#today Jefferson airplane

[bea-lele-carmen]

To be loving you It'll all be there When my dreams come true

I'm so full of love I could burst apart And start to cry

Today, everything you want I swear it all will come true Today, I realize how much I'm in love with you

With you standing here I could tell the world What it means to love To go on from here I can't use words That don't say enough

Please, please, listen to me It's taken so long to come true And it's for you , for you

[patrickelvinart]

I once knew a girl named Bambi

Pencil drawing on watercolor paper

Calbayog City 2024

Lather - The Jefferson Airplane

[ometochtli2rabbit]

13.0.12.0.16

junlajun[11] KIB\AJMAQ b'olonlajun[19] ZAC

galactic tone: resolution/ dissonant structure

sun sign: WISDOM| vulture or bee/yellow[blue]/south

sit on a rock - MAYA

mahtlactli-once[11] - COZCACUAUHTLI[vulture]

Chalmecatecuhtli | Itzpapalotl

alo [scarlet macaw]

lord of the night: Centeotl

trecena[11]: Tonatiuh

x: mahtlactli-onei[13] - cuauhuitlehua - NAHUA

As this country heads for another election, just remember that the naming of the Americas, or America is under dispute. I have found the "AMERI" prefix being used before europeans getting here throughout Mesoamerica. There are also those of us who understand that it hasn't exactly been the land of opportunity for those of us who have lived in poverty. Here are some songs that illustrate that view.:

Prince Rogers Nelson: America

Slipknot: Gematria

Tall Paul Hip Hop: Make America Great

Ice Cube: Amerikkka's Most Wanted

Bruce Springsteen: Born in the USA

The Clash: I'm So Bored with the USA

Woody Guthrie: This Land is Your Land

Heart: America

Green Day: American Idiot

David Bowie: I'm Afraid of Americans & Young Americans & This is not America

Jefferson Airplane: Volunteers

Grand Funk Railroad: We're an American Band

Tracy Chapman: America

Public Enemy: Can't Truss It

Jewel: America

John Mellencamp: ROCK in the USA

Steve Miller Band: Living in the USA

James Brown: Living in America

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers: American Girl

Pointer Sisters: American Music

Official Motörhead: America

U2: The Hands That Built America

Simon & Garfunkel: America

The Stranglers: Big in America

Childish Gambino: This is America

Jessa Calderon: Home of the Brave

Bob Marley: Buffalo Soldier

Raye Zaragoza: American Dream

Willie Nelson: A Peaceful Solution

Waylon Jennings: America

Blackfire: American Indian Movement Song

[boricuacherry-blog]

[darby-rowe]

ᯓ today, I feel like pleasing you.

KINKTOBER 1ST. DAD'S BEST FRIEND!LOGAN HOWLETT X BUB!READER.

18+ | nsfw | mdni wc. 1.2k+ cw/tags. FAUXCEST, age gap (r is 21+), brief cunnilingus & blowjob, first time, p in v, usage of the phrase "little girl", unprotected sex, creampie, not proofread notes. happy kinktober 1st you freaks! here's the smutty installment in the dbf!logan x bub universe. sorry if you don't like it. title is taken from Today by Jefferson Airplane.

The first kiss was troublesome.

Locked away in the far corner of your queen-sized bed, his hands gently guiding itself up your leg, then it happened.

There was so much alcohol in his breath you swore you yourself must have gotten drunk off the way he breathed life into you. Yet the supposed life that found itself nesting in your lungs was something you’ve never felt before.

Taboo. Horribly, horribly wrong.

The kiss made your stomach feel queasy every time it entered your mind after the fact, however it made you feel like you were walking on air as well. Your dirty little secret, safely carried in the arms of you and Logan Howlett.

Your father would drop dead.

Things progressed after the kiss. He became more bold, touching you in more forbidden places that no man has ever touched before. It was all so new. Exciting. There was a rush that clouded your brain every time the older man gave you attention.

“Let your uncle take care of you,” he’d whisper to you.

Every single time.

Oh, it was dirty. So fucking dirty how the tone of his voice had you knowing he meant it. Your “uncle”. His “niece”. His pretty, young, smart, and bright niece who was so fucking ripe and ready to be eaten. The noises he made as his tongue swirled your already swollen clit, locking your fingers into his thick hair, wanting to grind against his hot tongue but ultimately being locked down by his strong arms.

Your hand slapped itself across your mouth each time you had to make a noise, desperately muffling the sounds of dirty dancing happening in your own bed. Your other hand kept jumping from fisting the sheets to fisting Logan’s hair to squeezing your own breast. In this state of being stimulated far beyond your own comprehension, you just didn’t know how to handle your body.

“Fuck,” you squeaked, feeling his nails unintentionally dig into your flesh, your thighs shaking as you grow closer and closer to making a mess of his beard.

It wasn’t planned, the sob that left your mouth when Logan pulled away just as you were about to see god.

“Why did you—”

“Legs up, bub,” Logan cut you off, making you gasp as he threw your legs back, completely spread open to him and any curious being who could walk in at any moment. You instinctually go to close your legs and cover your face, but he’s just so strong. So determined to watch as he takes you for the first time ever.

“Look at me, pretty girl,” he whispered, taking your hands off your face. You laid bare to him, like you had never laid bare to anyone before. Vulnerable and wet just for him.

The look on his face as he scanned you up and down in the position you were basically forced into will never leave your mind.

“Gonna make you feel good, ‘kay, bub?”

You just nodded, mind racing with how many possible roads this could go down. Everything felt like a blur as Logan unzipped his jeans, fishing out his rock-hard cock and began to stroke it in front of you. He was leaking at the tip, balls so full and swollen you could only imagine how long ago it was since he last jerked off.

He asked if you wanted a taste, and it took you a moment to consider. You’ve only ever fellated fake cocks in silicone form, and even so they were tiny in comparison to the monster hiding in Logan’s pants.

You nodded again, opening your mouth as he slipped in his cock inside past your lips. He fucking groaned upon first contact with your tongue, being careful to not shove his whole cock down your throat.

But you could tell that he really, really wanted to.

You felt your jaw begin to ache while keeping it open for his size. If you closed your eyes, you could concentrate on the subtle throb of his shaft, and the way your saliva accumulated around him. You were slicking him up just for you — to make the process easier.

He pulled out of your mouth right when you were beginning to memorize his taste, and it slightly disappointed you as you were enjoying your oral fixation being satiated. Your lips, parted slightly and drenched in your own spit, and Logan’s cock making its way to your swollen, soaked pussy.

He made sure to warn you just before sliding himself in. You couldn’t lie, it was a stretch, and it was an odd feeling to situate yourself in. You wanted to say that it hurt but that was untrue.

Just odd. Foreign. But not painful at all.

In fact, Logan was even surprised when you told him you were okay. Before you knew it, he was effortlessly sliding his dick in and out of you until it turned into him pounding into your pussy, arms wrapped around you as he held you close.

You had reason to believe this is when Logan fell apart.

You bit down hard on your bottom lip, keeping in all the lewd and pornographic noises that wanted to escape you, but some whimpers and small moans escaped.

“‘S good, bub?” Logan grunted in your ear, eliciting a shaky yes from you, digging your nails into his back and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your eyes screwed shut, concentrating on that familiar throb you felt in your mouth just moments ago.

If someone came up to you and asked you how it felt to get fucked like this, you wouldn’t know how to answer. It was just good. Fucking great, even. You wanted to sob, cry, wail out to Logan how good he was making you feel.

“Oh my little girl. My fucking little girl,”

He was like an animal in your ear: grunting and growling as he pounded you with little regard. He was getting louder, nastier. Treating you like a pocket pussy he had a forbidden affair with.

However, the way his arms locked around you as he buried his face in your neck made you feel a type of intimacy you had never felt before. Something so primal yet affectionate, making dirty noises in your ear as he fucked you. Taking your sweet virginity that he so desperately chased after for months.

“Tell me how good uncle Logan is fucking you,” he panted into your neck.

It was hard to form words. Your mouth opened and tiny choked sobs managed to crawl out of your throat, but no words.

“You gotta tell me, baby,” he panted again. But this time, there was a tinge of desperation edging his plea, like he could fucking tear up at any moment. Begging. “Tell me how good your uncle is fucking his little girl,”

Your virgin pussy throbbed, clenching around his cock.

“‘S good, uncle Logan. Fuck me. Fuck me, please…”

It took you by surprise how fast Logan emptied himself inside you, feeling his seed pump deep, knowing his balls were pulsating as they shot out cum. That knowledge was enough to make you cream around his dick, biting down on his shoulder to keep yourself quiet.

The moments after were uncomfortably quiet, with him still holding you with his cock softening inside you.

Your breath steadies. Your mind clears. And your body cools.

Your dad would murder Logan if he found out about this.

[onlizinenet]

onlizinenet.wordpress.com

onlizine.tumblr.com J O Y

https://images.app.goo.gl/v86sJFoyiJyidMxB7oyiJ

www.tumblr.com/onlizinizinenet/728288509354541056

https://youtu.be/-xthzy1PxTA?si=IhRkBMXiXUPISCLy

https://youtu.be/5NxL-IkeIw8?si=nGo1DyaRsXg8KMSN

[posttexasstressdisorder]

They killed our Jesus: A Lament for Generation Jones

Two things happened in 1980 that would ensure the iron grip of the fascist state would (first slowly, then quickly), tighten on the entirety of the nation's populace from that moment forward: Ronald fucking Reagan was installed as president, and a CIA-psyop'd Christian Nationalist shot and killed John Lennon.

Those two things are connected.

First let's look at exactly who "Generation Jones" encompasses, and specific moments in the generational timeline that defined our future. The wiki page is actually quite good. Here's an excerpt that really hits it on the head:

"The name "Generation Jones" has several connotations, including a large anonymous generation, a "keeping up with the Joneses" competitiveness and the slang word "jones" or "jonesing", meaning a yearning or craving.[17][18][19] Pontell suggests that Jonesers inherited an optimistic outlook as children in the 1960s, but were then confronted with a different reality as they entered the workforce during Reaganomics and the shift from a manufacturing to a service economy, which ushered in a long period of mass unemployment. Mortgage interest rates increased to above 12 percent in the mid-eighties,[20] making it virtually impossible to buy a house on a single income. De-industrialization arrived in full force in the mid-late 1970s and 1980s; wages would be stagnant for decades, and 401Ks replaced pensions, leaving them with a certain abiding "jonesing" quality for the more prosperous days of the past.

Generation Jones is noted for coming of age after a huge swath of their older brothers and sisters in the earlier portion of the Baby Boomer population had; thus, many note that there was a paucity of resources and privileges available to them that were seemingly abundant to older Boomers. Therefore, there is a certain level of bitterness and "jonesing" for the level of doting and affluence granted to older Boomers but denied to them.[21]"

That sets the stage, for the most part. I was four when JFK was shot on TV. I was a wide-eyed, open-eared five year old when The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan and The Supremes were on the radio. I was ten when we landed on the moon, and I wanted to be a hippie at Woodstock at eleven. "Basketball Jones" came out when I was 12...I jonesed for a telescope because SPACE and got one from that great maker of fine telescopes, KMart.

Generationally, we jonesed to be ten years older, so we could have had all the cool shit THEY had. They had The Beatles, and we had the solo Beatles, they had Hendrix, Cream, Jefferson Airplane, and we had the fucking BeeGees and disco. It's like we, as a generation, were fated to live The K-Mart Knockoff of Life, instead of the bright, shiny Brand Name One all our older brothers and sisters got.

MUSIC and SCIENCE were EVERYTHING to us as kids/teens...the Eshittification Of Music truly began in 1973, and proceeded through SynthPop Hell in the '80s. Rock and Roll heroes became hairdos with guitars. The rock heroes of the '60s were getting married and having kids and baking bread. AM Radio ceased to be something you listened to for music...it began to replace music with strident, screaming hate voices that would eventually engulf all of AM Radio 24/7/365.

We were continually thwarted most of the way from our young adulthood on, blatantly from the moments in 1980 that the vile Ronald Reagan and the core operatives of evil for the next 50 years took over, and then the moment of what I call "Our Generational Wounding", the murder of John Lennon.

Back in '66, John had inflamed all the grandpas of todays magats by saying (truthfully) that with teens, The Beatles were more popular than Jesus. Beatle hate became a Very Big Thing in Bumfuck South Texas. Record burnings, merchandise burnings, book burnings, all were commonplace. A very palpable, and very specifically "Anti-Beatle" hate got instilled in a lot of kids/teens at that point, so anything to do with the Beatles was taboo for "good people" (read Southern Baptists) to like.

That, of course, made me love them that much more, and to follow their paths from their breakup forward with 'bated breath, buying every 45 they put out, trying to save pennies up to buy their albums.

John was the radical hippie, the one who wanted peace, the one with the weirdo wife, the one who held a "Bed-In" for peace. In a very fundamental-to-our-generation way, John Lennon was OUR "Jesus".

Richard Nixon (president from '68 to '74) HATED him.

In 1971, there was a true mass consciousness that incorporated us along with our older siblings, a musical mass consciousness. I became aware of many things in 1969, specifically fall of '69, so I was experiencing all this in real-time, as it happened. When the news that The Beatles officially broke up came across the AM radiowaves in May of '70, it was A. Very. Big. Deal. Everyone watched everything they did from that point on with GREAT interest.

George put out "My Sweet Lord" and "What Is Life" (first record I ever bought), John put out "Instant Karma", "Mother", then "Power To The People", then "Imagine". Ringo put out "It Don't Come Easy", and Paul & Linda had "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey". EVERYBODY was a "post-breakup Beatle critic", panning Paul's very first solo 45 "Another Day", "Uncle Albert" was the followup. This band called Badfinger that sounded suspiciously like The Beatles appeared on American radio, and would make 1972 one of the final "Golden Years" of AM Rock Radio.

In 1970 we heard about this Elton John guy, by the end of '72, I was playing as many of his songs on the piano as I could figure out. My favorite album was (still is) "Madman Across The Water". When "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" came out in '73, a very noticeable shift was occuring.

Pop became much less political. It softened. It mellowed. It grew its hair long and lived in the country, learned how to grow potatoes and play the mandolin, making Country Rock the one lasting "legacy" of our sad sub-generation. By the time I graduated HS in May of '77, it was all there was on the radio, besides....disco. Oof.

One of my first TV memories was JFK getting shot. That was the Generational Wounding of our older brothers and sisters. When Mark Chapman (a Christian nationalist who changed the words of "Imagine" to "Imagine there's no John Lennon") shot John in December of 1980, it was the 2 in the 1-2 PUNCH done to our OUR generation. The first, of course, being the installing of Reagan and the evil Evangelical influence beginning in earnest.

It also began the buildup of the "Holy War" radical right, and an utter denial and clampdown of "hippie", of "counterculture" in general began, ensuring that John's vision of world peace would never come true, at least not on their watch. They had, effectively, killed OUR Jesus, along with our chances of the kind of security our older sibs got in spades. It also marked the unholy marriage of the evangelicals and the republican apparatus.

When Reagan got elected by virtue of the vile Newt Gingrich's 'Southern Strategy', a clampdown in earnest on the very SPIRITUAL EXISTENCE of our generation's incredible want and need, our collective JONESING for world peace began. Richard Nixon had planted the seeds. Nixon hated John Lennon with a passion. After Reagan was elected, I firmly believe Chapman was "activated" and they killed John as a Christmas present to Nixon.

It was after that, when the dream of a scientific future began to die, as well. When we were in high school, SCIENCE WAS EVERYTHING, so we wanted to be some kind of scientist "when we grew up".

I dealt with four years of college, majored in Biology, and in early 1981 realized my dream of being a Forest Ranger in Yosemite or some other national park somewhere, living in a cabin, giving talks to visitors about the biology aspects of the park....all that went POOF, almost instantaneously. My degree would get me nowhere, so I left before the end of that year and started working in record stores.

I was effectively the Cusack character in the movie about record stores, but it led to a dead end. Record stores weren't all that glamorous, and yes, the pay was dogshit. I tried working in record stores for the love of the music, while trying to BE a musician in a town FILLED OVER FLOWING with musicians, but that was quickly shat on by the beginning shrieks of late-stage capitalism.

It was like working in the record stores was my trying to keep holding onto the dream, our generation's dream...John's dream of world peace (along with my dream of being a working musician) died a pitiful death by the end of 1986.

What followed was nothing but a series of Jobs I Hated, and the beginnings of the true Jonesing for the life we'd been promised, because we didn't get the raises, the pensions, the house, the car, boat and camper, none of that shit for us. A life of being a low-paid, no-insurance drub, destined to be a life-long renter, unless a financial miracle happens.

So when people ask why we (as a generation) hate Ronald Reagan so much, let's just say I'm with Bugs on this one.

[bea-lele-carmen]

Today, I feel like pleasing you

More than before

Today, I know what I wanna do

But I don't know what for

To be living for you

Is all I want to do

To be loving you

It'll all be there

When my dreams come true

Today, you'll make me say

That I somehow have changed

Today, you look into my eyes

I'm just not the same

To be any more than all I am

Would be a lie

I'm so full of love

I could burst apart

And start to cry

Today, everything you want

I swear it all will come true

Today, I realize how much

I'm in love with you

With you standing here

I could tell the world

What it means to love

To go on from here

I can't use words

That don't say enough

Please, please, listen to me

It's taken so long to come true

And it's all for you, all for you

[today-in-the-bunker]

Today, the Winchester Prank War has been officially rekindled. Cas and Jack, who have in the past acted as neutral parties, are slowly beginning to take sides. Neither will directly aid in harming the other brother, but Cas may have a hunting question for Sam while Dean hides all of his book marks, or Jack may ask Dean the difference between Jefferson Starship and Jefferson Airplane while Sam puts all of Dean's cassettes in the wrong cases.

[bucknastysbabe]

would you pls write canon criston smut? i love your criston fics!!

YES I WOULD LOVE TO!!!! Always brings me joy when people request pookie💘 a short lil fun one

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Blowjobs, infidelity, Criston’s residual guilt, marchers w benefits, wee subby space, Unwin Peake’s daughter, wet and sensual, he’s a soft baby truly, she just likes to please, caretaking

Taglist: @arcielee @bambitas @aemondsbabe @aemonds-holy-milk @rafeism @valeskafics @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @fairysluna @sugarpoppss2

Pleasing You - Ser Criston Cole x Peake!Reader

“Today, I feel like pleasing you, more than before. Today, I know what I wanna do, but I don't know what for.” -Today, Jefferson Airplane

They always seemed to meet in the Sept, the Lord Commander noted. He saw the woman in the orange and black of Starpike. He faintly remembered her as a girl when House Dondarrion paid a visit to their fellow Marcher Lords. She held a darkened countenance like Lord Unwin.

“Who are you praying for today, Ser Cole?” Lady Peake asked. Her eyes flashed as one of the streams of crystalline light caught her features. Criston eyed the fellow marcher, a discarded Lady-In-Waiting for Helaena with nowhere to go. She clasped her hands, kneeling in front of the Father.

“I pray for my father. He is marching with Lord Hightower as we speak.”

Criston hummed, “Lord Unwin is a powerful man, I shall spare a prayer for him. I pray to the warrior today, for all the men fighting for our cause, and for my own protection. We leave for Harrenhal soon.”

She made a noise, returning to the silence in the castle Sept. Criston did the same, focusing on his devotions. Poorly ignoring Lady Peake so gracefully whispering words of praise. The man closed his eyes tighter, hands clasping to the point his gloves creaked. He knew he was wound up tighter than a drawn crossbow.

Warm hands slid across his plated shoulders, a familiar scent at Ser Cole’s neck. Lady Peake purred, “Lord Hand, Commander, Ser— whatever Cole,” she thumbed at the tight cords of muscle at his neck.

“I know you need to rest. Care for some company and mayhaps a knead out of this horrid knot?” Criston groaned as her slender fingers circled around the bunched muscle.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” he croaked.

They made a quick route up to the Hand’s quarters, Criston eyeing around, tense and jumpy. He noticed Peake was cool as ever, her quiet disposition the same, a resolute firmness to her being. The marcher needed that. It’s what their shared culture was all about. War, strength, and duty to protect. You must appear brave even in the face of fear.

As they climbed the stairs she tugged his cloak and asked “This must be heavy, you poor thing.” Criston snipped back, “I’ve been wearing this for twenty-odd years, I believe I’m fine Lady Peake.” Her laugh was raspy and playful, something nice in these dreary days. He rationalized his feelings for her as desperation from stress. Simply a transaction.

She stopped him in the center of the room, nimble hands undoing his armor. Peake commented, “If it makes you feel better, I used to do this to my husband all the time. So we share equal guilt. Lucas marches along with the host from the south.”

Criston’s eyes followed her, mouth working around a thought. She placed his gorget, pauldrons, and chest plate on the gilded rack. The fellow marcher sighed, “I can see you know how to undress a knight. Why even please me?”

She looked up with a blank expression, taking off gauntlets. Lady Peake replied, “I don’t know, I just want to. Does it bring you anguish for me to pleasure you?” Criston shook his head, fingers snapping at his padded tunic. She batted off Criston’s hands and redirected his ass to perch on the desk. Otto’s desk. Lyonel’s desk. He swallowed down more guilt, caressing her cheek.

“You beat yourself harder than any man I’ve seen you knock into the ground, you know,” she commented idly. His tunic was open now, only tan breeches and a loose shirt remained. Criston’s cock strained at the fabric, leaving a wet spot. He was a pathetic whore, leaking at simple touches.

“Criston,” she snapped.

“Sorry, I,” he stammered.

“Go sit in the chair sweetheart. Unlace your breeches.”

He followed her orders dutifully, shucking his shirt off, pants coming down to his ankles. Criston hissed at the cold air hitting his flushed cock, the member hitting his taught belly. Lady Peake smirked down at him, pulling the laces of her dress free, ample tits spilling out. He choked on a whine, cock throbbing once more. She dropped to her knees, soft lips kissing at his sore thighs.

Criston tried to relax his muscles, give in to her offered pleasure. He softened his stomach, neck, shoulders, and even his persistent tight jaw. She murmured against his groin, “There we go, relax for me.” Criston nodded slowly, rumbling, “I’m trying, pretty girl, I’m trying.”

Her lips pressed a lush kiss to his sensitive skin, trailing up to his hip. Criston eyed her tits, he wished to fuck them later, maybe she would let him. He inhaled sharply when she mouthed at the base of his cock, long lashes fluttering. The woman’s hand came up to gently roll his sac around, nice and snug and warm.

He groaned, eyelids falling shut as she purred for him to relax a little more. Her hot tongue laved around the length of his cock, suckling gentle and sweet at a twitching vein. His hands fought to grip the chair but laid limp, the word ‘relax’ repeating over and over and over. He whined softly, lips falling open.

The marcher woman enveloped the ruddy tip of his cock with her mouth, hollowing and sucking at the same slow pace. She’d dig her tongue in little circles around the tip, Criston moaning her name. She drooled on purpose, slicking him up luridly. Yet the way Lady Peake behaved it was as if she were merely lending a helping hand, a kind word or act. Not sucking his cock like a trained whore.

Another whine burst from the knight’s throat as she eased him down her throat, breathing roughly through her nose. The hand cupping his balls squeezed a hair, her silky wet throat enveloped around him. She swallowed in pulses, scrambling coherency for Criston besides becoming a moaning and rambling mess.

She bobbed her head, tight throat pulling on his sensitive extra skin. Lady Peake moaned around his length, squirming and rubbing her tits up against his legs. All while taking him deep and sensual, like they had all the time in the world. The knight garbled, “L-let me, can I, y-your hair?”

“Mhmmm,” she hummed, the vibrations eliciting a low moan of pleasure. She felt so good— molding his ever twirling mind into soft clay. Mush. He carefully leaned forward, one of his hands carding into her locks, the other reaching for her breast. Criston stuttered on his compliment, balls aching.

Her nose prickled at his pubes, dark eyes hazy with pleasure. She swallowed him down repeatedly, a lazy way in which she chose the pace. Criston couldn’t jerk her around, he mindlessly pet her hair and made pathetic noises, a heat building low in his belly. It was hotter than the dragon flames he’d seen, curling and smoking.

“Oh- oh gods, pretty girl,” he gasped, cock twitching.

She hooked fingers behind his tightening balls, massaging his taint. He cried out, the heat licking up Criston’s spine now. His dark head was thrown back, throat bobbing as he drew out her name. The sweetest agony. So slow yet powerful. The tension was melting from his body, the Lord Commander drooling and downright squirming as he oozed down her throat.

“Don’t stop, s’close, yes, good baby,” he slurred.

She didn’t.

It felt like ages before she was bobbing at s rapid pace, slender digits pumping his sweet spot. Criston shivered, sweating all over and unable to speak. The fire was consuming him as he gripped her hair, whining and pleading. The band would snap soon, plunging him into white-hot ecstasy.

“Closecloseclose, seven hells,” he grunted, cock unloading into her swollen lips. He cried, gasping for air between whines as he spurt down her tight throat. All while she swallowed and moaned, nipples hard and tight for him. She pulled off, swallowing once more as she wiped her mouth, grabbing a discarded rag to wipe him off. Lady Peake rasped, “Sound so good, feeling better? I have that massage for you now.”

Criston babbled, “Yes, yes, you’re too good. Lovely. Jus- let me gather, hngh, my wits.

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Events In The History And Of The Life Of Elvis Presley Today On The 12th Of November In 1972

Elvis Presley Tour And Show Comes To San Bernardino CA.

A look back at Elvis Presley's 1972 outstanding concert at swing auditorium in San Bernardino CA

Sunday night, Nov. 12, 1972. The Santa Ana winds were howling, so typical of San Bernardino in November. And it was cold. But a sold-out crowd stood patiently to have an audience with The Legend . Elvis Presley was in the Swing Auditorium.

The Swing was the place east of L.A.'s Fabulous Forum to see virtually every top name act in the rock world, circa 1964 through 1981. Located on E Street, the auditorium was built in 1949 on the grounds of the National Orange Show and was named for Senator Ralph E. Swing, a San Bernardino legislator. What a glorious barn it was and what history played out on that stage. The Rolling Stones did their first American concert there in June 1964. The place rocked until a small plane crashed into it on Sept. 11, 1981 and the auditorium had to be demolished. One of the last shows played there featured Iron Maiden.

In between, rock royalty were regulars. Fleetwood Mac played more than five times. The Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, Jefferson Airplane, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Cream, Jimi Hendrix Experience, Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Black Sabbath, Ramones (as opening act), Chicago, Jethro Tull, Alice Cooper, the Grateful Dead (multiple times), Faces with Rod Stewart (also multiple times), Santana, the Kinks, Janis Joplin, Eric Clapton, the Beach Boys, and more. Look up how many of these acts are in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Just about everybody but the Beatles made it to the Swing.

Prior to the modern rock era, Bob Hope was almost an annual fixture at the Swing during the National Orange Show Fair. Other notables who performed there in the '50s and '60s included Sammy Davis Jr., Jack Benny, Judy Garland, Jerry Lewis, and George Burns. But never had a King played there before that night.

Yet, it wasn't as if Elvis Presley had never been to the IE. He did own a house for several of the Priscilla years in Palm Springs and was known to do some boating in Big Bear Lake. Many scenes of the totally forgettable remake movie 'Kid Galahad' were shot in Idyllwild. And, some of the outdoor footage in 1964's 'Kissin' Cousins' was shot in the San Bernardino Mountains. Still, this was different.

Elvis Presley's nationwide tour began at Madison Square Garden in New York, a city he had never before performed live in. The four concerts there were sold out and got rave reviews. At 37, he was 'lean, tanned and greasily handsome, his coal-black hair glistening with an oily 1950s sheen', as the New York Times' Grace Lichtenstein put it. At a press conference before the Madison Square Garden appearance, he was asked about the secret of his longevity on the pop music scene. 'I take Vitamin E', he told reporters.

From New York, the tour moved west, passing through cities like Milwaukee, Chicago, Wichita and Tulsa before continuing on to Las Vegas. Elvis stayed there for most of October before continuing the tour, which took him to Texas, Arizona, and into California. He hit Oakland, then San Bernardino, where he performed two sold-out shows - one on Nov. 12 and another on Nov. 13. rom there, he headed to the Long Beach Arena for two shows, the last stop before catching a plane for Honolulu where the tour would wrap up. Originally, the Honolulu show was planned to be broadcast worldwide by satellite, but the broadcast date was changed to early 1973 so it wouldn't conflict with the release of MGM's musical documentary Elvis on Tour. No matter. The show (actually four of them) went on. And in Honolulu, as well as in other cities on the tour, fans of all ages crowded concert venues to get a live view of the King.

So it was in San Bernardino. The Swing could hold about 10,000 people with a concert take of around $60,000. On that cold November night, fans crammed into the sold-out auditorium. With reserved seating, there was none of the festival seating chaos that marked the Swing rock shows - kids pushing and shoving and fighting to get to the stage area. This crowd was real diferent. I was way too young at 21. For the usual Swing rock show, most of the concertgoers were my age or younger. The guys had long hair, wore boots, Levis and denim work shirts (think the cover of a Creedence album.) The girls went braless, wore tight jeans or peasant dresses. There were always more guys than girls.

For Elvis Presley though, these fans had jobs, mortgages, and kids. The women clearly outnumbered the guys. They wore bright yellow or orange dresses, lots of makeup. Hairspray was huge. And, there were more than a few suicide blondes with hot pants and go-go boots. (I would never have sat on anything in the Swing in hot pants.) Jean Naté was locked in mortal combat with Charlie in a fragrance war. My Sin perfume held its own. Smoke from the bathrooms came from real Marlboro men (and women.)

My seat was in the cheap section - off to the side and high up, close to the glued-on tinsel that was a prominent feature of the Swing. The place always had a peculiar smell. Close to show time, greedy Colonel Tom's minions were at the stage hawking T-shirts, photos, and other assorted gee-gaws. I wonder just how much of that cash Elvis Presley received.

Finally, the lights lowered. The band started playing the theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Then, there he was - The King. He was resplendent in a black and red concert suit.

Though his show was typical of his Vegas show that he performed at the International Hotel (later known as the Las Vegas Hilton and now called the Westgate Las Vegas Resort & Casino), it didn't matter to his loyal subjects. He was live in San Berdoo! Old ladies screamed. It was hard to tell from my cheap seat, but I believe there were a few panties thrown at him.

His voice and physique were in A-plus form. He ripped through concert standards such as 'Polk Salad Annie', crooned to crowd favorite 'Can't Help Falling In Love', and did a couple of religious numbers with the gospel group J.D. Sumner and The Stamps.

No Elvis Presley show would be complete without the hits 'Hound Dog', 'All Shook Up', 'Jailhouse Rock', and 'American Trilogy'.

His band and entourage - the Sweet Inspirations, legendary guitar hero James Burton - provided a full sound that could not be duplicated by the typical four-man rock act. It was a show truly becoming of a King. The crowd responded as if seeing him for the first time. Bedlam broke out among the thousands of fans.

After about 90 minutes, despite fans calling for more, Elvis Presley left the auditorium for the San Bernardino Hilton, about $60,000 richer. I was a poor college kid. I went to Del Taco. What a Sunday night! rare candid photo's one captured of elvis presley leaving Oakland CA captured here by a female ep fan boarding is executive chartered jet heading to San Bernardino CA and performing here at this show wearing the white pinwheel jumpsuit and the white cape and the lions head belt captured by a fan audience member who was at this show concert.

[rhapsodynew]

The friendship of Grace Slick and Janis Joplin

Girls with the same radical missions have become kindred spirits, instead of being competitors. They both proved that women can not only keep up with men in the music industry, but also surpass them in many ways.

Little is known about the friendship of the blues star and the Jefferson Airplane soloist, but judging by the remaining stories, she was close and strong. For example, in the recently released book Janis Joplin: Days & Summers, today's birthday girl Grace recalls Joplin's amazing vocal gift:

"Janice was a wonderful, witty wild woman who drank just like me—straight out of a pint. Why waste time on glasses? Like Otis Redding, it was simply impossible to turn away when she was on stage. She stamped her feet, shook her hair, and went from a whisper to a real scream in a split second... I didn't want to listen to anyone after her."

She talked about their friendship in 2019 in an interview for Uncut magazine:

"People who write books really misunderstand Janice. The woman I knew giggled, she laughed so much, and she was fun. Very noisy, very outspoken, very funny. Texas women tend to be like that. Everyone called us fire and ice. I was ice, and she was fire. But I think she's more of a symbol of those times than I am. She had more style. I have a normal voice, but she really went beyond it."

Ice and fire were such a prominent tandem in the hippie era that a line from Fleetwood Mac's 1982 song "Gypsy" is even dedicated to their friendship. Kristin McVie mentions the Velvet Underground clothing store in San Francisco, where she often saw the couple.

Joplin and Slick have few videos left together, and one of them is their performance at a rock festival in California in 1968

[90s-music-tourney]

Here are today's rounds:

This boots are made for walking by Nancy Sinatra vs Space Oddity by David Bowie

Respect by Aretha Franklin vs Stand by Me by Ben E. King

My Way by Frank Sinatra vs Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival

Feeling Good by Nina Simone vs You really got me by the Kinks

Sweet Caroline By Neil Diamond vs Can't take my eyes off you by Frankie valli

Good vibrations by the Beach Boys vs Ain't no mountain high enough by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

What a wonderful World by Louis Armstrong vs Mrs. Robinson By Simon and Garfunkel

All along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix vs Aquarius (Let the Sunshine In) by the 5th Dimension

Like a rolling stone by Bob Dylan vs Be my Baby by the Ronettes

I Got You (I Feel Good) by James Brown vs People are strange by the Doors

River Deep Mountain High by Ike and Tina Turner vs Son of a Preacher man by Dusty Springfield

Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles vs 21st Century Schizoid Man By King Crimson

Piece of my Heart By Big Brother and the Holding Company vs House of the Rising Sun by the Animals

Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones vs Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash

The Girl From Ipanema by Stan Getz And Joāo Gilberto vs Tainted Love by Gloria Jones

Sitting by the dock of the bay by Otis Redmond vs Georgia on My Mind by Ray Charles

California Dreamin’ by The Mama's and the Papa's vs Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane

I Say a Little Prayer by Dionne Warwick vs Season of the Witch by Donovan

[yestergaze]

Grace Slick, one of the greatest voices in rock during the 1960s was born on October 30, 1939, making her 85 years old today. She rose to fame with the band, The Jefferson Airplane, in 1967 with their album Surrealistic Pillow and from this album came their mega-hit songs, "White Rabbit" and "Somebody to Love".

[fishklok]

A pivotal moment from Magnus' childhood

(Inspired by me. When I left my apartment today to get groceries, but came back with a Jefferson Airplane record instead)