Fick My Wife

Fick My Wife

View all All Photos Tagged wife fucking

SmugMug + Flickr .

Connecting people through photography.

About
Jobs
Blog
Developers
Guidelines
Report abuse
Privacy
Terms
Help forum

English

SmugMug + Flickr .

Connecting people through photography.

Happy Anniversary to my lovely wife....
Everyday a gift... I call you mine....
please see untouched skin image in blog (no freckles, lipstick, glasses) body skin comes complete with face (no need to buy body skin separate)
freckles ⸸ freckles in a glam affair skin (just used random freckles and 50%) @ glam affair
septum ⸸ horseshoe spiked septum @ dazed
thank you to my sponsors || please check out more of their stuff below!
If you want to know that everything that glitters is not gold, keep reading and you will understand ...
The day I went to this area of trees, to take photos, it was apparently a normal and calm day. When I got up, I looked out the window and saw that it was one of those foggy days, although it was not a very dense fog, it was enough to enjoy my passion ... to get to this place, I have to travel by car, if I don't, I can freeze to death on the way ... here when it's foggy and it's very early, you know, the wind chill can be very harsh. Once I got to the place I wanted ... you can imagine, this is quite a large area and it is full of trees, so for someone like me who loves this, here he goes crazy and starts shooting like there is no tomorrow ... I spent a lot of time here, walking and photographing among this beauty. My surprise came when I was already half freezing to death, I decided to keep my camera and go home, to take a good shower of hot water and a delicious coffee ... I reached into my jacket pocket, to get the keys from my car ... boom! Surprise! There is no key! What? What the heck is going on here and what a fucking joke is this? (Sorry, but that's how I felt) I started to get quite nervous about this, I think I had never lost my car key ... and less in a place like that, where I had gone more laps than a Ferris wheel ... shit! What do I do ... finding the key here is crazy! God, please take me with you! Well, after searching and searching, going up and down for a long time ... I called my wife ... look, this has happened to me ... Can you come get me please? You know that I love you very much, right? Can you bring me the second car key, please? My wife to the rescue ... she came and we looked for the key together, but no luck! We left because it was Sunday and we had things to do too ... my head wouldn't stop spinning because of what happened ... how was it possible? After a few hours, it was noon, I decided to go back to the crime scene, I had to find it ... the fog had disappeared and the sun was shining, perhaps now it would be possible ... I spent a long time again looking for the key and trying to follow the steps that I had traveled before ... when I had already decided to go home due to the lack of strength to continue there and because of the physical and mental exhaustion that I had ... for some incomprehensible reason, perhaps out of mercy or perhaps compassion, God left a key there, on the ground, in the grass ... my eyes and my pride couldn't believe it ... I didn't have enough teeth for my smile !!! I couldn't believe finding that when I was completely giving up! Luckily it was not the typical key that we all know, it was a card type key (like a credit card) and maybe that's why you could see it! I think that if it had been the classic key, I would not have found it in my life! Several days after this, right now, when I am writing these lines I keep thinking about how lucky I was to find her ... I promise you that right now I can see the fog from my window, it is 10:17 am on the morning of the first day of the year ... but this time I'm not going to leave my house ... I'm just going to get up from my chair to go find a good coffee!
Please, when you go to take photos, close the pocket tightly where you leave the car key or the house key ... I do not recommend losing that in the forest to anyone, I really had a bad and stressful morning!
Processed by: mavenimagery Labs, Universal Studios, Californa.
HDR PROCESSED with IRET (Iris Range Enhancement Technology)
IRET (Iris Range Enhancement Technology and MavenFilters are products of mavenimagery Labs Innovation)
Please read the hilarious true story. Names and some details have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals. This is not the actual building narrated in the story.
The sound of a four-wheeler engine could be heard faintly from a little distance away.
Now, the sound of the engine was within a disturbing distance.
Less than in seconds, the sound was pummeling my eardrums.
Can I help you? Asked the man on the four-wheeler.
Having had heard this question only God knows how many times in my life I knew what it meant: what are you doing in my property? Why are you taking picture of my house, boat, condo, barn, wife, horse, satellite dish, truck, junk, pet, lot, fence, door…and any million of things that exist under the sun whether they belonged to someone private, company, government, nature or God. In this case it was a million dollar castle-like house. My answer, though rarely varies, is always the same, after a long pause and, “not that damn question again! Can’t you people get a bit more creative, that is.
Not unless you know how to take pictures, I said casually.
Are you taking picture of my house?
Still adjusting the settings, looking for a different angle, I said, I take pictures of beautiful things. And…I pause, wearing a fake curious expression. “Are you the care-taker? The butler? The reason I’m asking cause even the caretaker or the maid use the expression ‘my house’, like they own the thing…this castle, or whatever.
I’m the owner and you’re trespassing.
That goddamn word hits me right between my eyes every time. That word, after 9/11, that replaced 'Amen' in a pious mind; replaced doubt to trust, love to hate, evil to good, friends to enemies, colors to faces and places...
And can you, please, turn that thing off? I’m not really enjoying this engine noise
Good. Uncle Sam must be proud of you.
Do you always go into people’s property and take pictures without asking permission?
Sharks begin swimming in my head. Yes, I said. But we don’t go knocking on people’s door, disrupting their privacy asking for permission.
Professionals! Law-abiding citizens who bear A-Wear-Ness of the law and the privacy of others . Where other’s privacy starts yours ends. The latter is my motto, not in the book.
The sharks transform into little harmless fish.
I’m not trespassing. See, I point at the white painted wooden fence. You’re on the other side of the fence and I’m on this side. If you’ve had owned this side, here, where I’m standing…hey! Look at where I’m pointing! Here! You’d have built your fence here and not here!
Does Terry know you’re in his property?
A shark tries to push or swallow the little fish in my head, but my brain stops it.
I sigh. Not ‘nless he is a psychic. And who the hell is Terry?
Terry is my brother. You could’ve asked him.
I turn around. I look at the ram-shackle, falling apart barn. Someone lives in there? Ter?—
Cute names. Terry and Trey Ratcliffe. And Terry, your brother. Lives. There. In that pig-stile and you live in that castle, right?
Friendly, conspiratorial tone. Listen, Mr Ratcliffe. Don’t get all cute and smart ass with me. I don’t know what’s your stash in that shack or in your castle. I’m not a cop. . Excuse the pun Mr Ratcliffe but I couldn’t care a rat’s ass. In this town if you own a house worth a million dollar, you’re stinking-dirty motherfucker. In LA if you own a house worth five mil. And you’re not a celeb actor or sports legend-Tiger-Fucking-woods or the likes, you’re stinking-dirty just the same. What do you do for living? How could you afford this house?
Silence. Mr Ratcliffe only stares, perplexed. Not expecting such an encounter in his present life.
Now, Ima gonna go. I’m losing light. I’m losing the sun.
You’re weird. You’re talking about the sun. What’s your name?
Take the license plate and call the sheriff, Mr Ratcliffe”.
As I drive away, I glance at the side mirror. Mr Ratcliffe driving his four-wheeler like a mad man toward his castle. Good. Call the Sherriff, I mutter to myself.
As I look through the view finder, I hear screeching, breaking noise behind me. Then the sound of slamming door of a vehicle.
You’re not going anywhere! barks Mr Ratcliffe, holding a cell phone in his hand. He flips it open and punches the obvious three digits that will be answered by a practiced voice, "911. How can I help you?" routine.
Oh, you again, I say in an indifferent tone. Mr Ratcliffe.
The Chevy truck parked face to face with my Audi, blocking my escaping, so to speak. Mr Ratcliffe is now talking with the Sherriff’s dispatcher, walking back and forth. All I Think is, ‘Finally, you dumb-ass-hillbilly-rat-fuck”.
There is a gentleman here, Mr Ratcliffe’s voice trails off. “Acting very evasive…”
After a few more clicks of another modern-gothic architecture, I walk toward Mr Ratcliffe and I lean closer to the cell phone, making sure the dispatcher on the other end will hear me.
“Stop following me!” I shout. “Stop F....wasting my time!”. He walks away from me and says, “He’s telling me to stop f….waste his time….”
I’m back behind the camera. Several minutes later Mr Ratcliffe finishes his sweet chat, his face ash pale.
The expression on Mr Ratcliffe turned into crimson red and read, “How the hell did he know that? Who’s this guy?”.
Suddenly, he makes a dart to the truck, yanks the door open and grabs a weapon.
“Didja know that this is a cowboy town, boy?” he snaps, pointing a .44 caliber Winchester rifle at me, his nostrils widens . “Didja?”
“Well, now you should, pretty boy! You’re talking to a cowboy!”
“Where’re your boots? Your cowboy outfit. You look like one them UPS delivery guys with that stupid shorts”
“Well, that don’t’ madder, cause I have the gun now” a stupid, childish-Billy The Kid smirk.
‘OK” I say in a firm tone, pushing the barrel aside, looking Mr Ratcliffe in the eye. Mr Ratcliffe who turned this whole incident into a personal vendetta; who wanted me on my knees pleading, “I’m sorry, sir. Please don’t hurt me,” and him yelling, “Who’s the bitch now? Who? Who’s the rat?”
“Easy now, Mary,” I say as calm as they come. “Put The rifle away. I don’t have time to play cowboys with you”
A lost, confused, and totally flabbergasted Mr Ratcliffe pivots on his sandaled feet and screams, “Ima shoot your tire!”
I let out a deep sigh. Sharks are taking over small fish rapidly.
I launch at Mr Ratcliffe, pushing him against his truck and press my elbow against his neck, pressing CWP Badge over his face.
I take control of my mind and tell the sharks to go swim and hunt somewhere else. Woosharks!
“What’re you doing, man? A friend giving advice to a friend. “There is penal code for this: felony! You can’t follow people, point guns at them. You do serious time for this. Get a grip of your wits you twit! See, I was minding my own business, treating you like a man. But, you couldn’t let it go, could you? You had to pull that territorial-cowboy shit with me”
“You said you ain’t a cop” comes the garbled voice.
“I’m not. This is a protection tool from mindless-rat-fucks like you. It’s a permit to carry gun. See, people get nervous when a gun pointed at them. They reach to their gun and fire back at your miserable-cowboy-ass. You can’t point a gun at anybody. You do at least a year in a pen, that is if you have no prior, which I’m sure you do. Innocent and civilized people don’t act the way you do—
I exhale. “You know what? You’re right. But your neck is against my elbow…do you feel the strength? The suffocating pressure? I could f….break your neck…beat you to death and call the Sherriff, taking my time and break some bones until the police arrives. There is no court of law which could prosecute me in this country. It’s called self-defense. Blank or not you have a weapon—‘
“You’re not gonna hurt me are you?”
“Hurt you? I would protect you against your stupid brains. Now, I’m gonna let you breathe. Are we gonna be cool?”
“Are we gonna be cool like Fonzie? You know who’s Fonzie is, right?”
Note Later, I'd discovered, including one in my family, have had experienced similar incident in this town. A guy coming out and putting the gun into a female real-estate appraisal agent’s head. This town, Oakdale, is on the way to Yosemite and notorious for such aggressive, rude and criminal activities. It rarely, if ever, happens to me since I’m such a nice person:) I get invited for a cup of coffee and sometimes get engaged in a lengthy chat.
Set up by my lovely wife with her more amazing pic here
FINCA - decorative branch (A) ebony
FINCA - decorative branch (B) ebony
Basset Hound Sitting - Mesh (marketplace)
!PANDEMONIUM [Mesh] Large Grey Mossy Craggy Rock
!PANDEMONIUM [Mesh] Medium Grey Mossy Craggy Rock
!PANDEMONIUM [Mesh] Small Grey Mossy Craggy Rock
Botanical - Marram Grass - Medium - Grn Br
Cut off from the sea by the suspicious port authorities in Shanghai it seemed that the only way I was going to get out of China was overland. This was my ticket.
In Shanghai I had inquired of every traveler I met about the path ahead of me. I had heard tales of this magnificent and exotic railway adventure before... they called it the greatest railway journey on earth. The longest stretch of steel rail ever layed.
An Australian traveller named Mark told me that he had heard that there was a guy in Beijing who could get me a ticket.
I asked Mark how I could find this guy in Beijing. He said just go there and ask for 'The Crocodile.' Just go to a city of some ten million souls and ask for 'The Crocodile'? It sounded almost insane to me.
Ditching Mark after he made moves on my Chinese girlfriend and ditching my Chinese girlfriend after she got all worked up when a soldier who was following me took a picture of us together on the riverfront... I understood her fear in that time of Tienenmen Square and I knew it was time once again to get moving. It was time to move north to Beijing... the city they once called Peking.
Tsu Tsu Mei was a nice girl. She had told me to call her Eleanor... because that was what she called her 'American name.' I couldn't do it because she just didn't look like an Eleanor to me... I always called her Tsu Tsu Mei. And I think that she really liked that I did... it would have been easier to call her Eleanor I'm sure... but each time I called her 'Tsu Tsu Mei' she gave me this look... it started with a big warm vulnerable smile that made it seem to me that she was melting inside with warm thoughts and shaking knees.
That look always made me want to scoop her up in my arms and give her the same feelings right back. Whenever I said her name and got that look... it just kind of summed everything up right there in that moment. I really liked that. Sometimes I wished that it had gone farther but the way it ended is why I have the memories I do... and I hope she does too... we never hurt each other... never not once... it was the hard and cold government of an opressive authoritarian regime that broke both of our hearts there in Shanghai. It wasn't either of us... it wasn't our fault.
I was with Mark the Australian when I met Tsu Tsu Mei... we were tooling around Shanghai and we had just gotten on the bus after a tour of the Shanghai Waterpipe Factory Number Seven where I had just purchased a fine example of a brass opium waterpipe. We had seen the place while riding the bus and jumped off... the factory was really happy to have foreigners tour the place. I couldn't believe that there were at least six other water bong factories in Shanghai. Somehow we had found the seventh.
As foreigners we were pretty much used to talking in english right in front of people knowing full well that they couldn't follow our conversation... especially the slang riddled prose we frequently used. When Tsu Tsu Mei got on the bus and stood next to me I turned to Mark and said "man she is the most beautiful Chinese woman I have ever seen."
Before Mark could agree... Tsu Tsu Mei let me know that she appreciated the compliment... she smiled and said "thank you" in perfect english.
Shocked that my subterfuge was exposed at first I was a little embarassed... until Mark took that half of a second to start in on her. No way I thought... I was the one who paid the compliment... I was going to be putting the moves on Tsu Tsu Mei. I'm not sure Australian guys understand the concept of a good 'wing man' but Mark sure had some learnin' to do. He needed to watch the movie 'Top Gun' and take some notes.
Tsu Tsu Mei and I arranged to meet later that night in downtown Shanghai and proceeded to become great friends. She even took me to meet her parents... Norman Tsu... the first deaf technical drafting instructor in all of China and his 'deaf wife Janie.'
Tsu Tsu Mei's father Norman was sent to the United States to study technical drafting in the fifties. He went to Gaudellet University and he confided in me that he really liked it... that he didn't want to come back to China... he stopped writing home and corresponding with the government... he wanted to drift away... but they corralled his mother who was a widow by this time... and they made her write Norman a letter that made it really clear that it was in her best interests that Norman return to China. That's how China got its first deaf technical drafting instructor. Or how they got him back.
Norman always referred to his wife as 'My deaf wife.' Both of them were deaf and we passed notes to each other over a marvellous dinner... while Tsu tsu Mei just kept smiling at me and at her parents... unbelievable food Normans deaf wife cooked. It was a feast... and not the Chinese food I was used to... this was exotic and unknown to me. The Tsu's really went out and they've been in my thoughts many times since then.
The Tsu family was really good to me and things were moving right along with Tsu Tsu Mei too until that soldier decided that he'd turn our little hand holding session on the Shanghai riverfrint into a Kodak moment. I had seen that guy following me before... he was the tallest Chinaman I'd ever seen... a full head above the rest of the general population. I found great amusement in shagging him... going into a store and going out the back door. It was really like a game. Still... he always found me... he was on me for days there in Shanghai. And after he took that picture I realized that my company with Tsu Tsu Mei wasn't looked upon favorably by the authorities. She was terrified of the repurcussions. I knew that was it... I wasn't going to get her or her family inot any trouble. I was going to get out of Shanghai.
I purchased a train ticket on a sleeper train for the seventeen hour ride from Shanghai to Beijing. How was it that I could go to a city the size of Beijing almost a thousand miles to the north and find this man called 'The Crocodile' simply by asking? It seemed completely insane... but such was the world I found myself in this year... for me, 1990 was the year of living insanely.
After seventeen hours of watching China slide by through the window accompanied by the soundtrack of nonstop kung fu videos on the train's television sets, I stepped off the carriage in Beijing, China's capital city. Which was a godsend because I could not have taken one more of those videos. The Chinese truly love them... they must be a part of their national identity... the way that the Japanese love God
Ts Sabrina Anderson
Brigitte Nielsen Nude Pics
Anna Lore Sexy

Fick My Wife

Report Page