#electric beds for sale

[bescomedical]

How to Find the Best Electric Beds for Sale?

Make your mind crystal clear about the reputable brands. If you do so as before, it helps you to comprehend to choose the perfect hospital bed manufacturer that is known for producing high-quality Electric Beds For Sale. Remember in your brain the fact that well-known brands often provide better warranties and customer support. For more information call us @ +8618603893877

[welcometogrouchland]

NEW APARTMENT BABY!!!

[bescomedicallimitedsblog]

Electric Hospital Beds for Sale | Besco Medical Limited

Looking for a high-quality Electric Hospital Bed for Sale? Besco Medical Limited provides a variety of pleasant and durable choices to fulfil your requirements. Contact for more information @ +8618603893877

[hsrsurgical]

Top Quality Commode Chair in Bangalore can be Obtained in Reasonable Price Now!

A commode is mainly a portable toilet that helps people who have difficulty in moving to a bathroom. It is especially useful for the elderly, for people with disabilities or anyone recovering from surgery or illness. A commode is a chair like device with a toilet seat and a removable container under. It can be placed beside the bed or anywhere in the home for easy access too. The container can be removed and also emptied after use. Using a commode is straightforward. Place the commode in a convenient location such as next to the bed. Sit on the commode like you would on a regular toilet.

Ensure using it safely and properly

After using remove the container, empty it into the toilet and clean it properly. You can buy commode chair in Bangalore easily from this online store. These stores offer a large range of products and brands. One can easily read customer reviews to make an informed decision. You get the product delivered properly at your door. One can easily compare prices and features. Using a commode chair safely is important to prevent accidents and ensure comfort too. Place the commode chair on a flat and stable surface to prevent it from tipping over. If the user needs assistance make sure that they have support while transferring to and from the commode chair.

Commode Chair in Bangalore

Quality commode chair in best deal

Finding the right commode chair is important for those who need help with using the toilet. A good commode chair provides comfort, convenience and safety too. While choosing the best commode chair shop in Bangalore consider the factors like product variety, customer service, price, reviews and quality too. By selecting the right commode chair and shop one can ensure comfort and ease for themselves and for their loved ones. Do not forget to compare prices between different shops to find the best deal.

[kingkaisen]

— 彡 OBSESSION — TEN FORBIDDEN DESIRES EVENT

ROCKSTAR! EREN YEAGER stared into his propped-up phone camera from where he sat at his kitchen table, his emerald eyes scanning through the uncountable amount of comments rolling into his Instagram livestream.

Most of them were quite repetitive, just different variations of: ‘Eren, come to Brazil!’, ‘I love you so much!’ or ‘Next tour is when?’

He absentmindedly tugged on the strings of his black hoodie.

“My favorite color?” Eren read one of the comments aloud. “Red.”

“Can you say happy birthday to Emily?” He read. “Happy birthday Emily. Have a great one.”

The bored man continued on and on, answering questions and occasionally promoting his new rock album, which was why his managers forced him to livestream in the first place.

He, however, didn’t give a damn about promotions. Not when you happened to be on the other side of the house, watching your favorite comfort show in his bedroom.

He wanted to be with you — you, you, you. Not sitting in his kitchen, trying to boost his sales to an audience who, for the most part, cared more about his face and body rather than the chords he strung on his electric guitar.

A familiar username caught Eren’s eye. In an instant, it vanished as a wave of fresh comments rolled in, but he reached for his phone and scrolled up until his eyes landed on Connie’s username.

conmanspringer: booooo where’s your girl? we don’t wanna see you booooo

“Damn it, Connie, I could kick your ass. Please go lay down in traffic.” Eren grinned playfully at his phone. “Does anyone know how to make Connie vanish?”

Truth be told, he was happy someone asked about you no matter the reason. In fact, it sparked a new hot topic for his viewers, who all left comments asking about your whereabouts.

“She’s upstairs. She’s watching the new season of that Netflix show . . . damn, what’s it called?” Eren thought about it for a second, but when you were telling him about the show several weeks ago, well, you were coming out of the bathroom after a hot shower, and he was a little distracted.

He'd never forgive himself for forgetting the name of the show you were watching. Why would he? He was supposed to know everything about you, and he truly did, everything from your grandmother's middle name to which shoe you preferred to put on first. Some details you shared with him, but most of what he knew about you, his sweet lover, came from months of thorough "research," as he'd call it. So how . . . just how . . . could he let himself forget the show you were watching?

conmanspringer: me personally? i would’ve remembered the show if she told me

“Go to hell, Connie. She’s mine,” Eren snapped. He grabbed his phone, taking it — and, thus, his viewers — with him as he made his way to the bedroom.

Eren opened the door, his tone softening as he addressed you. “Baby? Wanna say hi to everyone?”

Oh, his fans would certainly run to social media to talk about the way Eren’s eyes were glossed over with pure love as he looked at you; the way his lips were slightly upturned from merely being in your presence.

“Sure,” you said, grabbing the remote and pausing your show.

Eren approached the side of the bed. He placed his hand on your back, indicating for you to scoot away from the headboard, and when you did, he positioned himself behind you, in between the headboard and your back. With you now lying against his chest and right in between his legs, he gave you his phone.

“Hi everyone,” you waved.

The comments were a mixture of compliments and questions from Eren’s fans, but his friends as well.

arminarlert: You look beautiful today :)

“Thank you, Armin,” you said with a grin.

Eren didn’t know if his best friend was up to something, or if he was simply being nice. Eren rubbed his hand along your thigh, grateful that his camera could only capture you and him from the chest up. That realization? Well, he was going to take advantage of it.

If you accidentally flipped the camera around, you both would have been screwed. But as he read the complimentary comments flooding in over your appearance, he couldn’t help himself, as if he was a man possessed by his raging feelings rather than logic.

conmanspringer: if you and eren don’t work out, im richer and taller than him btw

jeankirsteinmusic: Connie’s a liar, but funnily enough I actually AM taller haha

Eren moved his hand down your shorts. He pushed the soft fabric of your panties to the side. He couldn’t express his true anger. Not while he was on camera. All he could do was remind himself that you belonged to him.

Eren’s fingers found your clit. He toyed with it, all the while repeating in his head: “She’s mine. She belongs to me. This body belongs to me.”

You started to squirm. Eren was quick to move one of his legs on top of yours, holding you still.

“You’re all mine,” he thought. “All fucking mine.”

“Guys, um, I-I think I’m gonna end this live for Eren,” you stammered out, fighting to hold back a moan.

“Don’t you dare,” Eren said darkly. “Hasn’t been long enough, and everyone wanted to see you, baby.”

He swirled his finger around your clit. His dick was starting to harden. Pressing his lips against your ear, he whispered low enough for only you to hear, “I’m gonna have to eat you out later.”

The phone was starting to tremble in your grasp. You were close. He could feel your body tense up, and he quickened the pace in which he rubbed your clit.

The majority of the comments wanted to know just what Eren had whispered. At least, that was what you gathered from Eren’s little responses as he proceeded to engage with his audience as if you weren’t on the brink of an orgasm.

A comment from a fan caught Eren’s attention:

I want Eren’s girlfriend so fucking bad

That was his final straw. He snatched the phone from you with the hand that wasn’t rubbing your pussy.

“On second thought, I’m ending the live. I gotta fuck my girlfriend now, so bye.”

If your orgasm didn’t wash over you the very second he finished speaking, you would have shouted in shock. Just what was he thinking?

But, as Eren ended the livestream and tossed his phone to the other end of the bed, he clasped his hand around your neck and jaw, raising your head slightly as he sucked on your neck. He rubbed your clit more ferociously as you thrashed around from your orgasm.

Eren released your neck. He brought his lips to your ear once again. “You belong to me, don’t you? Say it.”

“I belong to- ah!”

You suddenly jumped as Eren ran his tongue across your ear.

“Couldn’t bring yourself to say it?” He mumbled. “You must really want one of those other damn fools, then huh?”

“No!” You inhaled sharply as Eren pushed two fingers into your hole.

“All the songs I’ve written about you . . . all the times I’ve made you cum over and over again . . . all the money I’ve spent spoiling you, and this is how you repay me? Can’t even tell me you belong to me? Can’t tell me you’ll stay with me forever? Do I gotta lock you up or something?”

“I’m yours, Eren. I’m yours. Please don’t stop.”

Despite your desperate plea, Eren pulled his fingers out of your pants. He moved away from his previous position behind you, walked toward the end of the bed, grabbed your ankle, and yanked you down.

“You don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I’m not convinced you believe your own words.” He stared down at you with a dark gaze as he unbuckled his belt. “I’ll make you believe it, though. I’ll show you that you’re mine, baby. Hell, I’ll show everyone. I don’t care if I have to fuck you right on stage during my next show . . . you’re mine, and everyone needs to know that. You’re mine.”

— 彡: @merakidoll @priv-rose @keriaonmarz @notgoodforlife @2n1ghts @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @iwanttohitmyself @ellaumbrella1 @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @crazychaoticizzy @averysmolbear @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz @koikohib @thequeenofcurses

[sleeplessdove]

— bubble pop electric !

♡ perv!dealer! e. williams x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re at the drive in with your new dealer, what could go wrong?

a/n: just a writing warm up im sorry

warnings: not proofread we die like laura palmer, dealer ellie, weed usage, heavy intoxication kink, perv behavior, stalking somewhat, public sex, degrading, praising, pet names, toxic ellie my beloved, dubious consent, fingering (r! receiving), loser ass ellie, sorta scent kink i guess, manipulation, sex while intoxicated, mentions of further sex lol maybe a pt 2 is coming, probably lots more so proceed with caution !!!

wc: 5k

The sound of your ringtone echoed through your bedroom, making you perk up from where you were seated on your bed. 

She’s right on time, 7:30 on the dot ! 

You hadn’t been expecting her to show up when she had said she would, as your friends that bought their weed supply from Ellie often complained that she showed up whenever she wanted. Then again, she also swore she didn’t do drop offs for anyone and yet she had immediately offered to stop by your place to deliver everything you had asked for. 

She had joked with you over text that it was only because you were a first time customer, she had to make a good impression after all. 

Either way, you weren’t one to question good things so you quickly scrambled out of your bed before texting her that you would be out in a second. 

You tucked your cash into your waistband with shaking fingers, your nerves tingling as you made your way towards the front door with long strides. 

Fuck, why were you so nervous? It’s not like you were doing anything inherently wrong— you just wanted to relax and stop bumming off your other friends' joints by ensuring you had your own stuff to smoke. 

Maybe it was Ellie’s reputation, as you had barely interacted with her besides the small nod she’d give you when she spotted you at parties of mutual friends. She kept to herself for the most part, but that didn’t stop you from hearing about how she was fucking half the girls at the college you both attended. 

And from what you heard, she was good at what she did with those other women. It wasn’t at all hard to believe, as she had a certain way about her that drew you in and you were sure many others felt the same. When she texted you back, even just asking you to specify what exactly you wanted to buy from her, you found yourself smiling at your phone. 

It was the little nicknames, the way she seemed genuinely interested in giving you the best experience possible as a first time buyer. But you had to reason with yourself, reminding yourself that she was just trying to make a sale so of course she was going to be a little sweet on you. 

Even with a rational mind, you couldn’t help but take in a shaky breath as you stepped out into the cool air of the night, spotting Ellie’s car not too far away. You gave a small nervous wave as you walked towards your car before you silently cursed yourself for the embarrassing gesture. 

Despite it, you opened the passenger door of her car and got in, just as she had told you to do over text. Immediately, you picked up on the scent of weed— good weed clinging to the air along with the warm scent of whatever expensive cologne she was wearing. The smell seemed to calm your nerves enough that you were able to give a soft smile. 

“Hey, thanks for coming by. I fucked up my tires last week and you know how expensive that is so I’ve just been—“ you begin to ramble due to how anxious you feel, but when your eyes flicker towards her amused expression you quickly cut yourself off. 

“Sorry” you say with a small laugh, placing your hands on your lap and smoothing out the material of your skirt to soothe yourself. Ellie is quick to shake her head, offering you a smile that makes the corner of her eyes crinkle ever so slightly . 

“What’re you apologizing for, sweet girl?” she questions, all too relaxed. The pet name alone had you feeling dizzy with unexpected emotions. You only give a slight shrug of your shoulders, attempting to appear just as relaxed as Ellie does. “Uhm– I just, I mean you don’t care about that stuff” you mutter with a sheepish smile, fumbling with your skirt for a moment before you pull out the cash you had been saving for this very occasion. 

You hold it out to her as if it were some sort of peace offering, but Ellie lightly shakes her head and pushes your hand away gently, rejecting the money you had saved up for weeks. “You think I don’t care?” she questions, blatantly ignoring the fact that she was  supposed to be your dealer and nothing more. The odd question makes you falter for a moment, unsure of how you’re meant to respond. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I just don’t think you wanna hear me rambling on” you mutter, your voice far softer than intended. Although it seems as if you picked the correct answer, as Ellie’s grin only seems to widen. “It’s important for me to care about my customers, isn’t it?” she jokes, pleased with herself as she watches you relax in the slightest bit from her playful tone. “I guess so” you say with a breathy laugh, feeling the tension in your body slowly melting away. 

“Is this not enough or…?” you begin, looking down at the money that was still held loosely in your hand, as if you were expecting her to tell you that her prices had suddenly gone up. “First time customer means you get it for free” she says smoothly, reaching into the backseat to grab the baggy she had made just for you. An assortment of homemade edibles and prerolls filled the baby pink baggie she had placed them in, although you had only requested prerolls. 

Your eyes were wide as you looked between her and the goods she had prepared just for you, as if you were a deer with headlights staring back at you. From what you had heard, Ellie didn’t fuck around when it came to her money. She wanted on time payments or even payments in advance, she was a business woman after all. It was hard for you to fathom such a concept, as you were unused to such kindness, especially from someone with her reputation. 

But despite your lack of knowledge of her, Ellie knew all about you. She had spent months slowly befriending your friends just so you would feel comfortable enough to buy from her. Not that she liked selling to any of your friends, but she would do anything to get closer to you. There was no rhyme or reason for her infatuation, and she chose not to question the way she felt about you. 

“I couldn’t– I mean, I can’t” you begin, shaking your head but Ellie is quick to cut you off. “I just want you to test it out, don’t worry about it” she says in a voice that leaves no room for argument. You wanted to object, but you knew there was no point at all. So you simply tuck the cash back in your waistband, offering her a bright smile. 

“You’re not like people say you are” you say without even thinking, inwardly cringing at your choice of words the second you register what you had said to her. She doesn’t seem offended, although she raised a curious brow. “What do people say I’m like?” she questions, not at all seeming offended. 

Ellie knew she had a rather harsh personality with others, but she hadn’t expected that information to reach you. It was as if her plot was falling apart right before her eyes, and yet she had to keep up her laid back facade. “Mm, I don’t know. You’re just– different than what they say” you respond, not really wanting to explain to her that everyone called her a bitch and those who didn’t only spoke highly of her because they had slept with her. 

She doesn’t press the issue, nodding a bit and thanking god that you weren’t threatened by her presence like you used to be. Before you even get the chance to pluck the baggie from her hands, she speaks up once more. 

“You got someone to smoke this with? S’ pretty strong… and if you need someone to make sure you don’t go overboard or anything–” she begins, and you could swear for a moment her voice cracks from nerves. She is so concerned with your wellbeing and for whatever reason it made you blush, your face growing warmer with each passing second. “My place is kind of a mess right now” you tell her in a somewhat disappointed voice, as some part of you ached to be alone with her for a while longer, even if it was just because she didn’t want you to end up greening out. 

“Well we could go to that shitty drive-in downtown, just so you don’t have to be alone” she offers, her fingers lightly tapping against her thigh in a rhythmic manner. “But no pressure, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me but I don’t mean it like that” she lies through her teeth, knowing damn well she had spent the last few weeks fucking herself with her eyes squeezed shut, the image of you held tightly in her mind. 

But you didn’t know that, so who cares? 

You nod quickly, trying to pretend you weren’t discouraged by her comment, as some part of you wanted her to take you to the drive-in with the intention of getting in your pants. “I know, I know. But yeah, why not? I heard they’re playing the original Romeo and Juliet tonight” you say, buckling your seatbelt as she starts up the engine. Ellie couldn’t care less about what they’re playing tonight, all she cares about is getting you alone. 

Ellie had placed the baggie of goods onto your lap before she began driving, to ensure that you didn’t think she was trying to withhold it from you. You kept it grasped tightly in your hands, as if it were a lifeline as your mind raced at a mile a minute. Her music played faintly, some old rap you recognized but made no comment on since the silence between the two of you was comfortable enough. 

All the while, Ellie was trying to collect her own thoughts, as she couldn’t afford to fuck this up after she had worked so hard just to get here. But based on how you were humming along to the music ever so softly, she could tell you weren’t as apprehensive about her as you once were and that helped put her mind to rest. 

Ellie refuses to let you pay even when she has to get the tickets for the movie and you try not to make a fuss about it, doing your best to accept her acts of kindness. By the time the two of you reached the drive-in, the movie was already halfway through but fortunately there was barely anyone else there so Ellie quickly found a spot to park. As she shifted the parking gear into place, she let out a relaxed sigh and glances over to you. 

She takes a moment to simply analyze your delicate features, the way your lips part in awe as the tragic film plays out before you, your attention already on the screen despite only being there for a few moments. With a light nudge, she managed to get your attention back on her so that she could speak to you directly. 

“We should get in the backseat, just so no one sees us smoking n’ it’s more comfortable, so you can enjoy your movie” she states as if it were basic knowledge, and before you can even think her words over, your body begins to move on its own as you step out of the car only to open the back door and slide in there instead. You can’t help but think of how thoughtful she is, how kind she is. This was enough for you to reason that she had no other intentions other than ensuring your safety, although your heart continued to pound in your chest as she settled in the backseat with you. 

She already had a lighter ready, gripped tightly in one hand before she extended her free hand to you, silently prompting you to give her one of the prerolls she had made just for you. You open up the baggie, marveling at the soft baby pink color of the rolling paper she had used for your order. 

As you give it to her, your hands brush against each other and you can feel just how warm she is, a stark contrast to your cool skin. You have to make an effort to not shiver at the contact, the simple act making your mind grow a bit fuzzy.. It was either that or the fact that the scent of weed was already thick in the air the second she lit it for you, along with a hint of something else that took you a moment to put your finger on. 

“Is that lavender?” you question, your head tilting with curiosity as you watch Ellie take a small puff of the joint to make sure it would burn properly before she held it out for you to take. “Smells good, hm? Makes it a little easier to smoke when you roll with lavender, smoother to smoke, at least I think so” she mutters with a slight shrug, trying to ignore the way just watching you take a shaky inhale makes her need for you grow stronger. 

She knew you had smoked before, but not enough to really be a regular at it. This was shown in the way you let out a weak cough, your cheeks growing rosy in the slightest bit. Often, Ellie would dread smoking with inexperienced people but with you, she was in heaven. “S’ good, really good” you huff between your coughs and your voice was truthful despite it all. Lavender was one of the most soothing scents to you, and it helped you relax before taking a few more hits. 

You think for a moment that as good as the smoke is, you’re not really feeling a high that was different from anything else you were used to. That was until you tried to hand Ellie the joint, and you realized your hand was trembling to the point where she had to wrap a firm hand around your wrist so that she could steady you enough to take it from you. 

You have to bury the burning sensation of embarrassment, as you hadn’t taken her warning seriously when she had told you just how strong her stuff was. But the feel of her strong hand wrapping around your wrist only seems to add to the dizzy feeling blossoming within your mind, a pleased sigh falling from your lips as her touch grounds you as much as it possibly can, considering you’re already out of it. 

“Poor baby” she coos in an all too sweet tone that only muddles your mind further. She takes a few hits with ease, her lungs being adjusted to the aching burn that would spread throughout her lungs. You can only watch her with hazy eyes, the realization that you’re alone with someone you had kept in the back of your mind for months suddenly making you feel overwhelmed. Your eyes flicker back towards the movie that continues to play, the smoke bleeding through the windows since Ellie had opened them just enough to make sure she didn’t completely hot box her car. 

Ellie can sense your anxiousness and it makes her heart ache in the most pathetic way. You were completely gone, but Ellie needed you to be a little more pliant if she wanted to be able to get what she wanted. So she brought the joint to your lips, her own hand steady and calm. 

“Just a few more hits for me, sweet girl. You can do it, can’t you?” she asks in a warm tone, easing you into the idea of following her every command. Some part of her is worried she is asking for too much too fast, but you eagerly wrap your lips around the filter of the joint without the slightest bit of hesitation. 

Even with your scrambled mind, you knew that you wanted to please Ellie. You needed to make her proud of you, although you’re unsure why this is such a necessity. But in the midst of your high, you don’t think to question it at all. To you, she is simply being kind and considerate, such a far cry from the other people you knew. 

The fresh hits burn even more, and Ellie is quick to soothe your coughing fit by gently rubbing circles on your back. The smallest touch had goosebumps rising on your skin and you desperately craved more contact, yet you were too fearful to ask for it. So you remain as still as a statue, praying that this isn’t some weed induced hallucination. 

Your muscles begin to relax and Ellie begrudgingly pulls her hand away, not wanting to overwhelm you further. But the moment her warmth is gone, you let out a pitiful whine. It’s breathy and sounds borderline pornographic, as if she had just pulled her fucking strap out of you or something. 

It was a simple touch, and yet it was all that mattered to you in that moment. For the first time ever, Ellie is unsure of what move to make next. She has to play her cards right, lest she scare you off. So she simply watches the way you sway in your seat, your eyes red and half lidded as you look at her with a heartbroken expression due to her no longer touching you. 

“Look at you, so dumb n’ sweet” she coos, her voice making a mockery of the affection she felt towards you. The tone she uses with you is so gentle that you don’t even recognize the degrading words, simply shivering with pleasure as she blows smoke straight into your face before stubbing out the small bit of the joint that is left into an ashtray she had in the car for her cigarette habit. 

Some part of your brain knows that you are too out of it, the world around you spinning far too fast for your liking. And yet, there is nowhere in the world you’d rather be. “You think m’ sweet?” you question, a soft laugh tumbling from your lips. 

Ellie can’t believe that you had chosen to focus on that part of her sentence when she had just called you dumb without any remorse. God, you were everything she wanted and more. 

She nods her head slightly, the weed making her heart beat faster than usual as she slowly inched closer to you in the backseat. The sound of the movie acted as background noise, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt Ellie’s breath fanning against your neck in the slightest. 

Her breathing pattern had changed, short inhales with longer exhales as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that you had willingly smoked over the limit you were comfortable with just to please her. “Course’ I do. Sweetest little thing I’ve ever met in this god forsaken town” she mutters, pressing a feather light kiss to your neck. 

It was enough to make you shiver, a lazy grin on your lips because in your confused mind, you were the luckiest person in the world. Free weed and the hottest girl at your college was worshipping you as if you were something holy was not how you expected your usual Friday night to play out, yet here you were. 

Ellie was choosing to take her time with you, her senses heightened enough that she can pick up on every bit of your perfume. The intoxicating scent of lavender, jasmine, and vanilla swirled in her mind and left her desperate to be as close to you as possible. 

Her strong hand grips your waist, pulling you closer to her own body until you can feel her rapid heartbeat fluttering beneath her skin due to your bodies being flush tight against one another. “Just relax, baby. No need to think when m’ here, alright? Let all those thoughts fade away n’ focus on being here with me” she whispers, her other hand sliding down your body until she can ease it between your thighs. 

She thanks whatever higher power there is that you aren’t wearing any shorts under your little skirt, her fingers coming into contact with your panties that were embarrassingly wet. Ellie uses two fingers to trace the damp patch on the cotton material, soft curses falling from her rosy lips as she watched your brows knit with a mix of confusion and pleasure. 

“Doing so good for me, aren’t you? I knew you’d be so well behaved” she hums, her voice shaky and breathless as she eases her fingers upwards until she can feel your puffy clit through your panties. 

With slow, almost reverent motions, she rubs your aching bud through the soft material. The sensation enveloped your entire body, leaving you to moan weakly as she pushes your thighs apart a bit further just to see how willing you are. 

She is pleased to find that you let her manhandle you into the position she wants without question, your hazy mind far more focused on what your cunt wants. As much as she loves watching your expression of ecstasy, she needs to taste you on her tongue, to memorize every last inch of your mouth so that no one knows you as well as she does. 

As her fingers continue to move against your panties, she captures your lips in a kiss that reflects the need she has been harboring for months. It’s not rough, slower than her usual method of kissing. It is as if she is praising your body through the way she touches you, her tongue as smooth as velvet as it dances along your own. 

With you so lost in the kiss, she uses the opportunity to push the thin material of your panties to the side so she can properly rub your aching clit. It’s filthy how wet you are, her fingers sticky with your arousal after a few seconds of her intimate touch. As much as you are relieved by the contact, it also feels like it is consuming you completely. 

You can’t help but whine against her lips, your shaky hand weakly grasping her wrist in an attempt to pull her hand away from your dripping cunt. But Ellie refuses to yield, unbothered by your pleas for her to slow down. 

“I’m going easy on you, silly girl. It must be all that weed getting in your head, making you imagine things” she muses. She was practically blaming you for how worked up you were, as if she wasn’t the one rubbing your clit at a maddeningly slow pace. 

The sick part was that you truly believed her, you genuinely thought that someone like Ellie knew more than you did. You were the one who had smoked so much and you wanted her touch, so what right did you have to complain about it? 

“More” you plead breathlessly, tears welling in your reddened eyes and quickly spilling down your soft cheeks. It was as if you had no control over your body, and it was running based on pure primal instinct. 

The sight of your tears only turns Ellie on more, her own cunt aching for stimulation. But all she cares about is getting you off, so she shushes you ever so gently before easing one of her fingers into your pussy. 

Your body tenses from the intrusion, hiccups leaving your parted lips as she sinks her finger into your gooey, pliant cunt. Your walls are slick with arousal and Ellie wishes with every fiber of her being that she could sink her strap into you and give you what you really wanted but her fingers would have to do for now. 

“Thaaaat’s it. Look at this pretty little cunt, taking me so well” she praises, kissing the corner of your lips before easing a few kisses down your jaw. Her dirty words seem so romantic when you’re in such a fuzzy state of mind and you are just so pleased that she is giving you so much attention. 

Your hands are restless, tugging at Ellie’s shirt— although you’re unsure if you’re trying to pull her closer or push her away. “Can’t do it, can’t!” you cry, only for her to add a second finger into your slick hole. She pumps her fingers at a slow pace, not feeling the need to be rough because she knows the feeling is intense enough as is. 

You are left to squeeze your thighs together, the pleasure bordering on pain due to how quickly everything is happening. “But you’re doing so well, angel. You wanted more, didn’t you? Did you lie to me, hm?” she questions, questioning you as if she wasn’t the perv who was fucking some sweet girl in the back of her car. 

The question makes you shake your head feverishly, not wanting her to think lowly of you. “No, I promise. S’ just a lot, never ever— mm fuck, never felt like this before” you whisper, your voice unsteady. Her fingers stretched you open perfectly, her thumb still focusing on tracing small circles over your clit. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. No one has ever taken care of you properly, huh? Those stupid girls you sleep with don’t know how to please a precious thing like you” she says in a syrupy sweet tone that only serves to dumb you down further. 

You nod your head, unsure what you’re even saying anymore. You couldn’t care less, not when she’s curling her fingers inside you just enough to hit the perfect spot. Her fingers thrust against the spongy spot, her own cunt clenching around nothing as she watches you rut against her hand. 

“Gonna cum, gonna— mmf” you try to warn her, as you were not used to finishing so quickly. But your warning doesn’t cause her to slow down in the slightest, she simply keeps her pace as she licks a long stripe up your neck before connecting your lips to hers once more. 

She swallows every single one of your cries as your cream gathers at the base of her fingers, a lewd white ring of your essence marking her as yours. Ellie can feel her ego grow three sizes as she feels your cunt clamp down on her fingers like a silken vice, evidence of your release all over her hand. 

Ellie helps you ride out your orgasm, lazily pumping her fingers deep into your cunt until you pull away from the kiss just to whine that you can’t go any further. Since she had gotten what she wanted, she finally eases her fingers out of you and brings them to her lips instead. 

She keeps her eyes focused on your fucked out expression, watching your chest heave as she sucks her fingers clean. The taste of you leaves her moaning, as it was saccharine and everything she had imagined it to be. 

You are still lost in the haze of your high, your nerve endings seeming to tingle all over as you try to even out your breathing. The effects of the weed haven’t eased up and so you give Ellie a bashful grin, still so shy in her presence despite what had happened. 

The sight of you still behaving so sweetly pleases her in a way she can’t describe, as the purity of your heart seems to only draw her closer. Without missing a beat, she tugs your underwear back in place and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“You wanna make me feel good too, don’t you?” she asks softly, her fingers absentmindedly toying with your hair. It’s not a demand at all, as she simply wants to see what state of mind you’re in. 

Much to her satisfaction, you slowly nod your head after you take a moment to register her words. “Wanna make you feel good” you babble, repeating her words as if you were nothing more than a mindless doll. 

“Atta’ girl” she praises instantly, using gentle movements to help you sit up properly but letting you remain close to her. “How bout’ we go back to my place, just for a bit. We can smoke some more once we’re there and then I’ll let you touch me” she offers, acting casual about it so that you remained in your pliant headspace. 

The offer of being able to go to her house causes you to instinctively nod your head, an eager grin on your lips as you take notice of the windows that were fogged up despite being opened up just a bit. “Pretty please” you beg in a voice that makes Ellie’s heart stutter for a moment or two because she knew she was about to spend the rest of the night either rubbing your slick cunts together or simply letting you eat her out so that you can learn how to properly please her. 

Maybe both if you were awake long enough, although she was sure that after another round the weed would have you out like a light. 

As the credits of the movie begin to roll, she helps you get back into the passenger seat, even buckling your seatbelt for you and giving you one last gentle kiss before she got in the driver's seat. You were still in a daze and thanks to how strong the weed was, Ellie knew she would have you all to herself for the rest of the night. 

[endurewellnessusa]

Best Medical Scooter in Topeka - Endurewell Nessusa

M1 Mobility Scooter

The M1 Mobility Scooter is a lightweight and portable mobility scooter designed for individuals who require assistance with mobility. While I don't have specific information on the "M1 Mobility Scooter" as of my last knowledge, I can provide some general information about mobility scooters.

Mobility scooters, including the M1 if it is a specific model, typically come in various sizes and configurations to accommodate different needs. Here are some common features and characteristics you might find in a typical mobility scooter:

Portability: Many modern mobility scooters, especially those designed for travel or transport, are foldable or disassemble easily for convenient storage and transportation.

Battery-Powered: Mobility scooters are typically electric and powered by rechargeable batteries. The range and battery life can vary depending on the scooter's specifications.

Weight Capacity: Mobility scooters are designed to support varying weight capacities. It's crucial to choose a scooter that can safely accommodate your weight.

Controls: Mobility scooters typically feature handlebars with controls for speed and direction. Some models may have adjustable speed settings.

Comfort: They often come with padded seats, adjustable armrests, and ergonomic designs for comfort during use.

Wheels and Tires: Mobility scooters can have different wheel sizes and types, depending on their intended use. Some are suitable for indoor use, while others are designed for outdoor terrain.

Safety Features: These scooters may include safety features such as lights, horn, and brakes to ensure safe operation.

Accessories: Many mobility scooters can be customized with accessories like baskets, cup holders, and additional storage options.

If you are specifically interested in the "M1 Mobility Scooter," I recommend visiting the manufacturer's website or contacting a mobility scooter retailer for detailed information about this particular model, including its specifications, features, and availability. It's also a good idea to test ride or inspect the scooter in person to ensure it meets your specific mobility needs.

Metro Mobility M1 Portal | 4-Wheel Mobility Scooter | Lightweight Scooter

$899.00

Metro Mobility M1 Portal 4-Wheel Mobility Scooter comes with height-adjustable swivel seats and a fold-down backrest. The armrests are padded and adjustable. Additionally, it comes with a large plastic carry basket.

Product Key Features Head light and Brake light 8.5” Flat Free Tie 300 W High Performance Motor Sturdy one-piece body frame

It can be quickly disassembled into four easy-to-handle pieces for loading into a vehicle or being taken shopping/on vacation. It features a folding tiller and removable seat so each lightweight section will easily fit into the trunk of a standard sized vehicle.

[burnbrite-fireplaces]

SHOWROOM / FLOOR MODEL CABINET SALE

SHOWROOM / FLOOR MODEL CABINET SALE -- Touchstone® open box and refurbished products are tested, factory certified and carry the same Worry-Free 1 Year Warranty as a new product. We have limited as-new inventory, so if you see something you like, get it now!

LIKE NEW! Pictured Here: Claymont Unfinished 70163 TV Lift Cabinet for 65 Inch Flat Screen TVs

SAVE 10% WITH CODE WAREHOUSE2023

See All the TV Lift Cabinet Deals: https://bit.ly/3OYHxlR

[bescomedical]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Best Hospital Beds Supplier for Your Healthcare Facility

With these factors and conducting thorough research, you can select the best hospital bed supplier that offers Electric Beds for Sale which aligns with your healthcare facility’s requirements and contributes to optimal patient care and comfort. For more details call us @ +8618603893877

[furmanacgroup]

Best Adjustable Beds Supplier in Manchester- Furmanac Group

Best Adjustable Beds Supplier in Manchester allows user to adjust the bed’s contour to provide optimal support for the spine.

For more kindly visit: https://furmanacgroup.com/adjustable-beds-in-manchester/

[growthhyp]

Hello! Just wondering if the garage sale might have maybe a tape measure? Not that there's anything much to measure, except maybe around the midsection (haha) but I was told measuring regularly would be good for tracking progress at the gym.

The Measuring Tape

As you stroll down the quiet suburban street, the vibrant chirps of birds and rustling leaves serve as the morning's soundtrack. You spot the garage sale, a beacon of hope amidst the mundane. Your eyes light up, not for the potential bargains, but for the Adonis-like figure standing guard over the assorted knick-knacks and forgotten treasures. The muscular man's physique is a stark contrast to your own lanky frame, a silent testament to the hours of sweat and toil he must've invested at the gym.

You've been religiously adhering to your New Year's resolution for the past two weeks, pumping iron and pushing your limits, but your body seems to be playing a cruel trick on you, refusing to budge from its familiar skinny confines. The sight of the garage sale is a serendipitous gift, an opportunity to seek guidance from someone who's clearly mastered the art of sculpting their body. As you approach, the muscular man's eyes meet yours, and you feel a sudden wave of self-consciousness, your hand instinctively reaching to cover the slight bulge of your belly.

Without missing a beat, you spill out your frustrations to this stranger, the words tumbling out in a jumbled mess of insecurities and hope. The muscular man nods in understanding, his eyes never leaving yours, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. He reaches behind the counter and pulls out a dusty, slightly bent measuring tape. "This might help," he says, his voice a smooth rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's all about tracking your progress. You wouldn't believe how motivating it can be to see those numbers change."

You take the tape from him, your fingertips brushing against his, and you can't help but feel a spark of something electric. He winks, and you blush, feeling both embarrassed and thrilled by his gesture. "Take it," he urges. "It's only a dollar. It's practically a steal." You fish out a crumpled bill from your pocket and exchange it for the tape, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as you do so. It's as if he's peering into your very soul, seeing the raw desire to transform into something more.

Once home, you strip down to your red shorts, eager to begin this new ritual. The notebook lies open on the bed, the pencil poised and ready to record every inch of progress. You start with your weight, stepping onto the scale with a deep breath. The needle wobbles before settling at 120 lbs. You scribble it down, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment. Then, you move to your height – a solid 5'9", not too shabby. But as you wrap the tape around your chest and arms, you can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at the initial measurements. 36 inches for your chest, 12 inches for your biceps – it's clear you have a long way to go.

You continue measuring, each number etched into your notebook with a mix of excitement and determination. Your waist is a slim 28 inches, your legs a lean 29. But it's when you get to your neck and calves that the tape seems to tighten around your skin, revealing the beginnings of what might be considered 'gains'. 12 inches around the neck, 13 inches around each calf – not bad for a newbie. And then there's your cock – a modest 4 inches in length and 3 in girth – something you've always been a little self-conscious about, but maybe with the same dedication, you could see some growth there too.

The measuring process becomes almost ritualistic, a sacred pact you make with yourself every week. You document your stats with a fervor usually reserved for a gym enthusiast's workout log, the numbers whispering sweet nothings of potential into your ear. Each day at the gym, you push a little harder, lift a little more, all with the image of the muscular man's nod of approval in your mind's eye.

Six weeks, you've given yourself. Six weeks to carve out the body you've always desired. The first few days are a blur of pain and sweat, your muscles screaming in protest at the unaccustomed exertion. But with each ache and burn, you feel yourself inching closer to your goal.

Week 1 passes, and you eagerly strip down to compare the new you with the old. The scale reads 130 lbs, a solid 10 pounds heavier, and you feel it in your muscles, which seem to have swelled with a newfound life. You stand a proud 5'10", having gained an inch in height, and your body fat percentage has dropped to 12%. The measuring tape confirms your suspicion – your cock has indeed lengthened to 5 inches, and thickened slightly to a girth of 4 inches.

As you flex your biceps, you're thrilled to see they've bulked up to 14 inches around. The veins in your arms are more pronounced now, a sign of the hard work you've been putting in. Your chest has ballooned to 38 inches, filling out your shirts nicely, and your calves have gone from 13 to 14.5 inches. Your legs have filled out too, now a solid 30 inches around. The waist remains at 28 inches, a testament to your discipline in keeping the fat at bay. The neck measurement surprises you the most – a full inch thicker at 13 inches. It's a powerful look that screams 'alpha male'.

Your confidence is soaring, and it's not just in the gym. You've noticed that you're holding yourself differently – shoulders back, chest out, and chin up. You've started to command attention when you enter a room, and it's not just because you're taller. It's like the extra muscle has pumped life into your very essence, turning you into someone who can't be ignored. You catch yourself staring at your reflection in every mirror, admiring the way your newfound muscles ripple and dance in the light.

And the jerking off…it's become something of an obsession. Every night, after a grueling session at the gym, you can't wait to get home and let your hand do the work your exhausted muscles can't. The sensations are more intense than ever before, and you've discovered that you have a knack for edging – bringing yourself to the brink of climax, then pulling back, only to repeat the process over and over again. It's a sweet torment that leaves you gasping and your cock begging for release. Sometimes, when you're feeling particularly wild, you'll sneak into the gym's shower and let yourself go, the hot water cascading over your shoulders as you stroke your now 6-inch length to a powerful orgasm.

Two weeks have passed, and you find yourself back in front of the mirror with the measuring tape. The numbers are in, and they're nothing short of astonishing. You've packed on another 30 pounds, shooting up to 160 lbs. You've grown another inch, now standing tall at 5'11". Your body fat has dropped to a lean 10%, making every muscle pop out in sharp relief. Your chest has blossomed to a massive 40 inches, your biceps are thick slabs of meat at 16 inches around. Your calves have bulged to 15 inches, and your legs are now a sturdy 31 inches of pure power. And your neck? It's a thick, unyielding column of muscle at 14 inches.

But it's the last two measurements that really get your heart racing. Your cock has grown to a proud 6 inches in length and a hefty 5 inches around. The girth is what really gets you – the way it fills your hand, the weight of it hanging between your legs. It's not just the size, though – it's the feeling of power and virility that comes with it. You can't help but stroke it, feeling the newfound sensitivity that seems to come with every workout. It's as if your entire body is waking up to new possibilities, and your libido has gone through the roof.

You've started to feel an insatiable hunger, not just for food, but for attention. You strut around the gym, flexing in the mirrors, watching the other guys steal glances at your bulging biceps and thickened neck. You've even started to catch the eyes of some of the girls who frequent the place, their gazes lingering just a bit longer than before. It's intoxicating, this newfound allure, and you find yourself craving the gym more and more, not just for the gains, but for the way you feel when you're there – powerful, desired, and in control.

Week 3 rolls around, and you're eager to see what the tape has to say. You've been pushing yourself to the limit, your workouts now a blur of pain and pleasure. You're up to 180 lbs, a full 60 pounds heavier than when you started. You've shot up another inch to 6'1", towering over many of the people you used to look up to. Your body fat has plummeted to a mere 8%, leaving every muscle stark and defined. The numbers on your notebook's pages are a testament to your transformation – 42 inches around the chest, 18 inches for your biceps, and a neck that's thickened to a formidable 15 inches.

But it's your legs that really get you going now. They've gone from twigs to tree trunks, each one a monument to your dedication. Your waist is still a respectable 30 inches, but your cock has outdone itself – now a stunning 7 inches in length and a thick 6 in girth. It's a weapon of pleasure that you can't help but admire in the mirror, your hand almost trembling as you wrap the tape around it. The sight of your swollen package sends a bolt of excitement straight to your core, and you realize that you're not just getting more attractive – you're becoming a beast in every sense of the word.

You've started to notice changes in your appetites, too. Your hunger for food is insatiable, your fridge groaning under the weight of protein shakes and chicken breasts. But it's not just food that fuels your desires. Your thoughts are consumed by sex, the need to claim and conquer. It's a primal instinct that's been awakened. You've found someone who appreciates the new you, a gym buddy who's more than happy to help you burn off some steam. You've been hooking up after your workouts, sweat-drenched and pumped full of endorphins, pushing each other's bodies to the limit in a different kind of workout.

Your voice has transformed into a velvety bass that seems to resonate with every word you speak. You command the room when you speak, your words carrying an authority that wasn't there before. It's intoxicating, the way people hang on your every word, eager to catch a glimpse of the new you.

Week 4 has come, and with it, a new set of measurements. You're now a hulking 200 lbs of solid muscle, the kind that makes other guys at the gym look like they're playing dress-up. Your height has stretched to a towering 6'2", and your body fat has dropped to a minuscule 6%. You flex in the mirror, watching your chest balloon to an unbelievable 44 inches, your biceps swelling to a ludicrous 19 inches around. Your waist has filled out to 30, not with flab, but with the kind of muscle that makes your abs look like they've been chiseled from marble. Your legs have become a pair of sculpted pillars, each one a work of art at 33 inches around. And your neck? It's a thick, powerful 16 inches that screams 'don't fuck with me'.

But it's not just your body that's transformed. Your cock has become a thing of legend among those who've seen it – 8 inches of throbbing power, with a girth that could make a pornstar weep. It hangs heavy between your legs, a constant reminder of your newfound masculinity. You've started to enjoy the way people look at you now – the awe, the envy, the lust. It's a drug, and you're addicted. You spend hours at the gym, not just working out, but parading your body for all to see. You've become the poster boy for physical perfection, and everyone wants a piece of you.

Your experiments in the locker room have become more frequent and more daring. You've discovered that with great size comes great opportunity. You've had your pick of the gym's most attractive members, each one eager to feel your newfound girth inside them. The whispers and glances have turned into outright propositions, and you've found that saying 'yes' to every offer has only made you crave more. You've become a sexual god, and the altar is wherever you happen to be at the moment.

The echo of your deep, commanding voice reverberates off the cold tiles, sending a shiver down the spine of anyone within earshot. It's a sound that demands attention, a siren's call that no one can ignore. You've noticed that people listen to you more, your opinions hold more weight, and when you speak, everyone seems to lean in, as if eager to soak up the very essence of your power.

Week 5. The moment of truth has arrived, and with it, the promise of unbridled growth. You stand before the full-length mirror in your gym, the chilly air causing the hairs on your chiseled body to stand on end. You're a monolith of muscle, a testament to your unyielding dedication. The scale groans under your weight, the needle settling at a staggering 300 lbs. You're not just fit; you're a force of nature. The measuring tape stretches and constricts around your Herculean form, each number whispering sweet nothings of triumph into your eager ears.

Your height has shot up to 6'6", making you the giant in every room you enter. Your body fat is a mere 3%, so low that it's practically non-existent. Every inch of you is pure, unadulterated power. Your chest has ballooned to an astounding 50 inches, a monument to your relentless bench pressing. Your biceps are now a ludicrous 22 inches around, bulging like boulders beneath your skin. Your calves are a marvel at 17.5 inches, each flex a silent declaration of your lower body's might. And your waist, a tight 31 inches, is the envy of every man and woman who dares to look your way.

But it's your cock that truly sets you apart. 12 inches long and a staggering 9 inches in girth, it's a beast that could make even the most experienced adult film star quake with trepidation. The mere sight of it has become the stuff of legend among the gym rats and the whispers of the regulars. It's not just the size that's changed; the way it feels is different too. The veins pulse with a newfound vitality, and the head is now a dark, swollen cap that demands attention. The feeling of power it brings is intoxicating, turning every encounter into a conquest waiting to happen.

As you flex in the mirror, the muscles in your neck and jawline ripple, a sign of the testosterone coursing through your body. Your deep laugh fills the room, the sound of it echoing with a newfound authority that sends a shiver down the spine of anyone nearby. You've become the embodiment of lust and desire, and the gym has become your playground. Your eyes scan the room, seeking out the next challenge, the next willing participant in your quest for physical dominance.

The whispers of the other gym-goers reach your ears, a symphony of envy and admiration. You revel in it, knowing that every pair of eyes on you is a silent affirmation of your power. You've started to crave the hunt, the thrill of the chase that comes with being the biggest, baddest wolf in the pack. And oh, the places you've been. The locker room, the sauna, even the benches outside – you've left your mark on every inch of the gym, each encounter more intense than the last.

You've become a legend, the kind of guy that newbies whisper about in awe. The kind of guy who could bend steel bars with his bare hands if he wanted to. The kind of guy who could make anyone – man or woman – beg for mercy. You've learned to wield your new body like a weapon, and the effect it has on people is undeniable. You've had flings with the most popular girls in the gym, leaving them breathless and trembling with every thrust of your massive cock. You've also found that some of the guys have started eyeing you with a mix of admiration and something else – something you're more than willing to explore if they can handle it.

Week 6, and you're eager to see just how much more you can grow. You stand before the mirror, the cold light of day caressing your colossal form. The numbers on your notebook read like a fantasy come to life – 320 lbs of pure, unbridled power. You've shot up to a towering 6'8", making even the basketball players look up to you. Your body fat is a minuscule 2%, so low that it's practically invisible. Your cock has reached a mind-boggling 15 inches in length and a monstrous 11 inches in girth – a beast that could make even the most seasoned pornstar quiver in fear.

You flex your chest in the mirror, watching the muscles swell to an unbelievable 55 inches around. Your biceps are now a ludicrous 25 inches of bulging, veiny steel. Your calves have ballooned to 18.5 inches, each flex a testament to your tireless work ethic. Your waist has remained a tight 32 inches, a stark contrast to your massive thighs, now a staggering 39 inches around each. And your neck – oh, your neck – it's a thick, unyielding 21 inches that could crush a watermelon between your colossal traps. And your feet – a size 17 now – have grown to accommodate your newfound bulk, the very ground seeming to tremble with each thunderous step.

Your cock has become the stuff of myths, a 15-inch monster with a 10-inch girth that would make even the most seasoned porn star quake with fear. It hangs heavily between your legs, a constant reminder of the power you wield. The locker room whispers have turned into full-blown conversations about the legend of your size and stamina. You've become the gym's resident Casanova, the man everyone wants a piece of – and you're more than happy to oblige.

As you strut through the gym, your voice booms with a deep bass that could rival the sound system. It's a sound that commands attention, and everyone seems to hang on your every word. You can't help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all, your teeth gleaming in the fluorescent lights as you flex your 28-inch biceps. The veins in your arms pop like a roadmap to pleasure, a stark contrast to the lean, veiny forearms that had once been your only source of pride.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and can't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards that muscular man at the garage sale. His simple advice had sparked a transformation so profound it was almost unbelievable. The measuring tape had become a symbol of your growth. Each week, as you measured your progress, you felt a newfound respect for your body and the power it now wielded.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I don't know what to think about the price of this 1980 "storybook cottage," according to the real estate description, b/c it has 1bd, 1ba (which is separate from the house, and called a "wash shed w/some bathroom facilities.") Located in Coupeville, WA, the asking price is $315k + $39mo. HOA.

Enter the living room area. Lots of windows, so it's light and bright. The wood stove is the only heat source, but there is electricity and water to the house. (The description says that the heat source is a wood stove and fireplaces, but I don't see any fireplaces.)

Next to the living room area there's a ladder to the bedroom on the 2nd fl., and a little kitchen.

This is cute. I suppose that you can use a cooktop, and there's a microwave on top of the little fridge, which are included in the sale.

There's a sink, but I'm not sure about a water heater.

The stairs have a cute branch decor. If there's electricity, I would put in electric heat. There's a 30 amp hookup for an RV, also.

Upstairs there's a loft bed and a tiny home office.

I don't see a heat source up here, though.

This is actually cute.

Outdoors, there's a large open storage structure.

And, this is the wash shed.

What is the little square thing connected to the electricity? Is it a heater?

Well, there's a sink & a composting toilet, but I don't see a shower.

Is that a tub? There are other outbuildings, also.

The property is 4.71 "established acres." I don't know what that means.

There's a local trail system and the description says that the new owner can make their own. There's also access to a community beach.

Look at how cute. If there's hunting allowed, it would be a deal breaker for me.

This is weird- are those the neighbors' names? Looks like this is one of the largest properties. I think that the little house can be expanded and improved upon.

[hsrsurgical]

What are the Key Features of Bed Back Rest Recliners?

Finding the right medical equipment to ensure patient comfort and support is essential for healthcare providers and home caregivers. Introducing the Bed Back Rest Recliner from HSR Surgical: a must-have for quality and convenient patient care. Available now in Bangalore, this innovative product is designed to enhance comfort and promote healing, making it ideal for hospitals and home care settings.

Key Features of the Bed Back Rest Recliner

Ergonomic Design: Bed Back Rest Recliner is designed to provide optimal support for patients. Its adjustable backrest offers multiple reclining positions, ensuring comfort whether patients are sitting up to eat, read, or watch TV, or lying back to rest and sleep.

Sturdy Construction: Made with high-quality materials, the recliner is durable and stable. The robust frame can support various body types, ensuring long-lasting use and reliability.

Easy Adjustment: Caregivers can effortlessly adjust the backrest angle to meet the patient’s needs, enhancing comfort and reducing the risk of pressure sores and discomfort.

Portable and Lightweight: Despite its sturdy construction, the recliner is lightweight and portable. It can be easily transported and set up in different locations, offering versatility for use in hospitals, clinics, and at home.

User-Friendly Design: Designed with both patients and caregivers in mind, the recliner's user-friendly mechanism ensures quick and hassle-free adjustments, making the caregiving process smoother and more efficient.

Benefits for Patients and Caregivers

For Patients: The recliner offers unparalleled comfort and support, aiding in recovery and overall well-being. It helps prevent bedsores and other complications associated with prolonged bed rest by allowing patients to sit up or lie down comfortably.

For Caregivers: This recliner simplifies adjusting the patient’s position, reducing physical strain and making it easier to provide necessary care. Its portability and lightweight design mean it can be moved and adjusted as needed, offering flexibility in various care settings.

Why Choose HSR Surgical?

HSR Surgical is a trusted name in medical equipment, known for its commitment to quality and customer satisfaction. By choosing the Bed Back Rest Recliner from HSR Surgical, you are investing in a product that combines functionality, durability, and ease of use. Available Hospital Bed for Sale in Bangalore, this recliner is a great addition to any healthcare facility or home care environment.

The Bed Back Rest Recliner is essential for enhancing patient comfort and facilitating effective care giving. Its thoughtful design and user-friendly features make it a standout choice for reliable and high-quality medical equipment. Visit HSR Surgical today to learn more and make your purchase.

[thoughtsafterdark]

Hospitals and Airports are the closest modernity can come to reaching the Divine

Have you noticed how some places seem immune to time and social conventions. Like airports, those monoliths of now. Harsh lights burning and souls criss-crossing, tongues melting together into a writhing throng of humanity, a steaming cesspit of consciousness. Steeped in camaraderie yet drenched in isolation. The electric blue arrivals sign glares with neon brightness at 3am, a beacon that signals the end of the road.

Here comes a family of 4 on their way home, crossing through automatic doors into the balmy drizzle of a British night, carrying their loot of straw hats and cheap pendants, tan lines and peeling red lobster skin. A girl no older than 5 limps after her parents and older brother. She lugs her bright pink unicorn behind her and hugs the hood of lilac pyjamas close, rubs the sleep out of her eyes whilst her mother shouts at her to hurry. Soon she’ll tuck herself into bed, in the attic of their ordinary red brick London row house, and she’ll watch the sun peak over the trees in the back garden for the first time in her life. It will become a core memory she will think fondly back on for years to come.

By the first class lounge they hurried past, a man in an impeccable suit (Sheep’s wool, the finest money can buy. The grey colour of the Thames on an early morning) paces back and forth restlessly, briefcase in hand, phone in another. Gold amber eyes like a hawk, close cropped black hair and neatly trimmed beard, square pocket matching the deep tan of his shoes (authentic leather). He is barking orders to someone in Arabic, closing deals, building empires. A bloodied napkin he used to stop a nosebleed earlier falls out of his pocket and winks up at the scaffolding exposed ceiling, high and arching like the dome of a cathedral. He’ll make the sale, then visit the airport bathroom again before hailing a cab to the closest 5 star. In the morning, the maid who took the job to send money to her ailing mother in the Philippines will find his cold stiff body and scream. She’ll call the police and be taken in for questioning. She never signed up for this.

At the hospital coffee shop – two streets and half a lifetime away - a 4th year med students sips on a cortado like her life depends on it. Caffeine surges through her veins, bracing her for the day ahead. Unbelievable how exhausting trying to take up as little space as possible can be. She hates the spiel, it’s the same every time. A new dawn, a new face, a new team. The introductions, the smiling, the grovelling, the headache. She’s 5ft flat with bright orange hair, aspirations for Neurosurgery and a bright pink notebook, so why would they take her seriously.

It’s 8:30, and she’s scheduled for 9am clinic, so she has time for a hurried breakfast today. (Eating any earlier makes her gag). Small mercies. The off-red stained scrubs she nicked from the theatre changing rooms cling to her like a second skin preparing to moult. She squirms in them, the comfort undeniable. They make her feel like she belongs. They make her feel like an imposter.

Her table – she comes here so often; she thinks of it as hers - sits right by large windows overlooking the main entrance and staircase. She sees it all from here, her quiet unassuming throne. The doctors and nurses, physios and pharmacists. Rushing rushing, running, stressing. Wishing, hoping, waiting, waiting, waiting. For the shift to end, for the time for bed. For this rotation to change, for the exam to pass. We’ll go on that holiday next month, next year. When money isn’t tight, when things are more settled.  Before they know it they’ve wished their lives away.

Their patients understand, all too well and all too late. The same father with the IV drip and the metal stand comes down here every morning to see his daughters. They run up to him, he holds them close and beams. But his grip is getting weaker, smile is getting thinner. He doesn’t answer when they ask when he’s coming home. It’s funny what we can’t hear when we’re too busy wearing stethoscopes. Next month she (I) will be stationed on the Psych ward. We’ll have to do it all again, but maybe they’ll hear me this time. Maybe it’ll get easier.

Between them all and among them, if you squint and unfocus your eyes during one of those ungodly hours at the Starbacks across from Boots and WHSmith, leaning against a grey white pillar you might see him.

He is the spectre that haunts airport lounges and waiting rooms alike, the handsome stranger with the black snapback and the beats headphones and the khaki shorts. The one who lives out of a rucksack and wears a travel pillow like a crown. With the kind eyes and crows feet, and honey chestnut curls. He is that boy from your high school everyone liked, with a kind word for everyone; the one with a charmers smile and the charisma to bullshit his way through anything. The one who – when pressed for future plans, would laugh and shake his head, looking down bashfully. “I just want to travel for now, see where it takes me. I want to see the world”, he’d say, eyes twinkling with the possibilities. On someone else, the words would likely merit a telling off, they’d be seen as the paper thin excuse to fuck around and get high. But he seemed so genuine, and his teeth were such a dazzling shade of brilliant white when he smiled, even the strictest careers advisers couldn’t resist.

He lives in those moments, the liminal fabric between worlds that’s so hard to put your finger on. Blink and you’ll miss him in the old alleys of Rome, the spark of his cigarette lighter blending amongst the city lights.

You’ll find him among the most remote hiking trails of the Peloponnese, laughing with local shepherds and German tourists alike, sitting on jutting rocky cliffs and admiring the blue Mediterranean below. If you really pay attention, you’ll see his staff isn’t like the others. Something suspiciously like a pair of snake slithers up and down. You could swear you heard them whispering just now, but when you look again it’s just a wooden stick.

He is the patron of us wanderers and travellers, those of us with movement in our blood and restlessness in our hearts. The ones who beget the will of changing winds and shifting tides. The ones who can’t allow themselves to sit still, lest the dust settle and the coffee get cold. The mortifying ordeal of being seen and known. Or the ones that carry a hearth with them, in the bottom of a suitcase, in the heart of a trailer. The ones who move and weave through the Earth not because they are running but because they are coming home. He dances and jokes with the kids amongst campfires, always welcome, always a pleasure. And if he helps them pick the odd lock, swearing solemnly to secrecy, who are we to judge.

His bronze skin smells of cinnamon and nutmeg, vanilla and cedar and a thousand other spices. He reeks of incense and market stalls, moles and freckles tell the story of trading routes and old silk roads, of cotton shawls from Alexandria and silk from Pekking. His fingers and eyes twinkle with the good-natured mischief of petty thieves and sleight-of-hand magicians, tricksters and circus performers. He picks apples from behind ears, presents jewel necklaces to his lovers.

She sees him now, amongst the patients. He helps an old lady up the steps, pulls a balloon out of his back pocket to the delight of a sick child. She locks eyes with him and they nod at one another She has been seen now, and known. Perhaps she’ll find him again one day, if either stop running.

[zorrasucia]

Teach Me Tonight - Part 1

Part 1: [Part 2] [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Deleted Scene] [Part 8]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Smut, Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy, Masturbation, Mutual masturbation, P in V sex, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Summary: He scratched his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassment taking over desire. "Would you teach me? How to- I wanna make you feel good."

It had all started five months ago.

You had finally found a good spot for your vintage clothing store. It used to be a bar, right next to a sandwich place called The Beef. Things lined up so that the new restaurant, The Bear, opened a week before your store did. You were thankful - fine dining brought just the kind of business you wanted.

After weeks of eyeing the delicious looking desserts through the window, you decided to close early and get one of each and a coffee.

"You have a sweet tooth, huh?" the server joked amicably. "Have I seen you around?"

"I own the store next door," you replied.

"Of course!" he smiled. Then added: "Do you sell anything denim?"

You eyed his all black suit, guessing his size.

"Yeah, I just got a few pieces you might like."

"Oh, it's not for me," he laughed. "I've been telling my cousin to visit for weeks but he hasn't listened. I'll send him your way tomorrow."

You hadn't thought much of it. But the next day the cousin showed up. He was short, pretty, with blue eyes and built like a brick house.

"Carmen," he offered you his hand to shake; his arms were covered in tattoos.

"Your cousin said you are looking for vintage denim?"

"Yeah."

You showed him the new arrivals and a few of the most popular pieces - everybody wanted Levi's 501s. But he surprised you asking about specific models and the lining on jackets. You didn't know it at the time but Carmy found a way into your heart and mind from the moment you met him.

He was smart without being cocky, with an offbeat sense of humor and the nicest profile you had ever seen. He started bringing you (exquisite) leftovers for your lunch, stopping sometimes for a little talk. You called him to show whatever new pieces arrived to the store. It became a thing.

You were friends until you weren't. Until he got comfortable enough to touch your hand and hug you. Until you got the nerve to ask him out and kiss him.

It had been three months of seeing each other as much as your schedules allowed, kissing at closing time and talking way too much about jeans.

Today was a rare instance of Carmy taking the day off from the restaurant, and even rarer that it had lined up with yours. The afternoon was spent in your living room, eating take out from his favorite place, your legs on his lap, talking about the frantic week he'd had and your plans of going to a estate sale next weekend. You ended up tangled on your bed making out, the song of the city playing outside your window, his tongue eager in your mouth and your hands carding through his hair. You felt electric, like anything Carmy did could light the spark within you. You writhed in his embrace and found that Carmy was hard against your hip, grinding slightly.

"Are we doing this?" you asked against his mouth. You were leaning back and pulling him towards you.

"Now?" he sounded surprised.

"I mean, yeah," you chuckled. It felt right. And you had thought about it for weeks. But he seemed genuinely taken aback so you added: "If you want."

There was a long silence. Was it too soon? You looked away, feeling mortified - this was all a mistake. You tried to disentangle yourself from Carmy's embrace to give him space but he held on tighter.

"No, I do, I want to," he said softly. "It's just-"

His thumb soothed the skin on your cheek and you realized he wasn't surprised, not really. His eyes were half lidded - it was a weird look on him, a combination of embarrassment and desire.

"Do you like kinky stuff? Is that it? Because we can talk about it-" you stopped in your tracks when you saw his face contort into a grimace. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he reassured. "Actually it's the opposite problem," he mumbled. "I'm- I'm new to this. I have done none of it. Ever," he confessed. You caressed the hair on his temples.

"Oh. That's okay," you said and he avoided your gaze. You tilted your head to look him in the eye. "It is. I promise."

"Would you-" he scratched his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassment taking over desire. "Would you teach me? How to- I wanna make you feel good."

You smiled. "I mean, sure, but hopefully we'll both feel good."

He laughed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. You settled on the bed, lying face to face, just kissing, taking your time, warming the space between you once again. Carmy followed the pace you had set, his lips were gentle against yours. There was a nervousness to him though, he was too still. You took one of his hands and placed it on your chest, cupping your breast over your shirt. He gasped into your mouth and paused the kiss.

"Just touch me," you nuzzled your nose against his. "Anywhere you like."

His hands hovered above you, settling on your waist, lifting your shirt a little. His fingers were cold and you shivered.

"Sorry- I-" he stopped.

"Hey, you're just a little cold," you kissed his cheek and ran your hands over his chest and around his shoulders reassuringly. "I'll let you know if anything feels wrong."

"Promise?"

You nodded and placed his hand back on your waist. His fingers tickled up your sides and you hummed contentedly even though your clothes were getting in the way.

"Want to take it off?" you asked.

You lifted your arms so that he could push the blouse off of you. He cleared his throat at the sight of you, his eyes wider than you had ever seen them, and you could feel yourself melting into his beautiful hands as he touched and touched.

"Can I?" you had started tugging at the hem of his pristine, white shirt.

"Yeah," he replied breathlessly. You helped him out of it, and started tracing the lines of muscle on his arms.

"You're so beautiful," you said and he flushed down to his neck, the way he looked after a long day in the kitchen.

"Well, right back at you," he replied earnestly. "Wh- What should I do next?"

"Kiss my neck?" you proposed. He nodded eagerly and buried his face in the crook of your neck. "Keep going," you pleaded.

His hair tickled you as he went down your collarbone and the top of your breasts. You trembled with pleasure. This was new to him but also new to you. You had gotten used to men that never asked what you liked - this was different. Nice.

"I'll show you something," you guided Carmy's hands to your back, over the clasp of your bra. "There's a hook back there, feel it?"

"I think so," he furrowed his brows in concentration.

"You bring the sides together and it opens," it took him a couple of tries but he managed. "Good," you praised and Carmy smiled wide, carefully taking it off.

He continued kissing down, noticing how your breath hitched when he got close to your nipples.

"Feels good?" he asked, his breath on your skin hardened your nipples and made you arch your back.

"Yeah," you carded a hand through his hair, keeping him close and moaning when he kissed each side.

His lips and hands roamed all over your chest, so diligently, so thoroughly, that you thought you might come from that alone. Your thighs kept rubbing close together to find some relief. Carmy saw you and placed a hand on your hip.

"Show me," he said.

You took one of his tattooed hands and placed it between your legs, arching into it. His fingers pressed around aimlessly. It wasn't terrible but it wasn't good either.

"I have an idea," you said after a little while. Carmy looked up at you. "Come, let's sit."

He settled with his back to the headboard while you undressed all the way. Then, you sat between his legs, your back to his chest.

"This is nice," Carmy said softly, one of his strong arms surrounding you. You put his hand back between your open legs, his fingers over yours.

"I'm going to touch myself the way I like it," you explained, your index already tracing the outlines of your folds. "And then you try."

Carmy cleared his throat behind you. "Okay."

You closed your eyes, focused on the feeling of Carmy around you - his sculpted chest to your back, his long fingers echoing every move you made, and his breath caressing the side of your face. Carmy's hands were bigger than yours, more calloused - the feeling of them, almost in unison with yours, was making you dizzy.

"Here," both of your middle fingers touched your clit. You moaned. "Here is good."

"I can hear that," he teased.

When your hand moved around, his stayed there, drawing tiny circles on it.

"Oh," you gasped in surprise and pleasure. Your free hand started squeezing at your breast only to be replaced with his other hand. "Fuck," you cursed under your breath as he kept going. "That's good. That's so good. Don't stop."

"Wouldn't dare," he managed to say.

He sounded just as worked up as you were, his breathing laboured. You could feel his nose buried deep in your hair and his erection poking at your back. He started grinding against you, and you leaned into it a little. He groaned.

"Please," he begged.

You reached behind, palming him over his trousers. It was hard to keep a steady pace from that angle and he was already making you lose control but you tried.

"Shit, shit," he fucked into your hand, messy and desperate, every sound from his mouth pushing you over the edge.

"Carmy," you called his name over and over as your orgasm washed over you. It was hot, blinding, and it made it hard to breathe. You realized Carmy had come too once you regained your bearings and found the bit of his trousers you were holding was damp and warm.

He rested his forehead on the side of your face.

"I could die right now," he mumbled, blissed out.

You hummed in agreement. You stayed in content silence for a while, Carmy's arm keeping you close and his thumb caressing your shoulder.

"We can go over the rest next time," you offered.

"I, uh," he shifted where he sat, "I kinda hoped I'd see you when..."

You twisted a little to look at him. He was back to that embarrassed-horny state, cheeks flushed.

"See me...?" you prompted.

"When you came."

"Oh!" you touched his thighs gently. "I mean, if you can go again-"

"Yeah," he chuckled breathlessly. "Yeah. Just give me a minute."

"Alright."

You got up from the bed to rummage through your bedside table for condoms. You placed them by your pillow. When you turned, you found Carmy with his eyes closed, his brow furrowed, one hand caressing his neck and one on his crotch, moaning softly. It was the hottest thing you had ever seen. You got back on the bed in front of him, and reached for the closure of his trousers. He stopped abruptly.

"Shhh," you soothed. "Keep going. I'm only taking these off."

"Thanks," he replied.

You took his trousers and boxer briefs off, trying your best to not stop his rhythm. He took his cock in his hand and started caressing the head.

"You look so fucking hot, Carmy." He let out a chuckle and picked up a little speed. "Can I help?" you asked after a while.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to," you said. You moved to kneel beside him and started kissing his neck, mirroring his hand on the other side. Then, you pulled on the hair on his nape. You could feel the vibrations on his throat when he moaned.

"So nice," he said softly.

"What else? Tell me what you'd like me to do."

"Just touch me, please," he echoed your reply from before.

You did. Over his chest, flicking at his nipples, down his stomach following the trail of hair and back up, your nails leaving red lines in their wake. Carmy was already hard again but you still wanted to give him pleasure, so you put your hand next to his on his cock and he groaned.

"Slow, please," he begged.

You moved on the bed until you were between his muscular thighs.

"Let me know if you want me to stop," you said right before you kissed the tip of his cock and made him growl.

You left small pecks wherever his hand couldn't reach - the inside of his thighs, the curls under his navel, and his head again. Then, you licked along his shaft.

"Stop," he pleaded, the veins on his throat were bulging, his hand had stilled completely. "I still want to fuck you."

"Okay," you cupped his face tenderly. There was something vulnerable about him that you had only seen a couple of times. "Had you imagined anything?"

"Uh, not really," he hesitated. "Just you. I want to see you."

"We could do it like this," you proposed, nudging his legs close so that you could straddle him. He was still leaning against the headboard. "Either you or I can take over, so-" you let it float, the reassurance that you were there for him but he could do as much as he was comfortable with.

"Yeah. Sounds- sounds great," he ran his hands over your bare back.

You reached out for the condom beside him.

"May I?" you touched his thigh reassuringly. He nodded. "So, opening these with your teeth looks sexy but it's dumb as fuck because you can break it," you explained, maneuvering the wrapper carefully. Then, you rolled it over his length, his head tilting back with a moan. "There's flavored shit, and textured ones. We can try some later, if you want."

"Later," he smiled, the idea of more nights together but also the need he had for you right now - his pupils were blown.

So you got closer, hovering just above his cock.

"You can use lube too," you whispered. "But I'm soaking for you," Carmy groaned, "so we won't need that right now."

You lined him up to your entrance and lowered yourself slowly, your hands holding his shoulders for support. He felt so right inside of you, filling you up, hurting just enough. His jaw went slack as you took him completely.

"Holy fucking shit," he cursed, head tilted back, exposing his neck so you could lick up and kiss his Adam's apple. He tasted like sweat and sex. "You're killing me."

You grinned devilishly. "I'll start slow."

You started riding him, the pace was almost gentle. He buried his face between your breasts and held you close. You felt safe, cared for, adored. Was this what lovemaking felt like?

Carmy started to leave sloppy kisses on your skin, using his teeth in some of them. You started picking up speed, holding tight to the back of his neck.

"You feel perfect," Carmy said against your skin. "Fucking perfect."

You moaned in response, it sounded whiny and desperate. He seemed to love it, trying to make you repeat that sound by kissing your nipples and touching your clit.

"Jesus, Carmy."

You didn't know how long you'd be able to keep the frantic rhythm you had set, your legs were already shaking. Feeling you falter, he started fucking into you, hard thrusts that hit you just right and made you scream. He stopped.

"Are you okay?" he asked, mortified.

"I'm fine, Carmy, I swear. Please, please, keep fucking me," you begged. And he did. And you were becoming more of a mess as he did.

"You're doing so good, Carm. So fucking good. You feel-" you let sweet nothings burst out of your lips. It made him go faster and harder. You wouldn't last long.

"I'm- Carmy, I'm going to come," you mumbled.

"Look at me, please," he ran his hands over your spine, soothing even as he fucked you. His blue eyes searched for yours. "Look at me."

You held his gaze as long as you could, your nails digging into his shoulders and every thrust making it harder to think. All of a sudden, you went slack and fell on him, trembling with pleasure, and seeing stars. A few more thrusts and he came too, biting on your shoulder to drown a scream. You stayed there, breathing hard for a little while.

"Is it always like that?" he asked. His voice was hoarse and his hair was wet with sweat.

"No," you replied. "No, it isn't."

"Good to know," he quipped and you laughed. You untangled yourself from Carmy, leaning back to see him, his droopy eyes and blissful face.

"Fuck," he said. "You are so beautiful."

You traced the curve of his nose with your finger. "Right back at you."

[Part 2]

[malecpr99-5]

Male CPR - A Sales Agent’s Worst Nightmare (Preview)

Full video (20 mins) with 8 different angles available on my Watchfighters website here:

https://view. wf/v/ohnwcsgi

(please erase the space after the dot)

ZhōngDé, a dedicated sales agent, is patiently waiting at the table, casually scrolling through his phone. He’s expecting a routine meeting with Huy to finalize a bank loan disbursement. But little does he know—this meeting won’t go as planned.

Before he can react, Huy strikes from behind, pressing an anesthetic-soaked towel over ZhōngDé’s face. His body weakens. His vision blurs. Everything fades to black.

With his target now unconscious, Huy carries ZhōngDé to the bed, ready to begin his ultimate experiment—CPR and Defibrillation. He carefully loosens ZhōngDé’s shirt, admiring every inch of his physique before pressing down on his chest. Rhythmic compressions. Electric shocks. The battle to bring him back begins.

I also accept Paypal, please contact me via either of the links below:

- 如不能购买可添加代出🐧，q228531475

- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/le.calme.0610/

- Facebook: https://facebook.com/whoeee.0610

- Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/malecpr99-4

- Twitter: https://x.com/TD_Huy9717

- Discord: hh0610

- Telegram: @Huyhuy0610

- Gmail: trnhuy5@gmail.com