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Literature
(1) Wedgie RPG
After work, I always opted to stay home as opposed to going out with my colleagues. Despite the frequent invitations to have a good time and unwind, nothing truly relaxed me more than wedgies. I looked forward to arriving home after work just to spend time with myself thinking of new scenarios where my panties were rammed up my butt. However that was also the problem - I have only ever been by myself. After all this time, I had exhausted virtually every scenario I could think of and I started to pine for the days when the thrill of wedgies was at its peak. [Requirements met. Program initializing. Welcome Player 1 to the Wedge RPG] [Stats: Thrill: 1, Silence: 0, Endurance: 0, Stretch: 0, Exhibitionist: 0] [Thrill modifies the user’s overall experience with wedgies.] [Silence modifies the user’s tolerance for being gagged.] [Endurance modifies the user’s tenacity to longer wedgies] [Stretch modifies the user’s elasticity of the panties they are wearing.] [Exhibitionist modifies the
Literature
Let's Make Art
Less viewing, more doing. Less viewing, more doing. That’s what I keep telling myself As I keep browsing works on this website. I always seem to be looking at others’ works Moreso than making my own. I just can’t help but admire all the talent. Or maybe that’s just my excuse because it sounds better than being lazy. Why is it that I always seem more motivated to do something Right before going to bed, Rather than during the day when it is more productive? I’ve noticed this seems to be the case for a lot of people. You almost want to jump out of bed and pick up that instrument or notebook. Why do our brains do this to us? At least this poem a day challenge for the month of April Is giving me some motivation to create more works And try out different styles. Maybe soon I’ll even write a song, Which I’ve been wanting to do for a while, But just never got around to it. I need to play my piano more And spend less time viewing and worrying about things I cannot control. I’m trying to get
Literature
Sowing Seeds
If sunflower seeds are sown in the soil where soviet soldiers lie, then I will plant poppies in all the places my brothers bleed and die and I will kneel in a flooded field, resplendent in red and gold, to pray for peace beneath the smoke and the clear blue sky.
Suggested Collections
Poem no. 1558
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