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Victor Dandridge
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  • Columbus, OH
  • United States
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November 17
Strong and powerful words Victor. You painted your memory as if we were all there. Kudos.
November 17
very touchy! again the sun can't be a star; the sun comes out in the day time and stars only come out at night. here i must say u have nicely merged the imagination world and the real world....very nicely...
November 17
i like the way u write its v precise and u describe each move v carefully.. n the feelings hit the heart... nice wrk
November 17
His love of her lingers in the beads of sweat on his bare chest beautiful line.. sorry if u feel offended but i think it was a v passionate imagination.. which was observed v clearly.. enjoyed ur post
November 17
Victor Dandridge added a blog post
It's Anne's Pizza at her place on Friday nites, with sleep induced by some spacebound adventure for the thousandth time: Armageddon, Independence Day or Apollo 13. Sitting Indian-style (is that even appropriate anymore), while she tied yarn out of t…
November 17
Very strong emotional content Victor. Well done.
November 16
Victor Dandridge added a blog post
"Be like the sun," I told my children, on that autumn day after their mother died. With curious eyes, they glared back at me, beckoning for understanding. "See the sun is a star, and its the only star in our solar system and though it sits in space…
November 15
You're most welcome Victor D! The sapphire blue eyes and rising tides were too lovely of images for a sailor gal of the sea like me to pass up. Keep'on keepin' on in crashin' those waves! ~ A*K
October 22
October 22
Thanks, A*K!
October 22
I used to fear storms, but this one tastes too good to hide from. < Nice sensory feel and phrasing Victor from falling rain to rising tides. ~ Absolutely*Kate
October 22
Victor Dandridge added a blog post
Its raining. Heavy clouds of fleshy lips pat the length of my neck and throat. A thunderstorm of eager fingers search my clothed body for access to naked skin. Outside, its raining...but inside, I make love to my weather witch. Her sapphire blue eye…
October 18
October 17
Love this, as if I could see it in some kitchy 70's movie (that is my guilty pleasure) for moments such as these.
October 17
Victor Dandridge added 2 blog posts
October 16

Victor Dandridge's Blog

Victor Dandridge

Collecting My Recollections

It's Anne's Pizza at her place on Friday nites, with sleep induced by some spacebound adventure for the thousandth time: Armageddon, Independence Day or Apollo 13. Sitting Indian-style (is that even appropriate anymore), while she tied yarn out of the kinky knots of hair that I wore back then. Gummi worms, and by the pound, for movie premiere weekends...and sometimes because we've already paid the rent. The rides to and from work, where we pondered the ways of the world, typically with a kiss an… Continue

Posted on November 17, 2009 at 4:06am — 1 Comment

Victor Dandridge

With Condolences to My Sun

"Be like the sun," I told my children, on that autumn day after their mother died. With curious eyes, they glared back at me, beckoning for understanding. "See the sun is a star, and its the only star in our solar system and though it sits in space alone, it freely shares its light and heat with the worlds around it, never asking for thanks or retribution." I thought my words were clever in their inspiration and condolence, when my oldest son, only 5 retorted: "Daddy...the sun can't be a star; t… Continue

Posted on November 15, 2009 at 10:37pm — 2 Comments

Victor Dandridge

Me and the Weather Witch pt.1

Its raining. Heavy clouds of fleshy lips pat the length of my neck and throat. A thunderstorm of eager fingers search my clothed body for access to naked skin. Outside, its raining...but inside, I make love to my weather witch. Her sapphire blue eyes, like the rising tide, overtake me; desire belting out with the crashing wave. I used to fear storms, but this one tastes too good to hide from.

Posted on October 18, 2009 at 12:04am — 3 Comments

Victor Dandridge

The Poster on the Wall...

John, not the name of his birth, but the handle of his vice, watches intently as she re-applies Candy Apple Red #2 to her puckered lips. Willfully, she props her feet against the desk, sharing a reflected view with her man of the hour, from under her sundress, all swollen and engorged, still wet from their service. His love of her lingers in the beads of sweat on his bare chest and will carry still when she departs back for the strip. He'll wear it proudly. She will carry his love within her, so… Continue

Posted on October 16, 2009 at 11:05pm — 1 Comment

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At 9:33am on October 17, 2009, Robert McEvily said…
Hi Victor - welcome!
 
 
 

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