She scratched at the elaborate collar around her neck. It was a dainty thing, if a bit tight, dripping pearls down her neck and fine crystals where the artist had deemed it necessary to reflect a bit more light. She hoped the darling who gave it to her knew where that jeweler could be found; she’d appreciate a slight extension.
His shirt was always perfect, his hair a dark black and a smile that told me I should stay away. I wanted to leave smudgy red kisses on his perfect white collar.
Well, collars are things you wear on your neck, right? I think so, unless I’m forgetting how to speak English. Err… the first thing that pops to mind is “white-collar”, which leads me to think about “blue-collar”, which leads me to think about the Industrial Revolution which we saw in school today…
so simmilar to the word colour , tao aprisionante ao mesmo tempo, sei la , quero distancia desta palavra , muito errada , sem liberdade de expressao ! fazer se sentir um animal , um cachorro
The man’s collar was blue. It wasn’t a dog collar, more like the kind you would see worn by men in a gay bar, but on a Saturday night, in midtown, where there was no gay bar around, it was a peculiar sight. I wish I hadn’t gotten my finger stuck on the pointy end.
with the wife cleaning the clothes it was only a limited amount of time until she found that lipstick, on his collar, she thought it was only in movies and country songs, but there it was. bright are roses in the summer sun.
he bought her a collar, and she was happy. she wore her collar when they went on walks, and she was happy. she wore her collar when his wife had her baby, and she was happy. she wore her collar when she curled around his baby, and she was happy.
He tugged on the leash and the man at the other end growled, “I am not your pet!”
He smiled warmly and went over to kiss the man who gave in easily despite the red leather collar around his throat.
“You are today, my love.”
he woke up from a long rest, feeling rather drowsy from the night’s events. He looked down to see the lipstick attached to the collar of his dress shirt.
It wasn’t as though she could just up and leave. Did they think she was heartless? This was exactly what he had warned her of. These feelings; they were useless. It was all useless. It was an invisible collar, fitted just for her.
As I turned my collar down the thick, creamy fabric snagged on the spurs of glass that stood out above my skin. I winced, then gently lifted the collar over the bright edges, letting the fabric of the shirt settle on them with rough, twinges of ache, that were a little more bearable.
a colloer is a strange thing really. they really aren’t nessicary and only men use them to put their tie underrr. poppin mah collar poppin poppin mah collarrrr hahhahaha ever since i can remeber i
i wore the collar proudly, it was a special gift to me from my dog. it was red, with shiny glass all around it. woof! i wanted to stick my head out the nearest car window and let my tongue roll out of my mouth…. or eat a dog biscuit…. or chase a cat…. or a car….
his collar was popped, in a way that i had seen many boys wear theirs before. however, it didn’t seem so cocky on him. it was endearing, really. like a small scar or a piece of old jewlery.
He adjusted his collar waiting for the right moment to enter the room. It was white, a classic color his father had always told him was his safest bed. As he entered, their eyes locked. Hers went from his face to his neck, resting on his collar, and then to his torso. It was an intense moment.
There was no collar on the dog, and I picked it up. “And what’s your name?” I asked and it licked my face. I laughed and carried it inside, already thinking of a few names.
A collar round my neck, choking and stifling me. I cannot seem to escape it, no matter how hard I may try. My master claims to love, but tightens this noose around my neck everyday. How can she love me if she will not let me be free?
she tugged at the collar of his shirt, and she gently kissed his neck. her lipstick stained the perfectly pristine white fabric, and her red lips grinned over her perfectly polished teeth.
“good evening,” she said.
he smiled.
she was perfect. the whole situation was perfect. as she removed the buttons on her blouse, he decided that today was the perfect day.
I used to wear a dog collar in high school. Everyone though I was weird but I felt comfortable with it about my neck. whever I went out with someone I would have tags made with their and my name and their a
Polo shirts. Why do polo shirts inevitably look so good on him? I always have wondered what would happen if he’d just dress like a Jack Wills model. I’d probably propose on the spot, for one thing.
the dog bounded over the sand towards me. Taking the collar in my hands I wondered if my hands would freeze to the silver tag- the north sea roared rhythmically away behind me and I sighed.
I hate it when people pop their collars. Especially white boys who think they’re God’s gift to man. I love wearing polo’s though because my favorite thing about them is the collar. It’s my favorite thing on guys too, just please boys, refrain from the popping.
the dog hated this collar. everyting he tried to go to the neigbors yard the collar would give him a nasty shock. now he knows the shock is coming but he a stubborn dog and still tries to get next door to dig up the neighbors flowers.
sexy bone. zach. ties. men. adam’s apple. orange. zach. dinners. wine. red wine. white table cloths. many cutlery. dessert with white sprinkles. weed. great conversation.
She scratched at the elaborate collar around her neck. It was a dainty thing, if a bit tight, dripping pearls down her neck and fine crystals where the artist had deemed it necessary to reflect a bit more light. She hoped the darling who gave it to her knew where that jeweler could be found; she’d appreciate a slight extension.
He looked so good in that button up shirt… his tie was around his collar as i gently pulled it towards me and kissed him.
His shirt was always perfect, his hair a dark black and a smile that told me I should stay away. I wanted to leave smudgy red kisses on his perfect white collar.
we are bound to our lives as a dog is bound to its rope by a collar. a collar of holding, if you will, our prisons
I can’t believe that someone else who speaks Portuguese could have put in the previous entry and talked about feeling like a dog collar”!
Well, collars are things you wear on your neck, right? I think so, unless I’m forgetting how to speak English. Err… the first thing that pops to mind is “white-collar”, which leads me to think about “blue-collar”, which leads me to think about the Industrial Revolution which we saw in school today…
is tight, i hate ties and collars. I had to wear one for too many years in jobs. It felt like being a dog.
so simmilar to the word colour , tao aprisionante ao mesmo tempo, sei la , quero distancia desta palavra , muito errada , sem liberdade de expressao ! fazer se sentir um animal , um cachorro
The man’s collar was blue. It wasn’t a dog collar, more like the kind you would see worn by men in a gay bar, but on a Saturday night, in midtown, where there was no gay bar around, it was a peculiar sight. I wish I hadn’t gotten my finger stuck on the pointy end.
with the wife cleaning the clothes it was only a limited amount of time until she found that lipstick, on his collar, she thought it was only in movies and country songs, but there it was. bright are roses in the summer sun.
he bought her a collar, and she was happy. she wore her collar when they went on walks, and she was happy. she wore her collar when his wife had her baby, and she was happy. she wore her collar when she curled around his baby, and she was happy.
He tugged on the leash and the man at the other end growled, “I am not your pet!”
He smiled warmly and went over to kiss the man who gave in easily despite the red leather collar around his throat.
“You are today, my love.”
he woke up from a long rest, feeling rather drowsy from the night’s events. He looked down to see the lipstick attached to the collar of his dress shirt.
It wasn’t as though she could just up and leave. Did they think she was heartless? This was exactly what he had warned her of. These feelings; they were useless. It was all useless. It was an invisible collar, fitted just for her.
As I turned my collar down the thick, creamy fabric snagged on the spurs of glass that stood out above my skin. I winced, then gently lifted the collar over the bright edges, letting the fabric of the shirt settle on them with rough, twinges of ache, that were a little more bearable.
SMASH!!! The car hit against the tree. The passenger? She got one of those big casts for her neck. Collar bone damaged.
Rusty, moldy, crooked, crusty things, they are, too. Stretch, tug, and pop they go.
a colloer is a strange thing really. they really aren’t nessicary and only men use them to put their tie underrr. poppin mah collar poppin poppin mah collarrrr hahhahaha ever since i can remeber i
i love my collar, it protects me from the wind.
i wore the collar proudly, it was a special gift to me from my dog. it was red, with shiny glass all around it. woof! i wanted to stick my head out the nearest car window and let my tongue roll out of my mouth…. or eat a dog biscuit…. or chase a cat…. or a car….
his collar was popped, in a way that i had seen many boys wear theirs before. however, it didn’t seem so cocky on him. it was endearing, really. like a small scar or a piece of old jewlery.
He adjusted his collar waiting for the right moment to enter the room. It was white, a classic color his father had always told him was his safest bed. As he entered, their eyes locked. Hers went from his face to his neck, resting on his collar, and then to his torso. It was an intense moment.
neck love dog starve power of the weak kinky ololo whatelse
he popped the collar on her shirt with a look of desire. when she reached up and grabbed his hands her stroked her face. well done kiddo he said.
There was no collar on the dog, and I picked it up. “And what’s your name?” I asked and it licked my face. I laughed and carried it inside, already thinking of a few names.
A collar round my neck, choking and stifling me. I cannot seem to escape it, no matter how hard I may try. My master claims to love, but tightens this noose around my neck everyday. How can she love me if she will not let me be free?
I don’t use a collar, so it can’t get lost. I lost so many things, but at least I can’t lose what I don’t have.
The collar of his shirt was pristine, something was wrong, it was never this clean, he’d been up to something, she just knew it.
she tugged at the collar of his shirt, and she gently kissed his neck. her lipstick stained the perfectly pristine white fabric, and her red lips grinned over her perfectly polished teeth.
“good evening,” she said.
he smiled.
she was perfect. the whole situation was perfect. as she removed the buttons on her blouse, he decided that today was the perfect day.
drag the tugging line, wrapped around your neck. drag along that stone you’ve been carrying for months.
I used to wear a dog collar in high school. Everyone though I was weird but I felt comfortable with it about my neck. whever I went out with someone I would have tags made with their and my name and their a
Polo shirts. Why do polo shirts inevitably look so good on him? I always have wondered what would happen if he’d just dress like a Jack Wills model. I’d probably propose on the spot, for one thing.
He neared the end of his life with strong hands wrapped around his throat, the last touch he felt were the long red nails scraping his collarbone.
The collar was restrticve, restraining. My fingers grab the edge and pulled; gasping for breathe.
the dog bounded over the sand towards me. Taking the collar in my hands I wondered if my hands would freeze to the silver tag- the north sea roared rhythmically away behind me and I sighed.
POP YO COLLLARRRR!!!
I hate it when people pop their collars. Especially white boys who think they’re God’s gift to man. I love wearing polo’s though because my favorite thing about them is the collar. It’s my favorite thing on guys too, just please boys, refrain from the popping.
White collar crime, is not a crime now. It’s a pastime, a spectator sport, lions to the Christians.
the dog hated this collar. everyting he tried to go to the neigbors yard the collar would give him a nasty shock. now he knows the shock is coming but he a stubborn dog and still tries to get next door to dig up the neighbors flowers.
sexy bone. zach. ties. men. adam’s apple. orange. zach. dinners. wine. red wine. white table cloths. many cutlery. dessert with white sprinkles. weed. great conversation.