b3ta.com user tookishlad
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I've been 26 months away from b3ta, mainly doing what amounts to this.

With folks like this.

And none of them liked llamas.

That (and this sort of thing) was a big deal-breaker.

So I did what I had to do.

And did it some more.

At least my lovely lady has stayed by my side.

And the rest of our little chickies, too.

So what wisdom have I gleaned from all this?

No matter which way I try to look at it...

No matter how many other pleasant distractions I indulge...

The b3tan in me just keeps growing back.







TFA, you were frelling awesome.

Wherever you are, I miss you,
and I wish you all the best!

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» My Wanking Disasters

Mother-in-Law Horror
My wife's mother helped us move out of our apartment and into our very first house. We were new parents, so my wife was busy taking care of our baby. Thus mom-in-law went around with me and helped carry the bigger stuff. (Thankfully, what I'm about to describe happened before two of my best friends showed up to help, or else I'd still be crawled under my rock to this very day.)

The spare bedroom of the apartment was my office. It had enough space for a twin-sized bed along one wall, and in some sort of fatal miswiring of my brain I had completely forgotten that my entire stash of porn was hidden beneath it. Mother-in-law grabs one end of the mattress, I grab the other, and we lift and carry it out. Neither of us noticed a thing because the box springs were still on the frame. We come back and take the box springs next, and there's three stacks of quality glossy skin mags, over a dozen well-used videotapes in their cases (very vividly and explicitly designed, of course), plus a little treasure-trove of Polaroids in a shoebox--pictures my wife had generously volunteered to contribute.

Problem is, I was backing out and the box springs completely shielded my view of what had been revealed beneath them. My mother-in-law, though, had to step directly over it all in order to proceed toward the door. Upon returning to that room for the frame, I cluelessly decided to take a rest and grab a drink from the fridge. Mom-in-law, meanwhile, zipped right back there without a word. I find her about five minutes later, sitting in my cheap little desk chair, turning the case for "Rocco Goes to Prague" over and over in her hands. No expression on her face. Polaroids of her naked and very enthusiastic daughter are laid up and down each thigh in two neat little cascading rows. She'd looked at each and every one.

As luck would have it--if you could call it that--I had entered the room noiselessly. So in effect I snuck up on her and "caught her" gawking at my stash. She was startled and jerked in surprise. All the Polaroids went sliding away off the tops of her thighs, and she actually made a motion like she was going to hide the videotape behind her back; but then she gathered herself and just calmly set it on the floor in front of her and began to politely pick up the naked pictures of her little girl and stack them back inside the shoebox. "Sorry," she mutters. Her face goes from red to purple.

What could I say? How could I even continue to live, for that matter? But, somehow, my voice sort of croaked out this lame little response: "Well, um, thanks for your help." And I turned and walked back out, sat at the kitchen table, and waited for the worst. But you know what? Next thing I heard was some innocuous "goo-goo-ga-ga" baby talk of mother-in-law's; she'd gone into the master bedroom with my wife to oooh and ahhh at the baby. And she stayed in there for a good long time, giving me the chance to box up all my porn and get it safely into the moving van. And we went back to working together a little while later like nothing had happened at all.

She never told, God bless her.

But I rather quickly (sad to say) discovered that the entire set of porn was effectively useless from that point forward, because my mother-in-law's presence was overpowering in my traumatized mind every time I tried to get out one of those mags or play a tape. And so the Polaroids went in a thick envelope in the back of my sock drawer, and the rest of it got dumped. Happy ending -- I got to start acquiring new stuff, and that coincided nicely with our first ever Internet account, so you can imagine how quickly I was able to ease my pain over losing so much lovingly-collected porn.

But of course, even to this day, I stilll can't look her straight in the eye.
(Wed 2nd Jun 2004, 14:13, More)

» Foot in Mouth Syndrome

I teach middle school.
Consequently, I often must chastise students for excessive horseplay or for foul language, etc., in the halls. Problem is, there are a lot of black students at my school; and most of them -- girls and boys in equal parts -- wear their hair in corn rows. The short variety, with no extensions. About once a week I make the mistake of telling one student to "get away from him" when the person in question is actually a girl. And I mistake the boys for girls nearly as often, unless they dress very distinctively. We have unisex school uniforms, you see, and at the age of 11, 12, or 13, a great many boys and girls all look exactly like one another.... Unless I know them personally, I very often am a foot-in-mouth victim. And oh -- do those kids get mad!

Another problem I've had with this sort of thing is with regard to a female student, 14, who had already given birth to a baby during the year prior. She showed no ill effects from it all, and in fact her physical appearance was -- to put it mildly -- extremely enticing, advanced for her age.

One day, as the final bell rang and the students quickly left our area, I stood talking with a colleague about this particular girl. Unbeknownst to me, she was still in the room, finishing an assignment, as I stood just outside the door talking. I carelessly said to my colleague, "Hey, did you see how tight So-and-So's jeans were today? ....If that doesn't scream 'please give me another baby right now', I don't know what does!"

And, of course, about a minute later she comes sidling out, not looking at either one of us, muttering good bye. I was so startled to see her suddenly appear there that I swear I jumped a foot into the air. All I could say was, "Have a nice afternoon," while my colleague proceeded to nearly die from hysterical silent laughter.

I felt so horribly about it, and the girl didn't come back to school for over a week.

But, when she did, she still wore those super-tight jeans all the time.
(Wed 21st Apr 2004, 5:17, More)

» World's Sickest Joke

Some Limericks
of Mine Own Devising

Went out on the town to get spent
In a tight smelly hole, mine to rent,
But the girl was too shy
When I opened my fly,
So I banged her instead with cement.


There once was cunt full of shit
which a girl used to slime up her clit,
but the more that she stuffed
in her hole raw and rough
was another turd less for her tits


There once was a boy in the morn
who arose as his cock yearned for porn,
but his balls were so bare
that his mum who was there
had to lick them until they were sore.


Ten inches he was, root to tip,
with a girth that made many a rip,
but the girls still came back
for more jizz from his sack
cause his babies would always sell quick.


A woman I biblically knew
had me over one night for some stew;
as I sipped from the spoon
she held open her moon
and dispensed me a colonic brew.


That girl in a dress may look fair
with her makeup and radiant hair,
but look under her clothes
and you'll see pantyhose
holds a cock folded under with care.


A girl woke in bed with a start,
For her lover had just ripped a fart,
But she got her revenge
As she straddled his chin
and pissed with her lips pulled apart.


... I've got more, in case you're interested!
(Sat 18th Mar 2006, 18:19, More)

» Impromptu Games You Play

The Uber-Impromptu Girlfriend
My first long-term girlfriend was also my wildest. She embraced all sorts of unpredictable, impromptu moments of fun. It was charming, though, not tiresome at all, because she didn't like to be spontaneous just for the sake of spontaneity alone. She wasn't an adrenaline junkie or anything like that. She'd just get an urge and go with it, natural as could be, enjoying the moment.

That being said, she was really into exhibitionism. This meant she would constantly come up with little competitions between us, so that one of us, as the loser, would have to expose something of ourselves in public view. As often as not, the game took the form of simple chance. "The next car that comes to the stop sign... if it's four-door, I win... if it's two-door, you win." Or, "Let's flip a coin, and the loser has to moon the winner."

Since we were young teenagers at the time, fear of embarassment wasn't nearly as powerful as fear of rejection -- not when I was head-over-heels with a girl for the first time in my life. So I went along with it. And here I should note that I am most definitely NOT an exhibitionist by nature. Nor am I much of a paragon of spontaneity. But I did it, nonetheless. I mooned my girlfriend in the middle of the mall. I dropped trou in line at the movies. I took off my shirt in a restaurant and had to be threatened by the manager if I didn't redress promptly.

But, of course, my girlfriend had a lot more fun with it than me. Somehow, despite all the vagaries of chance, she managed to lose a lot more than I ever did. We got kicked out of a lot of places as a result, or else we ran before they caught us. Flashing tits in a grocery store might be the loser's share of the game, but arrest surely wasn't, you know?!
(Thu 1st Apr 2004, 8:38, More)

» Pet Names

Had a black cat
and I named her Lucky.

My roommate had other ideas though. Lucky hated him, and she went to great lengths to make his life hell. Walking all over his work, tipping over his big glass of Coca-Cola all the time, hissing, scratching, you get the picture.

So he said "Lucky" was really just short for "Lucifer", so that's what he called her for the rest of her fiesty little life.
(Thu 26th Feb 2004, 4:33, More)
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