Profile for Hicksion:
I'm a two bit loser with nothing to lose on a one way street to Palookaville, population - you. I got fire in my belly, jelly in my napsack and lovin' on my mind.
Sweet, sweet lovin. So - if you think you wanna ride this Harley called life down the lonely highway with a man with matching shoes and a hankerin' for some jiggy-jiggy.. get in contact with your fingers. You know how to do that dontcha? You just put your lips together, and type..
I also do this: http://pennydreadfultales.blogspot.com/
Peace out.
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- a member for 17 years, 7 months and 6 days
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I'm a two bit loser with nothing to lose on a one way street to Palookaville, population - you. I got fire in my belly, jelly in my napsack and lovin' on my mind.
Sweet, sweet lovin. So - if you think you wanna ride this Harley called life down the lonely highway with a man with matching shoes and a hankerin' for some jiggy-jiggy.. get in contact with your fingers. You know how to do that dontcha? You just put your lips together, and type..
I also do this: http://pennydreadfultales.blogspot.com/
Peace out.
Recent front page messages:
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Best answers to questions:
» Beautiful but Bonkers
Firey Red Head Nurse
It seems such a cliche.. but also seems so true. Red heads are friggin' loopy. My delightful but deranged fling was with an Irish nurse called Kiara.. we only saw each other for about 4 months but it was 4 months I shall never, ever forget. She lived in Northern Ireland in 'Bandit Country' as she used to call it, basically the place was full of Republican balaclava botherers who hated the English. I'm English. Bugger.
Visiting her was always interesting, arriving at Belfast airport I always wondered if I'd ever return back to England in one piece, soldiers everywhere, graffiti and such on every street telling you in no uncertain terms how much they wished harm upon the English scum striding around their country.
Her father too, sweet Christ, her father had fists like an anvil and took an instant dislike to me. Kiara told me that the only English people they really hated were the posh accented sort.. so my regional accent would protect me from the inevitable kneecapping. I laid on the thickest Yorkshire accent I could while trying to stay alive. Sadly the reason for all this trauma and strife, the sex with this slim, busty nurse that let me do anything I desired.. started to fade as she became more and more odd.
Sex became more and more violent, before she asked for the occasional spanking, now she wanted proper beating.. sometimes not happy until welts and bruises festooned her pert bottom. The real uncomfortable moments came when she asked me if I'd be interested in 'play-rape'. This apparently was where she would go to some prearranged secluded place, and wander around for a bit.. I would be lurking in the shadows and surprise her by jumping her and for all intents and purposes raping her in some alley or on some waste ground. She seemed thrilled with the exciting new love-game. I felt slightly uncomfortable about it and tried to discourage the idea.
After a while the trips back and forth to her little village took a financial toll and the emotional and physical toll of almost having to beat her senseless to 'get her off' was just too much. That and her father had noticed some bruises on her arms and concluded I was abusing his precious little girl. He phoned me while I was in England, threatened me rather successfully by saying ' I'm going to cut off everything you touched her with..'
I think I'd had enough by then.
I tried to end it nicely and calmly but she left me a voice message saying 'It's 3am Hicksion, I'm going down to the car park where all those drunks and thugs hang out at night and if I'm done over it'll be your fault cos you're not there to do it instead, yer shit!'
Now that's seriously bonkers.
Great breasts though.
(Mon 20th Nov 2006, 16:05, More)
Firey Red Head Nurse
It seems such a cliche.. but also seems so true. Red heads are friggin' loopy. My delightful but deranged fling was with an Irish nurse called Kiara.. we only saw each other for about 4 months but it was 4 months I shall never, ever forget. She lived in Northern Ireland in 'Bandit Country' as she used to call it, basically the place was full of Republican balaclava botherers who hated the English. I'm English. Bugger.
Visiting her was always interesting, arriving at Belfast airport I always wondered if I'd ever return back to England in one piece, soldiers everywhere, graffiti and such on every street telling you in no uncertain terms how much they wished harm upon the English scum striding around their country.
Her father too, sweet Christ, her father had fists like an anvil and took an instant dislike to me. Kiara told me that the only English people they really hated were the posh accented sort.. so my regional accent would protect me from the inevitable kneecapping. I laid on the thickest Yorkshire accent I could while trying to stay alive. Sadly the reason for all this trauma and strife, the sex with this slim, busty nurse that let me do anything I desired.. started to fade as she became more and more odd.
Sex became more and more violent, before she asked for the occasional spanking, now she wanted proper beating.. sometimes not happy until welts and bruises festooned her pert bottom. The real uncomfortable moments came when she asked me if I'd be interested in 'play-rape'. This apparently was where she would go to some prearranged secluded place, and wander around for a bit.. I would be lurking in the shadows and surprise her by jumping her and for all intents and purposes raping her in some alley or on some waste ground. She seemed thrilled with the exciting new love-game. I felt slightly uncomfortable about it and tried to discourage the idea.
After a while the trips back and forth to her little village took a financial toll and the emotional and physical toll of almost having to beat her senseless to 'get her off' was just too much. That and her father had noticed some bruises on her arms and concluded I was abusing his precious little girl. He phoned me while I was in England, threatened me rather successfully by saying ' I'm going to cut off everything you touched her with..'
I think I'd had enough by then.
I tried to end it nicely and calmly but she left me a voice message saying 'It's 3am Hicksion, I'm going down to the car park where all those drunks and thugs hang out at night and if I'm done over it'll be your fault cos you're not there to do it instead, yer shit!'
Now that's seriously bonkers.
Great breasts though.
(Mon 20th Nov 2006, 16:05, More)
» My Greatest Regrets
Last day
Regrets are odd bastards.
One of my oldest friends was diagnosed with terminal cancer some 4 years ago and although fighting it with every ounce of strength he had he gradually slipped silently into becoming the grey, sickly figure his family gathered around in the Leeds Infirmary.
Not that I knew that at the time, no, I was far more bothered about telling the world about how my then fiancee and now ex-bitch from hell had ripped out my heart and dumped me. I wallowed in self pity while he wallowed in a morphine induced haze.
I visited him once, with a group of other friends, and passed the time of day and looked concerned. But my mind was elsewhere, because that ex-bitch was still twisting the knife in my stupid little heart and nothing and no-one could snap me out of this grandious despair, not even one of my oldest friends losing a leg, then a lung.. then all hope.
By some weird twist of something I found myself one day actually considering the notion of visiting him.. I trudged up the hill to the local infirmary to which he had been moved to and spent a sobering hour or so with him at his bedside. By now he was taking oxygen every few seconds and couldn't really talk. It was December, I gave him a miniature Christmas tree for his bedside cabinet and said ' See you later then..'
I was the last person to speak to him.
My regrets are obvious, spending far too much precious time wanking around, moaning about my ex.. and in a funny way I regret that I was the last person to speak to him. His father, his brother, any one of our mutual friends who had all been better bed side visitors and better company for him in his last few months should have been there, not me.
Not 'johnny-come-lately' me.
I regret not realising what was more important back then.
I make sure not to make that mistake again nowadays
Oh dear, sorry to be depressing, here.. have a lollipop.
(Fri 6th Oct 2006, 14:43, More)
Last day
Regrets are odd bastards.
One of my oldest friends was diagnosed with terminal cancer some 4 years ago and although fighting it with every ounce of strength he had he gradually slipped silently into becoming the grey, sickly figure his family gathered around in the Leeds Infirmary.
Not that I knew that at the time, no, I was far more bothered about telling the world about how my then fiancee and now ex-bitch from hell had ripped out my heart and dumped me. I wallowed in self pity while he wallowed in a morphine induced haze.
I visited him once, with a group of other friends, and passed the time of day and looked concerned. But my mind was elsewhere, because that ex-bitch was still twisting the knife in my stupid little heart and nothing and no-one could snap me out of this grandious despair, not even one of my oldest friends losing a leg, then a lung.. then all hope.
By some weird twist of something I found myself one day actually considering the notion of visiting him.. I trudged up the hill to the local infirmary to which he had been moved to and spent a sobering hour or so with him at his bedside. By now he was taking oxygen every few seconds and couldn't really talk. It was December, I gave him a miniature Christmas tree for his bedside cabinet and said ' See you later then..'
I was the last person to speak to him.
My regrets are obvious, spending far too much precious time wanking around, moaning about my ex.. and in a funny way I regret that I was the last person to speak to him. His father, his brother, any one of our mutual friends who had all been better bed side visitors and better company for him in his last few months should have been there, not me.
Not 'johnny-come-lately' me.
I regret not realising what was more important back then.
I make sure not to make that mistake again nowadays
Oh dear, sorry to be depressing, here.. have a lollipop.
(Fri 6th Oct 2006, 14:43, More)
» My Greatest Regrets
I regret..
Getting drunk last night and telling my wife that the real reason I'm a little unenthusiastic about having kids is because I'm afraid the manic depression she suffers from, and struggles to keep in check with medication and exercise, will flare up one day and she'll do something to our baby when I'm not around to stop her.
I am such a cock.
(Mon 9th Oct 2006, 11:19, More)
I regret..
Getting drunk last night and telling my wife that the real reason I'm a little unenthusiastic about having kids is because I'm afraid the manic depression she suffers from, and struggles to keep in check with medication and exercise, will flare up one day and she'll do something to our baby when I'm not around to stop her.
I am such a cock.
(Mon 9th Oct 2006, 11:19, More)
» Inappropriate crushes
Oh yes..
Jordan - AKA Katie Price. Why this becomes inappropriate is that I absolutely and totally loathe everything she stands for, her attitude, vacuousness, and disgusting, shit-streaked brand of 'celebrity'. I hate everything she does, every nauseating word she utters and every repulsive move she makes in her slimey career.
That being said, I'd absolutely love to fuck her.
How it is that I can loathe someone, yet still want to fuck them, is both inappropriate and a mystery to me.
(Tue 3rd Oct 2006, 15:09, More)
Oh yes..
Jordan - AKA Katie Price. Why this becomes inappropriate is that I absolutely and totally loathe everything she stands for, her attitude, vacuousness, and disgusting, shit-streaked brand of 'celebrity'. I hate everything she does, every nauseating word she utters and every repulsive move she makes in her slimey career.
That being said, I'd absolutely love to fuck her.
How it is that I can loathe someone, yet still want to fuck them, is both inappropriate and a mystery to me.
(Tue 3rd Oct 2006, 15:09, More)
» Inappropriate crushes
Faith Browns affect on a young lad..
One time when I was an innocent child, sat cross legged on the front room carpet soaking in all manner of Saturday evening telly, working my way through packet after packet of Monster Munch and generally being lazy, I remember some cheap comedy impressionist program appearing.
I'd never seen Faith Brown before, but since then I've never forgotten her.
For those who don't remember her I'll try and explain - she was one of those random acts that would appear on evening variety shows in the 80's - she was blonde, alot older than me, and had the biggest bloody tits I'd ever seen in my life.
The inappropriate thing is she's 64 now, and I still bloody well would.
www.manders.clara.net/faith_brown/pages/faith001.htm
Oh - and with regard Lazy Towns Stephanie you're all evil, evil men. But I would too.
(Tue 3rd Oct 2006, 10:12, More)
Faith Browns affect on a young lad..
One time when I was an innocent child, sat cross legged on the front room carpet soaking in all manner of Saturday evening telly, working my way through packet after packet of Monster Munch and generally being lazy, I remember some cheap comedy impressionist program appearing.
I'd never seen Faith Brown before, but since then I've never forgotten her.
For those who don't remember her I'll try and explain - she was one of those random acts that would appear on evening variety shows in the 80's - she was blonde, alot older than me, and had the biggest bloody tits I'd ever seen in my life.
The inappropriate thing is she's 64 now, and I still bloody well would.
www.manders.clara.net/faith_brown/pages/faith001.htm
Oh - and with regard Lazy Towns Stephanie you're all evil, evil men. But I would too.
(Tue 3rd Oct 2006, 10:12, More)