You Say You Want a Resolution?

You say you want a resolution?

Well, you know … we’re all full of shit.

Every year, we make the same New Year’s resolutions—which should tell us, by now, that we must not be all that serious about following through with any of it.

Otherwise, we’d have accomplished those missions, and moved on to new resolutions by now, right?

Survey says, in the coming year, you’re looking to:

1. Spend more time with family & friends
2. Exercise
3. Lose weight
4. Quit smoking
5. Have more fun
6. Quit drinking
7. Get out of debt
8. Learn something new
9. Help others
10. Get organized

That’s all well and good, except that, sadly … you’re doomed to failure, same as always.

Why?

Is it for lack of good intentions?

Probably not.

Lack of discipline?

You’re getting closer, but you’re not quite on the tickle button.

You see, the bitch of all these resolutions is … that they’re so damn contradictory.

How the hell are you going to have more fun if you spend more time with your family? And if exercising, losing weight, and getting out of debt were fun - you’d have done them already, right?

Do you really think your friends and family will enjoy your company while you’re quitting smoking and losing weight? 
With cranky old you, wallowing in the depths of deprivation and despair?

They’ll be begging for the return of the fat smokestack they know and love … while they conspire, to kill you.

And I don’t see how quitting drinking is going to help others. Think of the poor bartender who’ll miss your business (and your drunken performances) … and all the potential hook-ups who’ll miss out on you, now that you’ll no longer be rating them through beer goggles.

A perfect ‘10’ will become a so-so ‘6’. And a ‘6’ will become a ‘Sorry … I never want to see you naked.’

Poor, lonely skanks.

As for learning something new, that may sound constructive right now … but once you sober-up, it’s going to sound like a lot of fucking work. Ugh! No fun.

Same with getting organized … not to mention the grief you’ll take from your friends and family (with whom you’re supposed to be spending more time, don’t forget), for your new anal-retentive tendencies.

Which will inspire you, to conspire to kill them back.

So, what’s a New Year’s resolutionary to do?

You need a fucking list, that fucking works.

Try this on for size:

1. Don’t die (otherwise, what would be the point?)
2. Pleasure others the way you want to be pleasured (known as The Golden Shower Rule)
3. Stay out of jail (or you’ll be pleasured in ways you don’t want to be pleasured)
4. Work hard (use your imagination)

There you have it—these would be my big four. Not too many to remember, minimal contradictions … and you can be a fat slob if you want.

I know you can do it.

May the Porsche be with you! (I guess that will be if you have a really good year)

-Harlowe Pilgrim

PS. Thanks to John Lennon and Jesus for their image. :)

Copyright 2013 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

This piece appears in the ebook Harlowe Pilgrim's Oh My Words! 2013.

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,     Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

Harlowe Pilgrim's Twas the Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,

You could hear the bed squeaking, from me and my spouse.

Her stockings were flung on the floor without care,

Next to her red Mrs. Claus underwear.

The children were snoring, snuggled up in their beds;

I writhed as their mother gave excellent head.

With Mama on her knees, and I on my back,

I said "Come on up here, and sit on my lap".

As she slid down on me, there arose such a clatter,

But I tuned it all out—what the Hell did it matter?

She looked concerned. "Did you hear that big crash?"

"Don't worry a bit … just work that sweet ass."

I heard some more noise, then I was distracted.

She whimpered and moaned as her sweet pee contracted.

I gritted my teeth, to stay under control,

But it wasn't too easy, in that comely hole.

Once the moment had passed, she caught her breath.

And I wiped from my stomach, her wet G-spot mess.

"I heard it again, do you think it's St. Nick?"

"I was more worried 'bout you riding my dick."

"What if it is? Do you think we should stop?"

"Well, you're not underage, and he's not a cop;

We can't be the first ones enjoying a bone;

He'll do his thing, and he'll leave us alone."

She seemed to agree, and so went back to work,

On what promised to be, a sweet second squirt.

Again there was noise, this time from downstairs,

But when you're going to town, nobody cares.

She was again in the throes, when the corner of my eye,

Saw our door easing open, and the face of a spy.

The red suit and big belly gave away Old St. Nick,

But he had his pants 'round his ankles, and his hand on his dick.

My bride didn't notice, busy coming―not caring.

I shot Santa a look that said "Hey, I'm not sharing."

With a wink of his eye and a stroke of his crotch,

I got the picture; he was just there to watch.

Not sure what to think, I next hesitated;

While he stood in the doorway, and masturbated.

Once she settled down, I said in her ear,

"Don't look now, but Santa is here.

But let's not freak out; he's just horny, you know.

Let's do him a favor, and put on show."

She looked unsure a second, then started to smile.

"Old guy like that, it's probably been quite a while."

With that she climbed off, and laid down on her side.

"I don't mind showing off, but I'm too tired to ride."

"Okay," I said, "guess that it's all up to me."

"Just open me wide, so Santa can see."

I raised her leg high, it was almost a split,

Giving Santa a view, of my wife's perfect slit.

He smiled so big, I knew he approved,

Then I slid my shaft, deep into her groove.

She squirmed and I groaned, both feeling so good,

And Santa was working it hard, like he should.

I picked up the pace, and she squealed like a whore;

I saw Santa grab something up off of the floor.

Then I let loose, she let loose, and Santa did too.

Into my wife shot my gusher of goo.

We both looked over, at the end of our dance,

and saw Santa did his, into her underpants.

"I hope those were dirty; hope that was okay."

Neither of us had a clue what to say.

"That was fun," he continued, "but I'm out of here.

Now you know Santa comes at least once a year."

He pulled up his pants, and was gone in a flash.

I gave my wife a slap on her fine ass.

"You really did good, I think we made his night.

He'll be thinking of us, for the rest of his flight."

Then she eyed the red satin wad on the floor,

Soaking in Santa's shot from before.

"I'm happy for him, but what about me?

Better be some new panties, under that tree!"

And I heard Santa exclaim, as he drove out of town,

"I'm coming back to this place―they have the hottest sex around!"

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2012 Cock and Bull Publishing LLC

This piece appears in the ebook Harlowe Pilgrim's Oh My Words! 2012.

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,     Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

This Season’s Biggest Toy

It’s always a big deal to get your hands on the season’s biggest toy.

But toys that big aren’t for everyone.

It can be an awfully tight squeeze … especially in a little … stocking.

And, although everyone likes tearing open a gift, nobody wants a busted box.

(I know that’s a stretch)

You want them to come and have fun … so give a gift that will tickle them pink.

For that, I recommend my novel, Jesus Vs. Santa.

A delicious mix of humor, filth, and blasphemy … it reads like a movie, and eats like a meal.

We’re talking all the fun of a giant phallus, with none of the walking funny after you use it.

Sure, they’ll still be a little sore on the inside (from all the laughing), but nothing that will require medical attention (or stitches).

Most likely.

And if you already got them the big toy? Just keep it for yourself. It wants to live with you anyway.

See? Now everyone’s happy.

Wishing a Merry Christmahanakwanza, to you and yours.

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2013 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,     Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

How Sexy is Mrs. Claus?

How sexy is Mrs. Claus these days?

You tell me!

Santa is a very lucky man …

https://www.pinterest.com/harlowepilgrim/mrs-claus/

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,     Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

Is Santa the Coolest Fat Guy Ever?

Is Santa the coolest fat guy ever?

I think so … check him out!

https://www.pinterest.com/harlowepilgrim/santa-claus/

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,     Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim