#camus's books are so neat
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anyone else notice how tally hall's covers look very similar to albert camus's book covers?
#random#no context#personal#kinda but not really personal but whatever#camus's books are so neat#i'm still not over the stranger the way the protagonist was portrayed was gold#completely and utterly apathetic and yet not aware of it because e believes it to be normalized behavior#and in a way it sort of is#because in modern society nowadays people are mostly ruled by the 'I-ship'#yes empathy is a huge factor-it's what we believe makes us human aside from intelligence but#rarely do you find people who are truly altruistic and introspective enough to really empathize with people#i just love the first line where the protagonist goes#'Maman died today...or maybe yesterday."#IT JUST SHOWS HOW OUT OF IT HE IS AND HOW LITTLE HE REALLY CARES ABOUT ANYTHING#tally hall is a cool band#them and will wood are really neat#anyways#ramble#non-fandom related#sorry for the rant#it's just really neat okay#will prob delete this later
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24/01/2023
Today i was listening to a podcast while doing the dishes, the podcast being ''Philosophize this'', and i really liked the episode i chose today. I'm not the type to listen to podcasts linearly, i choose the episode based on the title and enjoy. This is a formula that works for me and i really liked the topic of this particular day, obviously, i'm not gonna go and explain philosophy, i'm not built for that but i'll leave the topics and stuff here to remember it later.
I feel very good about doing the dishes today, even if it's not a lot. I'm in that state where getting up and being productive is pretty hard which sucks because i really feel my best when i feel good about my day and what i've acomplished during it, again, even the smallest things. Of course, getting up, doing some dishes i had to do and listening to a podcast i enjoy, learning about a topic that interests me, that's good. It really helps on days like these.
I also fixed my keyboard, so that's neat. i thought i'd have to buy a new one but nope, turns out just doing a bit of cleaning solved the problem. See, the space bar wasn't working, quite a problem it was. So, i just unplugged it and cleaned around the keys a bit and seems to have done it so i'm pretty happy. Not too bad for my non-technological self.
I talked with my girlfriend a lot today, we entertained the idea of the occasion where the rest of the world was gone except for us and it was so fun. We had very different ideas of what do do, i wanted to live away from the city in a little cottage kind of area and she wanted to live in an abandoned city, for practicality. We concluded to live pretty close to each other and have a million sleepovers. To be honest, i'd drop the cottagecore fantasy any day for her, i actually think i wouldn't wanna let go if i had the choice. Hope she doesn't mind when i drop by her flat permanently when the apocalypse happens.
I'm planning on taking a shower later, something that sometimes slips by me, sadly. So i'm really happy about remebering and wanting to shower today. I'm pretty proud of myself for that.
I was also watching some of Grian's videos and that was pretty funny, i really enjoy his channel. I already caught up on his HC videos so i was rewatching some of his 100 hour on hardcore series and it's as good as i remebered. I specially love his dynamic with his friends, it's wholesome and chaotic in the best way possible, it was actually a big factor of why i have been in a pretty good mood today. What an awesome little pesky bird.
And now, i'm on a call with my lovely partner while writing this and listening to some music. She still doesn't know i've started a blog, i reckon i'll tell them at some point, just not yet. I've just started it after all so if i keep it up, she'll know. I also think i'll do some german in duolingo later, i find it fun. For context, i've been starting the course like, a week ago or two ago and i haven't been doing the best job at keeping it up so i wanna catch up a bit. Eme, my girlfriend, has been on fire since she started her own account on it so i'm glad she's having fun learning it. Now that's my motivation to keep learning it, to have a conversation in german, it'll be super fun with the both of us being big lenguage nerds.
Anyhow, i think that's all for today. Let's hope i keep this up tomorrow and the day after that, this has been fun. Now i see why Gilbert liked this blog thing so much. Well, until next time.
PD1: I like the words ''Respite'' and ''Resolve''.
PD2: The person the podcast was talking about is ''Albert Camus''. More specifically, his book titled ''The fall''.
PD3: no hay.
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14, 18, and 68 for the book asks? also by random happenstance i'm reading a side-by-side german/english version of the metamorphosis right now
oooooh 👀 that's neat!!!
14. a book that made you trip on literary acid
HHH okay i barely even remember the book that's how insane of a read it felt so i don't know if this even counts??? but it was called like "midnight poppy [something]" something and yeah i. i can't recall what made it so batshit insane but by the end it was just incredibly "what the fuck"
also when i read the stranger by albert camus for ap lit i went a little batshit insane myself i liked that book an awful lot cuz mersault is such a fuckin mood
18. your least favorite book ever
ranger's apprentice. yeah the whole series
68. your favorite piece of classic literature
hmmmm i don't have a favorite favorite like i might for fiction/fantasy but i did like moby dick an awful lot, as well as dr jekyll and mr hyde. oh! wuthering heights could also go under 14 now that book was a Trip for me as an acearo fellow sdlfksdfskdfsfs but i'll certainly never forget the scene where the second narrator fella like. okay when heathcliff stuck a fuckin knife in nelly's mouth and she like bit it and dared him to kill her right there like 👀👀 go off! nelly's a little eavesdropping snitch but damb she was badass
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tagged by @elf-grunge and @ichiryuukenji ily :^( <3
ONE / name / alias. hannah! or hannah rain for professional stuff
TWO / birthday. 3/5/2001
THREE / zodiac sign. fish
FOUR / height.��5′3 :^( i forget im short bc my irl friend group are all shorter than me (except baitlyn shes long and il her)
FIVE / hobbies. art bapy!! listening to podcasts too. im gettin back into bideo games too but im still bad at them
SIX / favourite colors. its gween or a very specific shade of neon red
SEVEN / favourite books. i rly like the stranger by albert camus i think the philosophy is neat
EIGHT / last song listened to. mailbu 1992 by coin but im listening to tma rn lmao
TEN / inspiration for muse. uhhh mostly my friends spitball good ideas at me and im like well guess i have to draw this. im also influenced by a lot of surrealist horror and webcomics
ELEVEN / dream job. anything to do with storytelling
TWELVE / meaning behind your url. uhh inside joke about marble hornets’ jay wherein when i first watched it w my pals we called him forest lurker. i live in a desert. i have a lot of sideblogs so i wont do all of them but @memewife was bc thats what my best friend called me when we were 14/15, @vissercomplex is a reference to a81 and @smartphonehour is a song from be more chill
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Sirius/Nyna for the meme ?
NopeI'm going to assume you mean actually Book 2 Camus with Nyna. I want Nyna to be happy, but the idea of Sirius leaving Tatiana for Nyna is just so bad on so many levels. She loses her beloved and she never learns the truth of he died, left, pulling an Odysseus, or etc. (Actually an Odyssey AU of Tatiana/Zeke sounds pretty neat).If you mean Camus/Nyna then still no. Again want Nyna to be happy but the fact Nyna's family is dead needs to be addressed in some way. I'm not sold on them as a couple and poly of the three is out of the question.
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Hi there! I have a friend who is suffering from severe nihilism following a falling out with religion. I was wondering if you could recommend any books that would help provide structure and meaning?
It’s really unfortunate that our society isn’t better equipped to offer people philosophical support and outlets of meaning outside of religion. We are presented with this shitty dichotomy–and it’s heavily reinforced in movies and TV–where you’re either naive and religious or you’re cold and hard and nihilistic. But that’s just, like, so not true.
I’ve written before on how I personally strive to find meaning and purpose in my life, but I would also recommend checking out some good ol’ fashion existentialism (e.g. de Beauvoir, Sartre, Camus, Merleau-Ponty, etc. I’ve written about the differences between nihilism and existentialism here), or some existential psychology. Viktor Frankl’s book Man’s Search for Meaning is a must-read. It vividly and heart-breakingly chronicles his story of surviving the Holocaust and the life-lessons he learned as a result, including the importance of combating nihilism. Here’s a post I did that includes a video of Frankl talking about the emptiness of living one’s life for money. For some accessible contemporary literature, I would recommend The Power of Meaning by Emily Esfahani Smith and The Happiness Hypothesis by Jonathan Haidt. Both of these books look at ancient philosophical traditions and modern psychological research to explore how we can find meaning. David Foster Wallace’s commencement address ‘This is Water’ is always a heartening nihilist-fighter. And, of course, for some cosmic perspective, you gotta turn to Carl Sagan. Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors (which he co-wrote with his wife Ann Druyan) and Pale Blue Dot will shoot you through and through with some humble awe for your place in the universe. Hearing his voice always helps drive his points home as well, so watching the Sagan Series might be just what the philosopher ordered.
The reality is that the universe, on the largest of scales, does not care about us. So there’s a seed of truth to nihilism, which means that its specter will continue to loom large over most of us. But the trick, I think, is to resist the temptation to view nihilism as something that swallows everything. It’s challenging to hold competing views simultaneously in our brains. Acknowledging (let alone embracing) a tangled, contradictory mosaic picture of reality is no easy feat for our monkey brains. But I think it’s much closer to how things actually are. Answers are rarely simple. Our brains fight and fight hard to simplify, to categorize, to dichotimize, to fit things into neat little narratives. Which is why there’s a real temptation to think that either EVERYTHING is inherently meaningful, or NOTHING is inherently meaningful; we have to turn to either RELIGION or NIHILISM. Many of the works I recommended above help us grapple with the messy gray areas that make up the spaces between these extremes. But internalizing their messages is often easier said than done. Much of what I’ve mentioned so far has also been highly theoretical. A lot of the work to find and feel meaning/purpose comes through praxis, which can include therapy and medication and creative outlets and support groups and social justice work and all sorts of other things. Sometimes a practical and engaged focus can help make the theoretical worries feel more tangible and manageable.
Hope some of these resources help. Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the nihilists bite!
#nihilism#existentialism#purpose#meaning#viktor frankl#carl sagan#david foster wallace#emily esfahani smith#ann druyan#questions#nich
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Erm, I'm pretty new here and I have no idea how to navigate this whole new world of "asking" and "requesting" stuff, but my fear of making mistakes online despite no one knowing me is overcome by my intense need to ask: How would you two really intriguing people surmise an interaction between a male ENTJ and a female INFJ would go down, given that ENTJ is mystified by (and maybe even slightly attracted to) INFJ's "otherworldliness" -- which poses a challenge ENTJ can't help but to take on?
Hello and welcome!
First of all, we’re glad you ended up sending the ask. There’s no wrong way, don’t worry about it. This might sound like a common saying, but we really mean it.
–> Here’s a quick guide to the blog:
We are two admins, an INFJ and an INTJ.
It started being a compilation of real life conversations between INxJs, but now we include many other types.
We take all kind of MBTI requests, the most popular ones ended up being “mbti family conversations”, “friends conversations” and “guess my type” (where people tell us stuff about themselves and we try to type them; sometimes it works, sometimes we fail and it’s always fun). We have no idea how these trends started, it just happened.
You can also ask us anything MBTI related, INTJ normally goes for the cognitive functions approach and INFJ has read and learned on Psychology in general.
You can ask for advice about any problem that is troubling you and we can try to be of some help.
Anything, as long as it is appropriate and respectful.
– INTJ and INFJ
~~~[Now on your request, this is how these types could interact]:At a book store, INFJ takes careful notes in a neat but simple notebook. ENTJ enters and comes closer in silence.
ENTJ (after thinking about it): Making a list of books to buy?
INFJ (absent-minded): Mm? Oh, well, kind of.
ENTJ (Smiling): Yeah?
INFJ: I am just trying to put these books in order in the Dostoyevski-Camus spectrum.
ENTJ (smiling wider): Can you explain me the rules you follow?
INFJ (smiling back, suddenly speaking a little faster): Well, I take books that start with faking apathetic main characters that are tired of their existence. Lots of Byronic heroes in here. Anti-heroes tend to work too.
ENTJ (nods): Makes sense.
INFJ: Then, as the story unfold, I conclude if they follow in one of two categories: if they decide to celebrate the meaningless of life and create meaning by the means of the absurd hero (Which would make Camus proud) or if they resume to a new state of contempt, concluding to the idea that life does have meaning and turning back from the point of no return that Camus tend to argue (which falls closer with the way Dostoyevski makes his character suffer). Therefore I can buy accordingly to what mood of story I am more inclined to at the moment.
ENTJ: You don’t mind having the ending spoiled?
INFJ: Not really. I tend to guess how stories are going to end fairly easily, so if the process of reading it feels right, I don’t mind knowing how it is going to end.
ENTJ (very badly concealed heart-eyes): Which mood are you right now? Camus or Dostoyevski?
INFJ (after thinking about it): Dostoyevski.
ENTJ (walks to the next shelf and comes back with The Eternal Husband): Can I buy you this one?
INFJ (chuckles softly): Sure, but isn’t that cheating? It is literally a book from Dostoyevski.
ENTJ (smiling back): You didn’t say in your rules that this wasn’t allowed.
INFJ (laughs again): Touché. Thanks for the book, I’ll get you a cool one in return.
ENTJ: Sounds cool to me.——-If you were thinking more of an analysis of the relationship rather than a conversation that summarizes the relationship, send us another ask and we’ll write that :)
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Hi! The biggest of your personal headcanons about each Gold Saint, Specter and Sea General, please!
OMG ANON YOU BEAUTIFUL PERSON GET A GRIP ‘CAUSE YOU’RE IN FOR A LONG RIDE!
I don’t know how to define ‘biggest headcanon’, tho, so I just… went with the feel? Hope you don’t mind!
Another thing: I put Kanon under the Marinas just for the sake of… giving him more space? Don’t know, just felt right this way!
Answer under the cut! Enjoy and thanks for asking! :D
Gold Saints
Aries Mu: he has the sickest sense of humour EVER. He could burn you with words with a straight face, looking perfectly innocent, and it’d take you five solid minutes to notice he just insulted you. Probably a meme master before it was cool.
Taurus Aldebaran: our sweet giant is the king of perfect gifts.He always knows what you need, even if you didn’t yourself. Gifts given by him are greatly cherished.
Gemini Saga: he’s got a thing for order – slightly bordering on obsession. His desk is always perfectly neat, pens ordered by colour or degree of ink consumed, this kind of thing. Nothing’s out of place after his passage.
Cancer Death Mask: he sings. A LOT. From opera’s arias to popular Italian songs. Especially if he’s dusting the faces hanging on his House – he keeps himself company with his own voice. It’s amazing and also bloody scary that he’s actually really pleasant to listen to.
Leo Aiolia: he’s the laziest cat that ever lived. Unless he’s on service, trying to get him out of bed is basically a herculean feat. No way he’s leaving his mattress without a very good reason to do so, no sir – ‘good reason’ being something along the lines of ‘Athena was kidnapped’ or ‘the world is exploding’.
Virgo Shaka: he could probably blackmail every single member of the Sanctuary with some ridiculous thing they did five years before on a random day. He’s got a damn fine memory and has no qualms in using it.
Libra Dohko: he’s a romantic dork and has no shame in admitting it. Literally waiting for Shunrei and Shiryu to marry and have ninety children to play grandpa with.
Scorpio Milo: he’s a literal magnet for animals – the grumpiest cat or the most antisocial dog turn into adorable cuddly balls of fluff when he approaches them.
Sagittarius Aiolos: the purest cinnamon roll on the planet but if you hurt one of his loved ones you better run, or else you’d find yourself pinned to a wall by his arrows. Takes him a lot to get angry, but when he does, it’s bad.
Capricorn Shura: give him some tequila and he’ll become the sexiest dancer on the stage – nobody can resist his tango moves, trust me.
Aquarius Camus: he wants to act like he doesn’t care but give him a sad movie or an emotional book and he’ll become a hapless ball of tears. It’s even worse with music.
Pisces Aphrodite: has the biggest sweet tooth in the bloody Sanctuary. He’d eat sugar directly from the spoon if on abstinence. Do not – repeat – do not take his sweets away. Death Mask and Shura got scars over this.
Bonus! Pope Shion: Dohko and him played chess through telepathy for centuries – Shion says it’s because he wanted to help his friend keep his mind awake while sitting on those rocks for weeks on end, Dohko says it’s because ‘he’s a competitive bitch that never wanted to lose’.
Sea Generals
Sea Dragon Kanon: he’s left-handed. One of the many reasons he was considered ‘the bad one’ – left-handed people were considered ‘demonic’ and‘deviant’ until the seventies or something.
Siren Sorrento: he’s an albino – and spent most of his childhood safely kept inside his house, looking at the world outside only through a curtained window.
Scylla Io: he’s got a Maori-styled tattoo on his back representing the six animals that make up his powers – thought it was a good way to bond with the South Pacific he’s supposed to protect.
Lymnades Caça: his monstrous appearance is completely made up –he used his shape-shifting abilities to conjure up the scariest face he could to look menacing to his opponents.
Chrysaor Krishna: he’s the healer of the group – his Cosmos can re-align chakras on other people to bring back equilibrium in their bodies, accelerating the healing process.
Sea Horse Baian: he fell in love with the sea by watching killer whales swimming in the bay of Vancouver Island, where he lived as a child.
Kraken Isaak: his ‘fanboying’ over the Kraken wasn’t casual –he’d always been supposed to be a Marina General, an equal in rank to his master (assuming that Sea Generals and Gold Saints have the same role in different armies) – no wonder Camus thought he was stronger than Hyoga.
Bonus! Mermaid Thetis: being a Nereid – a nymph of the seas, the incarnation of Achilles’ mother, sister to Amphitrite - she’s the keeper of the memories of Atlantis, the only one apart from Poseidon himself to remember its greatness and beauty in mythical times.
Specters (only the ones I actually have hcs about, obvs, they’d be too many otherwise)
Wyvern Rhadamanthys: he won’t admit it even under torture, but he’s kind of a mama dragon. His God, his lieutenants, his brothers– he’s going to chew up anyone who dares hurting them.
Griffon Minos: he sews, mends and weaves like a pro. Got a hole in your socks? He’ll make them as good as new – if you actually have the guts to ask him, that’s to say.
Garuda Aiacos: Biggest Bollywood fan EVER. He sings the songs from their movies non-stop, and even dances their choreographies half-naked in his house in Antenora.
Balrog Lune: he goes in full-raging paranoia when somebody gets inside his archives without his supervision – ‘it took me decades to bring order to it, don’t you dare touch my books!’
Necromancer Byaku: chilliest Specter in the whole Underworld –never loses his cool and is the only one who can calm down Lune when he becomes a bunch of frail nerves.
Harpy Valentine: BIGGEST DRAMA QUEEN with a ‘mother hen’ tendency – always checking if everybody’s alright, if they need something, etc. Obviously this intensifies to epic proportions when Rhadamanthys is involved.
Alraune Queen: the human definition of ‘smol and angry’: he always quarrels with Fyodor for “who’s the real mandrake in here”, and Valentine, Sylphid and Gordon must drag him away every time.
Basilisk Sylphid: being Belgian, he’s the greatest beer expert inthe Underworld. Better not argue with him about that beverage!
Minotauros Gordon: Just wants to do his job and not be bothered by anything else – although he has to stop Queen from charging head on and chew people’s faces out for the silliest things.
Papillon Myu: his metabolism is extremely fast – too fast for a human body, to the point that he has sudden droppings of energy. He stays in his ‘blob’ form to avoid wasting strength when it’s not necessary.
Behemoth Violate: in a ‘no Cosmo, no Surplices’ brawl, she’s strong enough to actually bring Aiacos down – or at least get a par out of the fight. You don’t mess with Violate.
Sphinx Pharaoh: he’s got a thing for snakes and helped Pandora deal with her ability of conjuring them – they get along pretty well thanks to this.
Acheron Charon: he gives great emphasis to his talking by throwing Italian and Neapolitan words in it, and doesn’t give a shit if they don’t understand him – after some time, his colleagues have somehow learned to get the gist of what he means.
Bonus! Pandora: She seems all prim and proper, but actually knows lots of swear words. And being them in German, they sound very, very menacing coming from her mouth.
#I NEEDED TO CREATE A WORD FILE FOR THIS I'M NOT KIDDING#anonymous#asks and answers#saint seiya#my headcanons#aries mu#taurus aldebaran#gemini saga#cancer deathmask#leo aiolia#virgo shaka#libra dohko#scorpio milo#sagittarius aiolos#capricorn shura#aquarius camus#pisces aphrodite#aries shion#sea dragon kanon#mermaid thetis#siren sorrento#lymnades caça#chrysaor krishna#sea horse baian#scylla io#kraken isaak#pandora heinstein#wyvern rhadamanthys#griffon minos#garuda aiacos
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Don’t stand so close to me
Young teacher, the subject Of schoolgirl fantasy She wants him so badly Knows what she wants to be
Okay so Professor Montgomery wasn’t the youngest teacher in the school. There was Professor Jefferson who was 29, and Professor Lysterfield at 27. But Professor Montgomery is the one Kiara had her eyes on. He was her English teacher, and at the ripe age of 16, Kiara found herself very much infatuated with her 32 year old English professor.
Professor Montgomery stood tall at 6’2” and had light golden hair which mostly sat at an organised tousle, something which did not fit the character of the rest of the professors, who kept their hair neat and combed. His piercing grey eyes did nothing to quell Kiara’s desires for him when he put her on the spot during class to contribute her interpretations of Albert Camus’ ‘The Plague’. She would get flustered, but respond with a steady, unwavering voice, something which Professor Montgomery always noted in her feedback reports. “Ms Silverwood has an unfaltering understanding of all texts prescribed to her and provides sound justification behind her ideas.” She kept these tidbits of compliments professor Montgomery would pepper her essays with as fuel for her infatuation.
Kiara didn’t hide her desires from any of the other girls in her same-sex boarding school, especially not her closest knit of friends. They all knew exactly what was on her mind – and jokingly chastised her for trying to ruin a professor’s reputation. Not that she tried to look particularly sexy in front of the Professor, her school skirt was never hitched up, but instead down to where her finger-tips touched her thighs when stood upright. Her tie was loosely done up, her first button undone like all other students. Her dark hair was always tied in a modest ponytail or kept secure by a headband. She never wore makeup, and overall did nothing to stand out, physically.
Where she played her game was during class. Her friends would smirk as Professor Montgomery would pick on Kiara to answer questions, and she’d prattle off her answers, looking him directly in the eyes, but her fluster evident. No one could tell if Professor Montgomery picked up on her blush, for he would simply nod and move on. All the other girls would cackle at how red she had gotten. But no one would know how she burned on the inside, and the moisture seeping into her panties for the rest of the day, until she managed to touch herself in the shower, imagining Professor Montgomery bending her over the desk to give her what she wanted. Which was his cock, within her tight, virgin pussy.
Yes, unlike some of the other girls in her year level, Kiara was a virgin. Some girls had managed to lose it to students in their brother school, but for all intents and purposes, Kiara was a smart, studious girl, and had never even thought to consider having sex with one of those boys. She’d kissed 2 or 3 boys during parties held by the schools, but never anything further. The only cocks Kiara had seen were from sex education, and only knowledge of sexual deviancy she knew were from her fellow classmates’ sexual endeavours. Her desire for Professor Montgomery mainly stemmed from the time their class covered ‘Lolita’ (how ironic), and Professor Montgomery had strongly emphasised what Nabakov had intended with the book.
“Nabakov’s writing of Humbert evokes a sense of empathy and manages to fool his audience into believing that Humbert really did love Lolita, that he was a caring, romantic soul. But this is the genius of Nabakov – he has completely captured the mental manipulation a paedophile observes to justify any cruel crime as forgivable.”
Professor Montgomery’s eyes had been scanning around the room, and at the last sentence his eyes connected directly with Kiara’s. And in those eyes Kiara thought she saw something flit across, almost like a small flame ignited then immediately fused. And thus, the fire in the pit of her belly ignited. What had his look meant? It was as though he was trying to convince himself of this interpretation of Nabakov’s work just as much as he was trying to convince everyone else.
Kiara had put her hand up. “But Professor, couldn’t it be argued that Nabakov might have also been trying to quench his own desires within this writing and placed himself in Humbert’s shoes? The eroticism in the descriptions of Lolita by Humbert seems almost too personal for me to believe Nabakov was spurring a cautionary tale.” All the other girls had stared at her. And it was then she saw it again in Professor Montgomery’s eyes. The hint of fire, and the smallest of smiles, something in his eyes which made her feel as though her heart was at her throat.
“Possibly you may be right. Why don’t you write me your essay on that perspective?” he inquired.
So, she slaved nights away perfecting the essay for Professor Montgomery. All her friends didn’t understand why she was so committed to make it the perfect argument. But it was for her – she wanted to let Professor Montgomery know that it was okay if he felt the way he did, that she was for his taking, should he ever want her. She tried to paint Lolita in a consensual light, in that surely Lolita was old enough to understand the consequences of her seduction, and not everything could be pinned to Humbert’s manipulation. She had submitted her essay to Professor Montgomery with a shaky hand, and as she had seen her mark on that essay, and every essay since, it had been very close to perfection. The one comment on her essay he left was “Valid points. Well argued.” And that was what planted the seed in Kiara’s mind.
Inside her there’s longing This girl’s an open page Book marking she’s so close now This girl is half his age
Don't stand, don’t stand so, don’t stand so close to me Don't stand, don’t stand so, don’t stand so close to me
Elliott Montgomery was no stranger to teaching in an-all girls environment, and he knew when silly teenage girls crushed on him. He had been the recipient of several love notes slipped between submitted essays, overtly flirtatious girls in his class, and some brave girls had even left panties in his pigeon box, much to all the other Professors’ amusements. Leslie Jefferson had twice as many as Elliot, but Jefferson actually fed into these girls’ childish crushes, if only to hide his closet homosexuality. Andrew Lysterfield was still new and too nervous to deal with anything of the kind, much to the girls’ amusements – they really did enjoy torturing the poor fellow.
The Headmistress had warned the men about these possibilities, asking that any girls avidly flirting with the teachers were to be reprimanded and sent to the Headmistress. But the three junior staff felt it was only natural young teenage girls felt this way, and this harmless fun would keep them safer for anything severe. Elliott himself never fed into any of the childish seduction these girls would attempt, instead smiling curtly and reminding them there were consequences for their actions which may involve detention in the gym.
When Kiara Maksuda started attending his class in her 10th year, he was only mildly surprised to see the girl’s doe-eyed innocence at the topic of Nabakov’s Lolita. It was a text Elliott had taught for many years, and it always was a contentious topic of choice, even within the English department. Was it really appropriate for a young English teacher to be teaching this text in a same-sex environment? Perhaps not. And every year there were girls who would play on the Lolita trope to seduce Elliott. He prepared himself for the onslaught of flirtatious bullshit every year. This year however, Elliott felt something stir in his stomach every time he had Kiara in his class. She was smart, she was attentive, and she was eloquent. He initially was incredibly impressed by the girl’s capacity to pick up on themes within the text and further expand upon a topic outlined to the whole class, or in most cases, directly oppose his train of thinking. Elliott enjoyed marking the girl’s essays, and his pride was almost hurt when he read how Kiara would tear his theories and interpretations to shreds, but this was what caught his attention.
Kiara was an easy book to read for Elliott. She was likely brought up in a strict household and was regimented in her classwork and homework. She was disciplined, and mostly stayed quiet in class. Elliott liked that in his students. But what he liked even more was her ideas, her thinking; he often discreetly thought about catching her on a lunch break to discuss texts, if only to have someone to talk to. But he read further into her – the way she would stare at him, the blush on her tan cheeks, the way her legs would clench when answering questions for him, it was obvious she was infatuated with him. But what shocked (and eventually excited) him was how she didn’t make a single attempt to let him know how she felt.
Elliott was sure the girl wasn’t aware of her attraction to him, so he deliberately lingered on Kiara when discussing Lolita, and he was thoroughly shocked when she had stared at him so directly. It was as if she was reading something in him that he wasn’t aware of. And it became apparent that it was his slow-growing attraction to her, as he read her essay refuting his ideas, and the clear clichés the girl had put into her writing to give him consent to take her.
Elliott was scared. He had never, in his 10 years of teaching career, felt this way about a student. But he couldn’t deny the uncomfortable bulge that had grown in his trousers as he marked Kiara’s essay. The girl was raw with her words, exposing her wishes quite artistically on paper, almost too clearly drawing a parallel between Humbert and Elliott, and Lolita and herself. This made Elliott incredibly uncomfortable, but his body grew warm as he read her words, and he had to down a glass of gin or two to get through her essay. Later that night as he relieved himself, all he could think about was Kiara’s legs clenching as she would answer his questions, but how her voice carried conviction of her thinking. It frightened her how resolute this girl was, in all her teenage lust.
But the girl was half his age. She was 16, Elliott was 32, not only was this illegal, it was also unacceptable. Elliott couldn’t discuss this with Leslie or Andrew, or any of the other teaching staff. This was a prestigious school, and Elliott was well-respected within his peers. He couldn’t allow for his reputation to be smeared. All there was to do was for Elliott to continue his life as though Kiara’s infatuation did not bother him, just like none of the other girls did. The rather unsexy novel by Camus only slightly helped, but he still asked Kiara for her inputs in class. She never wrote anything so explicit to him (probably as the topic never called for it), but he could read her like a book. She wanted him.
And by god, he wanted her too. But he never let it show, he only kept a photocopy of Kiara’s essay by his bedside to read late at night, when he needed something to help him take off the edge.
Her friends are so jealous You know how bad girls get Sometimes it's not so easy To be the teacher's pet
Professor Montgomery had set an assignment of an oral presentation on Albert Camus’ works, and he had requested the girls complete this assignment in groups of 3-4. Kiara teamed up with her girlfriends Abby, Lizzy and Monika for this task – girls she knew and trusted would get the job done. After Professor Montgomery’s class, the four girls made their way over to the library to begin brainstorming ideas to present on. Kiara already in her mind had a list of ideas she believed would really capture Professor Montgomery’s attention.
But the girls had other ideas, and as they went about with their shallow interpretations, Kiara sat there, frustrated. She knew Professor Montgomery would not find any of their ideas entertaining, and she certainly had a reputation to maintain in his eyes, whatever it was. Professor Montgomery never indicated that she was a class favourite – he treated everyone equally in class, and this drove Kiara to try harder. She did not know her peers’ marks, that was not something they discussed, so she could not tell the girls their ideas were stupid, and Kiara knew better. Silently she sat and watched them draw up the presentation to the best of their abilities, providing non-committal noises when prompted.
She wondered whether she should ask Professor Montgomery if she could do the task solo. It was irritating her to no end that she could not get her ideas out there. So, after the next English lesson, she gathered up her books in her arms, and went up to Professor Montgomery’s desk in front of the class. “Professor Montgomery?”
Professor Montgomery looked up from his notebook and smiled politely at her. Her loins burned and her cheeks flushed as his grey, piercing eyes seemed to stare into her soul. “Yes, Miss Maksuda?” Kiara noticed how large his hands were, clasped and resting on the desk, his long fingers entwined. How would those hands feel on my body? Kiara had to physically stop herself from thinking too far ahead, even that thought caused a small damp in her underwear she knew she needed to take care of later.
“I-I was wondering if there was a way for me to complete this assignment solo? My team-mates and I aren’t exactly seeing eye-to-eye in our interpretations.” Kiara stuttered. Professor Montgomery frowned a little bit, his eyes briefly flitting to her loose tie, then back at her eyes.
“Miss Maksuda-,”
“Call me Kiara, please!” Kiara blurted out, shocked at her insistence. She hated hearing the formalities from his lips, she did not know why. Kiara thought she saw the hint of the smallest smirk playing in Professor Montgomery’s lips, a spark in his eyes, but it could have just been her nerves. Her nerves were definitely shot.
“Miss Maksuda. This is a group project, so you all need to co-operate as a team. It is your responsibility to show your team why your idea trumps theirs. I won’t accept solo submissions.” Professor Montgomery’s tone was stern, but there was a softness attached to it, something which made Kiara’s heart flutter. Kiara nodded obediently, somewhat disappointed.
“Okay Professor. Good afternoon.” She quickly dipped out of the classroom, burning in shame, thinking what a fool I made of myself right there! Blooming red, she joined her group in the library, and boldly declared her ideas to the rest of her groupmates. She knew she was being an absolute bitch by ripping apart their ideas, but she had something to prove. She always did when it came to Professor Montgomery.
Monika rolled her eyes at Kiara, “Are you really thinking you’ll get into Professor Montgomery’s pants with your great realisations of Albert Camus, Kiara? You are more delusional than I thought.” Kiara felt like she was practically burning up with embarrassment, but she was resolute.
“I just want to take something up to him that’ll make him impressed with our ideas. We can incorporate your ideas into the presentation as well, but please allow me a minute or 2 to present.” In the end the girls came to a compromise. Kiara had never been this excited about any of her oral presentations, but this one she felt was important. It was going to be held in the last day of term before the break, and Kiara wanted something of a feel-good to keep with her when classes were on hold.
On the day of the presentation Kiara nervously stood in front of the class with all her teammates. Professor Montgomery, along with all the other girls in the class, gave Kiara’s group an encouraging smile, and they began presenting. The first few minutes while the other girls prattled on about their ideas, Kiara stood impatiently, determined to capture Professor Montgomery’s eyes. The other groups that had previously presented were good, but Kiara’s competition in class, Anika, had come up with a really good point which seemed to have impressed Professor Montgomery.
As Kiara’s turn came, she began her well-rehearsed presentation for the rest of the class. She knew she had to make eye contact with everyone else in the class, however her eyes were only on Professor Montgomery, who initially had been writing something down in his rubric, but as he noticed the topic of conversation shift as Kiara came to present, his head shot up and his eyes once again, pierced into her. Kiara felt the fire in her loins burning again, and her body betrayed her as she felt her legs automatically clench together. The other girls didn’t seem to notice her legs, instead were giggling at how red she was becoming, but she powered on, resolute.
But Kiara knew that Professor Montgomery was watching. Her nipples were hard against her bra under her shirt, and they were so hard it almost hurt, and Kiara was sure they could be seen poking out. Her pussy was starting to ache, a dull ache which could only be healed by fingering herself in the shower. She hadn’t imagined her presentation to be this difficult, but she breathed deeply and continued, her mouth prattling off her presentation while in her mind she was aching to be touched. She stared back into Professor Montgomery’s eyes – they never left her body, his lips parted slightly as he watched her, and she saw how he didn’t make a single remark on her presentation.
Once concluding, everyone gave Kiara’s group a round of applause, Professor Montgomery only fractionally late to join in the applause. As Kiara’s group went back to their seats, she briefly brushed against Professor Montgomery, and got a whiff of his cologne, and it almost immediately made her salivate like a little puppy. Good God, she was so turned on it was unimaginable. She quickly sat back down on her desk and immediately crossed her legs to unsuccessfully prevent her panties from becoming completely soaked.
Professor Montgomery stood in front of the class, “Thank you ladies, you all did an incredible job. There were some outstanding presentations we all observed today, and I will provide you all with feedback after the break. Now – happy holidays everyone!” and he dismissed the class.
Kiara took her time packing her things up from her desk, and as she was sliding her books into her bag, Professor Montgomery walked up to her, the last one left in the room, and in an almost stern, low voice said; “You presented your own topic, outside of what your team presented.” Kiara felt his cologne infiltrate her nostril and had to steel herself. Had he always smelt this good? She looked up and saw his eyes boring into her.
“Yes sir – I wanted you to hear my interpretation of it, despite what my team had to say.” She replied softly, meekly. She thought she almost saw him smile.
“Those were some incredible points you raised in your presentation, but next time I want you to stick to what the assignment expects from you.” He then reached over and patted her upper arm. “Happy Holidays, Kiara.” Kiara’s eyes widened as she heard her name roll off his tongue so casually, and his hand on her arm had felt so warm, so large, and so gentle to the touch but almost with a grip. She felt the heat rising off her skin where he had touched her. That small gesture of affection made her melt. But more importantly, now he had touched her, the desire was ever-burning.
“Happy Holidays Sir.” Kiara stammered out, before running out of the classroom.
Temptation, frustration So bad it makes him cry Wet bus stop, she's waiting His car is warm and dry
Don't stand, don’t stand so, don’t stand so close to me Don't stand, don’t stand so, don’t stand so close to me
Elliot could hardly stand it, seeing her so desperate for him and him not being able to do anything about it. When she had come to him to ask for a solo presentation, Elliot had been inclined to give in, knowing whatever she had to present would be far better than any of her peers. Frankly, the other 3 girls in her group didn’t strike him as brilliant, he’d have much preferred Kiara had grouped up with Anika. But as a teacher, he had to put his foot down on her request. It amazed her how much restraint she had in not asking for ‘favours’ like the other girls did in raising their grades – Elliot might have caved.
And then on the day of the presentation, Elliot hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Kiara as she spoke with conviction about a concept totally derailed from the rest of her group. He was impressed with her topic, and also astounded she had completely disregarded her group’s thinking, if just to present on her own. This was a girl who wouldn’t be told how to think, and it enthralled Elliot that her only weakness was himself. He felt himself getting hard, as he saw her blushing, her legs clenching again, and her nipples poking through her bra and top. His cock was pushing against his trousers, and he had to discreetly cover it with his clipboard and notebook. But he hadn’t any notes to take, his mind had gone blank at the sight of this girl’s apparent arousal right in front of the class. None of the other girls seemed to notice.
Elliott couldn’t help himself, approaching Kiara after class. He thought he could admonish the girl, but with the way she looked up with him, the innocent brown doe-like eyes, he had to step back. When she had said she had intended for him to hear her words, it took a lot for him to not take her face into his hands and kiss her. He allowed a small pat on her arm, but the soft flesh of her arm on his hand felt electric, and he had to quickly walk away. It was the same hand he used later that day to relieve himself in the office, not even making it to his room. Fuck, what had this nymph done to him?
A few days later, the school broke for term break. Elliott was keen to relax and catch up on some much needed syllabus preparation, much like Jefferson and Lysterfield. The three men drove up to a nearby pub to celebrate the break. As the men downed their pints, they revelled at how difficult the term had been, laughed about the headmistress’ insistence in being harsher on the cheeky girls, and what they had planned for the break. It was a nice break to be away from the school – Elliott felt with the drinks he downed, he felt looser, relaxed, and felt the burden of keeping appearances lift from his shoulders. But as it started to rain outside, he realised he was in no shape to drive in heavy rain, so bid the two other men goodbye, and started his drive back.
His mind was racing with thoughts, as he drove past the school bus stop, and saw a shaking, shivering girl. He pulled up, and his heart leapt to his throat as he saw Kiara Maksuda, with a suitcase by her side, drenched top to bottom from the torrential downpour. “Kiara?!” He shouted – the girl looked up, shocked like a deer in the headlight. “Get in the car!” Kiara didn’t have to be told twice – she threw her suitcase into the backseat and plopped herself down on the passenger seat of the car. Elliott cranked up the heat, as he asked, “What happened?”
Kiara’s teeth were chattering, “I missed the bus to the train station Sir, I don’t know when the next bus is.” Elliott noticed how her school uniform clung to her skin, the white shirt see-through to expose her undergarments – a modest bra underneath. Elliott quickly looked away, feeling a burning shame inside.
“Well, there aren’t any more buses tonight. I will drive you back to the school, you can call your parents and let them know you’ll be back tomorrow.” He said, as he started the car back up, and began driving back to the school. It was still a 10 minute drive, and the rain had started to ease into a steady pelting against the windshield. The heater blasting in the car was nothing compared to the heat Elliott was feeling, seeing the shivering girl next to him. Kiara’s eyes were steady on the road, and even in this cold, her cheeks were flushed. In this close proximity, Elliott could smell the young girl next to her, the arousal from her panties wafting into his nose. The alcohol didn’t help either, he had to take deep breaths to concentrate. “Are you okay, Kiara?” He asked, steadying his voice the best he could.
“Yes Sir.” She replied meekly, a small glance his way. Her voice was shaky, and Elliott hated how it made him hard. Dear god don’t let me have a boner in this car with her. But the heat from the heater only wafted her arousal in his car. Elliott realised then exactly what Nabakov was on about. To his horror he realised Kiara had noticed the strain in his trousers, and was blushing beetroot, unable to tear her eyes away from it. Elliott himself turned red. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! He began immediately thinking of the Headmistress, and what she’d say to any unacceptable conduct. His career would be over. This helped soften him, but not fully.
Pulling into the staff carpark, Elliott wordlessly helped Kiara with her luggage. Leading Kiara to the administrative area, he realised everyone in admin had locked up and gone back to their chambers. Elliot checked the time – 9pm. This poor girl had been out in the rain for over 3 hours, and there was no one around to help her get access back to the halls. With not much options left to him, Elliott reluctantly guided Kiara back to his chambers. Kiara timidly followed him, not saying anything.
In his chambers, Elliott told Kiara, “You can change and take a warm shower. I’ll fix you something to eat, and you can sleep on my bed. I’ll take the recliner,” he smiled at her reassuringly, but the thought of having to share such close quarters with Kiara, he wasn’t sure. This certainly wasn’t appropriate, and he very well could have set her up in the nurse’s chamber, but something in him didn’t want that. As insane as it felt, Elliott knew Kiara didn’t want that either. He didn’t linger on that thought for too long, instead allowing Kiara her privacy as he dashed around, trying to prepare a sandwich with some cold meat and cheese for the girl.
After the shower, Kiara used the phone in Elliott’s chambers to call her parents (who were incredibly worried about her) that she had missed the bus and train so couldn’t make it back home that night and would be on a train tomorrow. Kiara scoffed the sandwich down quickly and downed the juice as though she hadn’t drunk for days. Elliott’s previous haze from the alcohol was starting to wear off, however having Kiara in his chambers, he felt a dire need for whisky, and was sipping it on his recliner, closing his eyes and trying desperately to latch onto some sense of restrain. Kiara’s outfit post-shower didn’t help – the girl had put on a long jumper, and sleeping shorts, but from the way the shorts hugged her ass, and her nipples poked out from her jumper, Elliot knew the girl had nothing on underneath. It terrified Elliott how aroused he was from this. After Kiara had finished, she dutifully washed up, before sitting down on the bed next to recliner, legs crossed.
They sat like that, quietly, awkwardly, Kiara watching as Elliott sipped on his whiskey. She then asked Elliott meekly, “Professor…why did you start calling me Kiara?” Like by my name?”
Elliott was caught – he hadn’t even realised he had been doing that. “Oh…well you told me to.” He replied, trying to keep a cool composure. She smiled, a sweet, happy smile which made Elliott incredibly uncomfortable thinking the things he had thought about her. Her dark, damp hair fell in waves around her, and the lamp between them illuminating her sleek, tan legs. As Kiara looked down, she saw the folded up piece of paper, resembling her handwriting. Elliot watched in horror, his heart on his throat, as Kiara picked it up, and started reading the copy of the essay Kiara had written for Lolita. The curiosity in her eyes glazed over to a look of desire as Elliott saw recognition flitting across her eyes. Good god, there was no going back now, absolutely not.
Kiara’s legs, once crossed, immediately closed shut, and she closed her eyes. Elliott saw her breathing heavily, before opening her eyes, and with a shaky voice said, “You knew.”
Elliott didn’t miss a beat. “Of course I knew Kiara. I always knew. I’m a teacher, after all.” His hands tightened around his whisky glass. Kiara slid off the bed and made her way towards his recliner. He was frozen in his seat, now wishing more than ever he had sent her to the nurse’s office, instead of bringing her in his chambers. She stood in front of him, and he once again, smelt her arousal. They both noticed how hard Elliott was getting under his pyjamas, and there was nothing Elliott could do to take Kiara’s eyes off it.
“So, you’ve known all this time, how I’ve wanted you Professor.” Her voice was now incredibly low, her plump lips speaking softly, and Elliott was hot and cold at the same time. The word ‘Professor’ sent alarm bells in Elliott’s mind; statutory rape kept popping up in his head. He noticed his breathing had become shallow, as if to not take in her scent, but it didn’t help. Her foot lightly brushed over his as she stepped closer, and Elliott had to close his eyes.
“Kia-Ms Maksuda, please.” He tried, but she said,
“It’s Kiara, Professor.”
“Kiara, please. This isn’t right, and you know it.” He spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes still closed. He suddenly felt her hand on his, gently picking it up. Her hand was warm, soft, and small, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the doe-eyed look Kiara had, whenever she looked to Elliott for validation in class, and that’s what broke him. He pulled her into his arms by her hand and seated her on his lap. He hated how he was doing this, every cell in his body screamed no and yes at the same time as she sat on his lap. He felt how incredibly warm she was, and said, “Kiara, please, don’t do this.” His voice almost broke.
But it was already too late for him, his cock was hard and nudging against Kiara’s leg, and they both felt it. Elliott looked into her brown eyes, and automatically rose to meet her lips as she leaned in. The kiss was sweet, Elliott tasting the soft, pink lips he’d seen so often speaking resolutely in class. The girl was a good kisser, and it didn’t take long for Elliott’s resolve to break, before he deepened the kiss, cupping her soft cheek in his hand, while the other grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. As they broke apart, she smiled, giggling nervously. This only aggravated Elliott’s desires, and he pulled her into another kiss again, hoisting her up so now she straddled his lap. She gasped against his lips, as he felt her warmth right against his cock under the pyjamas.
Elliott’s mind was racing, but the whisky had the opposite effect of easing him into control. He looked at the nymph on his lap, one hand riding up her jumper and up her back. She had goosebumps, but her skin was burning hot under his palm. Her hands had found their way around his neck and was running through his hair. Elliott had to pull back from the kiss.
“Fuck Kiara…are you sure about this?” he asked. Kiara’s eyes were wild, he had never seen her like this – she leaned back down and started kissing his cheeks, neck, and in his ear said,
“I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long Professor.”
And that did it. With one hand he pulled her back into a kiss, before placing his hands on her hips, guiding her to slowly grind against his boner. She moaned so sweetly into his ear, he wondered how he hadn’t done this sooner. The headmistress returned to the back of his mind, but Kiara’s shallow breaths erased his thoughts completely as he kissed her jaw and neck, while his hands began travelling up her waist. Her soft, teenage skin felt supple to the touch, and he suddenly couldn’t remember what any other women felt like. He could feel her leaving a puddle on his trousers, but this only made him buck his hips up to meet her, while holding her down against his bulge. His hands stopped at the base of her breasts, and he looked up at her. She nodded, shaking as she shed the jumper.
The sight before him was better than what he had dreamt of. He had always expected her to be a discreet, dainty little girl, but Kiara’s breasts were deceptive. The DD cups which sat before him, with the hard, brown nipples, made him salivate. Elliott’s hands cupped her warm, supple breasts, and gently thumbed the nipples, watching as her eyes closed and a soft moan erupted from her lips. He sat upright, and with one hand guiding the back of her neck to kiss him again (he couldn’t get enough of her lips), the other squeezing her breast and softly pinching her nipples. He bit into her lip as she started grinding against his cock without prompt, and hungrily kissed down her neck, chest, and finally closed his lips around a nipple, initially flicking his tongue over the hard nib before suckling. Kiara’s whimpers filled the room as she continued to grind, and as he swapped breasts, putting the same attention on her other nipple, he slid his trousers off, for Kiara to settle back onto Elliott’s precum-soaked boxers.
As Kiara lowered onto his lap, her increased moans at his touches was breaking Elliott’s resolve even further. He had promised himself he would go easy on her, but she was making it very, very difficult. He murmured against her skin, “Kiara, I don’t know how much I can hold back.”
“Don’t hold back,” she whispered, and that was all it took for Elliott to grab her throat and sink his teeth onto her breast. She let out a small scream, as Elliott sucked and bit hard at her soft skin, while bucking his hips hard up against her, leaving bite marks at her breasts. After pulling back, he pulled her by the neck to kiss and bite at her lips, while one hand stripped her off her shorts. Elliott thought he heard Kiara sniffle, but as her underwear came off and her sweet scent of arousal hit him like a brick, he was immediately put on pause. He looked into her eyes, and his hands gently traced up her thighs, finally feeling the heat radiating right against the palm of his hand. His hand left her throat, and shoved two fingers into her mouth, feeling her moist lips enclosing around them, while with the other hand, he brushed his fingertips against her soft pussy lips.
Kiara’s legs buckled, and her forehead was resting against Elliott’s, as Elliott felt his fingertips coat with Kiara’s juices even just from tracing the shape of her mound. He leaned over, and continued nibbling and biting on Kiara’s neck, as his fingers gently rubbed on the sensitive, and incredibly swollen clit. She was whimpering into his forehead, swearing under her breath, her legs barely keeping her upright. He held her waist with one hand to steady her, and the other slowly pushed a single finger into her tight, dripping pussy.
“Professor” she moaned, as she immediately clenched onto his shoulders, her fingers digging into Elliott. It drove him insane that hearing her call him ‘Professor’ sent a chill down his spine which tightened his balls. What was he doing? But there was no going back, he had already started to move the single digit in and out of Kiara, his finger warm and tight inside of her, and as his fingers hit her G-spot, she squealed, which allowed Elliott to shove another finger inside of her, before taking the hand off her waist and back inside her mouth.
“Look at me Kiara,” he guided her steadily, as she sucked on his fingers, her eyes watery but her cheeks flushed, as Elliott slowly increased the speed of his fingers inside of her, hearing her moans becoming louder and her entire body starting to shake as her pussy tightened around his fingers. Elliott leaned over, and captured a nipple into his mouth, and began vigorously sucking and biting at it, and using his thumb to rub at her clit. It didn’t take long at all as Kiara suddenly bit down on his fingers, her legs quaking and her pussy pulsating around Elliott’s fingers as she rode into her first orgasm of the night. He continued rubbing at her g-spot, right until she looked as though she was ready to pass out, before pulling out and spanking her ass.
Kiara’s breathing was shallow against his shoulder as she collapsed on his lap, and he let her rest on his chest for a while, praying to the gods to have mercy on his soul as what he felt like doing to her. But it was as if she had read his mind, Kiara’s hand was suddenly massaging at his hardened, throbbing bulge under his boxers. Her soft hands tracing the shape of his shaft, she looked up at him with the doe-like brown eyes, and she said, “Thank-you sir – now it’s my turn.” And before Elliott could say otherwise, she had slid off his lap, now kneeling in front of him, and with shaky hands, her eyes not leaving his, slid his cock out from his boxer.
Elliott’s mind fogged up, as he felt Kiara’s small hand tracing him, and he had to close his eyes to steady himself trying to have some sort of control, clenching the armrests of his recliner, his knuckles going white. It was dumb, he knew, trying to stop this, for he wanted this just as much as Kiara had intentions to get hers tonight. He opened his eyes and with a fire burning in his lower belly, watched as the little girl started playing with his cock, sliding her hands up and down the shaft. She was only mildly inexperienced, but even the sight of her looking hungrily at his cock, made Elliott reach down, grab her hair, and pull her face right up against his cock. “Take it into your mouth Kiara, show me what you can do.”
He held her at his cock as her tongue flicked out and traced the tip of his cock, lapping up al the precum that had welled up. His skin felt like it was on fire and ice at the same time, his hips automatically bucking again so that the cock hit Kiara’s face and her tongue was now tracing the shaft, like an icy pole. Elliott then guided the cock into Kiara’s pretty little mouth, and let her suck at her own pace, feeling her wet, warm tongue layering his cock with her spit, all the while looking up at him with those eyes desperate for validation. “Babygirl, you’re doing so well,” He hissed at her, seeing her eyes light up at his new pet name for her. This sent his heart soaring, and with that he bucked his hips right into her face, shoving the cock down her throat. She immediately gagged, but he caressed her cheeks, and pinched her nipples as he began slowly fucking her face, her throat. She didn’t seem to want to give in either, enthusiastically flicking her tongue to lick at his balls (god – who taught her that???) as he rammed his cock down her throat, feeling her throat closing around him, her spit running down her chin and onto his balls, and he knew he was making such a mess of her. He felt his balls tightening, and quickly pulled her away, not wanting to waste his orgasm on her mouth. He was too far gone – he wanted her virgin pussy.
Elliott picked Kiara up from the floor, and kissed her lips gently, wiping her tears from her eyes. She kissed him back eagerly, knowing she had made him a happy man. Elliott then kissed her forehead. “You’re such a good girl Kiara, you need to be rewarded.”
As if all inhibitions forgotten, he guided Kiara onto his bed, laying her down so her legs hung off the edge of the bed, and spread her legs out so he could properly see her tanned mound, her dark hair trimmed neatly and soaked with her cum. He kissed her lips, necks, down the valley between her breasts, her soft stomach, and Elliott could hear her breath quicken and her skin warm up as he traced his lips to hers below, inhaling the scent he was sure he could not get out of his mind. His tongue gently licked at the tight slit, up and against the clit, feeling Kiara’s legs shake on either side of his shoulders. She tasted sweet, and slightly tangy, but a taste he would never get tired of, he decided. Gripping her legs over his shoulders, Elliott dove into her pussy, closing his mouth around her clit as he suckled gently at the swollen nib, and sucked at her pussy lips. She was audibly moaning now, if anyone walked past, they may very well hear her. Elliott broke free from her pussy, grabbed her discarded shorts and shoved them in her mouth. “Can’t let them hear you babygirl,” he hissed, before plunging back into her folds. Kiara was squirming under him, muffled screams into her shorts as his tongue flicked across her clit, and he added two fingers into her pussy as he continued to harass her clit. Pretty soon she was shaking, her body throwing her over the edge as she grinded her face against Elliott’s face to ride through her second orgasm.
Elliott was rock hard now – his cock was aching to be inside this little girl, but he had to let her recover. This was something he needed so fucking badly, and he knew he would definitely hurt her, and so just needed her to know what she was getting into. He was on the larger side, and as Kiara recovered, Elliott began massaging the tip of his cock against her clit, amazed at how wet this girl was. “Kiara… I need to fuck you, do you understand? It will hurt, you will cry, but I need to do this.” Kiara nodded, her doe-eyes moist with tears, her cheeks flushed, her mouth obediently clamped around her shorts.
It was hard to restrain himself as he pushed the tip of his throbbing cock inside Kiara’s virgin pussy, which despite having been fingered multiple times, was still tight. Kiara shrieked, her body tensing up as he pushed in. Elliott hadn’t realised he had been holding his breath in, so as he got the tip in, he breathed out, and kissed Kiara’s cheek. “Honey, I need you to breathe deeply okay? Breathe deep,” and as he took the shorts out of her mouth, Elliott muffled her cry with a deep kiss. She kissed him back passionately, and as he pulled back, she nodded. He felt her relaxing as she breathed, biting her lips to avoid being loud, and Elliott slid his cock further into her wet pussy. And by god, it was the tightest he had fucked. It almost hurt how tight Kiara’s pussy was, so he leaned in and continued kissing her, rubbing her clit softly, as he slowly started to move in and out of her, only an inch, getting her used to his cock.
Kiara’s whimpers slowly transformed into sighs of pleasure, and Elliott knew she was getting used to him. He started moving deeper in and out of her, leaning into her as she grasped his arms for support. Elliott’s grey eyes looked into Kiara’s doe brown eyes, and as he felt her loosening up around him, her soft smile made Elliott’s insides flip. He was still going gentle on her, so when Kiara whispered, “Fuck me, Professor Montgomery,” Elliott immediately shoved the short back into her mouth, and with one hand grabbed a breast, the other bracing her hips, and started bucking his hips harder and harder against her small frame. Kiara was loud, even with the shorts in her mouth, so the hand on her waist was now around her throat, choking her as he drilled his cock into her. Her eyes were wide, her face growing redder, but Elliott almost didn’t care, feeling his throbbing cock stretching the little virgin pussy out, her pussy only flooding with more arousal. He was shocked when he found himself railing against her cervix, and he then remembered he had to pull out. Elliott had completely neglected to put on a condom in all this, but this thought thrilled him more than he cared to admit (he didn’t care to admit a lot at this point).
Elliott whispered to Kiara, “I’m going to cum sweetheart, I’m so fucking close, your pussy is so sweet and tight, I can’t imagine how I held back so long.” Fuck, he wasn’t one for word vomits, but the girl choked for breath as he released her throat, and delivered a few more deep strokes in her pussy. His balls were tightening, and he felt himself getting close, but before he could think to pull out, his cock pulsated, and immediately started cumming inside of her. Elliott cursed at himself on the inside, hating himself for what he had done, but the absolute satisfaction of cumming inside Kiara steamrolling over his regret. Kiara’s nails had dug into him, and as he collapsed, his head resting against Kiara’s shoulder, he weakly removed the shorts from her mouth. Kiara gasped for breath for a bit, before crying out,
“Professor – you came in me!” But there was no anger in Kiara’s voice, it was more so a tone of amazement. Elliott nodded into her soft shoulder, kissing the crook of her neck.
“Yes my girl, I did. I’m so sorry.”
Kiara laughed, “No you’re not – I saw your eyes, there was no way you would have pulled out.” Elliott laughed with her, before rolling off her, and helping her up onto the bed to lie down properly. She was still shaking from the brutality of the acts, and Elliott felt bad – it was quite a lot for someone who had just lost her virginity. Elliott observed the lovebites he had left on her neck and breasts, and her face was still red from the choking.
“Are you okay, Kiara?” Elliott asked, suddenly incredibly ashamed for what he had put the girl through. Kiara nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face, and she reached out and took his hand.
“I’m alright sir. Sore, but I’m okay.” They stayed quiet, as Elliott cleared up the mess of clothes on the floor (he was never one to keep things messy in his chambers), with Kiara watching his every move. Elliott was still semi hard from, his mind racing from the actions of the night. He had every intention to sleep on the recliner after what had happened, but Kiara piped up. “Professor? Do you want to sleep in the bed?”
Elliott looked at her, the little angel in his bed, her hair unkempt, her eyes bright but sleepy. “My dear, I don’t know if I can do that to you after what happened between us.” Kiara rolled her eyes, but he saw her flushing with excitement at his terms of endearment. How far they had come from calling her Miss Maksuda. She flipped the blanket over next to her and said,
“Please sir, I insist.”
Elliott quickly made a bathroom trip and put on some boxers. Then he helped Kiara to the bathroom so she could use it (her legs were still incredibly wobby), and she slipped on her long jumper before sliding into bed. They lay facing each other, silent for the longest time. Elliott watched as Kiara’s eyes slowly fluttered and she drifted off to sleep, but not before Elliott had kissed her forehead and brought her close to him in an embrace.
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The next day Elliott woke up as his body clock usually did, a slight grogginess attributed to the alcohol intake from the night before. His body felt a bit sore, and for a moment he hadn’t realised there was someone in bed with him, until his arm knocked against wool. He gazed at her for a while, the evening’s events flooding back into his mind, and as he registered her as Kiara, Elliott almost recoiled. The guilt of what he’d done crushing him like a tonne of bricks, but even more insane was the raging boner that had resulted seeing Kiara’s sleeping figure in his bed. He cursed inwardly and reached over to take a sip of the glass of water he always had on his bedside when Kiara began to stir.
Elliott remained still, his heart beating rapidly, as Kiara awoke, registering her surroundings and Elliott himself. As soon as she did, she began blushing and dove under the covers, hiding herself from Elliott. He laughed and pulled the covers back. “Good morning Kiara.”
“Good morning Professor,” she mumbled, hiding under her jumper neck now. Elliott gently brushed her hair back and asked,
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes sir, really well.” They went silent for a few moments, as looked at him shyly but expectantly. Elliott considered the words to say.
“Kiara, you know this cannot happen again.” He was trying to convince himself more than her. Kiara looked disappointed, but understanding, as she nodded. It didn’t help him his boner was throbbing under the covers. “This isn’t right, for many reasons. Firstly, I’m an adult and you’re only a teenager, so this was stat-uhm-illegal. Secondly, I’m your educator, and thereby your guardian, and I can’t let this continue with good faith.” Elliott couldn’t bring himself to say what was the truth, in that he wanted her very much, right now. He could feel her heat radiating from under the blanket, and it was getting incredibly difficult to conceal his boner under the blanket. “Do you understand?”
Kiara nodded solemnly. “I understand Professor. I’m sorry.” Tears were beginning to pool in her eyes.
Elliott reflexively stroked her face (damning himself as he did so), “No, no Kiara it isn’t your fault. It’s completely my own, I take full responsibility for what happened last night. You’re only a child – how were you to know?”
Kiara shook her head, “I’m a teenager, and of consenting age Professor, I did all of it willingly, and if given the chance,” her eyes had found his poorly concealed boner, “I would do it all over again.” Elliott gulped. This didn’t help – her voice had almost become resolute as she had noticed his condition. Without breaking eye contact, Kiara sat up, and slowly again, leaned into him and kissed his lips softly. Elliott didn’t even try to pull back, instead letting her take the lead as she pushed him back up against the bed, so he was resting his back against the bedframe. Sliding up next to him, Kiara continued kissing Elliott, slipping a tongue in and gently nudging against his, before kissing his ears, neck and shoulders, all the while her hand reaching down his body and grasping at his rock hard shaft.
Elliott didn’t have the heart, or the will, to push her away as she removed his boxers to free him, and as she began rubbing his cock with her dainty, soft hands, she alternated between his cheeks, jawline, ear and lips. Elliott soon hungrily began to return the kiss, as he felt his heart racing even harder against his body, his skin on fire against Kiara’s touch. Elliott shed the jumper off Kiara again, displaying her womanly curves for him to see. He wrapped an arm around the back of Kiara, and started teasing her pussy from behind, rubbing between her already dripping pussy lips. Elliott was now surrounded by her aromas, a scent he would have been a fool to deny. As he felt his balls starting to tighten under Kiara’s touch, he pulled her on top of him and flipped her around, so Kiara was facing his cock. Grabbing her hair, he guided her mouth onto his cock. “Show me what you have, baby girl.”
This remark made Kiara drip relentlessly, and right in front of Elliott. He felt himself salivating, and as he felt her mouth close around the tip of his cock and the shaft running along the top of her mouth to her throat, Elliott leaned in and dipped his tongue into the glistening lips. And the taste and aroma of Kiara’s young, newly claimed pussy was suddenly all that mattered to Elliott, as he devoured it like no tomorrow, occasionally flicking his tongue up to catch her deliciously puckered asshole. Kiara’s moans were resonating within the room, the vibrations of her moans echoing against his hardening cock, as her tongue and mouth worked around it. She was definitely putting on an effort, but Elliott didn’t wait for her to give any prompts, before he bucked his hips right into her face, shoving the cock down Kiara’s throat. Kiara’s squeal only made Elliott ravage her young pussy even deeper.
It didn’t take long – Kiara’s legs began shaking, and Elliott clamped her legs to keep her on his tongue as she cried and rode through her orgasm, her pussy flooding onto his tongue. He lapped it up with purpose, peppering soft kisses on her asscheeks and thighs, before letting her go. She only took a few moments to recover, before enthusiastically gargling on Elliott’s cock like it was her last meal on earth, eager to please. Elliott wanted her throat, completely, so turning her around so she faced him, he grabbed her hair, and began face-fucking her the way he had the night before, except this time as he bucked upwards, Kiara met him halfway, spit and precum running down her face. It only took a few moments, before Elliott felt himself release into Kiara’s soft, eager mouth. And the little minx kept sucking! Elliott gasped for air as she took every drop he had to offer, right until he began to become flaccid.
Kiara sat back up, smiling triumphantly, wiping her mouth and swallowing. Elliott pulled her towards him, kissed her deeply before holding her in an embrace for quite some time, smelling her sweet hair. So much for the promise they had intended to keep.
After they both cleaned up with showers (separately this time), Elliott prepared them a spot of breakfast of eggs and bacon, and Elliott checked on the train times. By now it was 9am, and there would be a train around 9:45am. Kiara packed up her belongings from Elliott’s chambers as Elliott cleaned up, and by 9:15am they were in his car and driving towards the station.
It was quiet in the car, neither of them speaking very much. There was no point trying to re-iterate the point about how illegal their pursuits were, it seemed neither had much regard for it when in close proximity to one another. When Elliott parked at the station car park, he looked at Kiara and said, “I’ll be honest Kiara – I really don’t think we can continue, but there’s no use in denying I am incredibly attracted to you. But we do need to keep it discrete, whatever this is. Understood?”
Kiara was blushing again, the soft pinks of her cheeks making it hard for Elliott to not grab her face and kiss her right there. She nodded. “Yes Professor.”
“And when we are together, you are to call me Elliott, understood?” Kiara paused on that for a moment. She seemed conflicted.
“I…I don’t think I can do that to you Professor. That seems too disrespectful.” Elliott laughed, the insanity of the situation – this little girl was willing to let him fuck her brains out but refused to call him by his name. “Besides,” Kiara smiled cheekily, “I think it is kind of sexy, don’t you?”
Elliott gulped, his laughter dying down immediately as he felt his lower regions shift at that insinuation. There definitely was something to what she was saying. But before he had time to respond, the train announcements were calling for those departing on the 9:45am train to start approaching the platform. Kiara quickly kissed Elliott on the lips, before jumping out with her suitcase, running towards the car park. And with that, she was gone.
Loose talk in the classroom To hurt they try and try Strong words in the staffroom The accusations fly It's no use, he sees her He starts to shake he starts to cough Just like the old man in That book by Nabakov
Actually, this was all false. No one really did find out about Elliott and Kiara’s semester break rendezvous that rainy night, as Kiara sighed from relief when her period arrived 2 weeks later. She still dreamt about Professor Montgomery every night, her fantasies only growing wilder and wilder as the days passed. When it was time to return back to school, Kiara was suddenly incredibly nervous – how would Professor Montgomery address her in class? And would she be able to keep her wits about her being in the same classroom, after everything they had done? She was about to find out.
Kiara actually didn’t see Professor Montgomery on the first few days back in term, as English classes were scheduled for later in the week. She caught up with all her friends but didn’t tell a single soul what had transpired between herself and Professor Montgomery. This was something she would take to the grave if she had to. So when the girls all lined up outside English class on that Thursday morning, her friends began giggling and giving her hell about crushing so hard on Professor Montgomery, claiming she had done all the readings for their new text for the semester – The Bacchae. Kiara of course had done all the readings as the meticulous student she was (having nothing else to do in her strict, regimented household), so replied confidently to all their teasing.
“Good morning ladies, and welcome back!” She heard him behind her, and turning around, Kiara was again startled by how tall he was, his piercing grey eyes looking directly at her, smiling cordially. She blushed, and all the other girls laughed. “Right this way please”. Everyone filed into the classroom and took their designated desks, as Professor Montgomery began to set up for the class. Kiara’s legs trembled as she saw his fingers grasping at the chalk for the chalkboard, remembering how they had fingered her that night. She hadn’t been to replicate anything similar, but during the break she had sneaked a trip to the doctors and obtained birth control pills, if anything were to continue. She watched on, and as Professor Montgomery continued his lessons, he made no indications of anything towards Kiara, only speaking to her when he asked questions about the text. Kiara was slightly disheartened by his normal behaviour, as though nothing had taken place between the two of them. She sighed quietly to herself.
At the end of the class after Professor Montgomery had laid down the basics of the text, he said, “Alright ladies I have marked all your presentations, and your individual feedback sheets are with me – I will be distributing it. Your group scores you will receive next lesson. Please read your feedback after class.” Kiara sat up eagerly, keen to see what Professor Montgomery had to say about her uncouth and impromptu presentation she had delivered right before semester had ended. She hoped he wouldn’t penalise her now that he knew exactly why she had done it. A silly voice in her hoped he’d have taken her offering of her virginity to consideration, but that only happened in fantasies.
Professor Montgomery began distributing the feedback sheets face-down on everyone’s desks, and the girls obediently kept them faced down as they began packing their bags. He smiled as he walked past Kiara, placing hers down gently before moving on. Kiara had expected maybe a brushing of hands, maybe? Again, slightly disgruntled, she took her feedback sheet, packed up her bag, and walked out of the classroom. Standing at the doorway, hoping to catch him after everyone left, Kiara read her note. It said,
Miss Maksuda,
Your interpretation of the text was thorough and provided lots of evidence, and you displayed good text-pattern analysis. I believe you have the potential to undertake University English while studying in Year 11 and 12, with some coaching. With your parents’ permission, I would like us to undertake additional classes every Thursday night after dinner from 7pm to 9:30pm. I have approved this with the rest of the faculty, and they have agreed to help you pursue this avenue.
Kind regards
Professor M.
Kiara looked back and saw Professor Montgomery sitting at his desk, writing in his notebook. He looked up at her, and gave her the smallest smirk and a wink, before returning back to his writing. Kiara’s heart sang with joy. She really appreciated how supportive the school had become of her true endeavours.
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NY Times By The Book Tag
I discovered this tag from NERDYTALKSBOOKBLOG
1. What book is on your night stand now?
If I said I’m not worried about completing my reading challenge, it would be a lie. the good thing is i’m not fixated on surpassing it (although that would be nice) but I certainly don’t want to read less than last year. So, I’m shuffling between two books and the possibility of a third. I’m reading a Clash of Kings, which I’m half way done. It is much darker than the first book and the plot seems to revolve primarily around Tyrion and Arya, everything about Dragonstone makes me slightly claustrophobic, but It’s a worthy read nonetheless especially now that the last season of the tv series might not come out until 2019.
The second book I’m reading is The Jungle by Upton Sinclair. It’s a blend of investigative journalism and a portrait of immigrant experience, especially those who work in the meat-packing industry. The author did not only expose the disgusting bits of how unsanitary the meat-packing industry operated in Chicago and how the bosses cared so little about the safety of their workers, but the living conditions of immigrant workers and the way they were oppressed, cheated, coaxed into doing hard labour work for modicum pay are addressed as well, which led to an immediate reform in pure-food legislation.
2. What was the last truly great book you read?
If This is a Man by Primo Levi, this is the kind of book that keeps me up at night, contemplating the faith of mankind. The way Levi wrote makes his experience so accessible, tinged with palpable grief. He grieved for the people who didn’t make it and succumbed to Auschwitz while he survived and lived to tell the tales. He also gave each individual he met a name and told their story, which they didn’t get a chance to tell themselves. His memoir is moving and philosophical, a truly great homage to all lives lost at Auschwitz. I couldn’t recommend this one enough.
3. If you could meet any writer – dead or alive – who would it be? And what would you want to know?
Albert Camus, although I would probably pass out shortly after having talked to him or turn into a blubbering mess. I’ve never actually thought about what I would say or what sort of conversation we would be having. But I’d like to ask him about how his life was like in Algeria and his life among French intelligentsia. When was the first time he felt an agonizing existential crisis? What kept him up at night? What would he think about the state of the world today? He seems genuinely humble, the kind of person you could be vulnerable being around and stay up until dawn smoking cigarettes while discussing philosophy.
4. What books might we be surprised to find on your shelves?
I used to be a huge fan of Sophie Kinsella’s books. But thankfully, I’ve grown out of chick lit now. Not that I think the entire genre is an abomination, but stuff like ‘’The Domestic Goddess” or “Finding Mr. Right” really make me cringe internally. Also, I have some-celebrity-i-don’t-even-like pedantic memoir on how to live well. I’ve gotten a few of those as a gift and I don’t have the heart to get rid of them yet.
5. How do you organize your personal library
I have no shame to admit that I don’t organize my books at all. They are all disarranged. I made a commitment to organize my books alphabetically at some point in life but to be frank, I’m never going to get to it. I remember exactly where I put my recent purchases (80% of the time, I’m right) and I always know where to find the book I want by rummage through a few piles. Why waste the precious time that could be spent on reading doing something as exhausting as organizing books?
6. What book have you always meant to read and haven’t gotten around yet? Anything you feel embarrassed never to have read?
A Little Life! I’ve been putting off reading this one since last year from the sheer size of it. I remember feeling so excited when I first laid my eyes on it. But then my excitement waned down drastically from waiting too long. I’m also slightly embarrassed to say that I haven’t read Dickens, although I own most of his work and the same goes for Virginia Woolf. Well I tried To The Lighthouse once but I always think there’s a time and a place to read a certain book in order to get the most out of it and experience it fully. I wasn’t totally feeling Woolf while reading to the lighthouse.
7. Disappointing, overrated, just not good: what book did you feel you are supposed to like but didn’t? Do you remember the last book you put down without finishing?
I was super excited about reading Out of Africa but after having read 30 pages, I wanted to burn it so badly. I think the book is so unbelievable racist and I feel sick at the thought that this is hailed as a “classic”. I kept hoping at some point that the book might get better. But no, the author is a whinny white woman who treats her servants like garbage for the sake of her entertainment. It’s repugnant beyond belief and the things that she uttered echo her white mentality - it reminded me of Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad, in which he compared the Congolese to animals with low intelligence. It’s nauseating, she’s practically an embodiment of white privilege, I was furious.
8. What kind of stories are you drawn to? Any you stay clear of?
I like melancholic books. I’m drawn to anything dark and depressing. But mind you, I don’t particularly like this type of book because It’s a sick form of entertainment to me, I like exploring the complexity of human psyche and how people might react to certain situations differently or how they come back from losing a loved one. It’s a fascinating spectrum to explore. When I was 16, I read a memoir called Go Ask Alice and my life is never the same. The things she endured pain my heart to think about.
9. If you could require the president to read one book, what would it be?
Trump isn’t my president and never will be. But if I could politely require him to read one book it would be The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir. I believe he could learn a thing or two about how to treat women better. I’d like to see him stop objectifying women and stop proclaiming himself as a feminist. Seriously, what an utter disgrace. He’s obviously the kind of guy who is incapable of distinguishing what’s appropriated and what’s not. He also has no idea about feminism as his actions speak for themselves.
10. What do you plan to read next?
Tough question! I don’t have a proper plan, I rarely do. I like walking up to my shelf and picking out a book whimsically. It’s much more fun that way. I like when people have their books planed out for the month though. It’s so organized and neat. I might get started on The Orchardist by Amanda Coplin or Stiff by Mary Roach.
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All our plans fell through today; but here, I made peace with it. • Yesterday Z and I plotted an adventure to the 10 mile hike 'Bridge to Nowhere' in the San Gabriel Valley area for today, but I've had a cold that's been kicking my arse all week and reports projected California rivers to be more full than usual, meaning lots of river crossings and wet feet - so we nixed that idea and set out in the car to see what today had in store. • We love big breakfasts and whimsically skipped our usual spot at Westcliffs to explore an old A-Frame diner right by my house across from Pierce Street Annex, that I've driven by a thousand times and never thought to park it and have a pancake there - it may just become a new regular pit stop. Stuffed with pancakes and Canadian bacon, we made our way to Pacific City and had a mint mojito coffee enveloped in visions of Catalina hugged by haze and glassy waves and blue piers paralleling a quiet morning on Main Street. The wintery beach was calling our names so we answered, strolling miles and miles from Newport Pier through Balboa's aged arcades and down to where the sidewalk ends at the Wedge. • We kept asking what we should do next but without our own determination, opportunities continued to leap onto our path. Inquiring while wandering back to the car, across the lot seemed to be a bookstore where Z wanted to search for one specific book. As we unknowingly walked through Lido Village we instantly fell in love with its chic charm and neat nautical nuance. The bookstore was quite quaint and Z worried they wouldn't even have the author he was looking for. But sure enough, the book clerk at the store pulled several books by Camus off the shelf and talked existential literature with Z. Well of course we took the book and poked our noses further along the docks and shops and found cozy couches, fire pits and views of yachts lit by strings of lights and a warm pink sunset. Z read aloud while a big fluffy white dog sat nearby and I thought to myself, I need to write this down: a day unplanned but panned out to a heart's content. ✨ #lido http://ift.tt/2i60Knv
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