Hi everyone. This thread is something else! I have learned some and also burst ribs a few laughing at times:
1. :laugh: When I imagined a 'Regular-Raffles' style burglar, comic strip torch and balaclava, as the break-and-entry guy who then dashed faster than Road-Runner when he stumbled across Glitch's Silence-of-the-Lambs-Type dungeon
in a residential family garden shed...
bwahaaaaaha!
2. :laugh: When Scandi continued as ever with her wonderful/due-diligence posting and submitted an update on this story while she was still on Page 1 and seconds later it landed on Page 3 ... heh heh, Scands ...
3. :laugh: When some-one else wrote if sex is not good while on pot, they should try something .... harder. ....er....
really? :silenced:
4. I'm no angel, perhaps damn ignorant, boring, non-intimate, a blob, or from a vicarage at my ole age, but I simply cannot fathom romantic pleasure that draws blood, half suffocates me or results in shackles and scars.
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Not judging, frowning or knocking *anyone* or *anything* - whatever blows your hair back .... just stating I guess I missed out big time on all the kitchen utensils, not just the pot! So long as no crime is committed, no serious injuries happen, no abuse or mental trauma on others and no children/pets are around... I s'pose...
I'll never forget when, after my divorce in 1991, I met a wonderful, distinguished man 8 years my senior. We dated a few times: he had the manners and service of an aristocrat, ultra refined - casually delectable and impeccable taste. Eventually I stayed over; he was very attentive - the lights dimmed and later that evening, amid the 'relaxing' couple of glasses of bubbly, he rolled over and, ehem, as some of those men do, looked at my hair as if it were strands of miniature rare black diamonds instead of my general boring dark locks... fingers moving lightly over my forehead as if he was the first person to examine a priceless treasure ... and in a low voice asked me if he could stab me. (Yeah, right...be my guest...)
Well, I burst out laughing thinking he was kidding - told him he had just killed the mood.
He brought out a MOCK-KNIFE and wanted to role-play a struggle (I could see the knife was plastic, very realistic tho ...) and that's when the whole scene, and my smile, shot to freeze-frame. I suddenly felt naked in my little teddy-camisole, suddenly I wanted to pee - get up and go anywhere but not play 'stab me/stabyou' with this man. Result? Fininto. Although I saw him again from time to time, I had absolutely no desire to date him or eat in steakhouses near his place of work.
Guess I'm in a totally different orbit.. but that's my own boring bundle in life.
Anyway, WS'ers... The above is my :twocents: and this thread is ... quite different, made me laugh and remember life as I head toward 50
As for the thread-story: hideous... blood on walls from 'other'
people and one woman dead sounds like a serial killer as another posted noted.
Signing out on a late, hot, middle eastern night. G'night. PSA
