Lainaus käyttäjältä: ManScandinavian - tänään kello 19:55

Lainaus käyttäjältä: Jägermies - 05.07.2025, 13:59

Jos pridessä voi marssia Hamasin puolesta niin miksei sitten kinkyjenkin?

En jaksa uskoa, että Gazan silmitöntä kansanmurhaa vastustavat marssivat siellä "Hamasin puolesta". Juutalaiset on kautta historian olleet mielestään "jumalan valittu kanssa". Ja näin se sitten näyttäytyy: Muut ovat alempiarvoisia, me olemme herrarotu.

Ehkä jotkut marssivatkin palestiinalaisten puolesta yleisesti mutta miksi vasta nyt?
Kannattaa muuten ehkä tutustua oikeisiin kansanmurhiin ennen kuin käyttää tuota termiä.
Historiallisesti lähin esimerkki Gazan tilanteen tapaisesta olisi Manilan taistelu jossa kuoli se 100K siviiliä.
Molemmissa oli syvälle kaivautunut fanaattinen vihollinen joka käyttää ihmiskilpiä eikä välitä siviiliuhreista.

No lässyn lässyn. Gazan tilanne osoittaa, että länsi on vain ryssälän peilikuva. Ihan yhtälailla sallimassa Israelin koko Gazan väestöä koskevat absoluuttisen epäinhimiliset toimet. Se mitä siellä tapahtuu, on kansanmurha, sorry suo anteeksi jos loukkasin juutalaista sieluasi.

Kyllä mä oon pistänyt merkille et viimevuosina ohareiden määrä on kasvanut.

Itsellä kokemusta lähinnä siis ei kinky piireistä vaan ihan ns. vanilja osastolta.

Aina on ollut niitä jotka ei sit lopulta tulekkaan paikalle. Eikä mitään edes ilmota. Ja niinkuin kaikki muutkin vastaajat tässä ketjussa, olen sitä mieltä et miks ei vaan voi ilmottaa et ei nappaa. Ja kyllä, ymmärrän että tulee yllätyksiä ja joskus ihan oikea ymmärrettävä este, mut on myös monia tapoja hoitaa sellaset tilanteet.

Itse mm. näistä tapauksista kyynistyneenä yleensä viestittelen pienen ikuisuuden ihmisten kanssa ennenkuin suostun tapaamaan livenä. Tämä ihan tyhmää, tiedän. Olen sen vuoksi ”menettänyt” useita tilaisuuksia tutustua ehkä ihan huippu tyyppeihin. Aikansa kutakin. Olen koittanut päästä eroon tästä tyhmästä ja elämää rajoittavasta toimintamallista. Joitakin ihan hyviä kokemuksia jo on tullutkin.

Oli kivaa taas vaikka hieman märkää 💪🏻

Nosto.

Med school is hard. It consumes your whole life and some. I don’t know how I have made this far. But I’m still here, elbow deep in cadaver. Is there a better way to spend a friday evening?

”What are you smiling about” my mentor is very detail oriented, always aware of everything going on around her.

”Can’t remember what I use to do with my time before interning here, cleaning out human remains. Did I even have a life? Was I missing out then, or am I missing out now?” Explaining how I’m feeling is not something I’m good at. The fear missing out on social gatherings, bar nights, that was never my thing. Here I get to work with clear instructions without interruptions, my head fully in the zone until the work is done. And the clean-up process after every case is like a cherry on top. You could lick the cadaver table after I was done with it, it’s that clean. All this tickles my brain the right way.

”Mmm” She is kind of nodding in agreement, but not saying anything more, busy filling up last of the forms before wrapping up.

She is so easy to work with. She has high expectations and demans a lot but is also aware that this is a teaching situation, and she is not a bully. Like some teachers. Even in a lab coat and hair up in bun   she has this hippy chick energy in her that I’m having hard time to pin down. Not that I’m trying too hard. She is friendly, but we are not friends outside of school and work. I like it that way. What ever little time I have to spare, I like to spend alone, to recharge and relax.

”So everything is done here. Nice work, lets continue on Monday” She says and smiles as she sets down her writing pad.

While I’m washing my hands my head turns to the next table with a cadaver still on it, covered in white cloth. With angel lust I see.
 
”Don’t worry about it, that one is on me. You go and safe whatever is left of your evening” she almost rushes me towards the door.

”Ok, don’t have to tell me twice.” I collect my things and wave my goodbyes and leave.

This building is a labyrinth. Endless corricors and depressing plain walls. All the fun is in the morgue, not here, where people walk and talk. I’m tired of greeting strangers just because they happen to walk by me. But at this time on a friday this place is maintained by skeleton grew only. So very quiet. I’m already at the main doors when I realize I forgat my charger in the small office we have at the morgue. Damn it! It takes almost ten minutes to walk back. Ten here, ten back, another ten out again, that’s half an hour I’ll never get back.

I curse every step I take walking back. I love the work, but now that the day is wrapped I feel my poor feet and legs, and they are begging for a shower and some pampering.

When I get to the morgue I slow down and an inkling says to open the door quietly. The door is behind a wall and in the shadow so I’m not attracting attention to myself when I ’m walking in and closing the door so it’s not making a sound. The lights are on, but this is different than when I left. There is a bright spotlight in the middle of the room, where the cadaver table is. The spotlight is only used in a very challenging situations. So far a case like that hasn’t crossed my way. The rest of the room is dark. The cadavers feet are towards me and my mentor is on top of him, riding him! Still wearing her lab coat, but nothing else. I can tell because her lab coat is resting off her shoulders, so I can see her bare neck and upper back.

What do I do? I’m frozen, I dare not make a sound. Whats happening?!

When my brains catches up with me I hide, my back to the wall and hand on my mouth, and I listen. She is having the time of her life. She is riding so hard even the sturdy table they are on is making sounds. This is not the her first time. I take a peek from behind my hiding place. Everything K18 is covered from my point of view because of her lab coat, but I can tell she liftet her right knee up from the table. Like other leg is still saddled, other leg is squatting. The view would be perfect from right infront of her. What is wrong with me? I try to snap out of it.

Now I have to pee. There is nothing stopping me from leaving. So why don’t I ? When did I lose the ability to think and process information. The room filled with a scent.. Horny flower, I tell myself. That’s what it reminds me of. Horny, pervert flowers. And do I need to pee, or am I getting horny..?

I can hear her wet pussy from here. It’s echo is amplified in this steril and cold room. My own pussy is demanding attention. Since I knew I was working indoors whole day I didn’t put on any underwear. It’s just more comfortable that way. Now my juices are streaming down on my delicious thighs. I surrender. If this is how I lose my sanity, then so be it.

My fingers find their way down my pants and into the wetness. My clit is as erect as can be. I listen to my mentor grinding and panting as she reaches an orgasm. A hard one, based on the whimpers she lets out. I take another look. She sits still, her head looking up. Her hands on her breasts, I assume. Slowly she starts pumping the poor John Doe again. On her head movement and what her hands are doing I would guess she is playing with her nipples, trying to suckle them, maybe.

I have to do this quiet, I remind myself. I lean forward, my ass leaning on the wall, left hand on my knee and right hand, completely pussy soaked, taking a tour from my hole, up and down labia and around and around clit. It doesn’t take long, my crotch is raving mad and I come, shaking but without making a sound.

That’s my cue. I take a last look at my riding beast before I go. She is going at it and close to second coming, or third, I don’t know, I missed the beginning. She leans forward into a Dead Man’s Cowgirl position, ironic, yes.. When she hangs her head down, I can see over her to the work table. And to my horrow I see her phone probbed up and a red dot indicating that it’s recording.

I hide behind my wall, fast. Shit! Shit! Shit!! Time to go. Somehow I get out of there without making a sound. I even take my shoes off so that my steps wont echo when I’m nearly running to the exit.

Walk to the buss stop is hazy, trying to make sense of what just happened. Why does it feel like my life is over? Just get your ass home, calm down, it was dark, I don’t show on camera, I tell myself. I’m on autopilot when I open the door to my apartment, no memory of the buss ride what so ever.

Shower takes forever. I want to stay here. Water running over my ears it sounds like I’m under a waterfall. What is the graziest outcome I can think of? Was she recording, or live streaming?

Quit being a wussy! I decide to play dumb and ignore what I saw, and deny deny deny, if it ever comes up. Now, I head for my drawer to get my play toys and hop back into the shower for some water games. It is friday, after all.