Since The Dust Has Settled

wpid-20151124_141013.jpg

After some time of reflection, after some time “away” from blogging, after some time to get my collective shit together, I have seen and reviewed some interesting opinions with some interesting points of view, being somewhat responsible for me even doing a written post today, I had no intention, but here we are again. I will begin by saying I do not owe a single motherfucker an apology, as I will not apologize because my opinions differ from someone else. If that were the damn case, then I would be sitting here, in silence and protest, waiting for many apologies. But I’m not, I support your will and right to have opinions which doesn’t mean they won’t differ from my own or mean I like them, but they are yours, and mine are mine. When does passion for something, anything really, get lost in “translation”? When does a simple speech turn into a sermon?

Y’all are probably thinking I will be taking about more emails in this post, but I’m not going to mention the good, the bad, or even the ugly ones. Not today, not this time, not that they actually matter anyway. This post here is merely an observational exploration into what I can statically know, which means it is truly like starting from the first floor, I would say, under the basement, but all is not lost and I’m not actually starting over since the close to 3000 posts are still available to view or read. However, fans, followers, passers by, casual readers, and yes of course, even the haters have made an overall impact on my blog statistics. Meaning that my blog went from an average of 3500 visitors per day, not views, but unique visitors, to an average of 7 per day. Quite a drop, on average, in one week’s time, if you’re to be asking me, I’m just saying. Unfortunately, having an unpopular opinion has led be back to where I once started. Which, in all actuality, is where it was nice for me. I would write, post pictures, criticize shit I don’t like, validate who I do like, and worried only about one critic, me. But, here I sit another day, still breathing, still with a will and want to post whatever in the fuck I want to post, saying whatever in the fuck I want, and not giving in to anyone except myself. If this means getting blocked or shutdown on social media like Twitter, Facebook, Google+, or on Blogcatalog, then so be it. My plans are not to “publicize” my posts any longer, which means it will only show up, besides my blog, on the WordPress Reader or on other people’s blog that show live feed updates who still have my link active. Meaning? I’m not informing anywhere with updates, I’m no longer inviting people to visit or share, unless it otherwise happens automatically I will no longer be making the effort. End of story. If you want to see what is happening here you will visit on your own accord, not mine. I guess the blame would be on the visitors then, for making poor choices.

What will change here? Minor things mostly, but more freedom on my end to post what in the fuck I want to post how in the fuck I want to post it, a simple yet complicated gesture on my part. No longer will photos be edited or censored, fuck self censorship, we will now be a come as you are blog and a blog where I post whatever in the hell I’m in the mood to post. And, y’all are right, my choices in format and censorship do not mean shit to nobody except me, but I like to inform people in advance so fewer people get butthurt down the road. Ah, the road, the path in which I still enjoy my freedom to choose which direction I will travel at any given moment in time.

Anyway, if you are reading this post then you are here, you are at The Sting Of The Scorpion Blog, my home away from home, a place that is mine to decorate as I see fit. Stay as long as you like, there is no bar or buffet, no stools or places to sit, there is no live entertainment for you to see, a simple place to visit with simple ideas. The Sting Of The Scorpion Blog isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it is my tequila laden margarita that I enjoy and it entertains me, so problem solved.

A New Meaning To Slippery When Wet

So, I’ve mentioned before, my Magic Weekend inbox is overflowing with great stories, some extremely long, and some which are short and sweet. This next one I’m posting is on the short side. Annabel has been a very regular contributor to The Sting Of The Scorpion Blog, so when I see she has sent me something new I usually go ahead and check hers out first. Although, this time she was full of surprises, this time she sent in a personal story for the Magic Weekend, and I knew I had to post it right away. Y’all will see, as per a promise I made last month, that I’m going to try to post the pictures sent to me without to much damn censoring, but as you call tell, female anatomy is rather challenging to work with to edit it where one still has an idea of what the pictures are trying to illustrate. I think most of y’all can do the math to see what two plus two equals. If not, there’s absolutely no fucking help for you. So, without further delay, please enjoy her story, I know I did.

_20141130_095723

Dear Scorion Sting-

As we both know, I’m a regular sender of information, pictures, and ideas, because I try to carry out my role in The Scorpion Army. I have seen many of my ideas posted in your blog so I thought you might enjoy something not so generic and a little bit more personal. So, I will make this simple because I made a premeditated choice this past Saturday night. It was my 21st birthday and I wanted to get myself something rememberable. I had wanted, since I have been 16, to get my clit pierced, a VCH, a vertical clitorius hood piercing, but never have. For my birthday this year it was going to be my gift to me because nobody else was going to get my kitty fancy jewelry but me. I was ready, I really was, I took extra time shaving, making sure I was so smooth that water beaded up on the skin. Mission accomplished. I put on loose, baggy warm up pants because I was told that one’s clit gets pretty swollen and sore afterwards. In the end I was as ready as I thought I could ever be, and to say I was excited is an understatement, because I’m fucking extatic.

I get to the tattoo shop, you can omit the name if you like, but its a place you have mentioned before, I just know you don’t like giving free advertising. Anyway, sitting in front of Magic Needle I found myself growing really impatient, it was time to go, my wait is finally over. Once inside I was asked if I had an artist preference and if I wanted a male or female artist. It doesn’t matter, just as long as their aim is true and straight. After filling out all of the legal release paperwork I was led back to a room, instructed to lay on the table, and to remove my sweats. There I laid, for what seemed like an eternity, on the table with my pants in the chair, getting a slight chill, but flushing with heat because I didn’t know what was about to happen. As the seconds turned to minutes, Ron enters to explain the process, gets his tools ready, and here we go. I only felt his warm fingers, a cold clamp, and a sharp snap of pain. Then it was over, no foreplay, no teasing, just stuck it through. I will remember that feeling for the rest of my life as there has been nothing to ever compare it to so far in my 21 years. Want to talk about making me instantly wet, that did the fucking trick 100 fold!

Then, Ron turned to me and mentioned that they had a special going on, get one piercing and get your next one half off if done in the next seven calendar days. So I told him if he has time I got a nipple he could pierce right now. He smiled, got prepped, I showed him where, and like lightning my nipple was also pierced. You can only imagine the sensations that were going through my entire fucking body, in fact I don’t even think I am capable of explaining it right. But my sensitivity was increased like a billion times over. When I was done I was led up front to pay, this is also where they gave me my care for new piercings literature. Mentioned one shouldn’t touch the areas unless cleaning for 5-7 days, fuck that, I couldn’t stop touching either one the entire ride home. Now I just needed to get fucked hard to seal the night for me. But, no luck, I went home alone. Lucky for me I had a very lonely cucumber which had no prior obligations to handle my immediate needs, so it all worked out for the best if you ask me.

I know you have this stupid rule about using pictures with full nudity but there is no other way to show you what I had done but to just send pictures of myself, plus I know you can make them usable. Now, realize this morning, as I write this email, I’m a little sore, but I know Monday morning I’m off to work, with no one the wiser of my weekend. Glad I wear skirts, going commando for a few days should be interesting, hope nobody at the office gets an eyeful. I think I hit the blood part of your criteria, don’t know if letting a cucumber have its way with me counts as sex, but it did the fucking job for me!

Annabel H., Houston Tx

_20141201_131444

I told y’all it was short and sweet, and as much as I wish I could share with y’all her beautiful VCH and horizontal nipple piercing, all the censoring, as you can plainly see, blocks what was so nicely done. I had to salvage at least two of the eleven great pictures she sent in so just deal with it. Yes, I know, all is blocked from view, just imagine a horizontal stainless steel stud pierced through her nipple and a vertical stud through her clitoral hood. Well folks, that’s it for this one. Keep sending in your Magic Weekend stories, keep sending in your pictures, and just keep doing all the crazy shit that y’all do every single weekend.

Where Ya Been Mr. Bartender?

20140626_093957

“Hey @#$%&+,

How come every time I have been into work at the club I get told you aren’t working on that night? Its beginning to become very annoying because I would like to try and get my free drinks from the bartender. Do you remember me? We never talked much but you were always a fucking riot with the games you would play, it was fun and most of us really miss you. I noticed your sign was up again at your bar that states there are free drinks for whoever impresses the bartender with the best flash, trick, or treat. Have you been dishing out as much free booze for tits and ass as you used to? Since I never see you to give you a good show I hope you will accept these pictures as my attempt to get some free drinks. I was going to submit them to your site but noticed you no longer have a section for it. Why not? What happened? Anyway, enjoy the pictures and use which ones you see fit. I will see you around the club I hope, be sure to remember me.

Cheyanne”

I replied separately to Cheyanne earlier but I just wanted to share that sometimes I get good Gan mail. I also wanted to do a shotgun blast sort of explanation in case others were wondering some of the same things. To begin with, yes, I removed the “Show Me” section from this blog. I don’t care to get into why at this point but let’s just say I got a few bitches and complaints which heeded the removal a needed process. However, the versions of pictures I had in the section beforehand were NOT censored in any way, what was sent is what went up. I am gibing the idea more thought now and the section just might show up again. Be it this time pictures will be censored or obscured when deemed fit.

This actually goes for all future posts here. Since I ask for your pictures to accompany you e-mail story submissions I think it is only fair to use what was sent. So, from this point forward, to include e-mails I have waiting right now, I will be using original pictures. If you have no idea what I am talking about just read up on The Magic Weekend and Scorpion Sting’s Bartender Stories. We’ll see what kind of response I get to the idea of adding back the Show Me section and I will go from there. So far, to date, everyone who has sent in pictures has done a fantastic job. I look forward to more from the shy people in the near future. Y’all now you want to show off and I know it too.

In the event y’all cannot find the information you seek somewhere on this blog please feel free to contact me at anytime and I will promptly get back to you. Again, as always, thanks for making the choice to visit The Sting Of The Scorpion.

Mysteries, Enigmas, Cubicles, And Puzzles

The latest submission to The Magic Weekend is about a young professional man who spends his days in an office cubicle and his nights doing whatever comes to mind for his mood. His actual story does not have even one of the five criteria for being here on The Magic Weekend, there is no Sex, no Jail, no Blood, no Money, and no Fame. So why am I adding this e-mail to the collection of my stories? That will be a question that you must answer for yourselves after you read and digest the information provided. Personally, I think that Robert believes that if he gets his story out there that he may finally see and end or a beginning to something in his future. You see, his story is one of covert lust that, to date, has not been resolved and he hopes that by walking us through his story that it will help him look for clues he has yet to discover. As always, I try to provide as many pictures as I can. This is one of those cases that I can only provide the two pictures you see as the other 30 some odd pictures are just a wee bit racy. I’m not in the habit of censoring what people read or see but I would like to keep my blog somewhere in the PG rating. With no more from me, let’s get on with Robert’s torrid little story.

cubicles

“Hello, my name is Robert and I have a truly bizarre story for you today. My story actually takes much longer than a mere weekend, it has gone on for right at 4 weeks now. I’m sending you a mess of pictures in the order that I received them to better illustrate what has been happening. Where do I begin. How about a little background of what I do for a living as well as how I spent my time away from work. If you look through the pictures you will see one or two showing a gaggle of cubicles. That is my work environment. This is where I sit for basically 10 hours a day, cut off from the world below me and from any outside contact with other human beings. The job is real monotonous but it pays my bills leaving me with enough money to still enjoy my life here in Houston. I’m not from Houston, I’m actually a transplant who was chasing the all American dream of having a good career and making a good salary. I grew up and went to college at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas (UNLV), graduating with my degree in Kinesiology. When it came time for job placement I was put on to information about a company in Houston that specializes in the design, concept, and implementation of biomechanics and orthopedics. When I accepted the job offer it was at the bottom tier of the career path. I figured I had to start somewhere, why not doing research, analysis, and comparison. Translation, I read and I read and I read. Then I get to provide my information for statistical analysis which is used for approach and further investigation. Sounds complicated, but it’s really not too bad. How does this play into everything? It has everything to do with it. My social life and work life does not overlap, meaning that I have work friends and I have friends outside work, the two never cross that line. In over a year of being with this company I can think of only one other text I received while I was at work and that was from my mother wishing me a great first day of work. Which, would have been a real push of enthusiasm for me it had actually been on my first day and not eleven days into it. I know she meant well. Anyway, right at four weeks ago I get a text from a number I don’t recognize. It’s a local number so I figure I will look at it and see what is up. When I opened it up I had to look around to see if anyone saw me looking at the picture of the girl which was being displayed. The text read “I’ve been watching you and have noticed that you have not noticed me yet”. Slowly I peek out over the top of my cubicle to look around, to see if I could see anyone looking at me that looked like this girl. I got nothing. It actually ruined my whole day because I couldn’t stop trying to figure out who she was. Not real good for productivity. It is what it is though. I ended up taking work home with me because of the entire day being a bust.

The next day about the same time in the morning I get another text from this mysterious creature. By now I think she is really trying to get my attention because that picture was a bit more exposing. Thinking to myself I don’t want to get any further behind or get fired I put my phone away and got back into getting my work done. Lunch rolled around, we get a whole 30 minutes which usually leads to most people just bringing their lunch and eating in the lunch room. On that day I decided to go to the atrium area of our building to get away from my other distractions and have a few minutes to try to figure out who this girl was and what she wanted. I keep thinking she is sending these pictures to the wrong person and that I am not the intended target of her affections. Don’t get me wrong, the attention is nice, even if it isn’t for me. It can’t be for me or can it. This continued every following day. Everyday I paid attention to who was around me no matter where I was at. Thursday nights is when my friends and I get together and usually go see a new movie and then go to a local bar to shoot darts and have a few beers. I found myself getting real paranoid because I could not figure out who she was. After about 4 weeks the pictures started becoming quite explicit, to say that I was getting to see a new side of her each day would be a complete understatement to say the least. The last picture I got of her was impressive, she is quite limber and acrobatic, it was sent with this message which haunts me still to this day. It read “I’m sorry you haven’t figured out who I am in your life. Be at the Red Lion Pub tonight at 10pm. look for me and you will see me”. Really? I couldn’t believe what I was reading.

I went home after work in quite a hurry. I needed a shower and to get dressed. I felt like a girl getting asked out on a first date. I don’t have allot of leisurewear as most of my wardrobe is casual business attire. I mixed and matched and finally thought I had it figured out. Then, I was done, walking out the door. I wanted to get there early and do a little situational observation. In reality I wanted to check the place out and see which one of my jackass friends was going to jump out and say “Gotcha!”. What I got was a fistful of mass disappointment and despair. I sat there until the placed closed down. Well, I actually didn’t just sit in one spot, I would walk around, sit at a new spot, walk around, and so forth, all night long. She never showed up. For some reason I didn’t include this in the options of what could happen that evening. She didn’t show, it was plain and simple. Did she get cold feet. Right about closing I decided to text her and ask her where she was and if she forgot about our meeting. There was no reply. I called her, my call went straight to voicemail. I left her the voicemail message of “sorry I missed you tonight, maybe another time”. I collected my belongings and hailed a taxi to take me back home. I waited for a call or a text, any sign that I wasn’t crazy and that she had a great reason or no reason for standing me up. Nothing. That nothing is what continued from that point forward. I waited like a love struck puppy for an entire week for something, anything from her. At the end of the week I called her one last time and was answered with a recorded message telling me that the number I was trying to reach is not available. Did she change her number? Was the other one disconnected? I will never know since I never even knew her name. So, back to my life, back to the cubicle, I will always have more questions than answers, it will always be a mystery to me who she would be to me, I feel a bit heartbroken but know it wasn’t all real. I mean, it happened, but it didn’t actually mean anything. Now, I have some very enigmatic memories of a nameless girl who was very talented. I won’t ever solve this puzzle, but if I do I will be sure to update you.

201310

Can y’all see now why I included this as a Magic Weekend submission. There was the promise of something from someone. The story intrigued me enough that I found myself feeling bad for this guy. I found myself wanting to reach out to help him. Therefore, I included his story here. Makes me wonder though, was she just screwing with him? Was he the intended recipient of all those texts? Is this that has been lost to ever be found ever again? Answers I will probably never know. I hope y’all enjoyed Robert’s story. I look forward to all the submissions I get to the Magic Weekend. Just e-mail them to me. What did your weekend involve? Sex? Jail? Blood? Monet? Or Fame? Send me your story now and see it here in the very near future. Thanks for stopping by and I look forward to your many returns.