Received: from s2-mta3.emailserver.pw ([173.0.51.20]:56366 helo=needthepill.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cPB5Y-0006mc-St for lojban@lojban.org; Thu, 05 Jan 2017 08:40:32 -0800 Date: Thu, 05 Jan 2017 10:03:56 -0700 To: Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Mime-Version: 1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Message-ID: Subject: His bulge was harder then ever and we had the best sex-ever From: "Alison Kelley" X-Spam-Score: 2.1 (++) X-Spam_score: 2.1 X-Spam_score_int: 21 X-Spam_bar: ++ X-Spam-Report: Spam detection software, running on the system "stodi.digitalkingdom.org", has NOT identified this incoming email as spam. The original message has been attached to this so you can view it or label similar future email. If you have any questions, see the administrator of that system for details. Content preview: you need this Have Better-Sex We did it for over 3 hours last night [...] Content analysis details: (2.1 points, 5.0 required) pts rule name description ---- ---------------------- -------------------------------------------------- 0.0 URIBL_BLOCKED ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE: The query to URIBL was blocked. See http://wiki.apache.org/spamassassin/DnsBlocklists#dnsbl-block for more information. [URIs: needthepill.com] -0.0 SPF_PASS SPF: sender matches SPF record -0.0 SPF_HELO_PASS SPF: HELO matches SPF record 0.7 MIME_HTML_ONLY BODY: Message only has text/html MIME parts -1.9 BAYES_00 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 0 to 1% [score: 0.0000] 0.0 HTML_MESSAGE BODY: HTML included in message 1.9 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_E8_51_100 Razor2 gives engine 8 confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.5 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_51_100 Razor2 gives confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.9 RAZOR2_CHECK Listed in Razor2 (http://razor.sf.net/) you need this
Have Better-Sex

We did it for over 3 hours last night

My husband never really wanted to do it, he couldnt stay hard, and jsut wasnt into it.

He took this pill-last night and I can honestly say we had the best sex-ever


We went at it for hours and he stayed harder and was longer then usual


Here is what he took

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Federico Nieland, 845 NC Highway 33 W Chocowinity Nc 27817-8026

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As I paced around trying to persuade passersby to fork out a couple of quid for a magazine, Princess sat there attentively, her head on the pavement and her eyes swivelling around like surveillance cameras, carefully weighing up everyone who approached us. If they got her seal of approval, she remained rooted to the spot, but if she had any suspicions she would suddenly sit upright ready to intervene. If she didnt like the cut of someones jib she would let out a little growl or even a bark. It was usually enough to get the message across. An hour or so after wed settled down, a drunk carrying a can of extra strength lager came weaving his way towards us. They could be the bane of my existence at Angel. Almost every day Id be asked for a quid for a beer by someone off his face on Special Brew. Princess spotted him, stood up and barked a quick warning as if to say steer clear. She wasnt the worlds biggest dog, but she looked intimidating enough. She was more Staffie than Lab in that respect. He had soon veered off on another course, heading off to bother someone other poor soul instead.

Princess was at her most alert whenever anyone knelt down to stroke and say hello to Bob. She would take a step towards them, jutting her head forward so that she could make sure that they were treating the smallest member of our trio with the proper respect. Again, if she disapproved of anyone she made her feelings clear and they would stand back. She actually made my job a little easier. It could often be a challenge to keep an eye on Bob while trying to sell the magazine at the same time, especially when the street was busy. The incident with the lady in the tweed suit had made me especially wary. Thank you, Princess, I began saying on a regular basis, handing her a little treat from my rucksack. Even Bob shot her a couple of approving looks. Somewhere, deep inside his feline mind I felt sure he was revising his opinion of our unexpected new recruit. Maybe shes not so bad after all, he may have been thinking. The weather remained miserable all afternoon, so when the clock started edging towards six, I started looking out for Titch. Id done pretty well selling magazines and wanted to start heading homewards. It was no night to be out late. But there was no sign of him. Six pm came and went and still there was nothing. I saw one of the The Big Issue coordinators heading home from work. Everyone knew Titch, so I asked if shed seen him. No, havent seen him for weeks actually, she said. Not since all that trouble, you know? Yeah, I said.

By 6.30pm Id become thoroughly disillusioned. I knew street people werent the worlds greatest timekeepers, but this was getting ridiculous. Come on you two, lets head for home. He can come and collect you there, Princess, I said, gathering all my stuff together. I was cheesed off with Titch, but I was also a little worried. Bob had tolerated Princess being in the flat for a few minutes earlier but having her for a sleepover was another matter altogether. I could foresee lots of barking from Princess, complaints from the neighbours and a sleepless night for me. I stopped at the convenience store to grab some food for Princess. I had no idea what she liked to eat, so gambled on a tin of standard fare dog food and some doggie biscuits. Back in the kitchen as we all settled down to dinner, Bob once more ensured that the pecking order was clear. When Princess made a move towards the bowl of water Id laid out for her, Bob hissed and snarled loudly, forcing the interloper to back off. He had to lap up his own bowl of milk first. It didnt take them long to reach an accommodation though. In fact, Bob was so content with his new companion that he allowed her to clear out the remains of his dinner bowl. Ive seen it all now, I thought to myself. Actually, I hadnt.

I was shattered by 10pm and fell asleep in front of the television. When I woke up I saw something that made me wish I owned a video camera. I would have made a small fortune on those television shows that feature cute animal clips. Bob and Princess were both splayed out on the carpet, snoozing quietly. When Id left them they were at opposite ends of the room, with Bob near his favourite spot by the radiator and Princess near the door. While Id been sleeping, Princess had clearly sought out the warmth of the radiator and slid alongside Bob. Her head was now barely a foot from Bobs nose. If I hadnt known any better, Id have guessed that they were lifelong pals. I locked the front door, switched off the lights and headed off to bed leaving them there. I didnt hear a peep from either of them until the follog morning when I was woken up by the sound of barking. It took me a moment to remember that I had a dog in the house. Whats wrong, Princess? I said, still half asleep. They say that some animals can sense their owners are nearby. My best friend Belle sometimes stayed at the flat with us and she had told me that Bob often sensed when I was coming home. Several times he had jumped up on the dow sill in the kitchen looking anxiously down to the street below minutes before I arrived at the front door. Princess clearly had the same gift because a couple of moments later I heard the buzzer. It was Titch.

From the look of his unshaven and rather bleary face, he had slept rough, which, knog Titch, was quite possible. Really sorry to leave you in the lurch last night but something came up, he said, apologetically. I didnt bother asking what it was. Id had nights like that myself, far too many of them. I made another cup of tea and stuck some bread in the toaster. He looked like he could do with something warm inside him. Bob was lying next to the radiator, with Princess curled up a couple of feet away, his eyes once more fixed on his new friend. The expression on Titchs face was priceless. He was dumbstruck. Look at those two, they get on like a house on fire now, I smiled. I can see it, but I cant quite believe it, he said, grinning widely. Titch wasnt a man to miss an opportunity. So would you mind looking after her again if Im in the lurch? he asked, munching on his toast. Why not? I said.

Chapter 5 The Ghost on the Stairs The rain had been relentless for days, transforming the streets of London into miniature paddling pools. Bob and I were regularly returning home soaked to the skin, so today Id given up and headed home early. I arrived back at the flats around midafternoon desperate to get out of my wet clothes and let Bob warm himself by the radiator. The lift in my building was erratic at the best of times. After a few minutes repeatedly pressing the button for it to come down from the fifth floor, I realised it was out of order once more. Brilliant, I muttered to myself. Its the long walk up again Im afraid Bob. He looked at me forlornly. Come on then, I said, dipping my shoulder down so that he could climb on board. We were just beginning the final couple of flights of stairs, from the fourth to the fifth floor, when I noticed a figure in the shadows on the landing above us. Hold on here for a second, Bob, I said, placing him down on the steps and heading up on my own. Moving in closer I could see that it was a man and he was leaning against the wall. He was hunched over with his trousers partially dropped down and there was something metallic in his hand. I knew instantly what he was doing. In the past, the flats had been notorious as a haunt for drug users and dealers. Addicts would find their way in and use the staircase and hallways to smoke crack and marijuana or inject themselves with heroin like this guy was doing. In the years since Id moved in, the police had improved the situation dramatically, but wed still occasionally see kids dealing in the stairwell on the ground floor. It was nowhere near as bad as a previous sheltered housing project Id lived in, over in Dalston, which was overrun with crack addicts. But it was still distressing, especially for the families who lived in the flats.

No one wants their n arriving home from school to find a junkie shooting up on the staircase outside their home. For me, of course, it was a reminder of the past I was desperate to put behind me. I continued to struggle with my addiction; I always would. That, unfortunately, was the nature of the beast. But, since teaming up with Bob, Id made the breakthrough and was on the way to complete recovery. After weaning myself off heroin and then methadone, Id been prescribed a drug called subutex, a milder medication that was slowly but surely reducing my drug dependency. The counsellor at my drug dependency unit had likened this final part of my recovery to landing an aeroplane: I would slowly drop back down to earth. Id been on subutex for several months now. The landing gear was down and I could see the lights of the runway in front of me. The descent was going according to plan, I was almost back on solid ground. I could do without seeing this, I said to myself. I saw that the guy was in his midforties with a short, crewcut hairstyle. He was wearing a black coat, tshirt and jeans and a pair of scruffy trainers. Fortunately he wasnt aggressive. In fact he was quite the opposite. He was really apologetic, which was pretty unusual. Selflessness isnt really a strong suit in heroin addicts. Sorry, mate, Ill get out of your way, he said in a thick East End accent, taking his works out of his leg and pulling up his trousers. I could tell that hed finished injecting. His eyes had that telltale glazed look. I decided to let him go first. I knew better than to completely trust an addict. I wanted to keep him ahead of me where I could see him. He was pretty unsteady on his feet and stumbled up the short flight of stairs to the landing on the fifth floor, through the doors and into the hallway heading for the lift.

Bob had trotted up the final flight of stairs behind me on the end of his lead. I just wanted to get him inside to safety so headed for the door of our flat. I had just put the key in the door and let Bob in when I heard a loud groan. I turned round and saw the guy collapse. He just suddenly went down like a sack of potatoes, hitting the ground with a smack. Mate, are you all right? I said, running over to him. He clearly wasnt. I could see immediately that he was in a really bad way. He didnt seem to be breathing. Oh God, hes ODd! I said to myself, recognising the symptoms of an overdose. Fortunately, I had my cheap Nokia mobile on me. I called 999 and asked for an emergency ambulance. The lady on the other end of the line took my address but then told me it was going to take at least ten minutes. Can you describe his condition to me? she asked, her voice calm and professional. Hes unconscious and hes not breathing, I said. And his skin is changing colour. OK, sounds like his heart has stopped. Im going to ask you to give him CPR. Do you know what that is? the lady said. Yes, I do. But you will have to talk me through it really carefully. She got me to turn the guy on his side and to check that his airwaves were clear. I then had to turn him on to his back so that I could apply compression to his chest to try to jump start his heart. Then I had to breathe into his mouth to try to get him to respond.

Within moments I was pressing down on his chest with both hands, counting as I did so. When I got to thirty I stopped to see if there was any change in his condition. The lady from the emergency services was still on the line. Any response? she asked. No. Nothing. Hes not breathing, I said. Ill try again. I carried on like this for what must have been several minutes, pressing his chest furiously in short bursts then breathing into his mouth. Looking back on it later, I was surprised at how calm I felt. I realise now that it was one of those situations where the brain goes into a different mode. The emotional reality of what was happening wasnt registering in my mind at all. Instead, I was just focussing on the physical side of things, trying to get this guy to breathe again. Despite my best efforts, however, his condition remained the same. At one point he started making a gurgling, snoring sound. Id heard about the death rattle a person makes as they draw their last breath. I didnt want to think it, but I feared thats what I was hearing here. After what seemed like an age, I heard the buzzer of my door going so ran over to my flat. Ambulance service, a voice said. I hit the buzzer and told them to come up. Thankfully our flaky lift was now working again, so they arrived on the fifth floor within seconds. They threw down their bags and immediately produced a CPR kit with paddles to conduct electric shocks. They then cut open his tshirt. Stand back, Sir, one of them said. We can take it from here. For the next five or so minutes they kept working feverishly to get him moving. But his body was lying there, limp and lifeless. By now the shock was kicking in and I was standing by the doorway, shaking. Eventually, one of the ambulance men slumped over and turned to the other one: No. Hes gone, he said. Slowly and really reluctantly they dd a silver blanket over him and put away their gear. It was as if I had been struck by a lightning bolt. I was absolutely poleaxed. The ambulance guys asked me if I was all right.