thewhystolife

[thewhystolife]

who are we?

I always wonder what the voice inside our head really is. How we can communicate with ourselves, and in what we presume as an audible manner, yet no sound is being taken in, it's all a figment of our imagination, if you will. How we can convey whole conversations, multiple languages, accents, tone, levels, and yet unless we speak, it stays inside, damned to ever be heard.

How crazy is it that we're creating, and interpreting things in our mind, and it's the quality of our other abilities, be it speech, or fine motor skills that translates it into something easily understood?

It's little things, the fact the voice always has the same level, the fact that if your voice is a whisper, it'll never be more. Scream in your head, and it'll come out soft as silk.

It really makes you wondering. Makes you think.

Are we truly one? Or is the physical form really just a vessel, something to contain our true self, our soul?

[thewhystolife]

It's odd how it seems like in a relationship conversations that shouldn't happen, interest and messages responded to instead of left on read are frequent and then the second you get somewhat out, or, free in a sexual sense, things go drier than the Sahara..

Maybe I'm just bad at small talk, or getting right to the point, or I've ruined my chances, but it just seems so strange.

Cruel twist of fate? Or karma coming back to get me?

[thewhystolife]

transit. [nsfw]

He always found the back of the bus more comfortable than the front, quieter, more isolated.

Perfect for when you need that time alone.

She got on the bus at the next stop, wandering down the aisle, looking for an empty seat. Not easy at 6pm on a Friday, everyone just dying to get home. The heat didn't help either. 100 degrees and climbing.

Humid.

In a bus like this, inpatient, disgruntled people everywhere?

Hell.

Continuing past the middle aged office workers, the students heading back from uni, and the moms fighting losing battles with their kids, she headed towards the sanctity of the back.

He looked up as she passed, a pale, blonde haired girl, her pierced lip and choker catching his eye. His mind had been wandering all day, and it now found itself dancing around her presence. Averted his gaze as she looked around for a seat, although their eyes met when she scanned in his direction.

'Back of the bus again, eh?, she remarked, smirking, as she settled in, choosing the seat in the corner.

Her warmth drew him in, out of his seat and over to her, stumbling as the bus pulled away from the stop. He almost fell over her as it lurched away, only managing to keep up with a hand on her chest and one on the handle of the seat, much to her amusement.

'Sorry' was instant, but as he noticed her reaction, his embarrassment turned to a relieving smile as he let himself fall over her into the corner window seat, settling in beside her.

She shifted closer, her white sun dress riding higher as it caught in the seat; her lace panties becoming visible, albeit very briefly.

That widened his eyes, although he tried to remain casual, looking ahead as if to hide the fact he saw. Hands kept in his lap, his gaze then shifted, mindlessly, out the window

'Been a while, hasn't it?', she asked, as she slid her hand across his leg

His mind began to process, quicker now as he was almost at a loss;

'Yeah, it's been a bit

She continued moving her hand across, looking over as their eyes met

'How have things been with you?', he inquired, trying to maintain composure

'Good, good,', but her mind had been tuned to a different frequency ever since his hand cupped her tit...

Sliding it down the inside of his thigh now, she smirked, gaze still fixed on him as she tried to coax out another side of him. She could already feel him under her touch...

He glanced down, then back to her,

'Here? We're-'

'In the back of the bus, nobodies here. You've talked about this for a while...'

She was right, they'd spilled countless secrets over Snapchat, fantasies and kinks revealed, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't into the moment...

Her hands teased over his leg, his cock hardening as they brushed over it. His mind was racing now as she caressed, from gentle brushing to full on stroking, her hand grasping him through his denim shorts. He looked around, expecting a disapproving glance or two, but all he saw were backs of heads, everyone looking ahead, just wanting to get home.

Each stop was an exercise in risk assessment, as with every new passenger came the chance someone would spot their naughty escapade. So far so good though, as they'd managed 3 stops without so much as a glance back at them.

Caught up in the moment, he looked back down to her, a quick hand having unbuttoned his shorts and was now sliding inside.

'Guess we're almost at our stop..', she mentioned, now grabbing his cock firmly, jerking up and down.

She continued this for a few minutes, working him well, varying her stroke as his breathing deepened. He was visibly affected now, leaning back in his seat, trying to stay as calm as possible. He knew any second he could cum.

She teased her hand along his boxers waistband, then slid inside, her touch finally finding skin...

just as the bus pulled into the terminal.

[thewhystolife]

game over. [nsfw]

It was plain to see what she was doing to him. His jeans were taught, stretched tightly across his very sizable member, twitching in agony as she sat beside him. Her hand teased across his lap as she glanced up at him, his gaze fixated on the TV, his attention fully stolen by another round of Overwatch.

Seemingly endless, she had to do something. And subtly, she did.

Reaching across, she tapped her fingers on him, crawling up the outline as he paid no notice. She began to slide up, down, up to the waistband of his shorts, and then back again, her intent clear.

He was clearly hard. But if he wasn't going to pay attention to her, she was going to make his life hell.

She began to stroke, the girth filling her fingers as she gently caressed his pulsing cock. She toyed, teased and tickled her fingers over him as she eagerly looked up for a response.

Nothing. Eyes fixed on the screen.

Back to his waist she went, only the elastic of his shorts keeping him contained. Easy enough...

She had to though, she wanted it.

She needed it.

Slowly, she worked the zipper down, the cloth of his boxers in revealed.

Bananas. How fitting.

She was teasing herself just as much as him now, the paper thin fabric all that stood between her and her prize.

Slowly she pulled it down, his cock slowly coming into view. Inch by inch, she truly forgot how big it really was. The tension was clear now, cocked and loaded, if you will, as she finally freed him, his cock springing up forcefully.

'Fuck...', she sighed, smirking. It felt like she had been punched in the jaw, 9 inches right to the chin.

She recoiled, leaning back, looking up to see if he had seen what had just unfolded.

Nothing.

Oh well, she thought, as she took his cock in her hand and slid her lips over the tip, gently stroking him. She continued this for a few minutes, sensually teasing the head and twirling her tongue as he remained engrossed in his game.

His breathing deepened, legs spread further as he adjusted himself, giving her the best angle to really work him. She rolled her eyes and began to massage his balls with her other hand, slowly sliding his cock deeper, then all at once, right down her throat. Gagging as he filled her mouth, she was determined to take it all. She wanted it after all, and she wasn't about to come up short. She gurgled and gagged on him, covering his cock in her spit, lubing it up in hopes she'd be able to make it disappear.

Inch by inch, gag after gag, close call after close call she finally did it. Her tongue met his balls, and with that it was confirmed. With her head bobbing up and down, she confirmed her skill, cock thrusting deeply down her throat, tears of struggle and joy beginning to drip down her throat. She felt him twitch, his cock convulse as she knew what was next.

What was cumming.

A spurt of cum, then another, a huge load, shooting off the roof of her mouth, spilling out onto him like a bubbling volcano.

God damn.

He had to have loved that. How long had be been waiting to be treated that way?

She glanced back up at him, mouthful of cum, eyes gleaming, looking for a reaction...

'Fuck...' he exclaimed,

as his characters health reached zero.

[thewhystolife]

left on read [nsfw]

She knew from the moment she replied to the snap she was in for a night; her chat history spoke to what she was. Who she was.

The girl with the lethal smile, the girl the guys loved and the girls wished they were.

Petite, charming, witty.

Dangerous.

Hardly a minute went by after she'd put her phone down, and there was a buzz from her door. The surprise had her almost dropping her vape she unwrapped her nearly nude body from the clutches of the sheets, excitedly jumping up from her bed. The buzz was abruptly followed by some knocks, and then her name, echoing as she bounded down the hall.

He was a unassuming guy, average height, weight, but upon opening the door she found herself consumed by his presence. arms wrapped tightly around her in an embrace as she melted into him.

'Are you ever fully dressed?' he asked, pleasantly surprised;

'Wheres the fun in that?' she replied, sliding from his grasp, motioning for him to follow as she walked back inside, the tone in her voice setting a playful mood.

He followed her lead, the pair going back deeper into the house, a modest bungalow, air thick with vapor and smelling quite strongly of weed.

The setting sun played wonderfully with the conditions, rays of orange and pink danced through the haze, highlighting her silhouette as she laid back, then sat on the bed, an angel just so eager to sin. She glanced back at him with a smirk, raising the sleek vape to her mouth as he settled down beside her on the bed, his hands already seemingly with a mind of their own as they found the sheets, then her hip, as he pulled himself closer.

'Been a while, hasn't it?', she muttered softly, covering his face with smoke as she exhaled, an action that pushed him over the edge.

His hands slid up her petite torso as he then swiftly and forcefully tossed her down into the bed, her body going limp as she hit the sheets. Her eyes rolled back with the force as a million fantasies played out in her mind.

He was in control, and she knew it.

She teased for it.

She wanted it.

Rough hands mapped over her as he kept her pinned with a stare, and a smirk as if to say 'You're mine now.'

Lines drawn from hips, to tiny tits, to that angel face signaled his intentions, illiciting soft gasps as he progressed. Gasps that only made him want more, to take more, his pants visibly straining under the tension of the moment. She smiled, her work obvious as eyes darted from his, down, and back up to meet that devilish grin.

Actions spoke louder than words as she took back what little control she had and ran a slender hand up his thigh, along the prevalent outline; one that had her pulsing with excitement, heartbeats in time as he throbbed under the denim.

'You want something, don't you darling...?

He took her back with his eyes, the connection speaking far more than words ever could, implications all but confirmed as she teased the button of his jeans. Her eyes never left his as she popped it out, then began to release the tension, slowly, control back in her hands as she worked the zipper down. Eyes darted back and forth as she excitedly awaited the moment, the freedom, the prize she had been craving ever since she last hit send.

Seconds seemed like hours as leaning in she worked his pants down, the size of him now explicitly clear as she let out an audible gasps.

'Oh. My. God.'

She was a tiny girl, but even her arm paled in comparison. from wrist to elbow, his cock lay. Hard pressed against the fabric, throbbing. She'd fooled around with toys, lipstick containers and small aerosol cans, but this was nothing like she'd ever seen.

Easily 3 inches wide, probably 12 long, the only comparison would be to a couple beer cans stacked.

Shit.

All she could do was stare, her expression widening as she had to take it out.

His waistband strained as she pulled it up and over, the tension released as she eclipsed his girth, cock springing up, whipping back under the strain. He wasn't a tall guy, 5'9 at most, and this was easily the last thing she'd expected.

From base to tip it stood at attention, laying up against his chest. She was sitting up now, attention fully on the monster she had just released.

'Fuckk...' as she began to curl her hand around it, realizing quickly that she was going to need both hands to even begin to handle this. Glancing back up at him, she began to stroke, both hands wrapped as his breath deepened.

He reached out and slid one hand under her light bralette, stretching his hand between her breasts, teasing both nipples as he laid her back down. Straddling her, he sat on her hips, his cock easily past her chest. One hand brought moans as the other slipped into her lace panties, fingers sliding between the lips of her pussy, already soaking wet. Her eyes rolled back with his touch, hips subconsciously grinding into his hand;

'Mmmmmf, yesss....'

He continued teasing her as she lay, one finger, then two, deep inside her, leaning down to complement the play with his tongue on her chest, twirling around her small nipples. thrusting as he toyed, she wasn't the only one teased by his play.

Mentally he was gone, set on her body, focused. Foreplay only played with his mind more as her shrieks, her moans, the feeling of his cock, deep inside her echoed in his sexually strained thoughts.

He just couldn't take it.

She was his; those lace panties?

Gone.

Ripped off.

In an instant he threw her legs over her head, laid himself down between her legs and began to push inside. Her legs were forced apart as he struggled to get even his head inside.

'Mmm, ahhhh, fuckkk...' she moaned, an ambience interspersed with shrieks of pain as she took each inch.

He had her pinned back, one hand now up tightly around her throat, what little control she had now completely gone. She was wet, soaked, hornier than she ever had been, and now she was being torn apart. Thrusts began to quicken, her vagina stretching to accommodate him as he finally got deeper, finally sunk the full girth of his shaft inside her.

'Ahhh, my gooddddd...!" she winced as he filled her up, the pain nearly bringing her to tears. In and out, she was but his toy.

He found his rhythm, she lost her voice as seconds became minutes, became hours.

'Having fun you little slut?' he asked, almost rhetorically, as she was losing energy by the minute,

'Yess... daddy... unf... just fuck me...'

Slap.

She shrieked;

Slap.

'Don't tell me what to do. You're mine.'

He hammered his point, and cock, home with quick, deep thrusts, hand tightening on her throat, eyes now locked on hers, a glare keeping her at bay. He could see the fear in her eyes, but she knew she wanted it. Through tears, shock and pain, she was his.

And he was just getting started.

This was just the beginning.

She had no idea what she was in for.

[thewhystolife]

better to shoot before you aim?

There's something puzzling about the nature of relationships. Of intimacy and consent. Of what is expected and how communication although key, isn't always required or even wanted.

Some will say they like that aggressive, controlling, confident personality. One that will take what they want, fulfill their desires and in that dominate their partner. Is it healthy to push on and have that confidence, testing the waters until they object, or is it better to communicate kinks and preferences, planning out and almost ruining the spontaneity of the moment?

Cocky guys will catch the eye, but if they leave you broken, what do you get out of it?

Shy guys require that attention, will be safe, but is that lack of risk a turn off?

At the end of the day we're not mind readers, and despite craving that confident, controlling guy; what is it worth when you can't quantify trust and are more or less gambling?

How do we satisfy desires when we never know what they are? Is mind reading now a prerequisite to get in a girls pants?

[thewhystolife]

desire drugs.

It’s so easy to succumb to desire, so hard to avoid. Chasing that dopamine rush, taking in that instant happiness. It’s addiction, it’s a drug.

It ruins your life.

[thewhystolife]

split personalities.

There’s something fascinating and maybe a bit worrying about the trope of that average Joe by day, killer by night, about that specific side of human psychology.  The fact that someone can compartmentalize things so well that brutally taking the life of someone can be pushed aside as easily as forgetting someone’s birthday. Worrying even more so, because that same concept can translate through to any number of dichotomies, be it of a serial killer, an unfaithful partner, a pathological liar. 

Being able to so clearly split lives is such a worrying, yet intriguing concept. I’m willing to bet the majority do it, have those guilty pleasures, those dirty little secrets. But from the outside, it’s one in the same. Nobody knows, secrets are secrets until revealed, and it’s in that that you can start to worry. Someone could have any one of these guilty pleasures, live with those alter egos, these secrets but as it is, that’s inherently the biggest problem with it all.  It’s also in that that you extend the thought to trust, the idea of it, and really how when it comes down to it, there is no way to quantify levels of trust, and beyond that, as long as someone knows what to say, it’s nearly impossible. It’s so dangerous, this idea, and yet, it’s the basis of so many things in our lives. So many happy marriages could be facades for a terrible killer, the coworker that seems so perfect, punctual and persistent that who has been at the heart of an office rape scandal, yet is nothing but a myth, and even that gym addicted bro, hard as nails but confines in Ariana Grande, you can’t tell the difference.  Hide it well enough, articulate these two lives perfectly, and it’s as if one life truly is two.  I’m not saying there are serial killers in all of us, just that if there were, we’d have no sweet clue.

[thewhystolife]

tranzit.

There's something comfortable about public transit

How it whisks you around from place to place with ease, all strain taken away as you can relax, unwind and enjoy the intimacy of the system. Taking in the everyday lives of those around you and putting stories to faces as people watching is taken to the next level

Conversations casual become taboo, unwritten rules bare their heads and unusual is the status quo.

From the morning commute, to the nights interspersed with drunks, the club goers, the hopeful homeless all trying to find their way.

My fascination with transit, is a fascination with life.

[thewhystolife]

07.05.19 || my third wish has always been three more; . . . #mobo #summer? #stripes https://www.instagram.com/p/BxKinzCnlgV/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1bb9xxn171g8f

[thewhystolife]

Drones Got You Covered

It's so disheartening to think that the ignorance of childhood is also what perpetuates most conspiracy theories... and yet that there are those who still believe some wild things

I love conspiracy theories as much as the next one, but watching simple science debunk so many makes me wish that I could be that silly, uninformed kid again

There are still theories I believe in, but even the knowledge that most theories are either pure fallacy or by definition, just that, saddens me.

Take aliens for example. Or the supernatural. We have no way to currently completely disprove the existence of either. But in that, there is a comfort that we can live either blissfully ignorant or somewhat hopeful.

And I think its that grey area that keeps our imagination rich. Fuels our passion to ironically, discover and learn more.

And it's the desire to discover that keeps us alive.

[thewhystolife]

Today - March 09, 2019 - would have been the 50th birthday of Adam Adamowicz.

Some of you might not recognize the name - he was a concept artist at Bethesda. Not just any concept artist, but the driving force behind the visual style of Fallout 3. 

[The Life and Creativity of A Great Bethesda Artist] was written back in 2015, shortly before the release of Fallout 4, and, as a creative person, it’s still an important read, I think. Though I certainly never met the man, his work, and the games that built upon it, have had a huge influence in my life, and I’ve drawn so much inspiration from them. 

““Have no fear of perfection,” said Dali, “You’ll never reach it.” Adam took that lesson to heart. He had no fear of the blank page; he did not fear failure. He wanted to learn. He wanted to grow.”

I think a lot about what I’ve learned from this article, from everything I’ve heard about Adam, and I know that even from so far away, even after he’s been gone for years, he’s had one hell of an impact on my life - and the lives of countless others. 

Bethesda has shared hundreds of pieces of his concept art from Fallout 3 over on Flickr (the source of all the images in this post, though they’re much lower resolution here) and I encourage everyone to browse through them. [Fallout 3 Concept Art from Adam Adamowicz]

[thewhystolife]

Live for the nights you wish you were forever, for the nights you wish will keep you alive.

[thewhystolife]

It's funny, writing isn't hard. It's thinking vividly through prose. Letting your senses free on the page. Restricting regrets, repressing your less... confident side. The you tries to hide, behind colorful language, between lines quick and clean.

Writing is spilling your soul on a page.

Somehow making sense of the mess you just made.

[thewhystolife]

I wish I knew how to write. Form proper sentences. Pull together plot lines and create that immersion.

It's hit or miss. And until then, I'll ramble on.

Practice makes perfect. I'll only improve if I do.

[thewhystolife]

I haven't rambled in a while. They say it's always darkest just before the dawn. And this dawn is fast approaching.

Habits take over your life. Create who you are. Form your days. Become the addictions that crush your soul.

I wish it was as easy as typing this out. And maybe it is. But willpower is a funny thing. A cruel mental joke.

How productive we can be, and yet, how lazy we are. All looking for that fix. That dopamine rush sure to send our minds to euphoria. An easy answer for lifes struggles, an out when the climb is just too steep...

It's funny how quickly it can take you.

Steal you away.

Captive to your own mind.

Thoughts derailed and motivations gone..

Habits are sugar coated.

Addiction is dangerous.

[thewhystolife]

Skinny people are told to “just eat a cheeseburger” to gain weight by the same people who claim their diet has nothing to do with their inability to lose weight.