diaz

I read this onNana's blog a while back and have not stopped thinking about it since.
Based on the comments I think it is an exert from a book but I am not sure....

I've always had a morbid attachment for the figure of my father, a detached, distant, dead figure. I tried to imagine his suicide many, many times, and the sultriness of July arrived at my throat, as the noose arrived at his.
I imagined the sticky air, the humming some flies, the final jerk.
It is extremely painful to me to remember every special instant that I never personally experienced.
Rather, the experience lived within me, and repeated over and over again throughout my whole life - imagining his death.
Since I began to reflect this event, I started to imagine my life like the reenactment of his death.
The unbearable sultriness of the thick air, the exhaustion, and the erotic dreams of death, tormented my life until they finally erupted in a terribly upsetting, and violent need for release.
Many thing made my nerves vibrate in succession: short instants in the day, long minutes in the night, during which my body was shaken by horrible spasms, which made me leave my flesh and open my womb as if some enormous pliers stretched my body and allowed a despicable, gigantic parasite to enter inside me.
My flesh was stretched and a powerful pleasure flooded me. The love which pushed me to corrode my spirit during those heavy days of July was pure violence, I had an unconscious need of pain and death, a hidden desire for me to be pulled, ripped and melted.
The desire of being beaten against a wall and raped, developed in parallel to my need of gathering dozens of men who desired to be drenched without reservation by my golden rains.
An uncontrollable desire and terrible spasm shook my conscience. I needed to see their hardening cock inside their pants at my arrival. A quiver went through my body, I needed to piss and shit on those men, to give them the most beautiful things they could obtain from a small wild beast.
Enjoying another's humiliation is not completely a sin, rather I felt like it was the most
compassionate act a being like myself could offer to her toys.
It was in that period that I took the obsession of seeking much older men, possibly ugly ones, and teasing their eyes with my dirtiness.
My pants penetrating into the abyss between the cheeks of my ass, and made me excited as the
material rubbed against my crotch.
I waited impatiently for some poor idiot to pass by and notice me flashed my bottom. Whenever I did
this, the old men become total nerds, passed their tongue over their lips beneath their mustaches, and got a hard-on inside their pants.
And then I orgasmed and flooded myself with extreme pleasure. There is nothing more amusing than to watch their shock expressions, the curse of damnation and the shout of pity in their shining eyes. I could read the fear and the torment inside them, the fear which manifested their desire of something they could never have, and which also meant their eternal damnation.
A liquid and rotted world drained on their glasses, like wax it petrified and mummified their bodies, changing their life forever since that moment.
The drops of the strawberry ice cream dripped on my breasts and tickled down below my navel.
The wake traced from the ice-cold drops of water ripped the sky, it opened my body and the dry sun drained my entrails which boiled unseemly, red, pink and gray in the scalding rays of solar piss.

Wow.

And please vote for Synder on hopefuls, she is AMAZING.....
You can find her shoot here

Love you bye!