He retired without saying goodbye

I found him in the supermarket, after almost two months of his retirement. I watched him from afar, as he put some of the products he took from the shelf into the shopping cart. I remembered he had left without saying goodbye. He retired. Goodbye and see you soon. He always had a tough temper. Withdrawn and lonely. He had some problems with most of the companions, even with me, that I am an angel from heaven.

I decided to approach him and say hello. 

"Casimiro!," I yelled at him from across the hall.

He didn't seem to have heard me. I thought for a moment about whether to keep insisting or go on my way. But I called him again, raising my voice as I did in my lost tenor times.

"Casimiro!"

Then he turned his head. He took off some glasses to see closely and put on others to see from afar. He raised his arm and greeted me. I took advantage of the moment. I approached to him, fighting with the front wheels shopping cart, which were headed towards the shelves, attracted by inscrutable forces.

"How are you doing after retirement?," I asked him with a smile and reached out to greet him.

"Ahh, very good. I Relax. Sorry, what was your name?."

I was baffled for a few seconds. He didn't remember my name! And my name isn't exactly the kind of people who forget easily.

"Tancredo," I replied with a pout of anger.

"Ohhh, sorry, yeah, I remember now. So how's it going at work?."

"Same. You know that in the company everything goes well, money is always needed even to die."

"Yes, yes, that's true," he said to me as if he wanted to escape from that situation.

"I was surprised that you left without saying goodbye. I don't know, we could have done something, a little party."

"Ah... Yes?," he asked incredulously, "It didn't occur to me. Maybe one day I'll come and bring you a box of bonbons. I'm no friend of social events. I'm very anti-social."

"As you wish. I see you're very busy with your shopping. Well, nothing. Let everything go well after your retirement.

"There are always things to do. Maybe I'll see you another day down some of these corridors."

"Perhaps."

I saw him walk away and he got lost in the dairy corridor.

The following Monday, a messenger brought a box of chocolate chocolates, with a card signed by Casimiro. I smiled. I thought he had a good heart at heart. That he had thought it over and sent them out to apologize for not saying goodbye.

We all ate the sweet gift. There were none left. 

It wasn't more than thirty minutes passed in which we all, without exception, had to run off to the restrooms, shitting ourselves hopelessly.

Sitting in the toilet, with cramps in my stomach, I cursed myself for greeting him at the supermarket. I thought that, in the end, the goats always runs towards the mountain.

 Photo source:   Pixabay 

Gato al atardecer

A los gatos les gusta el atardecer, permanecer inactivos, esperando la noche que es lo que les gusta.

Yesterday I woke up in your body

Yesterday I woke up in your body

with the taste of your kisses on the commissure of my lips

and with the perfume of your ebony complexion on my thirsty hands.

I smelled every inch of your skin like a dog in heat. 

while you were sleeping, exhausted,

after devouring me to bites,

the last remnants of my lust.

I woke you up, 

dipping myself into the sacred chalice of your sex

with my thirsty tongue,

the hidden nectar of your lust,

while my hands wanted to be your coffee nipples.

I crawled like a snake, 

in your convulsed body, 

following the path of your sobbing,

towards your butterfly mouth,

to play with your tongue, 

and drown myself with the passion of your kissing.

I went into all your burning caves

while your fingernails made furrows of lust in my skin,

until I was myself  ecstatic, alone, 

with the pleasure ephemeral of my egocentrism.

Yesterday I woke up in your body ,

searching the white roof

the blades of your dream

that got lost in the bitch consciousness.  

Photo source:   Pixabay - Efes Kitap 

Don Quijote y el contraluz

Flores únicas

Hay flores que son una maravilla de la naturaleza y esta es un claro ejemplo de lo que digo.

There are flowers that are a wonder of nature and this is a clear example of what I say.

There will always remain me Peter

Marcia had reached the age of forty, single, having lived a quiet life without much embarrassment. She had no boyfriends, no friends with a right to rub, no friends with a right to sex, not even official lovers, or anything like that. 

The bad and viperinas tongues of the neighborhood, they said that their singleness was due to their secret tendency by the lesbian passion and that, in the early morning, when the cats meowed by the street twenty-two, she went out in search of the kisses and the caresses of the amazons of the port.

But Marcia did have a lover, a secret one, and his name was Peter. He was faithful, discreet, unspoken. He was barely whispering, never asking questions and was always willing to take her to those places where no man had yet been able to take her. To total ecstasy, to madness or even sexual nirvana.

Peter knew what points his body touches. He did it with supreme mastery. Without saying a word. He was moving like a fish in the water. Playing in her vagina, making the movements exact and precise. Not one more, not one less. Until he got his whole body to shiver. Then he had no choice but to let out a great cry of pleasure when he received that orgasmic group. One after the other.

But one day, Marcia decided to go out in search of other sexual adventures. She wanted to know if she could reach, with other lovers, the pleasure that Pedro gave her.

Without much hesitation, she jumped into the search and capture of new lovers. It was easy for him. The men are always willing to keep it warm, without much consideration. She tried one, then another. Up to twenty and always with the same result. No one satisfied her like Peter. They weren't up to it.

She arrived every night miserable and sad, while Peter slept in the darkness of the night, in silence. Waiting for the warm touch of his faithful Marcia, who for this time, did not arrive.

Marcia started worrying. It could not be that only Peter could satisfy her and that there was not a single man in the world who could even make her come to a fucking orgasm.

She even wondered if she was obsessed with Peter's caresses or if she was a sex addict.

With that concern, she made an appointment with a sexologist. She gave her his case. The sexologist told him it was strange. That could be due to Peter's purely sexual character. Somehow it predisposed her, physically and mentally, to reach orgasm.

Marcia didn't understand anything at all. When she arrived home, she lay on his bed in the dark, looking up at the ceiling. She undressed himself and as she did so, she searched for the rubbing of his hands with every erogenous part of his body. She felt her sex get wet. She spread his legs and held out his hand for a long time.  She opened the drawer of her bedside table to look for Pedro, who waited  under the red lace thong. She grabbed him tightly. She pressed the little blue button and set it in motion. She put it in his mouth. She sucked it with lasciviousness, sensing its pleasant vibrations.  She wore it to his face, his neck, his nipples. Going down little by little, until you reach your vagina, to end up introducing it and ending up saying:

What would I do without you, Peter?

Photo source:   Pixabay 

La madre que parió al Steem

Cuando Ned Scott y Dan Larimer crearon Steemit lo plantearon de una forma muy perspicaz, porque vincular Steemit con la criptomoneda Steem fue un movimiento innovador e inteligente, porque, de alguna manera, la resguarda de la volatilidad del resto de las criptomonedas que no tienen una madre que las proteja de los especuladores que trabajan, cada minuto, para ganar lo máximo posible, vendiendo aquí y comprando allá.

La madre Steemit protege y protegerá a su hijo Steem de esa volatilidad y lo hará cada día más fuerte. Todos formamos parte de la madre Steemit y alimentamos, con nuestras entradas, al Steem. Contribuimos a hacerlo más fuerte y más respetado porque tiene detrás una plataforma que, cada día que pasa, es más prestigiosa y considerada y ninguna criptomoneda cuenta con una respaldo tan importante como este.

Sin embargo, tenemos que cuidar a nuestra madre Steemit y protegerla de aquellos que la quieren prostituir y mancillar y, por ende, perjudicar al Steem.

Me refiero a todos esos que se acercan a nuestra plataforma solo con la intención de agenciarse unos malditos dólares sin tener en cuenta los principios básicos de Steemit y contaminan nuestra plataforma con contenidos plagiados, subiendo películas pirateadas a Dtube, publicitando la descarga ilegal de música, de libros y de películas o publicando contenidos protegidos por los derechos de autor.

A estos son los que hay que advertirles que ese no es el camino y si no atienden a razones, darles una patada en el culo y degradarlos hasta la insignificancia, porque a estos personajes les importa poco Steemit y mucho menos el Steem. Son unos depredadores que solo buscan ganar lo máximo posible sin dar un palo al agua y aprovechándose del trabajo de los demás.

Ya @lince está trabajando justo de esa manera, advirtiendo a los que caraduras que el camino debe ser la originalidad y me parece una medida ajustada, pero pienso que hay que dar un paso más allá para protegernos e impedir que Steemit se convierta en un cubo de basura que nadie quiera entrar ni invertir.

Soy de los que piensa que ya es hora de establecer algún tipo de medida, al estilo del Bandwidth, que te bloquea cuando se te agota. Pues se podría implementar algún algoritmo, de ese tipo, que bloquee a los reincidentes y no les permita publicar.

Sé que algunos se llevarán las manos a la cabeza porque piensan que Steemit es adalid de la libertad y cierto que así es, pero también es y debe ser el adalid del contenido original y prestigioso.

La unión umbilical entre Steemit y el Steem nos debe hacer reflexionar sobre lo ante dicho, si queremos un Steem fuerte, tenemos que tener una Steemit fuerte y eso solo se consigue subiendo contenidos que valgan la pena, trabajando para que nuestras entradas sean las mejores y que, desde fuera, se nos respete y digan:

Esos de Steemit están trabajando muy bien.

Así que vamos a preocuparnos por cada entrada que subamos, por cada cada foto, por cada vídeo, de intentar, por lo menos, hacerlo lo mejor posible y a los usurpadores no darle ni agua.

Fuente de la imagen: steemitblog