Ordered yesterday together with 200 饺子 from 刘大妈. Picked up at the MRT station.

The wanton aren’t any good. The skin is too thick for wanton and the ingredient pretty much tasteless.

I hope the 饺子 are nicer.

Yummy, all 15 of them.  I made them myself.

Need more water to marinate or it wouldn’t be soft and tender. Oh, must add “flat fish” next time. Would be even more yummy.

I found a recipe which looks authentic (except for the missing “flat fish”).  Mine’s dead simple and don’t look like wanton.

Grazie al mio sempre indaffaratissimo ragazzo (ora ho capito anche a fare cosa) potete gustarvi questo video.

Come sempre nessun ringraziamento. Solo contanti.

.

“The Wanton Song” is a song by English rock band Led Zeppelin from their 1975 album Physical Graffiti. The song came about as the result of a jam session at rehearsals and features a sharp, aggressive riff from guitarist Jimmy Page, which like “Immigrant Song” found Page switching back and forth between two notes one octive apart. Lyrically it is mainly about sex, specifically sex with a “wanton woman”.

.. wanton woman = A promiscuous woman or a prostitute..

.. si ui asa am mai aflat ceva despre trupa mea preferata, si piesa asemenea.. rock on.. later..

Led Zeppelin – Wanton Song

Silent woman in the night, you came, Took my seed from my shaking frame.
Same old fire, another flame, And the wheel rolls on.

Silent woman, my face is changed
Some know in ways to come.
Feel my fire needs a brand new flame
And the wheels rolls on…. rolls on.

My favourite kind of wanton that I cannot find anywhere in Singapore. Why? Because the meat in the wanton in Singapore cannot be seen. Haha… ok… I meant the meat they give outside is sooooo little. And worse of all, some are fatty meat. Hence, the wanton I eat outside is basically wanton skin.

So here I will tell you how I like my wanton to be like:

Ingredients:
1. Minced pork with prawns.
2. Wanton skin (get from wet market, not the NTUC one)
3. Ikan bilis
4. Kai lan
5. Water chestnut

Method for soup base:
1. Fry a piece of smashed garlic in the pot.
2. Add in washed and dried ikan bilis into the pot and fry till fragrant.
3. Add water (measure one soup bowl for one bowl, two for two and so on). Bring to boil.
4. Add seasonings (can be salt, chicken powder, mushroom powder, KNOR chicken broth, chicken stocks)
5. Cook vegetables and remove from soup after cooked.

Method for wanton:
1. Season (salt, pepper, soy sauce, mushroom powder) the minced pork with prawns. Add a little corn flour in for the meat to be “smoother” and glued to each other. Give a little mix in the bowl quickly and hard to give the meat a “springy” texture later. Leave it to marinate in the chiller.
2. Add water chestnut for the crunchy feel.
3. Wrap the wanton. Put some water at the sides to glue them up.
4. Cook wanton in soup. It will turn the soup a little yellow. If you do not want a yellow soup, cook in boiling water and then serve with soup.
5. Garnish and put pepper!

“Sufferers’ Land.”
The “Firelands.”

These evocative and descriptive phrases refer to a region in northern Ohio set aside by the state of Connecticut for “Sufferers” burned out of their homes by the British during the American Revolution. Part of the Western Reserve, it covers present-day Huron and Erie counties.

After the War of 1812, a flood of emigration erupted out of crowded New England, the result of a pent up desire for new land that had been held in check by the threat of Native Americans defending their homes and the spur of economic hardship engendered by the catastrophic “Year without Summer” of 1816. Most of these pioneers were bound for the Firelands.

Thus began one of the great migrations of American history; a flood of humanity that poured out of New England and settled lands stretching along the southern shores of the Great Lakes from upstate New York to Illinois and across the Mississippi River into Iowa.

These settlers greatly impacted the history of the United States. In the 1850’s, some of them entered Kansas and clashed with the leading edge of another great migration that had settled the South — a tragic foreshadowing of the Civil War. The grandchildren of the settlers of the Old Northwest formed the backbone of the Union Army of the West during that war and made possible the Republican majority that ruled the nation the remainder of the century.

This website presents histories of the Firelands and genealogies of families that settled there.

1. The Sufferers’ Land is a history of the settlement of the Firelands from the founding of the town of Norwalk in 1817 by Platt Benedict to the final Pioneers Reunion and founding of The Firelands Historical Society in 1857. This story may be read from the beginning starting at the Prologue, or by selecting any of the 53 episodes in the Index of Posts.
2. A genealogy of families who settled in the Firelands is also included on this website. These include the Benedict, Wickham, Preston, Taylor, Buckingham, Christian, DeForest, Deaver, Walker, Shaon, Smith, Bradford, Talcott, Farrar, French, Lovewell, Hassell, Converse, Blanchard, Wanton, Winthrop, Dudley, and Sutton families.
3. Little Doctor on the Black Horse is a memoir of Doctor David DeForest Benedict of Norwalk, Ohio, a Union Surgeon during the Civil War. It was written by his granddaughter Harriott Benedict Wickham, who included in the story excerpts of letters he wrote to his wife from the field and from Libby Prison, where he was a prisoner of war. An episode of the story is posted every Monday, with the most recent installment immediately below this post. See the Index of Posts to read the entire memoir.

I would appreciate comments about this website. Please click on the comments button below, or contact me by email at dawbarton@aol.com. Thank you.

© 2009 by David W. Barton. All rights reserved

Busy, busy week!!! Prep work for AFM is keeping me REALLY busy but I wanted to let you all know that I plan on blogging daily from AFM, so please check back regularly to see what’s going on in the independent film world! I’ll also keep you up to date on any exciting Narrow Road news.

I’ll leave you with some Narrow Road graphic novel concept art by the super-talented Jayaraj Paul! You rock, buddy!

-Erik

Els primers cops que vaig començar a menjar cuina xinesa autèntica amb la Dawn, sobretot a Hong Kong, em sobtava que em duia a diferents restaurants de diferents estils de menjar xinès: cantonès, xangaiès, etc, que per a ella eren claramet diferents però per a mi eren exactament el mateix. No hi veia la diferència.

Amb el temps sí que vas aprenent a diferenciar una miqueta. El menjar cantonès, que és el de la regió on hi ha Hong Kong, es basa molt en empanadilles o farcellets que fan bullits o fregits. En diuen wantons. Els encanta fer-los de gambes.

Ahir en vam fer a casa nosaltres:

Wantons de gall d’indi i gambes

Ingredients:

- 1 paquet de gambes pelades congelades del súper

- 1 paquet de bolets xinesos o dels bolets que preferiu. si feu servir bolets xinesos, els haureu d’haver hidratat prèviament amb aigua calenta o tèbia

- Carn picada de gall d’indi (l’autèntic és amb carn de porc)

- 1 paquet de massa per a wantons. És pasta fresca que venen conelada als súpers asiàtics. Semblen els canelons El Pavo.

- 1 clara d’ou

Barreges la carn picada, les gambes i els bolets, tot cru.

Agafes un requadre de pasta de wanton i al centre hi col.loques una cullerada de la massa que has fet, assegurant-te que hi hagi, al menys, una gamba.

Per tancar el wanton, amb una cullereta mulles les puntes amb la clara d’ou. Ajuntes les puntes en diagonal i seguidament, fent un cercle al voltant amb el dit índex i el dit gros, ho tanques.

Un cop ja tens tots els wantons fets, ho pots bullir en sopa i fregir.

Si optes per fregir-ho, només et caldrà una paella amb oli abundant

Si optes per bullir-ho, pots fer-ho amb aigua o amb caldo de peix o de pollastre i afegir-hi fideus xinesos. I recorda que en la cuina xinesa el caldo no se sol beure!

És molt divertit de fer, i ideal per fer amb canalla. I queda boníssim!!!

Looking out upon a curious wounded horizon,
apparently bombarded by noise,
a seeming buzz of pain,
and virtual apocalyptic fear surrounds my daily hazy slog–
out of mirage i wish a quiet spot to rest my heart.

This quiet spot i long for,
the rest i wish so deep,
that dreamy setting a tranquil dream,
and my aspirational wakeup craving answered daily,
love dripping down as ojas thick as honey,
crystallized seduction fill my circadian as she calls me to come to her.

Beloved continuously sends me earthquakes,
icons to shake me up,
for when my slumber gets too great her sparks ignite my longing,
an earthy reaching expressed all coarse–
a wanton lust toward ultimate attainment.

With my blogoversary only a week away, it is time to start considering my goals for my second year of blogging. So if you are a relatively consistent or veteran reader, please answer any/all of the following questions in the comment section:

• Which features do you find most useful on this blog?
• Which do you find most interesting?
• Which features do you find least useful/interesting?
• What topics would you like to see discussed in year two of Spectrum Siblings?
• What other changes would you like to see made to this blog?
• If you can recall, name (or describe) a few post which you found to be particularly interesting/well-written/insightful/useful.

Thank you for your assistance in making Spectrum Siblings the best blog it can be.

Despúes de un año viviendo en Italia en compañía de americanos, australianos, chinos, coreanos, taiwaneses, y mil nacionalidades más, mis horizontes gastronómicos se fueron abriendo y sin darme cuenta me vi inmersa en un mestizaje gastronómico de lo más peculiar.
Antes de cada viaje o salida cultural, cada uno de los 24 miembros de la clase preparaba una especialidad típica de su país. Como española intenté deleitarles con mis croquetas -de las que hablaremos en próximos posts- que a pesar de no ser como las de mi abuela, sus originales rellenos de setas, cebolla caramelizada y queso, espinacas o foie hacían las delicias de más de uno, en los interminables viajes de tren o autobus. Pero sin duda lo que más nos gustaban de esos viajes eran los deliciosos “dumplings” o “gyozas” que mi compañero taiwanés: Andy Chow preparaba con tanto cariño a las 5 de la mañana para que estuviesen recien hechas. Nunca antes había probado estas deliciosas empanadillas rellenas de carne y verduras tán típicas en los países asiáticos.
Una vez de regreso a España recorrí Madrid de arriba abajo hasta encontrar mi ansiado tesoro: un supermercado Oriental. Mis dos direcciones imprescindibles a la hora de preparar ya sea un arroz tres delicias o un curry Thai son:
C/ Mozart 5 (frente al C.C Príncipe Pío) o Iberochina C/General Margallo 23
Dos grandes establecimientos en los que encontrar prácticamente de todo: conservas, frescos, congelados.

Pues bien durante un viaje a Cadiz en el puente del Pilar, decidí agasajar a unos amigos con una variante de estas deliciosas empanadillas. ¿El problema? Buscar un supermercado Oriental. Despúes de recorrer Cádiz de arriba a bajo, con mi amigo y su madre y de oir siempre la misma respuesta “Kansas City, Sevilla, habel uno muy glande“, y yo venga a decir “Sí, si ya lo conozco pero ¿y en Cadiz?” Nada, no había manera. Mi amigo ya desesperado paró el coche para echar gasolina y en un acto de desesperación entré en el restaurante chino que había al lado. “Perdón”, “Pala lleval” “No, no. Yo quería comprar pasta Wanton polfavol, ¿sabe dónde podría comprarla?” “Kansas City” “Qué sí, que Kansas City, pero en ¡Cadiz!!!” “mmmm tu cuanto quelel” “1 paquete, sólo 1 paquete”. El chino desapareció en la cocina, reapareciendo 5 min. despúes con mi anhelada pasta. “tu il, tu il” y casi echandome del restaurante, volví al coche con mi paquete de pasta wanton ante la atónita mirada de mi amigo.

Para que entendaís porque merecía la pena el mover Roma con Santiago para conseguir la masa de las empanadillas aquí os dejo la receta.

“SAQUITOS” CHINOS DE VERDURAS

INGREDIENTES

1Kg. de carne picada (mitad cerdo/ mitad vacuno)
1/2 repollo pequeño
1 calabacín mediano
1 zanahoria
un poco de jengibre fresco
1 manoja de cilantro fresco
zumo de 1 lima
1 paquete de pasta wanton
salsa de soja
aceite de sésamoELABORACIÓN 

Con la ayuda de un rallador de queso, rallar la zanahoria, el calabacín. Picar en juliana muy fina el repollo. Calentar una sarten con un poco de aceite de girasol y una vez caliente pochar las verduras. Cuando esten empezando a ablandarse añadir 2 cucharadas soperas de salsa de soja, cocinar 2 o 3 minutos más e incorporar la carne. Rehogar sin dejar que la carne llegue a hacerse de todo. Disponer el contenido de la sartén en un bol, añadir el zumo de lima, el cilantro picado muy fino y el jegibre rallado. Aderezar con unas gotas de aceite de sésamo y remover bien.

Sobre una encimera, o mesa limpia distribuir las hojas de pasta wanton. Disponer una cucharada del relleno en cada porción de masa. Plegar el cuadrado uniendo las dos esquinas opuestas -obteniendo una forma triangular-. Plegar la masa sobrante de los extremos hacia el medio dando forma de “saquito” a la empanadilla. Enharinar una bandeja y colocar las empanadillas separadas para evitar que se peguen. Poner a calentar la freidora o una sartén con abundante aceite. Freir las empanadillas hasta que adquieran un color dorado. Escurrir sobre papel absorbente y servir acompañadas de salsa agridulce o salsa de soja.

Valor nutricional de las empanadillas (Por Bea Urrutia)

Una gran receta para quien le guste la comida china. Es un plato que compagina verdura y carne, dos alimentos fundamentales en nuestra dieta, ya que aportan proteínas necesarias para el desarrollo de los músculos y vitaminas y minerales, que tienen múltiples funciones en nuestro organismo.
Las verduras son en su mayor parte agua y vitaminas y minerales, por lo que son alimentos muy poco calóricos. El calabacín, el repollo y la zanahoria son fuente de β-caroteno, importante para la vista, vitaminas E, B3, folatos y niacina y de potasio. El repollo es también una fuente importante de fibra.
La carne es fuente de proteína animal. Un consejo: tanto para el vacuno como para el cerdo, pedir carne magra ya que tiene más cantidad de proteínas y menos cantidad de lípidos.
Los beneficios de la comida china significativos ya que por el método de cocinado que emplean, mantienen la riqueza nutritiva y reduce la cantidad de grasa.

Dumplings en mi cocina

Y YA SABEÍS SI TENEÍS ALGUNA CONSULTA NO DUDEÍS EN PREGUNTAR!

Nice.  For a word that has as it’s 5th definition “pleasing, agreeable, appropriate, fitting” (frankly I’m surprised that’s the 5th definition!  The first one is “wanton, dissolute” who knew?) it’s almost become a not so good thing to say about someone.  But I do believe that niceness wins out.  The other night I was running an errand when the news came on with a story about a very talented NFL player who was – surprise, surprise – unhappy where he was playing and was dropping hints he’d like to make a team switch.  This player is on his 4th team so far and he was looking to add a 5th if anyone would take a flyer on him.  The thing is, even though this player is immensely talented, the response from possible teams was underwhelming, at least in the press I was hearing.  The player has a reputation for being difficult, selfish and polarizing.  In short, not very nice.  His schtick is wearing thin.  He is now a veteran of over a dozen years, his age is starting to catch up with him and teams are no longer interested in paying his non-monetary price for skills that aren’t as sharp as they once were.  He isn’t nice to be around and they no longer need to tolerate him as new players had risen to the top.  Now I’m making some really huge assumptions here based on press reports and reported behavior.  I don’t know this person nor do I know anyone in the NFL.  Although I do have “aging veteran” John Carney’s college jersey from Notre Dame as I once had a crush on him.  It kills me when they call him that-I’m older than he is.

Anywho, back to the point at hand.  I don’t know if this player will end up at another team or make peace where he is.  But the facts of the story illustrate that people will tolerate genius without courtesy for only so long.  The almost-as-good person that is great to have in the locker room, part of the sales team or on a set will have a much longer and more lucrative career than flash in the pan man who’s only out for himself.  I try to keep that in mind whenever I go in for an audition or a meeting.  I may not be as skinny, talented or pretty as some of the other ladies, but I know I can be one of the nicest and most professional.  That way I can hopefully have a 22 + year career just like John.  Only I hope I keep all my hair.  Sorry John.

Rather than post the individual parts, I decided to post the rest of the story at once.  I get impatient sometimes too.  Anyway, get comfortable; you’re going to be here for a while.

Part One

*******************************************************************

My Fantasy Of You:  Poolside

2.

While you made more ice tea in the kitchen, I took a quick shower to wash off the pool chemicals before getting into the hot tub. On my way to the hot tub, now pleasantly warm and bubbling, I had a naughty idea; I loosened my swim trunks, hoping for the need to get out of them quickly, then eased into the hot water slowly, and took a moment to enjoy the bubble jets on my private places before sitting down, concealing the loose ties beneath a steady spray of bubbles, and waited for you to emerge from your shower.

I didn’t have to wait long; your beautiful form soon emerged from the bathroom, skin glistening wet from the shower, bikini shimmering, drops of water running down your long luxurious legs and between your bountiful breasts, hair slicked back and dark with water. . .it was a captivating sight, and I could not take my eyes off of you as you gingerly stepped into the hot tub and sat down next to me.

I could not resist leaning over to kiss your cheek, drawing a giggle from you, the kiss becoming more as you turned your head to kiss me on the lips, a sweet, sensual kiss that became more, became deeper, mouths open and tongues dancing before retreating, settle into a side hug as we talked and let the hot water and bubbles relax us.

We sat in the hot tub for some time, laughing and kissing, until you got thirsty and again reached for your iced tea. Your back turned, I stood behind you, quickly shimmied out of my already-loose swim trunks, and leaned in, planting soft kisses on your neck and ears, moving your wet hair aside for better access. When my efforts were met with “mmmmmmm” and a gentle purr, I went further, reaching around to cup your breasts in my hand, loving the feel of their firm weight and heft in my hands, the thin wet material of the bikini between us. . .and then I wanted more. I quickly moved a hand to your back and untied your bikini top, then slid my hands around and underneath it, holding the warm flesh of your breasts directly against my palms, my fingertips tracing circles around your rising nipples, drawing a deep sigh from you that I felt move through you, and turning me on even more.

I leaned in closer, kissing and nibbling more at your neck and ears as my fingers pulled and teased and pinched your nipples, reveling in their solidity and your pleased gasps as I played. So absorbed in the play was I that I leaned in very close, and only realized when I heard your sudden moan that my very erect cock had nestled against your bikini bottoms, snuggled into the cleft of your ass. I briefly considered moving, but the feel was so good, of the hot wet bikini on my bare skin, of your warm firm buttocks under that, holding me wrapped in, so close, so warm so wet, that I instead found myself moving my hips slowly, rubbing my erection against you, moaning softly into your ear and whispering how good it feels, how the tease is both sweet and ache-inducing, and your response that the running and playing and kissing had made you wet only served to turn me on more, make me harder and hungrier.

In hot whispers between kisses, I told you how hard I was, how badly I wanted you, and you reached back to feel for yourself with one hand. I sighed at the feel of your fingers encircling me, caressing my girth, stroking the length of me softly as I lower one hand to your waist and untie one side of your bikini, sliding my hand beneath it to glide across your wet blossom, fingers caressing its petals before moving to your pearl, pinching and caressing it to the sounds of your moans of pleasure, the other still at your bosom, iced tea forgotten in the heat of this moment. I gently sank two fingers into you, so wet was your blossom that they slid in easily, and kept my thumb against your pearl, rubbing it as I slide my fingers in and out, kissing you as you moaned and squirmed, fingers curled and stroking the most sensitive spot in you, and even then, lost as I was in the pleasure and heat of this, I was stricken by your beauty and fell in love all over again with you, with the sight and sounds and feels of you, so hot and wet, erotic and wanton, needing to be pleased as badly as I needed to please you, and so stricken and fallen I moved again, sliding my cock between your legs, taking my fingers out of you and pressing the heat of my cock against your blazing wetness, making both of us groan, so close to this pleasure, so close, so close. . .but another hunger speaks, to large to be ignored, and I kiss my way down your back, intent upon feeding it. . .

3.

Knowing my intent, you bent over further as I moved down, sliding your bikini bottoms out of my way as I went, and found myself again face-level with your most secret places. I breathed deeply, greedily drinking in the scent of your arousal, taking in the sight of your swollen pedals dripping with wetness that I could not resist, and plunged my tongue into you, lapping at your walls, pulling more of the moisture onto my lips, feeling the heat of you on my face as I moved to your clit and teased it with my lips, teeth, and tongue before moving back up, tracing circles on your soaked blossom before moving again, to kiss and lick and nibble your ass, wetting the opening with my tongue and your own wetness, and moved again, back to your sweet pussy, pressing my mouth against it, licking and sucking at your lower lips, drinking your ambrosia, so sweet and thick and hot on my palate, my finger sliding into your ass as I moved, caressing you inside as my mouth remained ravenously focused on your blossom and pearl. Your moans grew in intensity as I switched, moving my oral attentions to your ass, and my fingers slid inside your pussy again, moving in and out with a curling stroke, my thumb pressed against your clit as my hand moved back and forth, my tongue inside your ass, teasing and licking between kisses. Feeling you spasm inside, I knew you were close to orgasm, and I wanted it, wanted and needed it. . .

And sighing, gasping, groaning, you told me your desires, begged me to be inside of you, begged me to put my big, throbbing, hard cock inside of you. I was aching so much I could not resist; aching to be in you, to feel you, to bury my length in you and I stood, ceasing my oral attentions and pressing the head of my cock against your dripping wet-pussy lips, making you move backwards a little to ease me into you. I couldn’t help watching the beautiful petals part, watching the engorged, pulsing head of my cock squeeze between them, and ohhhhhhhhhh the pleasure. . .the warmth and wetness and scent of you surrounded me, sent my mind whirling as I watched my thick shaft sinking into you, both of us groaning and sighing as I penetrated you, you squeezing me as I entered inch by delicious inch, my cock throbbing against the pulsing grasp of your walls, and reluctantly pulled back to thrust in again, deeper, all the way in, my entire length sunk into you, our hips colliding, and I could feel you shaking, quivering with the approaching climax

It all felt so good that I could not prevent the low, growling groan that escaped my lips and reverberated in the air with your moans and sighs. As I groaned, I heard your breath hitch, felt you spasm inside, and knew you were cumming as I thrust harder, deeper, feeling your muscles pull me in and try to hold me tight within your slicks walls as your orgasm erupted, the beautiful sounds of you cumming filled the air, and I groaned with you, hands squeezing your ass, teeth gritted, wanting my own release yet holding it off, wanting to pleasure you more first. I watched the orgasm ripple through your body, from feet to thighs to hips to shoulders, making tickling splashes in the water as I kept thrusting forward, as you thrust your ass backwards, a second orgasm coming hot on the heels of the first, another ecstatic pulse cascading through you, and I barely managed to hold mine off as I watched and listened to you pleasure erupting, enjoying the sight and sounds of beauty beyond measure broken free.

As the second climax washed over you, left you gasping and shuddering in its wake, I knew I could not hold off much longer; instead, I reluctantly backed away from you, pulling myself out of you. Before you could complain, I went to my knees in the tub and began lapping at your soaked pussy, my tongue sliding up and down the petals quickly, hungrily, and dipping into you, seeking more moisture, as my left hand teased your pearl. I pulled my mouth away from your blossom just long enough to run two fingers of my free hand up and down the petals, gathering their dew, and returned my lips to their place as the fingers went to your ass, rubbing the wetness around your most private place before I slid in one finger. Feeling you pucker around my finger, I smiled at the tightness of you for even that single digit; underwater, my cock throbbed as I thought of the tightness it would encounter there.

I lapped hungrily and noisily at your pussy, catching every drop I could, even chasing some down your thigh before it could fall into the hot tub, and moved up to lick around your ass, wetting it further before I slipped in a second finger, stretching you open more, getting you ready for what I wanted, for finishing what I’d started outside, my fingers thrusting gently in and out of your ass while I kept licking and nibbling at your blossom and pearl, my cock ignored until its ache grew too great and I stood, leaning over you, the head of my cock right against your swollen, dripping pussy lips, getting it wet, then moved it up to your ass, teasing the opening with the head. I watched your hand reach back to your pearl, your fingers quickly getting slippery with your wetness as you teased your clit, your own fingers slipping in and out of you as I held my cock at your ass and teased you there.

Though your sighs and moans told me this was what you wanted, I could not resist leaning down to your ear, placing my lips against it, feeling your moans vibrate your skin, and whispered, asking you if you wanted me there, if you wanted me to fuck your beautiful ass, your sweet, tight, hot ass. . . You answered with a groaning “yes, please” and a shudder of pure excitement that made my cock jump.

I kissed your ear softly, whispering how tight your ass is and how much I love doing this, how wonderful and sweet and hard it makes me, and as I whispered I moved closer, the nudging head of my cock spreading the puckered little bud of your most intimate place open, moving slowly, pulling back to watch myself easing into you, slowly, so slowly, so intensely that I could feel my own pre-cum dribbling forth, mixing with the wetness already there.  I reached around to squeeze your breasts as the head sank in; I played with your nipples as every inch of the shaft went in slowly and gently, feeling you stretch to accommodate me, heard your hisses at the pleasure and the sweet pain of my thick, hard length in your ass, hisses that escalated into groans quickly and I felt you shudder again as, with my cock fully embedded in you, you came again, nearly screaming in ecstasy as I began thrusting, slowly, wanting to make this last and fighting off the growing pressure of my own orgasm, your trembling thighs making more splashes around us as we began moving together, words incoherent in groans and loud sighs of pleasure.

I felt you squeezing me tight, so tight, wrapping me in your heat, one of my hands squeezing your ass, the other at your breasts, your fingers playing with your pussy and occasionally reaching up to stroke me or caress my heavy balls as I moved in and out of your ass, the slow thrusting speeding up, our bodies making waves in the water and more bubbles than the tub itself was producing as I fucked your beautiful ass, my eyes drawn to the sight of my cock moving in and out of your most private, tightest place, my brain and body burning, legs trembling with the building pressure, my thrusts getting deeper and harder, our noises more primal, moans leading into groans, groans into hot heavy low screams, and as I felt you getting closer, I felt my cock swell and knew I could not hold back any longer.

I heard you asking, begging, pleading with me, wanting desperately for me to cum in your ass, fill you with me, and I could hold out no longer: we came together as I exploded in you, the tightness making each burst feel like a cascade of heat flowing from me to you. My hands gripped your hips tightly as I growled and groaned your name and came deep inside your ass, your own orgasm making you writhe and scream with pleasure as each hot stream broke forth from me, my head thrown back in pure scintillating, brilliant pleasure, burst after burst after burst, my body quaking with the force of it, your hips against me, muscles inside pulling me even deeper, draining me and I gave it all, all the liquid heat stoked by you, let it free and screamed and as it went, screamed with you in a release so strong it exhausted us both, an ecstatic wave that went on and on and crashed over us both again and again, each hot jet tearing out of me and flowing into you, again and again as we screamed and groaned until finally, finally, sweaty and hoarse, we collapsed into the bubbles, my body feeling empty as I slid from you, fell back against the far side of the tub, took you into my waiting arms, wrapped you within as we sat, panting, planting kisses on each other’s cheeks and lips, your back against my body, chest alluringly hitching with gasps as we sat, shuddering with aftershocks as our orgasms subsided, and we sat there, exhausted, and drained, wrapped in verbal declarations of the physical love we’d shared.

4.

“We’re gonna have to clean the hot tub out now, too,” I said, still gasping.

“Wasn’t it worth it, though?” you asked, a playful gleam in your eye as you kissed my cheek.

I kissed your cheek in return and looked at you: pale peach skin rosy with the flush of exertion, a look of satisfied pleasure on your face, a happy smile curving your sensual lips. I drank in the beauty of you, sweet wonderful, breathtaking you, something I could never get enough of, and grinned in return.

“Yes,” I replied, “yes, it most definitely was.”

October 7-11, 2009
©PCB 2009

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I must also give credit to Beauty herself, who came up with the fantasy. . .she is my muse and provides more inspiration – and fantasies – than I have time to write.  Maybe she should get co-author credit on this one. . .

VS – 10.11.09

Talk about tawdry! This is one of Hitt’s “amoral women” novels (like Burlesque Girl, Teaser, Carny Honey, Campus Tramp, Gang-up, Ex-Virgin), and the young lady, Joy, is one soul-less, greedy little tramp/bitch/slut…although, is it really her fault or her step (or adopted) father’s doing after raping her?

Joy Flame is from “bad blood” — her father Sam married her mother, but her mother was pregnant with another man’s child, and when Joy was two, she took off with yet another man who later murdered her.  Joy is left in the care of Sam Flame, her “father” but not biologically…

When she was 16, Sam tried to have sex with her but fights him off. He says he’ll never do it again although he lusts for her and tells other people he has had her, which is untrue…  

Joy is dating Bill, who works with Sam in construction in the small town Croton.  Bill has been giving her $10 a week to put in the bank, money for when they’ll get married.  She refuses to sleep with Bill until they are married.  She is 21 now.

One night, taking a long sensual bath, Joy steps out of the tub and Sam comes in, drunk, determined to have her.  They debate the issue for pages, which is a strange read, and then he takes her.  The first time is rape. A fire boils inside her, fire and desire, a need for more sex, and they fuck all night at her instigation.  Have they really committed incest when he’s not a blood relation?  But he did raise her alone…

Joy goes to see the doctor to find out if she’s pregnant.  The doctor tells her she has a physical issue and cannot have babies.

Then she finds out that the man she wanted to marry, Bill, has been seeing a teenager girl on the side and has knocked her up.  The girl wants Joy to take their savings — $250 — out and pay for an abortion.  She refuses. She tells Sam he will have to marry the girl. Bill claims it’s her fault for not giving him sex and that pisses her off.

Joy feels betrayed — betrayed by men for her father taking her virginity and Bill cheating on her, betrayed by God for being unable to get pregnant.  She figures if she never has to worry about getting in the family way, she will have as much sex as with as many men as she can, and she will make them pay for it all.  She desires to ruin and destroy all men for their lust over her body.  She also decides she has her mother’s bad woman blood in her and will be true to her genetics.

Sam gets in a car crash and is paralyzed, his legs useless.  She figures this is divine karma for what he did to her.  Not only did he rape her, he set her off on her desire for sex.  She becomes promiscuous — she seduces the man who owns the diner she works with, convincing him to give her $2,000 in the safe for a real estate scheme Bill has cooked up, although she intends to double-cross both men and take off with the money.  She robs a drunk trucker who picks her up for a ride, only to later make him her lover because he’s a “big stud” and can satisfy her sexual needs, unlike her boss or Bill or any other men she seduces.

She is on a rampage using and ruining men, feeling justified because their view of her as a sex object is, in her mind, vile, so she has simply turned the table.

She gets hers in the end, so this is a moral tale…it’s much more “sleaze” factor than other Hitt books.  We have so sympathy for  Joy — she’s a heartless strumpet who deserves bad things coming to her.

Saber Books tended to publish books with incest themes. I wonder if this one is a Beacon/Kozy reject, if even Chariot or Novel Books didn’t want to publish it, so Hitt turned to Saber… or if he knew Saber would let him push the envelope so he gave it a whirl. Hitt only did one book with Sanford Aday’s Saber.   From what I have read, Saber didn’t pay much to writers, and their product was cheap and shabby: tiny print, thin paper, weak spine. The tiny tiny print of this 145 page is annoying and hard to read — surely Saber could have spent some extra for bigger type and a 180 page book.

Also, I would like to think Hitt wrote this as dark comedy, as pastiche of the genre of the “bad wanton,”  because at times it’s a bit over-the-top and ridiculous. The characters are not as developed as in some Hitt books, but Hitt does let us listen to Joy’s inner monologues as she justifies her bad actions.

Interesting book, nonetheless.

This here is a hazy story.  With good reason I suppose, since it is a story of the first time I had taken a pill and smoked weed - except a couple of puffs at a party after high school had finished – as well as a story about another boy I have had sex with.  So I expect you will understand when I say many of the details are lost to me, such as where we met – a club, but which one? – and where we were – a one bedroom flat he shared with friends, but where was it?  I had just started to go out on my own after one of my only friends had stopped returning my calls – a fight on my birthday and growing jealousy over a developing friendship with a girl I had met through that friend, were the likely causes – because I refused to let a lack of friends stop me from going out and having some fun.

I remember we were sitting on an old, brown, cracked vinyl couch when he suggest we drop a pill.  By this point in my life, I had only occasionally encountered drugs: I had been offered a couple of tokes – only one of which I accepted, because I had a major crush on the boy who offered – of weed, a friend of the family had overdosed on heroin – it was the weekend after we had one of those ‘deep and meaningful’ conversations – and died, Muso had carried a dried marijuana leaf in his wallet during high school, and he was also the one who told me a classmate was attempting to grow poppies.  I remember no trepidation - though surely there was hesitation? – about taking such a thing, and with a stranger.  We fucked until we were raw on that couch and the livingroom floor.  At some point he put on a porn video he had found in the trash – along with theVCR – which I remember nothing of.  In fact, later I mistook a terrible B movie from the eighties on tv as the porn video and had been quite confused when nobody took their clothes off.

We were lucky that one of his mates called to let him know they were on their way back, since we were still naked, on the couch taking a breather from some frantic fucking.  I believe we may have fucked one more time, but I was dressed when the rest of the boys showed up.  They had brought weed and we hung out and smoked it all. 

At sunrise we decided to crash out.  One guy slept in the only bedroom while the rest of us were on the floor and the couch.  After the other boys had apparently fallen asleep the boy tried to convince me to have more sex with him.  He used touch to convince me, so of course I couldn’t say no – and I had already fooled around with two other boys with other people in the room/shearing shed, so I wasn’t entirely shocked by the idea – and so we had sex one more time.  I think we may have slept a bit before I left but I’m not sure, and I certainly don’t remember how I got home.

Now out from Borgo Press, an imprint at Wildside Press.

Order from Amazon, too.

WAYWARD WANTONS…

…fill the tales (and tails) of erotic noir done only the way Michael Hemmingson can: with panache, aplomb, and sleaze!  The title alone is worth the price of admission, wouldn’t you say?  In these ten lusty and shameful yarns, Hemmingson brings you inside worlds populated by twisted men and women tormented by their sinful lust and desire.

A woman will do anything to win at a Vegas table again in “Blackjack Wanton.”  Cheating husbands and wives seek redemption in “The Lust Seekers” and sexy lawyers take on violent cases in “The Sin Seekers.”  In “Swamp Harlot,” a beautiful woman doesn’t seem to be quite human, and in “Troublesome Trollop,” a murder mystery filled with secret sex acts among London’s thespians is solved, and another murder is avenged in “Sexy Strumpet.”  Things get academically hot in “Campus Sex Circle” and a man is debased in “Shame Goddess” for his…

….PASSION FOR SIN!

Love may be next in line behind the Seven Wonders of the World. Of all the successful stories on love, many people have returned to living a single life.  Marriage is frowned upon by some people because it has not guaranteed lasting love as proven by high divorce rates. Nevertheless, studies indicate single people live shorter lives. I believe any number of factors can be considered as it relates to longevity such as bad eating habits, sedentary lifestyles, and pessimistic outlooks; nevertheless, the discussion is up for debate whether or not single living is conducive bad health.

Couples experiencing 50 and 60 years of marriage have been sought out for advice on what to do to increase the chances of long-lasting love. What is the best scenario? Why do some people have open relationships? Why is common law marriage not an option? Talk shows are sure to get high ratings when it comes to relationships. Counseling is available for those who want to improve the quality of their relationships.

What do you consider a fault in your mate? How does the fault or mannerism affect your expression of love? Describe your earliest memory of examples of love, and tell how these examples influenced your thoughts and expressions of love.

__________________

Depaulo, Bella. Psychology Today. Living Single: The Truth About Singles in Our Society.

Elmore, Ronn (Psy.d) . Life Coaching and Relationship Coaching by Phone.

U.S. News & World Report. HealthDay: Living Alone Increases Odds of Developing Dementia. 02 JUL 2009.

We had lunch at the Iluma yesterday, Sunday, after church service. We had it @ The Asian Kitchen. As usual, our dear Ms DT must have here food with chili padi. She cannot do without her chili padi. So when she ordered her Wanton, she SPECIFICALLY told the waiter “do you have chili padi here? can you get me a big serving of it”. What?
As if the restaurant will give you a BIG serving of such side dishes? Come On.

DT'S wanton with her FIRST serving of chili padi

Her chili padi itself can burn through my mouth, but takes them like her mouth is covered with some sort of protection from such attacks

Our Roast chicken

Me and the wife ordered their roast chicken with rice. It was delicious, needless to say. The rice tasted very distinctly like those I used  to find at Swee Kee. I wonder…

In the evenings at the triplets’  house, we sometimes have three adults and three kids, and I find myself working with the NT brother, Aaron. While the other two have goals for the summer such as: Learn 15 new signs (Josh), or Learn greetings and farewells (Lawrence), Aaron’s main goal for the summer is to learn to be more polite. After all, he is six, and the world of the six-year old revolves around farts (“tooting”), silly faces, and a need to always have the ear of whichever adult is currently busy talking to someone else.

But sometimes this can be difficult to work on. A major difference between the triplets’ parents and I are our morals. I’m from the north-east, they’re from the mid-west. We might as well be from two different continents. I’d never seen a gun before coming to their house, and they have moose heads on the walls and take Aaron hunting every weekend. They are strict Catholics, while I was raised Protestant but am no longer a Christian. So I have to be careful about what I say, because much of what comes out of my mouth is influenced by my upbringing which is naturally very different from Aaron’s. I remind myself before I work with Aaron that the focus is “manners not morals”. We stay away from topics like gun control and hunting, and on topics like tooting and discussions of bowel movements.

But in some scenarios, I’m not sure whether or not I should make a comment about his behavior or speech. For example, last night Aaron and I were (with his mom’s permission), playing the Sims. It came time for Aaron’s character to choose a wife, and I asked what he wanted his girlfriend to look like. He replied, “I don’t really care as long as she isn’t black.”

I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t decide whether or not the statement was rude, or whether it needed reprimanding. He wasn’t being racist; he was simply stating a preference. If he had said “all black people are dumb”, I would have told him off in an instant. But all he really said was that he found white women more aesthetically pleasing than black women.

I opted for a middle ground, saying, ‘Dude, that remark surprised me,” and then informing his mother of it when he was out of the room. If she decides to say something to him about it, I fully support that, and if she doesn’t, I have to respect that as her parenting decision.

After all, my job there is to teach manners, not morals.

But something about it just feels wrong…

While staying with her husband’s parents at their home in Sodus Point, New York, Lucy heard many stories about the Wickham family.

The first of Frederick’s family to come to America was Thomas Wickham, who arrived in Wethersfield, Connecticut around 1648. His son Samuel was a prominent citizen of Warwick, Rhode Island. Samuel was a military leader and a representative to the General Assembly for many years, serving as clerk of that body for three years. He was a relatively wealthy man, and a slave owner. An inventory of his goods taken about 1712 included a Negro woman as his property.

Samuel’s son Thomas followed his father’s example as a soldier, prominent member of the community and a slave owner. In his will, he left to his wife Hannah a Negro woman named Bess.

Samuel’s grandson was born in 1736 and named Thomas, like his father. In 1762, he married Elizabeth Wanton, whose father was the Royal Governor of Rhode Island.

Like his father-in-law, Thomas Wickham was a loyalist during the Revolution and in 1781 went to prison because of his sympathies for England. He gained his release from prison by paying 5,000 silver dollars. He didn’t leave America as many Loyalists did, but spent the remainder of his life petitioning for the return of his and his wife’s lands and fortunes. [1]

Thomas and Elizabeth named their sixth child William. He was born on July 7, 1778 in Newport, Rhode Island. In his youth, William lived with the stigma of being a member of a loyalist family.

When he was a small boy, William was playing one day with a friend on the edge of an enclosed field. Two men were talking on the other side of the fence. One of them pointed to William and said to his companion, “That little boy is the son of a notorious Tory!” The other man laughed, patted William’s head and said, “Poor little Tory. We’ll have to teach him better.” Then he shook William’s hand and departed. William later learned that that man was George Washington. [2]

William left home early, going to sea at the age thirteen. In 1798, he was in the U.S. Navy during the War with the French. He also served with Decatur on the Tripoli expedition. He sailed all over the world, rising quickly in rank and becoming Captain of a ship at the age of twenty-one.

Shortly after he became Captain, William sailed to Philadelphia with a cargo. While there, he visited the home of Frederick and Elizabeth Christian, a prominent family in the city, in company with Frederick and Elizabeth’s son. As the two men entered the house, they encountered the Christian’s daughter, Catherine. Catherine later remembered the scene to her granddaughter.

There was a young man in Philadelphia who was attentive to me, and while I could not say I loved him, I thought more of him than of any other young man I knew. One day he invited me to go horseback riding and I felt that day he was going to ask me to marry him, and I had made up my mind to accept him. Just as I was coming downstairs in my riding habit, my brother came in the house with a young man whom he introduced to me as Captain Wickham. I knew right then I was going to refuse the other young man that afternoon, and I did. Later your grandfather asked me and we have been lovers ever since.

When she heard this story, Lucy must have remembered first meeting Frederick in her garden in Norwalk.

William and Catherine were married on Thursday, March 24, 1803 in Christ Church in Philadelphia. William wanted to go back to sea, which was the only life he knew, but Catherine adamantly disagreed. He had an opportunity to go on an expedition to the Pacific Northwest on the Astor, but Catherine was so much against it that he turned down the offer. The ship sailed without him and never returned. It reached Oregon, but Native Americans killed the entire crew.

After this, William abandoned the sea and moved to New York City, where he went into the shipping business in partnership with his brother Thomas. However, this was not a good time for the shipping industry. The brothers had a string of bad luck that ended in financial disaster.

Their ships often sailed to the West Indies, and one was lost on a return voyage, weakening the business. In 1807, President Jefferson placed an embargo on American shipping out of U.S. ports. The Wickham brothers had a ship loaded and ready to sail. Because of their earlier loss, they were in a bad financial situation. Taking a chance, they decided to send the ship out anyway. Authorities caught the ship and confiscated it and its cargo, which ruined the brothers’ business.

William and Catherine moved to Sodus Point in upstate New York, then at the edge of the frontier. They built a cabin and went into the fishing business on Lake Ontario. The future looked promising, but unfortunately, William and Catherine had gone from the frying pan into the fire. The War of 1812 had just begun, and in 1813, a party of British soldiers raided Sodus Point and burned the town, leaving only one house standing. Ironically, William, whose father went to prison as a British loyalist, had his house, boats and nets burned by the British Army.

Before the British arrived, William and Catherine buried their silver in the woods. This included a tea set given to William’s ancestors John and William Wanton by Queen Anne for service to the crown during Queen Anne’s War – another irony. [3]

Lucy spent several months with her in-laws, and learned much about her husband’s family. Finally, with summer ending, she bid them farewell, and departed for home.

I would appreciate any comment you may have about this post. Please click on the comments button below or email me at dawbarton@aol.com. Thank you.

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Footnotes:

[1] The history of the Wickham family in America is from the Family History: Wickham, Benedict, Preston & Deaver, by Agnes and Harriott Wickham, edited by Dave Barton, pp. 28-32 and a letter dated July 18, 1943 from Mr. Brunell E. Stanfin to Miss Elanor Wickahm.

[2] This story is from undated notes about the Wickham family written by Harriott Wickham Barton

[3] The history of the Wickham family in America is from the Family History: Wickham, Benedict, Preston & Deaver, by Agnes and Harriott Wickham, edited by Dave Barton, pp. 28-32

NOTE: For genealogies of Frederick Wickham’s family see the following pages on this site: Genealogy Wickham; Genealogy Wanton; Genealogy Winthrop; Genealogy Sutton, Dudley and Winthrop.

© 2009 by David W. Barton. All rights reserved