Disclaimer: Some of the content on this blog may be considered unsuitable for work and/or those under the age of 18. Please use your own discretion. I take no responsibility for your viewing this material. You have found your way to Product of a Wandering Mind, a place where I can share my thoughts, many of them naughty, and truly be myself. I started this blog in the middle of 2011 so as to be able to share the thoughts and things I didn't feel I could really put on my personal blog. It then quickly became evident that I was spending much more time here than on the old blog, and in time I neglected that blog completely, in favor of this thoroughly more exciting place, and the person I could be here. Over the years I've written a bit of erotic fiction, recorded some erotic audio, made many a late night ramble, and even indulged in some exhibitionism haha! Whatever you may find here, I hope you enjoy it. And so I welcome you all, and remain faithfully yours,
-TF P.S. If you've really enjoyed yourself with the help of something of mine, I'd love to hear about it. Hehe!
Funny, so far only one of my least naughty pictures has been flagged!
Tumblr, your detection system is truly silly!
I probably shouldn’t have asked them to review it though… I mean, think what else they’d see if they look at the rest of my posts ;D
I’m thinking I might try out a few other platforms, which I’ll keep you posted on. For the moment here’s my newly created MeWe account: https://mewe.com/i/tf15
Reblogged from my (luckily somewhat neglected) erotic art blog, in case anyone is interested. I’m not sure how much I’ll use it, but I’m going to give MeWe a go.
Actually as a writer of erotica, I’m better off than most!
Apparently erotic writing is fine!
Dramatic, impassioned anime voice: Anyone who knows it’s true power would not say that! Ero is not safe! Ero is dangerous! Ero is beautiful! Ero can change the world! Haha! :P
Anyway, silliness aside, I’ll just keep checking in here from time to time I guess.
So I won't be surprised if my content gets taken down :(
[EDIT] Well, any remotely sexual images/videos/gifs anyway. Apparently text is allowed, so that’s something! That is what started all this for me I guess. So maybe not much will change for me, here on this blog.
But as for the rest, I don’t really know what to do. I haven’t been that active (you noticed that?!) but all the same I have fond memories of tumblr and I’m proud of... some of the content I created here haha! I’ve made some really wonderful friends here over the years too. I haven’t kept in contact with most of them, sadly.
But I appreciate every single one of you, all the people who supported me and my work! Thank you so much!
Anyway, maybe I should strike out on my own, create a classy blog somewhere for my stories, and actually edit them a bit better finally... But I can’t see myself having the drive to get through it all! So I don’t know.
Hey friends, I just started a new blog called Grubby Scribbles!
It’s something I’ve toyed with doing for years, a place to share lowbrow, naughty, immature, and in a word ‘grubby’ artwork. Basically all the juvenile, base nonsense that I feel a bit ashamed to post on this, highly sophisticated blog haha!
You can also find me on Instagram as grubby_scribbles, but stuff keeps getting deleted there!
'She Only Wanted a Hug' I've posted this on my personal account, a while ago, so if you recognise it shhhhh! Haha! Also it's only a drawing of nipples and pubic hair, please don't report it, please! I did this digital painting over a pencil sketch I'd done in a coffee shop. I had the idea of a sort of Lovecraftian creature coming out of the water, scaring a fisherman near out of his wits, but all she really waned was to be friends. Something like that. #lovecraft #lovecraftian #lovecraftianart #creepy #creepyartwork #creepyart #creepycharacter #creepymermaid #horrorart #creepysexy #sexycreepy #tenticles #tenticalgirl
I wasn't going to post about this, but I keep seeing posts that make me think of it, so I will post in celebration of his life.
He was the sweetest, kindest, most gentle cat you could imagine, a truly beautiful and noble creature.
We found his mother as a stray, and 19 years ago she had a litter, and we kept him.
He's always been so strong and healthy, even until recently, that it seems unreal that he was suddenly unwell. Even now it hasn't really sunk in yet, and somehow I don't feel sad, though I feel like I should. I cried a couple of times, thinking about our time together, but every time I see his body I keep expecting him to sit up. My mind can’t seem to accept that he’s actually gone.
But he's had a good life, a wonderful long life. 19 years! He grew up with my sister and me. He used to play in the river with us, because his mother neglected to teach him that cats don't. He used to leave us variously dismembered presents: half a rabbit in the bath on the top floor, an eel in the lounge, and a rat's stomach under my baby sister's chair... he must have thought she needed feeding up.
He never bit or hissed or scratched. He never complained. He always said hello when he came in during the night, or we found one another during the day.
He's got big, polydactal paws like boxing gloves. He's right handed. And he likes you to hold his hand when he goes to sleep on your chest.
Sleep peacefully my Sasquatch. I love you Sassy. X
What’s the naughtiest thing you’ve done in the last few months?
Haha oh gosh, I’m afraid I’ve been pretty boring! I think the naughtiest thing I’ve done is posting a couple of provocative pictures on my Snapchat feed.
I’m quite busy at the moment with a dance show coming up (hip-hop of all things!) and making costumes for that and for a friend who’s doing some pole dancing competitions. Making pole dancing costumes isn’t nearly as naughty or exciting as you might, briefly, at first have thought haha!
What is your favorite sex position? Any you've been wanting to try out?
Hmm well I like the intimacy of the face to face positions. But there is something raunchy and pleasingly dirty about fucking someone pushed face first into a bed or a wall, or bending them over a convenient object/surface haha! I think it’s because it seems desperate and slightly animistic. But yes, in general I’m more in favor of intimacy.
I want to try ‘Lazy dog’, which is like a cross between ‘Doggie’ and ‘Missionary’, where the woman lies face down, and the man enters her from behind. Although penetration generally isn’t as deep, the position causes the penis to target the g-spot apparently. I should think you can reach under and stimulate her clit too.
Also, I want to try that position which is kind of like ‘scissoring’, where the woman lies on one side, and the man kneels with one of her legs between his, and the other over his leg. Since my cock is one of those that bends slightly to the left,if she were on her right side, this would again increase pressure on her g-spot… I imagine haha!
What situation would you find more appealing? Enjoying a hot steamy shower with a lovely lady or romantic cuddles underneath a starry sky?
Oh gosh Anon, both sound really lovely! How about romantic cuddles underneath a starry sky, and then wandering home, arms around one another’s waists, and then into the hot steamy shower, before falling into bed for further romantic (or raunchy) cuddles? Eh? Hehe!
Hmm not especially, sorry! I know many guys do live for big breasts, but I’ve never been into that. I prefer smaller, pert, and perky! But having said that, a well formed pair of larger breasts, so long as they’re not toooo huge, can be just as pleasing :)
Ah... yes, I just drew Jesus sniffing his fingers in a suggestive manner. Why? I don't know, it just seemed like an amusing idea, when it occurred to me that those religious hand gestures could seem a little naughty, if viewed with a naughty mind! But then again, so can most things haha!
I hope no one is too offended by this. I grew up Christian, so I appreciate how sacrilegious it is! But that is, of course, part of the joy of it.
I mean, the shapes of them, the idea of them, they're just so pleasing! Some men are 'Tit' men, others are Arse men. I find myself very much a vagina man haha! God help me!
Beginning of a noir style, hard-boiled detective story
I've started, at the encouragement/request of a friend, to write a sort of noir, detective story. Obviously it's going to have sex, and there's got to be a bad guy, so naturally there will be some kind of sadism and/or erotic torture. That's something quite new for me to write, but we'll see how it goes. It probably won't be too extreme, but we'll see. Anyway, I wanted to see what people think about the opening, the tone and kind of choppy 'beat' style of writing.
Her eyes bore into me, wild with terror.
“He’s coming!” she gasps. Tears streak down her pale, pretty face.
She pushes me aside and staggers away into the dark before I can reply.
“Wait!” I start to follow her, to see if I can help, make sure she’s okay, see that she gets some place safe.
But she’s gone. Streets around here are a maze, especially this time of night. I’d never find her.
There’s no sound of anyone following her though. I wait a moment, straining my eyes and ears in the gloom for any suggestion of what she was so afraid of. Nothing.
Another crazy? Maybe. Guess I won’t know, not unless it ends up on my desk. Be in the paper, or maybe some slob will notice she’s missing, come round asking. Strange though, she looked like a classy bird. Nice clothes, all dolled up. But not over the top. Weird.
Shit! As if I don’t already have enough images like that, seared into my mind, that keep me awake at night.
I shrug, trying to shake it from my mind, that creeping sensation telling me something really isn’t right. But then, is anything right in this city?
The street-light on the other side of the road sheds it’s grubby illumination on my door, and catches the peeling sign advertising my services to the world, Private Detective, for anyone who’s interested. But lately it seems like no one is.
With a grim smirk I jam the key in the lock, give it a rattle and a twist. Got to apply pressure in just the right direction, else the bolt won’t budge. Shitty city, shitty neighbourhood, shitty door, and shitty arsehole of a landlord who won’t fix a damn thing.
Bloody hell, how did I end up in this place? Should have stayed in London. The States are fucked, that’s for sure.
Click. The bolt grudgingly snaps back, and I shoulder my way into the narrow hallway. Chipped grey paint and faded, sagging wallpaper greet me. And that familiar smell of old buildings everywhere, suggestion of dust and mould, and slight hint of floor polish, though when that was last done would be anyone’s guess. Then there’s the sound of rats fucking in the walls, squeaking and running about, little bastards. Probably thanks to them the wiring’s shot to heck as well. Some nights the lights flicker and strobe bad enough to give the most seasoned raver epilepsy.
I stamp my way up the creaky old stairs to my office. The door’s always open. I say it’s because I like to have a literal open door policy, and ‘crime never sleeps, so neither do I’. All that shit. But really one of the hinges is just busted.
Nothing in here worth stealing anyway.
There’s just my chair and desk, and a lamp you’d have to be mad to want. The rest of the office is taken up by two big filing cabinets; heavy, old, wooden things, the kind with brass holders for card labels. Honestly, two is one and a half more than I need. But I like them. There’s something reassuring about their solid, angular presense, the honesty of the aged wood, like a sort of link to a more noble past.
They’ve stood me in good stead anyway, as much for the look of the thing as anything else. They give the office an air that I know what I’m doing, like I’ve got experience. Of course what I mostly have experience in is fairly petty stuff, the usual; finding runaway husbands, stolen items of small but inexplicably sentimental value. Or telling some young punk to leave a woman alone. Cheerful voice and the suggestion of violence. I haven’t yet had to find out if I could really deliver on that.
Funny thing is, the cabinets are probably the most organized part of my life too. I feel as though I can put my life in little boxes; my notes, and a few crucial possessions, and I know where everything is, so somehow it all makes sense. Stupid of course. But there you are. We’re all looking for something to hold onto, something to anchor ourselves in the dark tide of human experience.
Not much on or in the desk either.
There’s a phone and an old answering machine. Only one tape for it, since I use the other one I have in my dictaphone.
Bottom left draw, an old bottle of something cheep and eye-watering. From before I quit. Kept it in-case the nightmares started getting bad again. Label says Chinese Tequila in red and gold. God knows what it’s made from.
Top right hand draw, an old pistol. Never had to use it, and hope never have to. Kept it clean though. But my license has run out, so I better see my mate Stevie down the precinct. He hates me calling him that. But he’s a good lad.
I hang my black coat on the back of the door and throw myself into the old swivel chair, which groans it’s usual warning of imminent collapse. I click on the answering machine. Nothing new. Wrong number from a week ago.
Business was never good, but lately the work’s really dried up. Everyone seems scared. People don’t poke around, in case they find something they shouldn’t. Won’t even use a proxy like myself. Something’s going down, I haven’t figured out what yet. But when the streets go quiet, you know things are getting bad.
Have to ask Stevie what he knows when I see him.
God I’m tired! Maybe things will look brighter in the morning. If I can get the frightened woman out of my mind long enough to sleep. Should be used to that crap by now, but it shook me up for some reason. Those wide, wild eyes.
I push through a kitsch bead curtain, behind my desk and off to one side. Not much to see in my small bedroom at the back of my office. I don’t bother with the light. Fall into bed. Nearly asleep before I hit the pillow.
+++
I dream of the woman. This time, as she pushes past me and screams “He’s coming!” I run with her. Away from something. Something behind me. Something closing in. I look back in terror and see a man, standing in a pool of light. Realize with a shock that the man is me. But I can hear footsteps in the dark. And laughter. Soft, dry, mad laughter. I run on. The woman in front of me darts down a lit alleyway. I follow. The light is acidic, harsh and unfriendly, but a relief after the dark. Quickly we make our way to the other end. The woman is limping, she’s lost a shoe somewhere back there. But we can’t stop. The footsteps keep coming, unhurried, but unstopping. A cold sweat trickles down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I gasp for breath, my chest tight. I hear the woman sobbing. “Oh god, oh god” she whispers, again and again. I catch up with her and try to take her hand.
“No!”
Her scream echoes loudly in the night. She pushes me away and I catch my foot on something. I’m falling, backward, loose gravel sliding under my feet. My head explodes with a sharp pain as I hit concrete. I roll over, fighting nausea, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. And then I hear the footsteps in the gravel. A shadow falls over me.
+++
I awake, drenched in sweat. My heart thumps in my chest. I gulp in air. Above me the fan turns slowly, ineffectually pushing stale heat around the small space, and cutting shadows into the weak morning light that spills in through a high window. I let out a shuddering sigh.
When it’s summer and you know it, and you sort of want to show it...
Please do not reblog.
I thought I’d post this silly thing I took a few weeks ago, since I haven’t posted in a while, or even logged in at all for that matter!
I took it because it was a really hot day, and I was feeling a little less flabby than I have been haha! I know, it doesn’t look too bad, especially from front on, but too much sitting at my computer and a touch of comfort eating has taken it’s toll!
If I was going to have a new years resolution, it would be to try and eat healthier and exercise a bit more. I really just need to tone a bit, and be sensible!
Anyway, hope you’re well darlings! Sorry I’m not around much!
Cards for when the business at hand is not so much business, but pleasure! ;)
I haven't actually made cards like this, something tells me that would be terribly creepy... but I thought it was amusing, so I mocked this up in Photoshop.
annaxmalina
blakekathryn
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
izzy806
areudirty
prguitarman