moon_beast

Anthem for Doomed Youth - Wilfred Owen.   What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires. What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes. The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Photograph of original manuscript revised by Siegfried Sassoon.

“The clitoris is pure in purpose. It is the only organ in the body designed purely for pleasure. The clitoris is simply a bundle of nerves: 8000 nerve fibres, to be precise. That’s a higher concentration of nerve fibres than is found anywhere else in the body, including the fingertips, lips, and tongue, and it is twice the number in the penis. Who needs a handgun when you’ve got a semiautomatic.”  Natalie Angier, Woman: An Intimate Geography.  Artwork by Patrick Van der Elst

I'm stuck with a small handgun, but at least I can get 'pleasure by proxy' when I help my favourite lady achieve orgasm!

I've spent hours doing this in sweet and blissful ignorance of the fact that there was a name for it...  We live and learn eh!