Beyond the Horizon

Part 1

One of the lessons you learn after years of driving is that at some point or another, you’re going to experience the pain of repetition and predictability. Even when I first started off on the journey, I never had a destination in mind. It’s like as soon as I sat down and closed the door, it was getting hazy. It’s apparent to me now that from the moment I turned that old key and fired her up I was totally unsure of to exactly where I thought I was going. Driving is one of my greatest pleasures. There’s a sincere innocence in the act of driving. I lost sight of much of that, and from time to time I wasn’t sure if I was even in control. From a certain perspective the relationship between the machine and it’s controller breaks down, and it can become objectively difficult to distinguish which is driven by which.

To be fair, the warning signs were all over the place. It felt like I couldn’t go more than ten seconds without some sign, a precaution, a rule, a rule of thumb, a word of advice whispered in confidence. I always did my best to be a responsible driver. For the longest time I did my best to obey all the rules of the road, back before I knew better, or perhaps until I thought I knew better. Experience is the greatest teacher, not to mention the harshest. It’s common knowledge that to learn from experience makes even the worst decisions worthwhile. Sometimes it’s simply the only thing that one can take away from the curveballs so often thrown one’s way. The problem for the unwise lies in working out what lesson the accused is to take away from his crime. For the introspective the problem is rarely not seeing the problem at hand. They can even take precautions to make sure that one accident is never repeated, by not repeating whatever lead to disaster the first time around. For the experienced, and by that I mean the scarred, the disfigured, those drivers who possibly still hurt every waking day of their lives, there are an entirely different set of problems, regardless of their ability to learn from past experiences. The problem faced by the salty, by the ones who well and truly drove around that block more than they care to admit, is the inability to disengage from what they think they know best, and in doing so they find themselves sat exactly where they were before they even released the handbrake. One cannot escape his past, cannot escape the stupid things they did. But to make matters worse, they begin to see that so many of the reflective, glaring, fluorescent signs they are bombarded with as they hit the highway begin to contradict each other. They blur, they all look the same, sound the same. It seems impossible to follow one highway code without breaking another. At first, one particularly thoughtful individual might find, there seemed to be one over-arching Way. The irrefutable Tao of the road. The one true way. I miss that idea. I’ve reached a point where no matter how hard I try and see things as I used to, either I changed, or the rules did.

And so those rare unfortunates may find the signs begin to undermine each other. Slow down, but speed up. Be cautious, but never so more than you’re being brazen. Make sure to flaunt every last thing you have and haven’t ever done, because nobody likes It when you brag. And so experience fails you. It begins to lie to you, and even when you’re aware that there is clearly deception afoot, you become a man looking at a map with no reference as to where in the fuck they actually are. It’s at this point in my career as a driver that I also realised that for all the years I had been driving, I could not remember where I was going. I knew that I had been driving for a very long time, and I think at certain points I had stopped off at places, and I still remember the people I picked up. Some of them drove with me for the longest time. I always liked having passengers, but sooner or later, the destination is reached, and the journey has come to an end. But I digress. At a certain point, I found myself lost. It was the worst kind of lost, in that not only did I not know at all where and when I was, but in that I had totally forgotten where I had originally intended to go. I could not even remember at what point I had forgotten everything about myself. All I knew was in looking in the mirror, I was sure I didn’t recognise myself. I could not even describe the person who stared back at me. The Driver was a man about which you could say so much, but I’m quite certain that none of the obvious things you could gleam from that countenance were objectively correct. Nothing I’ve ever experienced has been quite so simple as that. First impressions are hard to resist, however. In a way it didn’t matter that I’m sure in some ways I recognised the Driver’s face, because from the moment I met his eyes with mine, I knew he’d always be a simple mystery to me, destined to be my enemy, the one who knew me the best.

He had the look of the man who has learned from experience as he lit that cigarette. The glow from the lighter revealed a face older and more weathered than I’m sure my own face was. He looked bad. I was certain he didn’t have the slightest good intention in mind for me, and yet everything in his eyes and in the tone of his voice struck me as sincere and well meaning. He spoke to me as if he knew me. We’re on the road now aren’t we? I’ve always loved these warm nights, the heady smell in the air. He grinned, and his eyes lit up. I suddenly felt thirsty. Thirstier than I’ve ever felt in my life. There was adrenaline coursing through my body now, and most of my worry had suddenly receded. As he rolled down the window, an old and child-like excitement crossed his face, as a child who is told on Christmas day that the best present has been saved to last. What does it even matter where we’re going? The pleasure’s in the driving. It’s also in the uncertainty. We passed a strange scene by the side of that long road. This struck me because until now it had all been so blank. There was a cow being led down the road by two men, one in front, and one following up from behind. We passed so quickly that the image struck me as an old black and white picture would have, fixed in my mind without the suggestion of fading. It was like some grim scene from a foreign abattoir, and I felt my spirit drop, knowing where the cow’s destination lay despite all his ignorance. He looked complacent if not slightly confused as to his predicament, being lead by his handlers as he was. For some unknown reason, I honestly felt very sad for him. Then I laughed. Fucker should have evolved faster. I couldn’t but help show the slightest disapproval, even if deep down something in me knew it was true. It would be pretty much the same if the boot was on the other foot. Or hoof. You get my drift. I laughed again, and I wasn’t sure if it was humour or desperation I heard in that laugh. It sounded strange to me, but laughs always sound strange when you really listen to them. Everyone knows what a laugh means, but that shit can’t be found in any dictionary I ever heard of.

2 in 1 confession. I saw my mom naked. She didn't know I was upstairs and she walked out of the bathroom after a shower and we ran into each other. She covered her top but not her bottom and she went right back in the bathroom.

That was the first time I saw her fully naked. I've seen her pussy before a couple years back as a teenager. One summer night she fell asleep on the couch and left the TV on. I went to get the remote and there it was fully exposed and on the edge of the couch (she was curled up facing inward and her nightgown rode up). Insta-boner. I started rubbing myself and then got a little daring and started rubbing my dick against her pussy lips. I was nervous as hell and hoping the TV was loud enough to drown out my heavy breathing and low enough to not wake her up, of course, simultaneously thinking of a plan B explanation in case she wakes up. I felt myself getting close and rubbed a little faster. The taboo alone was extremely arousing. I felt my first contraction and it shot on her pussy lips. My better judgment compelled me to point my line of fire away. Grabbed some nearby tissues and cleaned up the crime scene before making like a tree.

looking for a sim. snuff video, a girl walks into assumably a hotel room, strips down, starts masturbating, choking herself with a belt, ends up killing herself while bent over kneeling on the bed face down, fingers in her pussy. goes over crime scene guy coming in and cleaning up after the fact too. anybody know which video i'm talking about?

Doe anyone else remember when Rotten.com and Asylumelectica.com were cool and cutting edge? Ogrish, anyone?

Doesn't anyone remember when fapping to teh interwebz included wading through countless hours of accident and crime scene footage as well?

Moral-Free does NOT equal Law-Free,

Get it straight because this is the most absolute retarded complaint I have see on this site from people.

"Durrr, They say 'moral-free' but they delete anything that they don't agree with, durrrrr"

Look, morals are a separate group of behavior guidelines that laws.

Morals say that images of a headless woman are wrong and that to protect the honor and dignity of a human being certain pictures should be taken down, however, the law says that crime scene pictures are a matter of public record. Therfore, since the site abeys LAWS and completely ignores morals, the picture stays up, as true to the site motto.

A 12 year old getting cummed on after a handjob, while not against some peoples morals, is indeed against the law, therfore, it is removed.

While many laws were created due to morals, the letter of the law does not equal morality, so stop your bitchin. At least know what your saying before you open your mouth.

Ok, i feel i need to go about this very specifically due to basic fears and preconceptions round here.

I have a question for a specific group that lurks about here. Before i ask it, dear god. Keep it civil, no visual aids, no links, and on both sides please no primal psycho rage.

My question is simply, Why?

stay with me now. This gets a little between the lines, anti's just stay mellow, it's still illegal and zero tolerance, folks in question don't get too into... well actually i dont' get quite what but try and treat it as a clinical question if you can.

I understand that this may get a bit uh, weird. But let's try to keep the visceral language and finger pointing to a minimum.

and yes i'm ducking the direct question because i'm a pussy. Now that we've cleared the air on that let's move on.

My question has been established. Why?

My confusion comes from my own perspective and capacity for inference.

Your preferred group, biologically, are basically pre-sex. I can't tell if one is male or female save for the color scheme on their clothes.

Being as they are sexless i remain confused as to the appeal. Stay calm.

Personally i believe any person has the right to do whatever the fudge they want in a darkened room wherein nobody realizes they exist in the first place. Which isn't a jab, it's exactly what i mean.

You want to smoke meth, shoot heroin, hold pet beauty pageants or have your mailman strangle you with a designer gator skin belt while you beat off to vintage cartoon characters; go for it.

Admittedly, the only reason i won't include it on that list is i feel certain folks would focus on that and lose sight of the question i'm asking.

I will say this. So long as it's legal to masturbate yourself into a rage-gasm over murder scene and autopsy photos it may as well be legal to beat off to any pre-existing evidence of human horror. Dude didn't murder any one, he just got way too into the photos proving it happened. It creeps me out, but whatever. No one said he has to be within a square mile of anyone i want to keep from him.

If i'm going to be self appointed thought police, however, then kill me now.

I've made peace with many other lifestyles, or mental illness or mutations or doctrines or fuck you get over yourselves that many people take to the grave, but this one just makes no sense to me at all.

The God freaks of any brand are afraid of being punished or positive they will be rewarded. In either case, because of others.

Druggies are addicted, biochemically and subsequently psychologically dependant.

Gays are just gay. period.

Beasties are demented, but i can make peace purely on the sense of ignorance. If It's legal to grind animals into big macs and tasteless clothes, it's legal to fuck them.

But this thing seems basically rooted in predatory mentality. i may be wrong but that's why i ask.

even serial killers admit to being basically sexually obsessed. Stay cool.

I'm not saying you are all rapists or cannibals or predators. It does however seem that the exclusive proprietors of your content are.

At that point i get back to the crime scene photos. That's basically what your content seems to be. Evidence of a crime. I'm no johnny law. i smoke my reefer and abide selectively like any American (hold it against me if you must i make no apology for being born at random), but i can't see past the victimization.

Is it a power trip? like a rape fantasy that has fallen so low on dominance that it manifests itself in this way? Comments here on motherless for the so called "weak stuff" seem to imply that dominance, pain and victimization are tantamount to the appeal.

If so, then at that point you lose me. I'm no stranger to the potentials of human cruelty, but there seems to be an outcry from your group that this is not your motivation, meanwhile others in your community seem to state otherwise. Quite directly in fact.

I'm neither looking to be sold on it, nor dissuaded. I have my sexual identity quite intact. I myself find sexual delight in plump to simply put fat ass white women, I'm simply confused and at a loss.

Further, the only reason i feel it warrants such discussion at all is the fact that it seems such a perpetual pervasive issue not just here, but anywhere a person doesn't have to own it right up front.

oh well, fuck it. I asked the question; do with it what you will. Even if that is nothing. Our own eyes are upon us, no greater authority matters.

If you have an honest opinion of your own, feel free to share. If you're looking to go to war either for or against, Then that topic already exists.

If at this point you have no idea what i'm talking about, what are you even doing here when you could be beating off to titties or making racist comments?

Maybe i'm wasting my time. Later wankers.

I confess I left my penis sheath at the scene of the crime.

I confess that I believe that the Duke Lacross Team players really did rape that lady that who was the stripper at their party which held for all the players and the Frat boys and that no one else knows how they got away with this crime but think that this is how it happened:

Behind the closed and locked door to the bathroom where they hustled her inside together, the three men worked together to hold her down while the pulled her panties off, and one by one they took turns fucking her and what their real intentions were seems so completely clear to me. This was not just a philosophical concept of how to get away with committing a rape you guys because it was more than just a three man tag team rape party that the three guys were all together in on, this was all about a plan they had to fucking knock this woman up, and dudes you know she got pregnant from getting fucked by those three guys, because she sure did get knocked up that night the little baby she kept as a souvenir to serve as evidence against them and to make them pay has a daddy somewhere and I'll tell you something you might find is interesting about the guy: I don't believe the daddy knows the kid is his and here's why that is, I think. Lots of men in college do make money as is known donating sperm to local sperm banks and I suspect that at that time there was on campus some male who had been recruited for their crime to participate in some kind of bogus study at the time, to be compensated for his contributions or "donations" as it were at a better price than those several local companies would pay in the area where this all took place, and if someone were to contact all those companies who do keep records of their men who donate sperm and samples too, that running DNA and comparing it to what was collected when the woman's rape kit was done and also from the kid a match would probable turn up. This is why I think that's likely to be the case, you see: to be a qualified donor of your sperm you've got to have this special kind of quality as a man which makes you able to cum loads more than the average guy with loads more sperm per volume of your semen than the usual, as frozen, it's like 50% less viable and they are all about the effort to make sure they've got a potent sample of a guy's semen to impregnate women with his seed, so it seems to me that maybe if they wanted to perpetuate this wicked crime, they'd likely want their candidate selected on the basis of the fact he'd already been established as a qualified donation stud, then maybe taking just the highest quality portions of the dude's ejaculate, the first few spurts, and collecting all of that they then proceeded when the plan unfolded to do the dirty deed with her in this way. She said they had condoms on she thought or sometimes maybe and then maybe not or something, well I guess she probably had something in her drinks as well, but believe that statement makes the whole thing clear and so while distracted one man with his pants down pulled a condom on to his hard cock which was full of all this other dude's huge nut and it was designed to break inside her and he shoved it in and fucked her hard enough that the sheath just ruptured and so in this way she was totally filled up with this seed that completely had the potency to do the job, and pulling out, he pulled the rubber off, and shoved his cock back in and fucked her hard, and at some point probably got himself another rubber out and rolled it down to cover his hard cock before he went back in and finally, as she must have felt the players nutting in her, did in fact ejaculate but that's where there was that certainty they'd cummed in her, while truly, pulling out and flushing the evidence away, then with all three guys at some point each all having done the same while their confederates prevented her from seeing what was going on between her legs then maybe made her lay down underneath them as they held her knees up to her chest and just stayed there deep inside her for whatever time they wanted to help insure that the bitch's cunt could not be turned down to the floor so all the gravity would pull the semen in to where it would be able to pass in to that cervical canal where once in there the party just begins and one lucky little swimmer won the race and got there first, but how about them apples guys? It finally makes everything that is said to have been happening that night make total sense, and if there's any cops on here who understand how likely this is to be the case, then take a guys advice who has a way of knowing things and see if it could ever be arranged to take this high profile case that's locked away and to keep the whole thing on the down low but open it up just for one last crack at nailing those guys who did this and correlate the likely time frame when this might have been and get a warrant or whatever to collect those samples from those firms in the area just to see, not believing it would ever be likely in my mind that anyone would have been successful steeling from the bank, the sperm bank I'm saying has to have accountability, and still if things went down another way like that then maybe check for records too of anything that ever might have gone missing from their cryogenic stores. And well I know how unlikely it may be now that anyone would dare to take this case on again for investigation and specifically where I'm unaware of any basis whereby those players could be recharged without it violating laws of double jeopardy I sure would love to nail their asses if I could, you know? Anyone else with me on that? (I did mean literally of course, the guys should go to prison and have their asses raped until they got to like it way too much for their own good. Someone made a big mistake in never having had the brains to figure out how they clearly did it and yet the only thing that matters now besides the woman's testimony is the evidence of the massive loads of dna collected from the lady or the crime scene and it said that those three guys we definitely know went into that closed bathroom with her never told on themselves or one another and as the only other witnesses, allowed the whole thing to unfold as some great joke on them while they got off again and went on with their pampered and successful lives as innocent young rapists who were just some cocky college jocks who decided to conduct this amazingly airtight alibi supported crime to get away with something not unlike a murder, for they did bring forth a young life into this world and should pay for that I think.