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Anarchy is not chaos. It is not destruction. It is simply the
absence of "government."
The agency most people erroneously identify as "government"
today is in reality a gang of lawyers, armed thugs, and con
artists backed by an army of bureaucrats, which operates an
immense array of protection and other rackets financed through
extortion and fraud.
I assume there will always
be people who will complain about something or who will criticize public issues.
Therefore I suggest the following: Just continue surfing. I’m not
going to stop you!
"Es gibt keine einfachere, keine wirksamere und
keine dauerhaft verläßlichere Methode der
Herrschafts-beschränkung (und damit der
Freiheitssicherung) als dem Herrschaftsapparat die
Verfügungsmacht über das Geld zu entziehen."
Roland Baader
"Die
Tatsache, daß eine Meinung weit verbreitet ist,
belegt keinesfalls, daß sie nicht völlig absurd
wäre."
Bertrand Russell
11 Erotic
novels written by
Clitoria Phallodri
Translated by Geert
S.
1 - Garden
party
Just 19 I was when I first met my
husband. We were married within a year or so. My husband paid
for my studies so that I could complete my Master’s degree in the United States. Since we’ve been together, I’ve only
worn underwear on very cold days or when I have my periods. My
husband discovered my exhibitionist side almost immediately
after we met and never took objection to my habit of not wearing
undies. Quite the contrary!
We started living together, and I wondered if he’d want me to do
an effort and wear undies when we invited over some of his
friends and colleagues, whom had never met me before. I told him
this and he laughed. “Why pretend to be other people than we
are?” he said. And of course this was all I wanted to hear. So
no hurried underwear shopping for me, I was happy to concentrate
on the important things!
It was a lovely afternoon, we had a beautiful garden and thanks
to my good care it was full of flowers. I was still in the
bathroom when the two guys arrived and made quite an impression
when I joined them in the garden. I was wearing the shortest of
summer dresses, a white one with tiny blue dots. My husband gave
me looks of approval. I knew he loved that dress. He also loved
what was under that dress and our guests didn’t have to use
their imagination to find out what that was either!
I soon kicked off my
shoes and was barefoot. It was fun to feel free: the grass on
the soles of my feet, the breeze playing with the dress,
stiffening my nipples and caressing my butt… The men and women
who’d come to visit us must surely have noticed, because on my
shoulders only the thin straps of the summer dress showed. They
immediately must have seen that I wasn’t wearing a bra. When I
laughed or moved my upper body in this or that direction, the
motions of my breasts drew their attention. I could feel the
dress gliding over my nipples and I just knew that sometimes I
showed quite a lot of breast, with a cleavage like that. I’d
lifted the back of my dress a bit before sitting down, so I
could feel the chair seat on my naked butt. Our friends didn’t
really seem to get that or at least they didn’t show. They
couldn’t look through the table, of course.
After a while I got a bit more courageous. I got up from the
table and gladly kneeled whenever I wanted to draw their
attention to my most beautiful flowers, knowing very well that
it was a flower of a different kind they were looking at! And
when I hopped a bit as I walked away from them, I didn’t mind
that they could see my flesh up to where my legs and bare bottom
joined.
We moved to the other side of the garden because we’d ended up
in the shadows and there still was some sunshine to be enjoyed a
little but further… I sat further away from the table there and
I didn’t care if my knees were together or not. I enjoyed the
liberating feeling of sitting there butt naked under the dress
and I noticed that by now all our guests had seen that I was
without panties. Each one of them must have caught a glimpse, I
was so sure about that, and when I looked at my husband, I
noticed that he knew this also. It wasn’t enough for me. I
longed for it to be seen, really seen, to be stared at, to be
eaten by the eyes of these ‘strangers’… so…
I raised my legs and rested my heels on the chair, with my chin
on my knees. I even held my thighs apart so that everyone could
clearly see my pussy. Well, not much ‘pussy’ about, as I had
just given it a close shave, but the lips of my vagina were on
display, wet as they were by that time. There was not one guest
who could have missed it. Some stared at my pussy, some looked
away, some tried to do both. “Don’t be so awkward about it,” my
husband said suddenly, and he put his hand on my right knee and
pulled my leg even more to the side. I wanted to touch myself there and then but I refrained from it. “She’s wonderful, she’s
beautiful, and this pussy is a treasure to us both. Please enjoy
looking at it, don’t look away from our joy.” The guests were a
bit more easy after these words and when my smile reassured them
that this was all my very own way of life, they all gave my nude
pussy very good, long looks! I almost could feel their eyes on
my swelling lips. When the last visitor had left, the only thing
I could regret was that nobody had seen my breasts naked that
afternoon. At the time, I didn’t realise but it would only be a
matter of years before I’d gladly have all of them watching me
masturbate. But that, I guess, is another story.
2 - Peeing
in front of the disco
Last weekend we went out for drinks
late at night, my husband and me, and when we walked home we
passed by a popular discotheque. Every now and then some of the
dance aficionados escaped the heat and the noise of the disco
for a few minutes to hang out outside with the doorman and with
each other, so there always was a good crowd on the disco
pavement. Despite the cold. I complained about the cold and I
tried to rush my husband a bit because I needed a pee. I’d
forgotten to have a pee in the bar and we really had a lot of
drinks. “Why don’t I do it right now?” I asked. He smiled. After
all, he could guess this was coming. I had done this so many
times before.
I checked the environment. I do like to pee in the open, even
more or less in public. But in front of a bunch of twenty year
olds, just across the street? Why not! I felt my pee pushing on
my bladder behind my pussy, just thinking about it. And anyway,
only four or five kids were out there. So I crouched. There were
no cars parked there. I lifted my skirt. The light of the street
lamp post fell on my face and shoulders but the shadow of a big
litter container sort of put the rest of my body in the dark.
Shame. I spread my legs and almost couldn’t hold it anymore. I
wore one of my favourite skirts, obviously no knickers, and it
was all I could do to pull the skirt up as high as I could and
let go. My hot pee shot out in front of me and shattered to the
pavement with a pleasurable sound. It was then that two or three
things happened at the same time. One of the guys at the disco
door saw me crouching there and stared, which made the other
boys and girls check me out as well. Then some others walked out
onto the streets, a big number, almost as if there had been a
fire alarm set off inside. And… my dear husband pushed the
litter container away so that the street lighting now made all
of me a lot more visible. I was so happy he did this and got all
excited. While I created this lovely fountain of pee with tiny
mist clouds some 70 centimeter in front of me, I felt and saw
all those eyes staring at my completely unhidden, all opened
pussy. I shivered for a second and then felt nothing but
enjoyment. Secretly I was hoping for one of the disco people to
cross the street, to come over and have a look from closer by…
3 - Entertaining in my garden
As I wrote here before, we have never been into the swinging
scene and we don't intend to start swinging now. We did,
however, have couples over more than once. They had sex, and we
had sex, in the same room and all watching each other. But each
one had sex with his or her own lover only. We like to be watch
and we like to see others having sex, but I guess being watched
is best for us.
Then I had a couple of girlfriends that I liked to masturbate
with together. I had some experiences with licking girls and
being licked, but not since I married, now 14 years ago. Lately,
I have more and more fantasies about licking and being licked. I
close my eyes and feel my tongue lick the contours of the labia
of a beautifully shaped pussy. Or I feel a wet tongue entering
my pussy and spreading the lips. But the girls are nothing more
than fiction, I saw them on the internet. And in my
neighbourhood, trust me, there is no woman I would like to lick!
After visiting the blog by 'passionfruit' I also started
fantasising about getting fucked by a huge black guy. Or being
gangbanged by some nice men. I share these newer fantasies with
my husband but I don't think they will ever come true. We enjoy
having sex in public, I masturbate where people can see me, but
all of this doesn't happen every day. So these little moments
turn into highlights of the month. But honestly, I never wear
any clothes in the house, even when we have guests, and I never
wear undies. And of course I am always shaved.
In our street, there's a good car mechanic, excellent at body
repair. The guy's 58 or he is about to be very soon and he works
on both our cars. He also works in our garden. His son is in his
early twenties. He has no job, he's lazy as hell and I bet he's
surfing for porn whenever he has the chance. He's a nice guy but
not the type to have a girlfriend soon.
As I wrote earlier, one day I was masturbating in the bedroom,
the French windows facing the garden were open, and the
sprinklers were watering the lawn. I hadn't heard the mechanic
coming into our garden but all of a sudden there he was,
standing in front of the French windows. Watching me. I froze,
he froze. Than I continued. He'd seen me rubbing my clit anyway,
so there was no point in hiding my naked body now. So I
continued masturbating and the guy stood there staring at me
until I came. He left soon after that, but unsurprisingly, I had
awakened his curiosity no end. He kept coming back, hoping to
see me do it again. Just when he got used to seeing me naked, he
got the hots for me masturbating! It's like an addiction, he is
always there. He follows me like a puppy, which sometimes can be
nice and pleasing, but it can also be pretty annoying. So to
avoid him being around all of the time, waiting for the right
moment, I invited him over a few times to watch me masturbating.
Then I call and ask him if he can come and help plant some
flowers I just bought. When he gets there I am naked. We perch
next to the flowerbed and I plant some flowers, you know, making
the effort. And then I drop on my butt and spread my knees. The
mechanic is know staring at me, no longer at my tits, but as
deep into my pussy as he can – as it is open no for business.
"Do you mind?" I ask him, as nothing is worth doing at all if it
isn't worth doing politely. He usually will gently nod and that
is my cue. I start rubbing my clitoris and fingering my pussy
and I do this right until I come. Sometimes the man gets very
close to take a look, and I can almost feel his face on my hand
or thigh. But he never touches me. Neither does his son, whim I
had over to watch my solo-sex antics as well. It makes me horny.
They enjoy it but lately I've got the impression that it doesn't
surprise them anymore. So one day a few weeks ago, when both men
were in the garden, I joined them, undressed as usual. This time
I wasn't going to masturbate and I just started a regular
conversation, joined by father and son. I'd been drinking a lot
of water to have my bit of fun here and when I felt the moment
was there, I spread my legs a little bit, not too much, and bend
over a tiny bit as well. But I still looked them in the face and
I didn't stop talking for a second. And so, while chatting about
the simple things in life, I let my pee go and created a stream
of piss between my garden shoes. It was great to see their heads
bob up and down, looking from my face to the puddle and from the
puddle to the source, and back to my face and my eyes and mouth.
I felt the drops on my ankles, which were not all that far
apart, so I guess some of my pee must have reached their shoes.
But they didn't complain and acted discreet all the way. Funny
guys!
4 - Audience participation
We often go to concerts, art shows or the theatre. Once in a
while we
visit a nightclub. We like to watch strippers and how harder
they're at it, the more we like the act. In one of our favourite
clubs, in Berlin , we witnessed live sex on stage for the first
time. We saw this later also in Moscow and in Amsterdam . Here
in America this sort of entertainment is not easy to get by but
when you look around and find a very private club, you have a
good chance to see it.
Five or six times, in this club were we are counted as regulars,
we've suggested the owner that he'd let me dance as well. And I
did it for free if he promised not to announce me as a member of
the audience. So when during a break, I jumped onto the stage,
ripped my skirt off, and within nanoseconds started to dance and
at the same time play with my pussy, most of the guests getting
closer to have a better look didn't even realise I wasn't
working for the club.
This doesn't happen often, because I don't always get the
chance. And club owner that don't really know me are sometimes
all too surprised by the suggestion to agree. But when I do
this, I get totally wet. I'm sure you can see my pussy shine and
glimmer in the spotlights. I give it all I can and I want to be
just as good or possibly better than the professional dancers I
just saw. I put my hands to my hips and I spread my labia and I
pull my buttocks apart and stop moving when I feel the the heat
of the light on my back, so I know that the guys sitting really
close are now getting a real good look at my asshole. They are
in the darkness and I am in the spotlight, which is a wonderful
feeling. I dampen the chair I'm sitting on even while I'm
writing this. Oh, if only I could do this again soon. But I
don't think I can, here in the USA…
5 - Opera (in the) Buffa
In 2006 we spent three months in Italy. It’s a beautiful
country. We were in Rome in July at the time of the FIFA World
Cup’s final. In the final game of this soccer world championship
tournament, Italy played France and beat them. You can’t imagine
how excited the Romans were! We faced four hours of madness,
street party noises and honking car processions. We were at the
Circus Maximus together with 500.000 others and after a while we
thought it might get dangerous. So we went a little bit away
from the crowd and found ourselves a nice spot to watch those
many thousands excited Italians from an intersection that
offered a interesting viewpoint.
A few weeks earlier, we’d been in Verona. In the Arena di Verona
we saw an impressive production of Verdi’s opera Aida . We had a
great time. The warm night; a
wonderful orchestra; the beautiful voices; the stunning and
fantastic stage set and decorations; the huge cast full of
extra’s and the amazing parade – it all worked well for us. I
believe perhaps 20.000 people were in the audience. We had seats
a little bit high up which gave us a splendid overview.
It was a pleasantly warm evening but this had its drawbacks. The
Arena is the third largest Roman amphitheatre still in existence
and arguably the most renowned Veronese monument. So the ‘seats’
in this Arena are 2000 year old stairs made from granite stones.
As you may know, I never wear any undies, which doesn’t make
sitting on these stones a comfortable experience. Also, I had a
hard time hiding my bare pussy from the looks of others. Not
that I felt shy or ashamed but I wouldn’t have liked to be
thrown out after a silly complaint – tickets were expensive and
we really wanted to see the opera!
Of course, the other spectators looked in the direction of the
stage almost all the time, so they couldn’t really look up my
skirt, however short it was. But there were a lot of vendors
there, selling ice cream, candy and drinks. When they walked
through the crowd they had to face their potential customers of
course. But I soon felt comfortable about them because they were
youngish boys and girls who were a bit surprised and intrigued,
but not shocked when they noticed I was naked under my skirt.
After a while, my husband and I noticed that the vendors walked
through the rows below us more than through others. They must
have enjoyed what they saw. Of course, after some time I really
didn’t bother anymore and I’m sure some of them must have had
some very good looks at my naked and shaven pussy lips. That
would normally have gotten me very excited and wet within
minutes but this once, I must confess I was more involved by the
great music than by my sexual desires.
After the opera we had a giant ice cream in one of the many nice
ice cream places fronting the Arena di Verona. A lovely thing to
do in the middle of the night. Here I could sit more discrete
and I felt very relaxed. Every now and then someone walked by
who seemed like sweet person and then I spread my legs a little
bit. And my vertical smile was always greeted with a horizontal
smile of their own. We had fun and made it a very late night.
6 - Fake Handbags
When visiting Italy, I was surprised to see so many street
vendors there. Mostly originating from African countries, all of
them sold fake and forged brand name goods. They were everywhere
and you wouldn’t believe the things they tried to sell. You
could buy a Gucci handbag – a fake one, obviously – for maybe 10
euros. That sort of ‘trade’ pisses me off. These guys know that
what they do is illegal. They carry about twenty handbags or
more and some sunglasses in a big blanket, and when they see a
crowd they hurriedly spread that blanket on the pavement and
display their goods on top for a short while until one or two
tourists buy some of their crap. That way they’re difficult to
be spotted, let alone caught by the polizia and anyway, I
don’t have the feeling the Italian police cares about it a lot.
So
after a few days these suckers really started to annoy the hell
out of me. And you know I like a bit of provocation. You know
that because you’ve been looking up my dresses and skirts all
this time on my pictures and we never even met before. It’s okay, I
like to be exposed. It’s my pussy, give it a good look. That’s
why with these street vendors, pushing their stuff in your face
all the time, I decided to provoke them for a change! When one
of them spread his stuff on a blanket, I walked over to him and
squatted in front of his handbags. I could follow his eyes to my
knees and when I got his attention, I moved my thigh apart a
bit. While I pretended being interested in a handbag or a pair
of sunglasses, I took a position that showed off my pussy. Not
to everybody, but just to the vendor, who was usually also
squatting and facing me. He wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes
off my pussy.
I
always took my time and the vendor forgot all about vending so I
must have given a lot of tourists a break. Sometimes I asked him
for the price or pretended I wanted to know something else about
the bag. While I did this, I spread my knees a little more. All
that time the vendor had to try and look me in the eyes while we
were talking, but I could see his gaze going to my naked pussy
every time. I sometimes followed his gaze to let him know that
he’d been ‘caught’ and then I kept looking at him as if I didn’t
care (and I didn’t). It’s not easy to see a black guy blush but
I came close a few times!
I
wonder how he would have reacted if I’d gone even further and
sat there in this position and peed all over his useless forged
crap. But these handbags really wouldn’t have been worth the
piss I’d soak them in. However, it shows the borders of the
European Union to have as many holes as a piece of Swiss cheese.
7 - Trains and bycicles Okay, we've got our cars but sometimes we use public transport
and particularly the railways. In western Europe we never take
the night train. Still we had daylight sex a few times in a
cabin, when that cabin was empty apart from the two of us.
Normally up to eight people can be in there. You can't lock the
sliding door. Twice someone opened the door. The pictures show
me in a French train. I wore only a t-shirt all the time and
when later a few people came in, I was still naked. They were
very kind and we had a few beers.
In Russia, we book a cabin for the night, but the beds are
narrow and it is not fun to have sex in there. I also miss a
shower. But there the fun part is going naked to the toilet from
our cabin - I always do that. I can pretend that I didn't expect
anybody up, or just not care about it. There is always someone,
and sometimes more than one, and on a few occasions a roaring
crowd. It's great to just stop and talk to the other travellers
and watch their eyes roll and their cheeks go red. But the staff
members not always has a sense humor. We had very angry looks
once from a conductress. But did we hurt anybody? Of course not!
Once, when the train rode slowly past a
station but didn't stop,
I slid open the door. I could see the station, it was full with
people waiting for the next train. I was completely nude and
crouched down to have a pee out of the door, while the train was
driving through at a very low speed. I had fun, I think the
crowd enjoyed the view too. I know it's crazy, but acts like
this make your life more fun.
And of course we have bicycles. Both in Germany and in the
States. It's a shame that I can't do this in the States but in
Germany I like to drive in the middle of the street, my skirt
fluttering in the wind. I never sit on my skirt so that the
people behind me can see my naked ass. Sometimes I bend over a
little bit and lift my buttocks up from the saddle. You won't
believe the noise from the car horns when I do that. Honk! Honk!
Hail the naked ass!
8 - Scream, part one Two years ago we went to France, and we stayed there for two
months. We started our trip in the south of France where we
could stay at a friend’s place in Avignon, which is a beautiful
city at the border of the Rhône. The medieval wall, actually
14th century ramparts, still circles the city. The streets are
very narrow and driving a car is impossible in the smallest
alleys, where pedestrians and cyclists rule. This girlfriend of
mine married a guy from Avignon, and we could stay at their
apartment while they were doing a job in Cannes. We wandered
through the city all day, visited lovely sights such as the
Palais des Papes (Palace of the popes). At night we tried the
restaurants and theaters, boy, it was a great time for us.
But enough about culture and back to lifestyle. The apartment
was situated in a huge building with an inside courtyard. That
worked as a big amplifier in the summer, when all the windows
were open. The French aren’t very fond of air-conditioning
equipment so they still use the wooden shutters that block the
sun and keep the heat and most insects out of the rooms, but the
windows are open all the time. Night and day. You can hear every
word the neighbours say, honestly. Not only that: also the
racket of cats and dogs, yelling mums and crying babies,
rattling dishes and even the sound of French people making love.
We slept in a bedroom in a corner of this building and its
window was about two feet away from the window of our
neighbours’ bedroom window. We never saw the couple that lived
next door but we heard them. O, did we ever!
The first night, we had been hiking all day and we were rather
tired. So we made it an early night and were in bed before
midnight. We’d only been in bed for five minutes when we heard
the neighbours. They were talking toe ach other and it sounded
as if they were with us in our room. Especially since there was
nothing else to hear outside at that time of the night. I didn’t
understand a word and niether did my husband. We figured they
weren’t speaking French but Arabic. Well, whatever. Soon the
talking stopped and we didn’t get a chance to wonder why. All of
a sudden we heard a familiar sucking sound, followed immediately
by a weird succession of ‘flap, flap flap’ sounds. He must have
been taking her from behind, that was at least what the sound
suggested. It went on and on and we held our breath, because we
didn’t want them to hear us. I was afraid that they would stop
if they found out that they were fucking to an audience that
close.
And then she screamed. Muffled, at first, when she must have
pushed her mouth into a pillow or something, but pretty soon her
shrieks sounded louder and louder. It was echoïng all over the
courtyard, believe it or not. It went louder and louder and then
we heard the man come, moaning like a bear being given his first
blowjob. My husband and I looked at each other in disbelief. It
stopped as suddenly as it had started and only minutes later we
heard the guy snore already. I wanted to say something about
this to my husband, but I had his cock in my mouth by that time
and he probably wouldn,t have heard me anyway, what with his
ears between my thighs...
So the next day, when I was on the phone talking to my friends
in Cannes, I told what had occurred in an excited voice. They
weren’t in the least bit surprised. Her husband was born in
Avignon and grew up with the sound of the French getting laid.
“This happens every night,” he said, “with all these narrow
streets and alleys, you can hardly walk through Avignon on a
quiet night without hearing some couples on the go. Maybe it’s
fun for you now, but I can tell you that after a while it gets
pretty boring and annoying and you just want tob e left alone to
sleep.” I joked that this was probably why Avignon had so many
festivals, because the music and crowd noises would drown the
sex sounds.
We stayed over at our friends’ flat for a fortnight and heard
the neighbours having it off almost every night! I was
impressed. I’d gathered that the man was a Moroccan and hes ure
was a stud compared to the western men I’d met. But later I
heard that I had maybe misjudged him. Apparently he didn’t show
his wife a lot of respect. He always had his moaning bear
orgasm, but she only came two or three times.
9 - Scream, part two
A few days later, while on the same trip to France, we were in
Cassis. Cassis is a wonderful little seaside town with more
fishermen than beach chairs. It’s extremely pittoresque, nicer
even than Saint-Tropez, and you can make boat trips to the most
delightful tiny islands from there.
We stayed at a small hotel in the typical colours of the area,
blue and yellow. Our windows faced yet another courtyard. The
hotel restaurant had put up many tables there for the guests to
enjoy dinner in the open air. So this time, I felt it was our
turn. At night we retired to bed while there were still lots of
tourists outside, having desserts or drinking to each others
health. And I immediately stripped off completely, spread my
legs and pulled my husband on top of me, his hard cock plunging
into my wet pussy. We made passionate sex. I’m never the silent
type when I come so I always scream when my vagina is throbbing
and contracting the hell out of me, but this time, just for fun,
I made certain that my inner explosion was accompanied by a
series of loud moans and even louder screams, exploding and
setting off echoes over the courtyard. We could still hear the
clutter of knives and forks and the people chattering away when
we started having sex, but believe me, when I got close to
coming, my oohs and aahs were the only sounds to be heard. We
could actually hear the dining guests listening to us. As soon
as we’d finished, the diners started talking and eating again.
We treated them to our audiophonic sex show each night for five
in a row. There weren no complaints, not from the guests, not
from the staff.
Today I live in the States and at night I like to make as much
sound as I used to do in that Cassis hotel. But our property is
big, and the wind has to be in a very specific direction for the
neighbours to be able to hear us. And what if they did? I don’t
care. Let them put their fingers in their ears. I’ve got a much
nicer place for mine.
10 - On Surprising Berlin
After the Berlin wall was dismantled in 1989, people in the
former East-Germany side of Berlin had a lot of reasons to
celebrate and get happy. German parks have a reputation when it
comes to public nudity, but in the days of the ‘Anti-fascist
Protective Rampart’ – as we used to call the wall in Russia then
– nudism was very popular especially in East-Germany. It was the
only way to experience some form of freedom under the communist
regime. Eager to share the experience, my husband and me visited
the Freibad a couple of times in Berlin-Weissensee - an open-air
public bathing and swimming area. It’s not a nudist resort but
there’s one part of the big garden where it’s normal to shed all
your clothes to get an even tan. But most of the visitors won’t
even bother to get dressed when they are cueing for fast food or
drinks at the hot dogs booth.
So there were a lot of other naked women around but I was a bit
of a man magnet nevertheless because of my shaved pussy, and
because I wore high heels there, which give my ass that
wonderfully pleasing shape that attracts men’s attention.
We saw youngsters making out on the lawn. Some just cuddled and
caressed each other’s nude bodies but on one occasion we saw
this young couple actually having sex. At first glance they were
just sharing a strong embrace but when you got close enough you
could clearly see that his dick sat inside her pussy and enjoy
their discrete moves. Immediately, I wanted to have sex too. But
we were a little less discreet. We did move away from the
biggest crowd of course, but with some people still rather near,
I sat next to my husband and licked and stroked his penis until
he was in full erection, and then I sat down on him, easing his
dick into my wet pussy. People either ignored us or watched from
a distance. But when we did this again on a second visit, I just
could feel the eyes prying on my ass going up and down as I
fucked my husband. He saw the onlookers hesitantly getting a
little closer and waved. I looked over my shoulder and smiled.
We made them feel comfortable and they rewarded us by watching
us come. Not so far away, children were playing, but they didn’t
seem even remotely interested and nobody seemed to bother.
When we went there for a third time, we recognized some of our
little private audience and they obviously recognized us. They
joined us and we shared a lot of cooled beers. It was great fun
to sit there talking to these strangers and when I saw one
glancing at my tits or my pussy, I always moved about a bit so
that I gave him a real ideal view. At one point my husband’s
line of work seemed to interest some of them and while they were
talking about that, I got a tiny bit bored so I lowered my face
to his lap and started licking his dick and play with the top in
my mouth. He kept on talking to the others but soon got hard and
our new friends formed like a wall around us to give us some
discretion. They were really close now, as in any conversation
situation, but I didn’t care and sucked my husband’s dick until
he came into my mouth. As I swallowed the cum down, I noticed
that most of the men in our audience had gotten very hard also.
They were maybe hoping that I would help them out but I’ve
always been happy with my man so I didn’t really care about
their erections a lot. I wouldn’t have minded if they’d made
themselves come, though.
11 - Customs and Privacy
One of the funniest things that happened to us, occurred when we
crossed the border from France to Switzerland. My husband was
carrying a black suitcase through customs and the French customs
officers wanted to know what was in it. “Private matters,” said
my husband. They laughed, because they were looking for money
smugglers to Switzerland and refusing to show your belongings
was not an option. So they asked him to open the case anyway,
but he went on protesting and after a while they opened it.
Obviously nothing in there was important to them. But we’d made
ourselves really suspicious by now and they kept checking my identity. Than I had to go in a cabin and an old custom
lady waited there to search me. She had this electronic buzz
thing to run over my body and asked me in a rude voice to lift
my dress. You know me: I didn’t hesitate, I lifted my dress and
revealed my shaved pussy. The customs officer was so startled,
almost shocked by what she saw that she sent me out and we could
leave for the Swiss mountains immediately. I can’t promise that
this will work always and everywhere but if you try it and it
does, don’t forget you read it here first!
Of course I have no photos from situations like this. So for
illustration I use a photo what I have made behind the border.
And the flowers the flowers are from my garden last year. The
pussy is mine.
All photos
illustrating this novels are found in the internet and not
made by rebellog.
Unless otherwise indicated, all texts, photographs, pictures, graphics and layouts have been created by
"Nirgendwo
wird die Würde der Frau so verletzt wie in der
islamischen Gesellschaft.
Die
Geschichte des Islam ist eine einzige Entwürdigung
der Frau und das bis zur Stunde.
Und ich will
das sagen dürfen, auch wenn es radikalen Muslimen
nicht gefällt. "
Ralph Giordano
"Wir
sind keine Bürger mehr, wir sind Untertanen, bloße
Zuschauer am Schicksal, das andere für uns gewählt
haben. Wir sind nur dann Bürger, wenn wir echten
Einfluss darauf haben, wie unsere Steuergelder
ausgegeben werden. Wir sind Untertanen, wenn wir die
Steuern einfach nur bezahlen, während andere
entscheiden, was mit diesem Geld gemacht wird."
"Mit der
Abschaffung der Meinungsfreiheit, zunächst in
bestimmten Bereichen, wurde der Weg zur Abschaffung
des Rechtsstaates, der Weg in die Knechtschaft,
betreten.
Denn wo die
Wahrheit gering geschätzt wird, geht bald die
Freiheit verloren."
Gerard Radnitzky
„Den Islam sehe
ich als eine außerordentliche Bedrohung an, als eine
feindliche Gesellschaft."
Pim
Fortuyn
"Capitalism gave
the world what it needed, a higher standard of
living for a steadily increasing number of people."
Ludwig von Mises
"Libertarians
first and foremost trust themselves. They do not
scream for help and demand that the Government
should provide “comforters” and an all-round social
care system."
Ali, Ayaan Hirsi
Aliberti, Lucia
Barenboim, Daniel
Benanteur, Dahmane
Berger, Erna
Berliner Philharmoniker
Björling, Björling
Bläser der Berliner Philharmoniker
Bravo, Manuel A.
Broder, Henryk M.
Bunny, Rupert W.
Fallaci, Oriana
Friedman, David
Galitsin, Gregori
Giebel, Agnes
Gigli, Benjamino
Hopper, Edward
Johaentges, Karl
Kästner, Erich
Koelbl, Herlinde
Lebeck, Robert
Lenau, Nikolaus
Leonhard, Wolfgang
Michener, James A.
Müller, Wilhelm
Nakic, Adrian
Newton, Helmut
Rand, Ayn,
Richter, Karl
Richter, Svjatoslav
Rozhdestvensky, G.
Saarinen, Pekka
Schneiderhahn, W.
Serebryakova, Sinaida
Snow, Aurora
Traven, B.
Wunderlich, Fritz
die den von
Palästinensern ausgehenden Terror als
„Freiheitskampf“ verkaufen und Israel ein
Notwehrrecht absprechen, die die positiven Seiten
dieses einzigen respektablen Rechtssystems in Nahost
leugnen, widern uns in ihrer ideologischen
Unaufrichtigkeit an.´"
Robin
Renitent
"Unfortunately, history shows that running an empire
is a disastrouly expensive business. You pay in
cash. You pay in blood. And you pay with your own
soul."
Bill
Bonner
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the time to be interesting. As a matter of principle, we cannot accept any restrictions to links with pages of dubious content. Judgement is left to the responsibility of the visitor.
Fried, Erich
Geibel, Immanuel
Goethe, Joh. Wolfg.
Hebbel, Friedrich
Heine, Heinrich
Lessing, Gotthold E.
Möricke, Eduard
Odemann, Robert T.
Raabe, Rudi
Ringelnatz, Joachim
Schubert, Franz
Shelby, Hubert
"Gibt
es irgendwo auf unserem Planeten ein Land, das an zu
wenig Staat leidet? Wann, wo und wie hat es das
jemals gegeben?!
Es
hat Länder gegeben die gelitten haben, weil ihre
Armee zu klein oder zu schwach war, aber niemals,
weil ihre Regierung zu klein gewesen wäre."
Richard Daughty
rebellog stands for:
Libertarianism – Anarchism - Anarchistic-Capitalism - Self-Governance
- Individualism - Free-Trade - Global Competition - Right to
Self-Defence – Cosmopolitanism - Freedom of Expression -
Self-Determination – Optimism - Environmental Stewardship - Gender
Equality – Liberty - Independent Thinking - Right to Bear Arms -
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Income - Friendship with America and Israel - Right to
Abortion-Pornography - Prostitution - Mild Stimulants
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These pages contain elements with unknown copyright not produced by rebellog. Regard these elements as quotations in the spirit of satire only.
alle nicht gekennzeichneten Texte und Gedichte: Rudi Raabe
Start
Last weekend we went out for drinks
late at night, my husband and me, and when we walked home we
passed by a popular discotheque. Every now and then some of the
dance aficionados escaped the heat and the noise of the disco
for a few minutes to hang out outside with the doorman and with
each other, so there always was a good crowd on the disco
pavement. Despite the cold. I complained about the cold and I
tried to rush my husband a bit because I needed a pee. I’d
forgotten to have a pee in the bar and we really had a lot of
drinks. “Why don’t I do it right now?” I asked. He smiled. After
all, he could guess this was coming. I had done this so many
times before. 
As I wrote here before, we have never been into the swinging
scene and we don't intend to start swinging now. We did,
however, have couples over more than once. They had sex, and we
had sex, in the same room and all watching each other. But each
one had sex with his or her own lover only. We like to be watch
and we like to see others having sex, but I guess being watched
is best for us.
We often go to concerts, art shows or the theatre. Once in a
while we 
In 2006 we spent three months in Italy. It’s a beautiful
country. We were in Rome in July at the time of the FIFA World
Cup’s final. In the final game of this soccer world championship
tournament, Italy played France and beat them. You can’t imagine
how excited the Romans were! We faced four hours of madness,
street party noises and honking car processions. We were at the
Circus Maximus together with 500.000 others and after a while we
thought it might get dangerous. So we went a little bit away
from the crowd and found ourselves a nice spot to watch those
many thousands excited Italians from an intersection that
offered a interesting viewpoint.
When visiting Italy, I was surprised to see so many street
vendors there. Mostly originating from African countries, all of
them sold fake and forged brand name goods. They were everywhere
and you wouldn’t believe the things they tried to sell. You
could buy a Gucci handbag – a fake one, obviously – for maybe 10
euros. That sort of ‘trade’ pisses me off. These guys know that
what they do is illegal. They carry about twenty handbags or
more and some sunglasses in a big blanket, and when they see a
crowd they hurriedly spread that blanket on the pavement and
display their goods on top for a short while until one or two
tourists buy some of their crap. That way they’re difficult to
be spotted, let alone caught by the polizia and anyway, I
don’t have the feeling the Italian police cares about it a lot.
A few days later, while on the same trip to France, we were in
Cassis. Cassis is a wonderful little seaside town with more
fishermen than beach chairs. It’s extremely pittoresque, nicer
even than Saint-Tropez, and you can make boat trips to the most
delightful tiny islands from there.
One of the funniest things that happened to us, occurred when we
crossed the border from France to Switzerland. My husband was
carrying a black suitcase through customs and the French customs
officers wanted to know what was in it. “Private matters,” said
my husband. They laughed, because they were looking for money
smugglers to Switzerland and refusing to show your belongings
was not an option. So they asked him to open the case anyway,
but he went on protesting and after a while they opened it.
Obviously nothing in there was important to them. But we’d made
ourselves really suspicious by now and they kept checking my identity. Than I had to go in a cabin and an old custom
lady waited there to search me. She had
