fondle at them as she pulled down her shorts and panties, running a hand down her hairless mound to rub at her clit. He looked over her body, noticing a pudge around her tummy. Not that it was a problem to him, he actually rather preferred women with more average looking bodies.

"Now it's your turn," she said with a smile.

Ryan nodded, pulling apart the folds of the towel and revealing his stiff member, eliciting a wide-eyed gaze from Sarah. She almost immediately dropped down and gripped it with one hand, slowly stroking his length as she rubbed herself with the other and he played with a breast, his free hand tucked behind her head entangled in her hair.

He licked at her neck, tasting the sweat again as he slid two fingers inside of her, forcing a gasp and a teeth-clenched groan.

"Do you like it?" he asked nervously. He'd only ever had sex with one girl, and although they'd done it multiple times, the last time a girl had touched his penis was a year ago.

Sarah looked up at him, nodding. She stretched out her tongue, licking the underside the cock in her hands from base to tip and giving it a little kiss before slowly sliding her lips down the shaft. Ryan tightened his grip on her hair as he gently pushed into her mouth. She gagged as she got to his base, but was able to take the full seven inches back to her throat. Sarah pulled back, dragging her lips past his head and licking it.

"Sorry," she said, wiping the saliva from her lips. "It's been a long time since I've got to deepthroat a guy."

"It's fine," he said with a smile, aiming his cock back at her mouth. She licked him again, then took his member back in.

She had settled into a catcher's crouch and was running her fingers down her lips, leaving a small pool of fluid as she dripped onto the floor. When Ryan noticed, he couldn't hold back anymore, and he shot off his seed into her mouth, quietly restraining a groan. Sarah raised her eyes up to meet his, an innocent look in them as she drew her lips backwards down his cock, sucking off the cum that dripped and swallowing it down with a cute smile that almost made Ryan feel guilty.

When Sarah stood up, Ryan pushed her against the lockers, sticking his hand down between her thighs. She responded by spreading them open for him, and as soon as his fingers brushed her lips she began to moan, quietly at first but as he stroked her moist folds she grew louder and louder. He licked at her neck, tasting the sweat again as he slid two fingers inside of her, forcing a gasp and a teeth-clenched groan. It didn't take long, and within seconds of finger-fucking her she squealed in excitement as she came on his fingers, a sloppy mess of her feminine fluids seeping out and drenching his fingers and making a satisfying sloshing sound.

Ryan brought his fingers up to his mouth, tasting her juices as he sucked on one finger and offering Sarah the other, which she accepted eagerly. She closed her eyes in enjoyment as she cleaned her mess off of his finger.

"Our turn," called a voice from their side. Ryan turned to see the other two girls watching them and playing with themselves. He struggled to remember their names, he knew for sure the one with black hair was Jordyn but the blond girl's name was escaping him. Katie? Kacey? Definitely something with a “K” sound, or a hard “C,” but he was too distracted by their exposed tits and the trimmed strips of hair that decorated their sex. "Sarah, Taylor said she wants you to help her wash off. Don't keep her waiting."

Sarah nodded and walked off with her head down, but not before glancing back at Ryan with a smile. He followed her with his eyes, chuckling at the little bounce her ass made as she walked away.

"You like her?" asked the blond, drawing his attention away. Her lightly bronzed skin almost clashed with her hair color, but it was that and the accent which reminded him her name was Karen Ospina. She was the girl whose family moved to town from Spain earlier that year. "You don't like us?" she asked with a coy smile.

Ryan chuckled nervously, raising a hand to scratch at the back of his head. "No, no, of course not! I… ahh… I just… I mean I already came with her, so…"

"Good," Jordyn responded, exchanging a glance with her teammate. "You can focus on us then."

"But wait, I thought you were into girls?" he asked Jordyn, confused.

"Well maybe you'll be the one to turn me," she replied, biting her lip in a sly smirk.

The two girls pressed forward, placing their hands on his body. Karen went for the mouth with her kisses, displaying a mastery of the tongue kiss of a kind that Ryan knew he'd never be able to match. Jordyn went for the chest, kissing down his abs to his softening cock. As she took the flaccid piece into her mouth, Karen guided him down onto the bench, laying him on his back.

Karen pulled out of the kiss and crossed a leg over to the other side of the bench. As she crouched down over him, Ryan felt just the smallest drip of wetness land on his face. He admired the view of Karen's hanging lips as they descended towards his mouth. He arched his neck up to meet her, taking the moist petals into his mouth, sucking on them as he wrapped his arms around her thighs. One hand was pulled aside by Jordyn though, and guided between her thighs. Ryan took the hint, and ran his fingers through her slick lips. He couldn't see past the ass hanging over his eyes, but he could hear the two of them making out, their moans muffled by each other's mouths.

He could feel himself getting hard again, but focused on the two sets of soaking lips he was being forced to service. He wasn't complaining, of course. To him, this was the best thing to happen all school year.

"Mmmm, asi papi," Karen moaned as she ground her pussy against his face.

He ran his tongue down to her clit, licking in a circle around it before dipping it into her slick opening. She gasped as he moved back to her clit, taking the hood into his mouth and sucking as he flicked his tongue over it repeatedly. She was the first to come. Jordyn stifled her screams with a hand as Ryan threw his head from side to side and enveloped her stiff clit with the flat of his tongue. Her body shivered and she squeezed her thighs around his head as her orgasm came and went, leaving his face a sopping mess.

Karen struggled to stand, but Jordyn helped her up. "Hijo de puta, he's good with that tongue," she said between breaths as Jordyn crossed over the bench and began to kiss her body.

"Is he now?" called Taylor as she approached them.

He could see Sarah following closely, shyly biting at a nail as she eyed Ryan and his now erect manhood. "Too bad all I'm interested in right now is that cock. Thanks for getting him ready for me, ladies." She turned to the two girls that were now two knuckles deep in each other, grinning. "I knew that would get the two of you on each other. And now he's all mine." She waved Sarah over. "Hold him steady for me, would you dear?"

Sarah obliged, wrapping her fingers around his stiff member and smiling at him innocently as Taylor slid down onto him, the steaming hot sensation kicking off every nerve ending in Ryan's penis. She quietly moaned as she took his entire length inside of her, gently bucking forward when her pelvis made contact with his.

"Mmmm, that's a filling piece," she groaned with a smirk before grinding back and forth.

Ryan sat up, wrapping an arm around her back and putting another on one of her soft, round breasts. Taylor looked him in the eyes and reached around to his back, digging her nails in and letting out animalistic grunts as she hastily rode his cock. Ryan answered by gyrating his hips upward into her, eliciting quiet moans as his full length dove inside her.

Ryan laid her down onto the bench, grasping both of her breasts and massaging them as he thrust into her wet opening.

"Do you want me to pull out?" he asked between thrusts, to which she answered with a nod.

He settled into a half-crouch as he slammed his penis into the fit soccer player, his balls slapping against the space between her lips and her ass.

"Don't fucking stop!" she gasped. "Oh GOD that's good!" she shouted as she grabbed one of his hands and moved it to her throat. Ryan took the hint and wrapped his hand around it, gently at first. The sheer excitement brought him to near orgasm.

"I… I'm gonna cum!" he grunted, tightening his grip on her throat as she squeezed his wrist.

Taylor began to cry out in what sounded like a mixture of pain and pleasure, furiously rubbing her clit until finally Ryan couldn't hold back any longer. He withdrew from her tight, wet slit and sprayed his cum across her body from her navel to just below her throat.

Exhausted, he sat down onto the bench, leaning backwards to lie down. Instead of finding the bench though, he bumped heads with Karen, who in the interim had found herself in a sixty-nine with Jordyn just behind them on the bench. He sat back up, looking over at Sarah, who had sat down on the floor while fingering herself to the sights in front of her.

"Mmmm," moaned Taylor after finding her breath. "Fuck, that was good. Short, but good. That's one hell of a cock you've got there, kid." She looked over to Sarah, who had been watching her. "You like his cum, don't you?" she asked the shy girl on the floor. Sarah nodded in response. "Come on, come over here and lick it off of me."

Sarah obliged, kneeling forward to lick at Taylor's naked body, soaked in sweat and semen. She cleaned off the girl's body, swallowing every drop. As she finished, she shot a glance over to Ryan's softening member.

"Ca-can I… umm… is it ok if I… ahh…"

Ryan nodded, reaching out a hand to caress her hair as she happily took his cock into her mouth, licking off the remaining cum that dripped from it.

Taylor sat up, chuckling. "I think she likes you. Did you know Sarah here is a virgin?"

Ryan shook his head. "I'd have never known, from the way she can suck a dick."

"Hmm, a shame," she said, eying the girl that was gently playing with his penis. "Maybe another time soon you can change that." Taylor stood up, working the combination on the lock that Ryan had thought was his before he'd gotten caught in this situation. "In any case, I'm satisfied for the night. You can show yourself out, right? I'd hurry with that if I were you. You never know who's on campus at this time."

"Aww fuck!" Ryan said, having lost track of time entirely. "I have to go, I need to get home, I've got a big swim meet tomorrow!"

As he stood up, so did Sarah.

"Bye Ryan!" she said, smiling.

He smiled, and left the locker room, taking one last glance back at the girls, two of whom were just finishing up with each other while the other two got dressed.

After getting into the boy's locker room, Ryan rapidly dressed himself and packed away his towel and swim shorts. He couldn't even make sense of what had just happened, and was still trying to determine if it had even really happened. There was no possible way a guy like him could have something like that happen to him, but everything pointed to it being real. Including Sarah meeting him as he walked out of the locker room.

"Hey, Sarah!" he said, both excited and nervous at seeing her again.

She brushed a lock of her hair back out of her face, revealing a shy smile. "Hi, Ryan. I… I was wondering, you know, maybe… would you like, want to get coffee this weekend, or something?"

Ryan smiled back at her, nodding. "Of course, yeah, that would be awesome! I mean tomorrow I have my swim meet, but how about Saturday?"

Sarah nodded, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket, handing it to him with a shaking hand. "Here, it's my number. Umm, you could maybe text me some time?"

"Yeah, of course, sounds good!" Ryan looked around, noticing they were the only people in the complex. "So… do you need a ride or something, it's getting kinda late and it's dark out."

She shook her head. "Thanks, but Taylor is giving me and the other girls a ride home like she always does."

"Okay then, I'll… ahh… I'll talk to you later? Maybe tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure!" she said with a smile, turning to walk away.

Ryan watched her leave, noticing the way that the shorts she wore hugged her curved tightly, and when she's walked through the doors, he smiled. Now there was definitely no way he'd be getting any sleep at home. TC mark

How To Be Friends When You’re Religious And Your Friends Aren’t

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 06:47 PM PDT

Flickr / Britt-knee
Flickr / Britt-knee

Can we talk about religion for a moment? It can be an uncomfortable subject for some people – regardless of whatever place on the spectrum you may fall on – religious, somewhere in between, or not at all. I find religion – its theory, its practice, its "place" in society and how individuals approach it – to be an interesting conversation. And oftentimes a necessary one, despite any discomfort it might bring.

People often talk about "being religious" like it's a category that one either checks or doesn't. The standard for whether you practice a faith is how often you attend a place of worship and how involved you are in that place. Maybe too, how it affects your approach to any one thing in society, and indeed to society overall.

But despite all these categories, it seems to me that being religious is both a matter of communal recognition as well as personal perspective of what that might constitute. Either way, religiosity or lack thereof is complex, and not treating it as such, is probably why our public conversations about religion range from the oversimplified to the chaotic.

I read something really cool about faith recently. It was in a piece on marriage in The New York Times called, The Wedding Toast I'll Never Give. Comparing the difficulties of being married to practicing faith, the author wrote something insightful:

You can be bad at a religion and still be 100 percent that religion. Just because you take the Lord's name in vain doesn't make you suddenly a non-Christian. You can be a sinner. In fact, I think it's good theology that no matter how hard you try, you are sure to be a sinner, just as you are sure to be lousy, at least sometimes, at being married.

That is a really profound and often forgotten sentiment by all people, regardless of their (non-) religious viewpoints. Sometimes people categorize you into a separate kind of human when you assert that you're religious. (Depending on where you are, they do that too when you're on the far end of not being religious at all i.e. an agnostic or atheist.) The tendency is to place people in boxes that we create about who they are, based on their beliefs – or based on what we think are their beliefs. But human beings, if nothing else, can be complicated creatures. So are their beliefs, and the ways they practice them.


I am a cradle and practicing Catholic: Sunday Mass, the Eucharist, Confession, etc. – the works. (Side note: It always amuses me that many Americans treat Black Catholics like unicorns. If it helps, I'm not American. I'm Nigerian and Catholicism is fairly prominent in many Black-dominated parts of the world.) Church is one of the few places I can rely on for peace of mind. It's a place I find solace and no need to be something other than whatever I am in the moment. And maybe too, having moved around quite a bit, it's a place I have almost always relied on to feel like home.

But I'm not always a “good” Christian and Catholic. (Another side note: America is seriously the only country I've ever known to not see the latter as a subset of the former. What's up with that?) But even when I am the admitted sinner, I have always held on to my faith as a part of my identity. In my conviction, religion and spirituality go together, not separately.

And even in my imperfections and the difficult questions I ask of my faith and of myself, I find myself always returning to the position that ultimately I think human beings are limited. Our capacity to understand the world no matter how brilliant, is limited. Our versions of love, truth, peace, and justice are limited. There has to be more – religion and spirituality is the journey to be open to more.

This doesn't always go over well when you meet people in a culture and in parts of the culture – big city life – that for all intents and purposes, tend to embrace the secular more than the religious. But that's why I've always loved the city – you meet people from different walks of life. I am grateful that for me, this was always more of the norm than not.

In childhood, I would think, "This person believes something different from me. Cool." And my parents always reiterated, "You treat people with love and respect, no matter what." Works for me. In adulthood, I probably have the same general attitude – except now I want to know why people believe what they believe in (or don't), because I find their stories interesting. But I have realized that such an attitude is not always reciprocated.

A list of things I have been told after asserting or confirming my faith:

1. You're way too smart to be religious (/Catholic).
2. Why would you believe in something that you can't prove?
3. So…you don't believe in science?
4. [Insert any political assumption about Catholics/religious people here.]

Writing a response to any of these is a whole other article in and of itself. But for the most part, those type of questions come with a spirit of condescension. Pun completely intended. The religious and the not-so-religious or not-religious-at-all, tend to be equally condemning.


Sometimes I think in order to get along with those around them, people will hide or diminish a part of their identity. I find this is true while navigating friendships from the time you're an impressionable late teen leaving home, to when you start to resemble some sort of well-adjusted adult. I am religious, some of my friends are too – and are of a different faith from the one I practice. And some of my friends aren't. And sometimes that makes for very awkward religious conversation.

Awkward conversations, even ones that are full of passion, do not disturb me as much as the sense that someone – sometimes a friend – would rather ignore the part of me that is religious. And I would be lying if I said I have not felt this sentiment at times. Being religious when (some of) your friends are not, also can put you in the position of being an apologist for your faith in public conversations – even when you don't intend to be.

I have found that in terms of Catholicism, there seems to be this notion in popular cultural opinion that Catholics have one opinion about any one thing. Catholicism is universal in practice of faith, but something it is not in theology, is singular.

Take the issue of gay marriage. There are priests (and people) who were pro gay marriage from the start. There are priests (and people) who continue to be against it, in all contexts. There are priests (and people) who believe the state's involvement in marriage is entirely unwarranted. There are priests (and people) who see civil marriage and religious marriage as different and separate from each other. There are a plethora of perspectives more than the above mentioned. The point? Faith is complicated.

Like most people, I don't like to be seen solely as a "representative" of my faith – to my friends or anyone else. I'm a sinner after all, and sometimes I might give you the wrong impression. More importantly, it might give you only a half-full picture of what it means to be a person of that faith, or any faith for that matter.

But I also don't want that aspect me of me ignored. You won't get to really see me or fully accept the complicated parts of me that make me, me if you ignore my faith. And it's the same for you. If I choose to ignore the parts of you that make you, you – to make myself comfortable, then I'll never fully see you.

In the end, we have to let people, especially our friends, see us in all our parts. I think our differences are what makes us all so interesting – religion or lack thereof. If we can approach these difference with love and respect, I think we'll find that even when our friends are something we aren't, our friendships can still blossom in meaningful ways. And in this context, maybe even make us proud to be humans so different from each other, and yet genuinely call each other, "friend." But first I must see all the parts of you, and you must see all the parts of me too. TC mark

I Never Wanted To Be Dominated By A Man, Until My Billionaire Colleague Saved My Life

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 02:17 PM PDT

Safe In His Arms
Safe In His Arms

The next couple of hours were spent in a daze. I felt numb and like an automaton answering police questions. Alex kept his arm around my waist and pulled me back if I tried to stray even an inch. Inside, my anger burned at him for not letting me die instead of Lana.

"I came into the office to discuss the sexual harassment situation with Jack Anderson and found him dead. I had wanted him to reprimand and fire his son Paul but apparently they'd had an argument and he had already done that. Half an hour later, Paul returned with some others and started shooting in the building in what seemed like retaliation," Alex told the officer as we sat on the wall facing the glass office building.

"He was high on drugs. Cocaine is usually his favorite. He and his father always fought. Jack was always trying to mold Paul into something he wasn't. It caused a lot of friction between them. Jack's elder son, the favorite, died in a car crash and Jack made sure that Paul knew he would never measure up. I wonder if he actually originally meant to kidnap Zara but changed his mind to murder her once he was sacked?"

“I had lost so many friends and work colleagues. None of it seemed real.”

I shuddered thinking about being kidnapped by Paul Anderson. It was possible and the officer seemed to agree. I had lost so many friends and work colleagues. None of it seemed real. But it was and now Lana was gone.

"Who were the other men?" Alex asked, curiosity framing his handsome face.

"We aren't sure yet. We shot one dead but the other two are on the run. They were professional and it looks like they had been hired by someone."

"Paul said they had given him the weapons and he was trying not to kill me because they wanted the pleasure," Alex continued, rubbing his hand up and down my arm, watching me with heavy concern.

"We have got everyone working on this. It sounds like someone holds a grudge. They were hired guns. I will arrange protection."

"No, thank you. I have my own security team. Keep your people working on this. Now can I take Ms. Hart here home. She badly needs to rest and be checked over by a doctor."

"Yes, of course. We will be in touch."

I turned and glared at Alex Barclay the moment the officer left to talk to another armed man, one of many still swarming around the building.

"I don't want to go home with you. I won't go anywhere with you. You let my friend die instead of me. It was me he wanted," I shouted making everyone else on the wall trying to recover turn and look at me. "Lana is dead because of me," I finished pushing my index finger hard in the top of my chest to emphasize the point.

Alex stood up.

“I won't have you torturing yourself. I am not ashamed of what I did.”

"No more, Zara. I won't have you torturing yourself. I am not ashamed of what I did. It was the right thing to do," he informed me arrogantly, catching hold of my arm. "Now, you are coming home with me to rest and there will be no arguments."

That was when I went at him with my hand to slap his face. He ducked it and then pulled me quickly towards him. Neatly, he dipped his body and swung me over his shoulder in one full motion. Apparently I was to be given no further choice or comment in the matter.

Holding my legs down at his chest to stop them from struggling, he ignored the hits to his back from my fists and my demands for him to put me down. With his free hand he pulled his mobile out of his inside suit jacket pocket and called his chauffeur. He carried me down in to the next street that wasn't cordoned off by the police. Thankfully it was a small alley and only one person walked past us with a grin on his face. I was half tempted to demand he help me but embarrassment and being lost in too much anger caused the opportunity to go by.

"George, bring the car round fast," he ordered standing at the edge of the road. A minute later, a large grey Bentley was pulling up next to us. Before I knew it Alex was depositing me in the back. He moved to go around the other side instructing the chauffeur to close the door and not let me out. I was furious.

“I got the distinct impression I was about to be tied up.”

As he hurried around to the opposite side of the car he loosened his silk powder blue tie and removed it from his shirt collar. I was trying to move over the seat to get out before he got there but he opened the car door and got in. Defeated, I found myself retreating back across the smooth dove grey leather seats away from him, not liking the way he held his tie and looked at me. I got the distinct impression I was about to be tied up.

Alex caught hold of both of my wrists and forced me to turn as he wound them up behind my back. Quickly he crossed them and wound the silk tie around them. The knot he tied around them was tight and there was no escape. I cursed him.

"This is kidnap."

"No, this is called taking you in hand. Sit still or I will put you over my knee and spank your bare bottom like a child and tame that temper of yours," he said bending me forwards to reach my bottom still covered by my skirt and give it two firm slaps with his hand.

This did little to calm me. Outraged that he would dare spank me like a child, I struggled with him when he sought to place the seatbelt over me. But I was successful in making it difficult for him. With a heavy sigh he pulled my body towards him, turned it and forced me to lie face down over his knee.

"You asked for this, little one. I have been as patient as any man would be but you have now pushed me. You will be taken care of and protected. You are your own worst enemy."

“I felt my skirt being lifted, felt the material swish seductively over my skin as it was raised and settled on my waist.”

In this position I was unable to do anything. My hands were bound and there was nothing to stop him taking his hand to my backside. I felt my skirt being lifted, felt the material swish seductively over my skin as it was raised and settled on my waist. I heard myself plead with him not to discipline me. It was going to hurt. I'd felt that from the two slaps he had given my buttocks through my skirt. Not to mention the blushing embarrassment as he tucked his fingers on either side of my underwear, brushing my hips with his smooth male hands as he began lowering the flimsy lace of my chaste white thong panties just below the backs of my thighs.

My eyes closed. How could he do this to me after what had just happened? It wasn't until my spanking drew to an end that I would understand the calming effect he sought to give me with his firm discipline.

"What a lovely bottom, Zara," he said smoothing his cool palm over my flesh. "Nice and pert but not skinny, plenty of flesh, just the way I like them on a woman when I come to spank her."

I held my breath feeling him brace his arm over my back to hold me still and in place. He raised his hand and I yelped out loud with the first hard strike, feeling my bottom jiggle and wobble with the force he used to chastise me. After that the slaps came hotter and faster. I cried like a baby. My mind centered on the pain and could focus on nothing else. The morning's terrifying memories faded into the background for a short while giving me room to cry and overcome some of the anger I felt.

Alex spanked first one buttock and then quickly the next repeating the process over and over until my butt stung. But he was not to finish there. My thighs were next to feel the weight of his discipline.

My cries became louder, my sobbing harder releasing my pent up frustration. I hadn't realized how tender the skin on the back of my thighs was until they were slapped like a naughty child and flared hotly. But it wasn't until Alex finished spanking me that I realized I was heavily wet between my thighs. So much so I worried I would be staining his trousers.

My body lay slumped over his knees, exhausted but drained of a lot of the fiery anger that had threatened to destroy my sanity. No longer did I worry about what the chauffeur thought sitting in the front of the car awaiting the order to drive or even my embarrassment. I just quietly cried in the comfort of a numb blank mind. It would not last but for this moment I was calm and relieved, securely bound and punished over the billionaire's knees.

Alex stroked his fingers over my red bottom in a gentle soothing caress.

"Good girl," he whispered. "All over. Do you feel better?"

His lips brushed the backs of my sore slapped thighs and then travelled up on to each buttock.

"Yes," I answered softly, meekly.

He patted my bottom and then lifted my panties back up taking great care over my hot flesh. Then he lowered my skirt and again patted my bottom through it.

"If I let you up are you going to be a good girl?"

I nodded.

"Yes, I will."

“I wanted him to hold me like a child and soothe my fears.”

He was talking to me as though I were a small child and the strange thing about it was I liked it more than I cared to admit. It made me feel safe. The urge to curl up in his arms soft and warm entered my mind even after all I said to him. I wanted him to hold me like a child and soothe my fears.

I sat back down on the seat wincing at the pain it caused. Alex gave me a gentle smile and lifted my chin. He appeared satisfied with my discomfort. I shuffled uneasily still mystified by the wetness it had caused. I hope he hadn't detected it.

His free hand wiped at the tears still falling from my eyes.

"Allow me to take care of you. Don't be afraid, I will keep you safe," his voice was dark as velvet when he spoke. His blue eyes bored in to my own. "Do you want me to take care of you, Zara? Take control of your life, discipline you, protect and guide you? Dominate you?"

I knew what he was asking. It was almost as though he'd heard my thoughts, worked out what I was craving from a man before I had. The need to be held and looked after like a child swelled inside me. That was what had been wrong with my relationship with Gary. I'd wanted him to control me and he had been reluctant. Instead he'd abused me with cruel words and taunts, using them to control my behavior. Now here on this day of all days I was being offered everything I wanted.

"Yes, please, I need . . ."

Alex reached over and kissed me.

"Thank you. I have waited a long time for a woman like you to come in to my life. I won't ever let you down," he whispered reaching for my lips again, this time more forcefully. I panted, intoxicated by him, staring into his eyes with innocent wonder, trying to anticipate where we would go from here.

"Let's get you home, stripped and put to bed to rest."

The car journey was short. My hands had been untied and I sat quietly with Alex holding my hand in his, his thumb idly caressing my hand to give me comfort. We hadn't spoken after I had surrendered my control. I'd heard about these relationships between a Dominant and a submissive and had always been intrigued as well as aroused by the dynamic between them. Now was the time to try it for myself.

I wondered how Alex was going to get me to submit to him entirely. As a child and an adult I had found it difficult to trust many people and he was going to have a fight on his hands. I might have said yes but enacting it was going to be a different matter. I hoped he would be patient with me.

“He opened the door to his bedroom and that was when I faltered and my mind began to reason and question…”

The car pulled up in the grounds of his London home in Belgravia. It was a wide and tall beautiful white eighteenth century mansion. He nodded to the housekeeper and took me straight up the stairs to the second floor with his arm around my waist. He opened the door to his bedroom and that was when I faltered and my mind began to reason and question my mind on my needs.

"I think I have made a mistake. I need to leave," I said turning towards the door.

"Hush, you haven't made a mistake, little one," he said lifting my chin. "You are exactly where you want to be. Don't be afraid to embrace your submission to me."

"I'm not sure I can. Please I want to go home."

"No, darling we have already been through all of that. There is no way I am leaving you on your own unprotected to get more upset. Besides I want to make sure you are safe. I nearly lost you today and I want to ensure that never happens again. Those gunmen might come back to finish the job. I am sure this has something to do with Paul's father defrauding the company as well. You are an important witness. I am sure you were meant to be kidnapped not shot. Something strange is going on and I will have you protected. You are staying put here even if I have to gag you and tie you down to my bed to keep you here."

His dark words thrilled me. The excitement generated from them shot straight to my pussy and soaked it preparing me for his entry and intimate domination. I panicked and my mind decided to give in to the fear to fight my feelings believing them wrong and unchecked.

"Now, I want you to kneel and submit to me," he commanded softly, seductively." TC mark

Excerpted from Safe In His Arms

10 Horror Novels or Collections You Need To Add To Your Must-Read List

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 03:47 PM PDT

Flickr, kim
Flickr, kim

I’ve got an innate love for all things horror. The scarier, the better. I attribute this partially to just being a strange person (sorry about that, husband) but mostly to my discovery of my mother’s Stephen King collection at age 8. I had dabbled in the Goosebumps collection, generally because they were so popular in the 1990s, but I tore through them like a hungry dog through a rare steak. My reading level was several grades higher than average so they were simply too easy. Stephen King, though daunting in their length, provided more of a challenge.

From the first one, I was hooked.

I fondly remember spending my summers on the deck by our pool, reading about Derry and Christine and the Overlook Hotel. A lot of the material went over my head — rereading The Shining at age 27 VS age 9 was quite an experience — but the King of Horror had firmly planted the seed for me to wildly enjoy both reading and scary stuff.

That being said, here are 10 books from my favorite genre that you NEED to check out if you love horror fiction. (I mean, yeah, you could always read my stories too, but these right here are the greats.)

Night Shift by Stephen King

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This was the first book I fished out of my mom’s bookcase. It’s my favorite of all time (and hers too!). Night Shift is Stephen King’s first short story collection and every single one of the 20 included are ON POINT.

The standouts, in my opinion, are The Mangler (about a demon-possessed laundry press), Sometimes They Come Back (about a young teacher haunted by both his past and dead former bullies), I Am The Doorway (about a guy who begins to grow eyes in his hands), and Children Of The Corn (about a couple who stumble upon a Nebraskan village full of murderous children). This collection is just fantastic, so chilling and so well-written, it’s what I hope to shoot for with my own first short story collection. Because why not aim for the moon and land among the stars or some other such bullshit?

Obviously King’s other works are also insanely good but I feel like Night Shift gets left out a lot so definitely grab this one and give it a chance. You won’t be sorry.

Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk

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This one is a very close second favorite. Palahniuk is, in my opinion, one of the 21st century greats and most people I talk to about him are so focused on Invisible Monsters or Fight Club that Haunted falls by the wayside. And it absolutely shouldn’t.

It’s not exactly a novel, not exactly a short story collection — more like a fantastic hybrid of the two. The overarching plot is of 17 people who have joined up on a “Writer’s Retreat” in order to A) write their masterpiece and B) get away from it all. Also, to get away from something in their own personal lives, each of which is revealed in a freeverse poem that precedes their story.

However, things go south fast as everyone begins to dream of the fame they could gain from “suffering” at this isolated retreat. What follows is a both hilarious and a nightmare; each of the characters share such interesting tales that weave into the main story.

BONUS: the first short story is shared by the bus driver. You may have heard of it — it’s called Guts and it’s caused over 30 people to faint during live readings. It is INCREDIBLY hard to get through (even for me) and quite honestly completely disgusting but like a car wreck you can’t look away. Once you make it past Guts it’s all downhill from there, but no less disturbing.

A Choir Of Ill Children by Tom Piccirilli

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By the late Tom Piccirilli (who just passed away this month), A Choir Of Ill Children is… hard to describe. Twisted Southern gothic at its finest, it follows Thomas, the wealthiest member of a wasted society called Kingdom Come. He lives with his brothers, conjoined triplets who share a brain and whose descriptions are nightmarish to say the least.

There’s also witches, dog-kickers, suicide, one-legged murderers, and so much more. But to say anything else could potentially ruin this wonderfully weird tale, so I recommend just checking it out for yourself.

Horns by Joe Hill

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I’m not going to lie, I was a little skeptical of Joe Hill’s popular second novel because I hadn’t read anything from him before, but let’s face it — his dad is Stephen King, the Master of Horror, and I was worried he might be riding off that success. But to his credit he went by a pen name so I gave it a shot.

So worth it. Horns is the story of Ig Parrish, a young man who wakes up one day after a drunken blackout to find horns growing out of his head. (Hey, who among us haven’t been there, amirite?) He quickly learns people are compulsively telling him their darkest, deepest secrets, and that even the people he loves have ugly thoughts about him.

While trying to figure out what’s happening, Ig also works towards solving the mystery of his murdered girlfriend — who everyone assumes was actually murdered by Ig himself.

Hill was clearly influenced by his father’s style but he brings his own voice to the genre and it’s a voice I greatly enjoy. The plot is solid and the characters are strong. Definitely add this to your list, and while you’re at it, try his debut novel too — Heart-Shaped Box.

The Collector Of Hearts: New Tales Of The Grotesque by Joyce Carol Oates

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Joyce Carol Oates is a literary juggernaut. Her bibliography is huge, she spans multiple genres, and she’s got an incredible way with words. I was surprised to find she wrote horror (though I’m not sure why, of course she does) and this collection is downright scary.

There are 27 chilling stories in The Collector Of Hearts and they’re all solid but a few have stuck with me since I first read it about six years ago. In The Hand-puppet, a tale about a young girl who creates a hand-puppet that disturbs her mother, there’s a line of dialogue that I doubt will ever leave my head: “MISSUS I BEEN HERE BEFORE YA! AN’ I GONNA BE HERE WHENYA GONE!”

I’ll gladly nominate Elvis Is Dead, Why Are You Alive? for the best title ever, in which a middle-aged man has a recurring nightmare about a fanatical funeral for Elvis Presley.

But the short story that might possibly be the creepiest story I’ve ever read — and that’s saying something — can’t even have the title shown here. That’s because it’s a black bar, similarly to how you’d censor or black out text. A woman recounts a terrifying childhood experience that is repeatedly censored with said black bar, insinuating that she’s missing bits and pieces of her past. The best part about this story is that it’s so bizarre, so macabre, that if an 11-year-old girl tried to tell her parents what happened she wouldn’t be believed. AT ALL. So how much of it truly happened? What was created to help her cope? Or is it all true?

Fantastic. Seriously. Find this one on Amazon NOW.

Dark Places by Gillian Flynn

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Of course, everyone’s familiar with Flynn’s smash hit Gone Girl, but I doubt most people are aware of Dark Places and they should be. It focuses on Libby Day, the sole survivor of her family — except, of course, for her big brother, who is in prison for supposedly massacring the rest of them.

Libby is damaged (obviously) and sarcastic (a woman of my own heart). A true crime club offers her money to make an appearance at one of their gatherings; a member convinces her to look deeper into the murders of her family as he believes her brother may be innocent.

This one’s got it all: murder, mystery, and a good ol’ dose of Satanic Panic from the 1980s. It’s fast-paced and fun and — wait for it — very, very dark. (HA!)

Kissing The Witch by Emma Donoghue

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This is one of my favorites that I read when I was 13 over Spring Break. (Yes, I party hard.) It’s not exactly straight-up horror but it’s extremely dark and a completely new spin on things.

The subtitle is “Old Tales In New Skins” and that’s exactly what they are — fairytales retold and reshaped until they’re something new entirely. Cinderella suffers from schizophrenia as there is no evil stepmother and falls, instead, for her fairy godmother rather than the prince. Rapunzel, blind and alone, is tricked by the witch into believing there’s an escape. Hans and Gretel are taken in not by an evil crone but a woman who cares for the abandoned children and we quickly learn that the fairy tale we’ve grown to know and love was really just Hans’ version of things.

All sorts of themes are explored and 13 was actually a great year to read this book — I learned about female empowerment, how to be true to yourself, and that adults/parents aren’t always right. Plus it was very cool to realize which story was what fairy tale as I went on. Try it for a little lighter reading with some deeper meanings.

The Grin Of The Dark by Ramsey Campbell

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You know what’s creepy? Silent films. But that’s pretty hard to translate to text, right? Wrong! Campbell tells the story of Simon Lester, a film historian who’s hired to track down the mysterious past of former silent film star Tubby Thackary. Thackary’s films stopped being shown in the early 1900s and very few people even know who he is.

As Simon starts to unravel the mystery he himself begins to unravel as well. Surreal, spooky, and very unnerving, the story spirals out of control. By the end you start to suspect you, too, can hear the laughter echoing in Simon’s head.

The Girl With All The Gifts by M.R. Carey

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A fresh twist on zombies is always good even in a world that feels oversaturated with zombies. In The Girl With All The Gifts, we find ourselves in a post-apocalyptic land overrun by (of course) zombies. While these monsters have been created by a fungus — the new trend in zombie lore — the lead character is Melanie, a student at a school somewhere called Hotel Echo.

At first you think maybe this is the continuing education of Earth’s future population. Quickly, it’s revealed that Melanie and her fellow students are infected, to some degree, with the zombie fungal virus. However, Melanie is a special case and seems to have a genius-level IQ, as well as emotional thoughts and feelings.

Hotel Echo is attacked by a group of scavengers and junkers, forcing Melanie and several other members of the base out into the cruel world. Melanie, infatuated with her teacher, insists on coming along. The group searches for an elite mobile lab that set out to cure the disease in hopes of finding the scientists and, possibly, a cure.

This is a solid summer read. I read it on the beach, a dream I’ve always had, and it was fantastic. But that was probably compounded by the fact I was drinking margaritas at 7am.

The Winter People by Jennifer McMahon

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The Winter People is another zombie story — well, sort of. I don’t want to get too far into it because that would spoil the story for you but it’s split apart into three different narratives: Sarah Harrison Shea, a woman who loses her young daughter in 1908; present-day Ruthie, whose mother has gone missing under mysterious circumstances; and present-day Katherine, a widow still grieving from the loss of both her husband and her infant son.

The way their stories interweave and reconnect is fascinating. Behind everything runs a current of something grotesque, unsettling, and supernatural. This is another one I don’t want to spoil for you; just pick it up and tear through it in a day like I did. You won’t regret it. TC mark

17 Things That Happen When You Have An Anxious Mind But A Laid Back Personality

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 08:03 AM PDT

via Jake Coffey
via Jake Coffey 
There's really no such thing as having an "anxious mind." There is only having your anxiety fueled by your thoughts (which is something that everyone experiences now and again). But the people who tend to feel it most intensely are those whose rapid thinking is in constant contrast to their super chill, laid back personalities. They never know when to fight or flight, everything seems like an over-reaction, and their self-angst is maxed out, because their hearts are calm and their heads are crazed, more often than they will ever admit. Here, all the things that happen when you have an anxious mind and a laid back personality.

1. You epitomize leading a life of "quiet desperation." Half of the reason you're anxious all the time is because you don't naturally act or, therefore, process your emotions, and while that's positive in some ways, it's debilitating in others.

2. You're naturally zen in that you observe your emotions objectively. Which is fantastic in that you're not controlled by them, but harmful because you then start to believe that you only have to process or truly feel the ones you want.

3. You're highly indecisive; your head and heart are a paradox all within themselves. You feel as though you're always going back and forth between preparing for the worst and hoping for the best, and rarely in-between.

4. You're laid back because you know how to quiet your mind. Most of your #chill lifestyle was developed out of necessity. Your brain starts to short circuit when you overload it with any more drama or worry, so you actively go out of your way to create a life where the only problems you have are the ones you make up in your mind.

5. You're intelligent enough to know what could possibly happen, but grounded enough to know that worrying about it won't prevent it. You're aware that ultimately, an infinity of unfortunate fates are to fall on us all. You often think that the whole problem with humans is that we're animals that don't want to be animals… beings who do everything in their power to make their collective eventuality (death) more palatable in any way.

6. Yet, you're most comfortable with your life when you feel prepared for the worst. Your mind constantly goes back to what you'd do if you were to lose a job, lose a relationship, etc., and when you realize that your savings account will support you or that you won't be emotionally wrecked by losing one particular person, you feel free to happily go about your life.

7. You seek solitude and relaxing environments so your brain can process and deprogram and let off steam. You're not one of those people that needs any more external stimuli to keep them entertained or wondering or interested – you've got that all covered, perhaps to an unhealthy degree.

8. You are your own locus of control. And perhaps this is the most positive characteristic you have: you do not assume that anybody else is responsible for your emotions, and you know this because thinking otherwise places you in a minefield of suffering for the rest of your life.

9. You're very casual about your self-development. You're one of those people who reads Deepak Chopra on the beach.

10. You're non-confrontational to a fault. You'll do anything to avoid not having to upset anybody and that often results in you not communicating how you really feel, when doing so would eliminate the problem altogether.

11. You often wonder if it is your resistance to action that creates your anxiety-thoughts. That maybe feeling jealous or anxious or upset is just an internal call to do better, one that's being avoided.

12. You're fascinated by personality types and the ways humans function. You're probably into astrology or psychology or Myers Briggs personalities, and your classifications of people within these systems infiltrates your daily conversation about them. Ultimately, it helps you understand yourself better.

13. You keep a tight social circle. You feel like you can only really have fun when you're in the presence of people you're truly comfortable with. Otherwise, you're trying to mentally place yourself enough to be comfortable.

14. You're particular about what you want, yet super chill about what you have. You probably need to keep a gratitude journal if you don't have one already, one, because that's something you'd be into, and two, because you have a hard time being completely "in the moment."

15. You're all but convinced that the smartest people on Earth have somehow transcended their neurological hardwiring, and know how to just enjoy life. You know that "ignorance is bliss" may be a misquote and a generally terrible way to approach life, and yet you often fantasize about how lovely it would be to just not worry at all. Side note: you also probably love dogs.

16. You'll argue that over-thinking and your apprehension to immediately trust someone is, in fact, what preserves your peace of mind. While not always the healthiest frame of experience, you can also acknowledge that it's people who are too trusting and too shallow in their assumptions that end up getting hurt and manipulated and so on.

18. Your entire life struggle can be summed up as not having "the wisdom to know the difference." You're very good at letting go. You're even better at trying harder. But knowing when each is appropriate is completely lost on you. Alas: the #struggle. TC mark

15 Things People Who Love To Be Alone Are Secretly Guilty Of

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 06:42 AM PDT


1. Waiting to answer texts when someone asks what you're up to because you get that weird panicky feeling that they’re going to want to hang out immediately.

2. OR you straight up decline plans for no real reason other than you just don't feel like being around people at the moment. It’s nothing personal. You just really were planning on being alone at the time your friend suggested doing something.

3. Putting more importance on reading a book than going out and feeling absolutely no remorse over your choice.

4. Or if it isn’t a book, it’s finishing a TV series. C’mon, sometimes you just HAVE to know how something’s going to end before you can proceed on with your life.

5. Asking someone if they want to do something later in the day or on a different day just because if you don’t spend more time by yourself your social fuses will feel like they are completely fried and you’ll just be a blob hanging out with them with limited social ability.

6. Wanting to drink alone vs. drinking with friends. You love having a couple beers or a bottle of wine with your friends but sometimes there’s nothing better than having those drinks completely by yourself after a long day.

7. Taking yourself on a date and not inviting anyone along. Sometimes you go to events, see a movie, or go on a hike on your own and when you tell your friends later about it, they’re like, how come you didn’t invite me? Sometimes doing something alone just feels better than experiencing it with other people.

8. You can get annoyed when your friends suddenly spring new people on you. When they bring other people to tag along to what you thought was just going to be a hang out sesh with just you two, it can be hard for you to warm up to new people.

9. You actually don’t mind being single. Being single just means more time with yourself and honestly, what’s better than that? When your friends always complain about being single you might chime in but the truth is, while you enjoy relationships when you’re in one you’re not some tortured soul when you’re not attached to someone.

10. You always find yourself listening in on people’s conversations. You love observing others and discovering the way people behave and interact with others. Whether you’re getting coffee or walking around, you can’t help but tune into the lives of other people.

11. Sometimes you can be independent to a fault. You’ve always done things by yourself so once someone else comes into the picture and wants to share responsibilities, even if it would help you out, you have a hard time letting go and letting someone in.

12. Your best weekend is spent in solitude. While you see nothing wrong with this it can get on the nerves of your friends who don’t get why you don’t want to do something even though you’re not actually going to be doing anything.

13. You find yourself wanting deep conversations to last longer. When you’re with people and feel yourself really connecting with them you don’t want the moment to end.

14. You would rather work alone than work with people. You don’t mind the occasional group brainstorming activity but everytime your boss suggests getting a group together to do something you secretly roll your eyes and sigh.

15. You hate when people question your love of being alone. When you say you’re going to do something by yourself people immediately want to know why and why you don’t want to bring someone else with you. “Won’t you be lonely?” is one of the worst questions. There is, after all, a difference between being alone and being lonely. ;) TC mark

My Creepy Grindr Hookup Broke Into My Bedroom For Sex

Posted: 10 Aug 2015 12:03 PM PDT


Sometime in August of last summer, sunset was falling over Orange County as I perused Grindr. Like a mosquito, my feeding habits are at dusk and dawn, and I was determined to get it in (literally—I'm gay, after all) before it got too late, because I have a nasty habit of dozing off in my Kiehls Rare Earth Pore Cleansing Masque ($24.99).

"Top, 23" messaged me, "Yo."

“Sup," I replied.

"You host?" he asked.

"You bet," I said.

When guys want something, they go for it, and gay courting lasts about as long as it takes the Starship Enterprise to reach warpspeed. Plus, he looked like Latin America's answer to J. Cole, and I'd never fucked a rapper's doppelgänger before.

"J" showed up at my doorstep, flat-bill, sweatpants and all, and I led him to my bedroom. I know what you're thinking—"white boy had a brown fantasy," but let me be clear: my cock munchies are color-blind. The only thing I fetishized was fucking like there were "No Role Modelz" to speak of. Which, at first, we did.

It was enjoyably rough, kinda like crossfit. But with every position swap, a Facebook alert sounded from my phone. At first, I tried to pay it no attention, and as we picked up pace, so did the cyber groans of my iPhone 5…until, finally, our rhythmic flesh-on-flesh pounding was in tandem with my data notifications. For every smack, there was a "beep." Three thrusts into doggy, our sex playlist was the default "Aurora" text-tone on loop. At long last, I succumbed to the siren call of my iDevice, un-skewered myself, and checked my Facebook. Turns out, all that beeping was the sound of *mad hate* cumming my way.

Minutes before my encounter with J, a Facebook friend posted a status bashing Israel and Operation Protective Edge. While I lean to the right on most issues of Israel, it had, admittedly, become more and more difficult to defend blatantly racist actions of the Likud regime. Still, I don't think calling Israelis "Nazis" and "Zionist pigs" either constituted constructive criticism or served to catalyze peace conversations. So, when I commented on the status attempting to justify some of Israel's security concerns, I wasn't prepared to get (anally) fucked by the Internet…with no lube.

Inadvertently, my comment set off a shitstorm of hate. People with noticeably Arab names, top-liberal-arts-college-kids trying their hands at Facebook activism…everyone was fucking me. If my comment were an asshole, it would have been torn wider than the portal in Interstellar.

Nothing kills a boner like the Middle East, but I was still hard, so went back to fucking J and tried to forget about it. But Israel had awakened the zealot Jew in me from its Sabbath slumber, and my fierce cultural Judaism was overwhelming me during what-should-have-been an extremely hot fuck-sesh. The room became blue and white as psychedelic Jewish stars floated around the walls and Hebrew moans escaped my lips. I domed him to images of the Iron Dome. There was a fucking dick in me, but the only thing I could think about was Israel. My Semitic genealogy had heeded its call to battle; the promised land had won over a fresh-out-the-closet gay 20-year-old's libido.

Neither of us had cum yet, and I wasn't going to, so I apologized to J for having to cut the hook up short. There was a long night of comment wars ahead of me, and I just couldn't give him the attention he deserved. Leaving the conversation open-ended, I didn't rule out the possibility of hooking up later in the evening, but, like I told him, I just needed to "Facebook about Israel right now." I spent the rest of the night on my computer, and fell asleep knowing that I had successfully fulfilled my annual requirements to be a reformed Jew.


I jolted out of my bed, convinced that my Israel comments had had a Magic Treehouse affect and teleported me to Gaza City. The reality was only a little less frightening. Apparently, my language when kicking J. Cole out had been extremely “suggestive,” and I was now face-to-face with the consequences of blue-balling—J had, in fact, broken into my bedroom.

My window screen plummeted to my comforter as he hoisted himself out of the backyard and table-topped his way onto my bed. "Hey," he said, "You still horny?"


"…I called you," he said.

I checked my phone—he wasn't lying. I had 10 missed calls, and numerous text messages of the flattering sort, asking if I was awake, if he could tear my ass up, and baiting me for sex with "kush." I explained to him that I hadn't answered because I was sleeping, but he couldn't understand why I was upset.

"Dude…you're acting crazy," he said.

"I'm crazy? I'M CRAZY? You BROKE INTO MY HOUSE so you could smang it……….but I'M CRAZY?"

Ushering him out of my window, I politely told him to get the fuck out of my house before I called the cops. Hurt, he told me to "lose" his number, to which I loudly retorted, "LOSE MY FUCKING ADDRESS!"

Petrified, I laid awake in my bed for the rest of the night. No rest for the chosen people, I guess. From now on though, believe me, the only stance I’ll be taking on Israel is #CecilTheLion. TC mark

The 50 Funniest Tweets In History

Posted: 11 Aug 2015 08:38 AM PDT


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The Importance Of Hobbies In Your Quest For Happiness

Posted: 10 Aug 2015 03:54 PM PDT


Fulfillment and success are what propel us.

In a society that equates ambition increasingly with money or worldly success, it can be thrilling and gratifying to transfer the very human urge to succeed to a more flexible medium.

That's why I play Magic.

I don't play Magic: The Gathering because it's fun. It is, I suppose, but it scratches a deeper itch than that for me. I play Magic because it resonates: something in it just rings in a way that makes it feel more productive than a mere distraction. It's compelling in its complexity. With tens of thousands of cards available for use, I have to factor in power, synergy, and, most importantly, creativity into each deck I design. I rarely even play Magic, to be honest with you. I design and obsess because it's so thrilling to understand and to innovate. For someone technically inept, it's the thrill of design and creation.

It's joyful to be smart and to try. Even in the context of a game, the accomplishment and enjoyment is deep and sincere.

Don't think it's wasted! The value of a feeling is often its own reward. Is it pathetic to take joy and pride in a game? Maybe. But taking joy and pride is important and, well, joyful. I recommend you take it where its offered.


The outlet into games has been coming for a while.

Why do you think people are talking about things being gamefied? We thrive on reward and effort and enjoy being immersed in that. It's very natural. And it's important to see why we need things gamefied: it's because the "work hard and succeed" part of games have been conspicuously missing in many of our larger lives.

I'm not going to go in on The American Dream right now, but, at minimum, we can agree that the path to success is murky and unclear, especially in this transitional internet economy.

That means our natural instinct to succeed can be frustratingly stymied in more traditional jobs: we don't know where our reward is, and we can't do as much work as we'd like in piecemeal, minor positions.

Bureaucracy means many places of employment are lax and slack-jawed. You do what you can. I know people who are frustrated that they can't flourish and do their best work. Ambition burns so bright in them that they have to shelve it, shake their heads, and retract their passion.

Without an outlet in work, those urges remain frustrated.

It's deeply human that we want to succeed. It's often perverted into excess: think of advertising that provokes or feeds on the perceived inferiority of your body or wealth.

So I suggest you chase the feeling that Magic gives me: the feeling of effort being exciting and enjoyable. It may be less clear than the money = happiness binary suggested in pop culture. Don't worry about profitability! That's the joy of a hobby: there's no burden of practicality here. This is just about joy.

So, with that in mind: find a rewarding outlet for your ambition. Make it a hobby, but understand: it will strengthen you. It may be a game. It may be volunteering. It may be performing.  But, whatever it is, feed this inner ambition.

Fan the flame of your own personal greatness. Try hard. That passion will enrich your life and improve your talent in all aspects of your life.

(Also, if you're playing competitive Magic in the Modern format, maybe run a pair of Spellskites in your main deck. It wrecks Splinter Twin, Infect and Burn, plus blanks all the removal on your guys.) TC mark

Justifying Murder: 7 Western Terrorists In Their Own Words

Posted: 10 Aug 2015 01:46 PM PDT

1. Anders Behring Breivik

via Flickr - thierry ehrmann
via Flickr – thierry ehrmann

Crime: On July 22nd, 2011, Breivik bombed government buildings in Oslo killing eight people. He then murdered 69 people, including teenagers, at a Norwegian Labor Party youth camp on Utøya island.

Weapon: Explosives and a Ruger semiautomatic Mini-14.

Why: An opponent of multiculturalism, “cultural marxism,” and a proponent of national socialism (but not a Nazi), Breivik hated many aspects of modern Europe. He was however pro-homosexual rights and pro-Israel. The below section from his manifesto (which is over 1,000 pages long) is a prime example of his feelings on what he perceived as a kind of self genocide in Europe.

Tellingly, when black gang members stab each other or gang rape a white teenage girl or when Muslim jihadists blow up buses and trains filled with innocent people the first concern of the guardians of multiculturalism will be to minimise the racial aspect of these events – i.e. deny the reality – and lame excuses such as “it’s because of poverty” or the Marxist classic “it’s because they are oppressed by an institutionally racist society” will be spewed out by these simpering Liberal apologists.

Yet conversely, if a group of white men were to gang rape a black teenage girl – well, you know exactly how this would be depicted as well as I do.

You tell me – how can equality exist in Liberal-Multicultural la-la land if the standards promoted by Liberals are only ever applied towards whites?

2. Ted Kaczynski

via Wiki Commons
via Wiki Commons

Crime: More commonly known as “The Unabomber,” Kaczynski was a mathematician and professor responsible for sixteen bombings over seventeen years starting in 1978 and ending in 1995. Three of these bombings killed their targets.

Weapon: Pipe bombs, many sent through the mail.

Why: Described as a “neo-Luddite” by the FBI, Kaczynski believed that technology was destroying personal freedom and put down his thoughts in a document called “Industrial Society and It’s Future.”

For primitive societies the natural world (which usually changes only slowly) provided a stable framework and therefore a sense of security. In the modern world it is human society that dominates nature rather than the other way around, and modern society changes very rapidly owing to technological change. Thus there is no stable framework.

The conservatives are fools: They whine about the decay of traditional values, yet they enthusiastically support technological progress and economic growth. Apparently it never occurs to them that you can’t make rapid, drastic changes in the technology and the economy of a society with out causing rapid changes in all other aspects of the society as well, and that such rapid changes inevitably break down traditional values.

3. Baruch Goldstein

via judicial-inc-archive
via judicial-inc-archive

Crime: In 1994, Jewish Israeli Baruch Goldstein murdered 29 Muslims in the city of Hebron in the West Bank as they worshipped and wounded another 125 all while wearing an Israeli Defense Forces uniform.

Weapon: An Israeli Galil assault rifle.

Why: Born and raised in the U.S., Goldstein was adamantly opposed to Palestinians living in Israel and believed that Jews were essentially being outbred and that a Palestinian majority would appear within 70 years. In 1981 a letter to the editor of his appeared in the New York Times.

…even within the pre-1967 borders of Israel this same disparity of birth rates, associated with a declining Aliyah, assures Israel of an Arab majority in Israel (70 years?) unless steps are taken to prevent this from occurring. Ceding the “West Bank” to the “Palestinians” would, therefore, not solve the problem which Rabbi Hertzberg raises; it would serve only to further jeopardize Israel’s security and betray a Biblical trust.

The harsh reality is: if Israel is to avert facing the kinds of problems found in Northern Ireland today, it must act decisively to remove the Arab minority from within its borders. This could be accomplished by initially offering encouragement and incentives to Arabs to leave of their own accord, just as the Jewish population of many Arab countries has been persuaded to leave, one way or another. Before instinctively defending democracy as inviolate, Israelis should consider whether the prospect of an Arab majority electing 61 Arab Knesset members is acceptable to them.

Israelis will soon have to choose between a Jewish state and a democratic one. Baruch Goldsein Brooklyn, June 30, 1981

4. Timothy McVeigh

Screen Shot 2015-08-10 at 12.44.52 PM

Crime: In 1995, McVeigh committed the deadliest act of domestic terrorism in U.S. history by bombing the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. The attack killed 168 people and injured 684. There was also a day care inside the building and nineteen children were killed.

Weapon: A homemade 5,000 pounds bomb made with ammonium nitrate and nitromethane loaded into a Ryder rental truck.

Why: McVeigh bombed the federal building in Oklahoma City as revenge for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobbaco, and Firearms’ raids on Ruby Ridge and the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas. The Ruby Ridge seige resulted in federal officers killing two children and the Branch Davidian Massacre resulted from federal officers attempting to smoke out the cult’s members and accidentally burning 76 of them to death. Only nine Davidians survived the raid which was intended to save the women and children from exploitation and alleged rape. McVeigh directly cited these incidents as cause to take up arms against the government.

He later provided his justification for the 1995 bombing, citing what he perceived as government hypocrisy. He was executed in June of 2001.

I chose to bomb a federal building because such an action served more purposes than other options. Foremost, the bombing was a retaliatory strike; a counter attack, for the cumulative raids (and subsequent violence and damage) that federal agents had participated in over the preceding years (including, but not limited to, Waco.) From the formation of such units as the FBI”s “Hostage Rescue” and other assault teams amongst federal agencies during the “80”s; culminating in the Waco incident, federal actions grew increasingly militaristic and violent, to the point where at Waco, our government – like the Chinese – was deploying tanks against its own citizens.

Knowledge of these multiple and ever-more aggressive raids across the country constituted an identifiable pattern of conduct within and by the federal government and amongst its various agencies. (see enclosed) For all intents and purposes, federal agents had become “soldiers” (using military training, tactics, techniques, equipment, language, dress, organization, and mindset) and they were escalating their behavior. Therefore, this bombing was also meant as a pre-emptive (or pro-active) strike against these forces and their command and control centers within the federal building. When an aggressor force continually launches attacks from a particular base of operation, it is sound military strategy to take the fight to the enemy.

Additionally, borrowing a page from U.S. foreign policy, I decided to send a message to a government that was becoming increasingly hostile, by bombing a government building and the government employees within that building who represent that government. Bombing the Murrah Federal Building was morally and strategically equivalent to the U.S. hitting a government building in Serbia, Iraq, or other nations.

5. Luigi Galleani

via Wiki Commons
via Wiki Commons

Crime: During the Spring of 1919, followers of Italian anarchist leader Luigi Galleani mailed 36 dynamite bombs to U.S. government officials across the country and detonated eight others in American cities. Only one person was killed in any of these attacks. Many more were killed a year later when they bombed Wall Street.

Weapon: Homemade dynamite bombs.

Why: Luigi Galleani believed in overthrowing governments by force in the name of class warfare (literal class warfare). Violence was a perfectly acceptable tactic to both him and his followers in America and Europe. Galleani’s intellectual and moral framework for using violence as a tactic of revolution has become a mainstay of Far Left terrorism.

The State sees only a criminal in anyone who breaks a law and, by delivering him to a dozen bigots or butchers, is certain to have him committed to the executioner, to the penitentiary, to hell in any case.

The conventionally-minded cry out contradictorily that "Human life is sacred and inviolable, and whoever attacks it offends both divine and human laws"; while they are fattening their wallets and their bellies without the least scruple; condemning the helots toiling in the fields, the factories and the mines to starvation, despair and early death, their women to prostitution and their children to the gutter. Or else, they push them over frontiers into monstrous slaughter tor the sake of a killing in the stock market.

Even in our own ranks there are short-sighted persons who, looking at the immediate consequences of shock and reactionary fury caused by violence, hesitate and wonder whether the rebellious act, by provoking wild, unexpected repressions and by corroding our already scanty liberties, may not have compromised our slow, but persistent and certainly beneficial, work of propaganda, organization and preparation.

6. The Jewish Defense League

via JDL Canada Blog
via JDL Canada Blog

Crime: Dedicated to protecting Jews from anti-semitism, the JDL killed seven people and injured 22 more from 1968 to 1986. Most targets were Arabs and Soviet persons or interests. The group has also been involved in kidnapping conspiracies and extortion. They also may have killed Tupac Shakur. They’re considered a terrorist organization in the U.S. and a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center.

Weapon: Various, mainly bombs.

Why: The below bullets are the entirety of the group’s manifesto.

  • “LOVE OF JEWRY, one Jewish people, indivisible and united, from which flows the love for and the feeling of pain of all Jews.”

  • “DIGNITY AND PRIDE, pride in and knowledge of Jewish tradition, faith, culture, land, history, strength, pain and peoplehood.”

  • “IRON, the need to both move to help Jews everywhere and to change the Jewish image through sacrifice and all necessary means—even strength, force and violence.”

  • “DISCIPLINE AND UNITY, the knowledge that he (or she) can and will do whatever must be done, and the unity and strength of willpower to bring this into reality.”

  • “FAITH IN THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF THE JEWISH PEOPLE, faith in the greatness and indestructibility of the Jewish people, our religion and our Land of Israel.”

In 1990, the founder of the JDL, Meir Kahane, was assassinated by El Sayyid Nosair, an affiliate of Osama bin Laden’s, at the time, young group known as al-Qa’ida.

7. Christopher Dorner

via Flickr - Day Donaldson
via Flickr – Day Donaldson

Crime: In 2013, Dorner killed three people, one civilian man and woman and one male police officer while injuring several others during a nine day manhunt. A kill list he publicized had a list of 40 names on it.

Weapon: Guns, unclear exactly. Definitely a rifle, possibly a pistol as well.

Why: Dorner believed he was the victim of institutional racism and that his reputation had been ruined by racists within the LAPD because Dorner had reported excessive force violations on the part of White officers. The rampage was an attempt to “reclaim his name” and exact justice against the LAPD. Dorner posted a “manifesto” to Facebook a day after killing his first two victims.

I'm not an aspiring rapper, I'm not a gang member, I'm not a dope dealer, I don't have multiple babies momma's. I am an American by choice, I am a son, I am a brother, I am a military service member, I am a man who has lost complete faith in the system, when the system betrayed, slandered, and libeled me. I lived a good life and though not a religious man I always stuck to my own personal code of ethics, ethos and always stuck to my shoreline and true North. I didn't need the US Navy to instill Honor, Courage, and Commitment in me but I thank them for re-enforcing it. It's in my DNA.

Luckily I don't have to live everyday like most of you. Concerned if the misconduct you were apart of is going to be discovered. Looking over your shoulder, scurrying at every phone call from internal affairs or from the Captains office wondering if that is the day PSB comes after you for the suspects you struck when they were cuffed months/years ago or that $500 you pocketed from the narcotics dealer, or when the other guys on your watch beat a transient nearly to death and you never reported the UOF to the supervisor. No, I don't have that concern, I stood up for what was right but unfortunately have dealt with the reprocussions of doing the right thing and now losing my name and everything I ever stood for. You fuckers knew —– was guilty of kicking (excessive force) —– and you did nothing but get rid of what you saw as the problem, the whistleblower. —– himself stated on video tape ( provided for the BOR and in transcripts) he was kicked and even his father stated that his son said he was kicked by —– when he was released from custody. The video was played for the entire BOR to hear. You're going to see what a whistleblower can do when you take everything from him especially his NAME!!! TC mark