Slip-N-Slide

Sunday night’s surprise sex was the result of my gallantly offering to give the wife a massage. When I hopefully suggested the massage would feel better if I were using baby oil, she knew what I had in mind. Fortunately she wasn’t opposed to a little slip-n-slide, so she agreed and just asked that I not use “too much” baby oil. But that’s kind of subjective, right?

I love giving these types of massages, because I’ll sit on the back of her upper thighs with my cock nestled between her butt cheeks. Now this isn’t just about sex for me, so I do spend some good amount of time actually giving a good shoulder and back rub. I know how to work the aches and pains and unkink the knots, and I do a pretty darn good job at it if I do say so myself.

Whether I start out with a hard-on or not, the rocking motion from leaning forward to work her shoulders and back will get to me, and usually pretty quick. During the massage, I of course move down to work her butt cheeks (there are muscles there; look it up!) It’s not my fault if squeezing and pushing and pulling on her ass causes my dick to settle in closer and closer to her pussy.

Then I move back to her back and shoulders, back to her butt, back up, back down, etc. If she’s really getting into it, she’s starting to get wet by now, and the oil helps too. Plus, I will produce a good bit of pre-cum, so before long my cock head will pop into her opening. I slowly work back and forth, a little more in at a time, but still (kind of) massaging her too. I love the feeling when I slide all the way in, my pelvis nestled against her ass and she’s arching against me.

The massage is all but over now, and it’s down to just some good ol’ fucking! When I’m past the point of no return, I pull out and come all over her ass and back; if I’m feeling mischievous, I angle up a little and tighten my grip around the head just a bit and send a shot further up, possibly landing in her hair. (But not a lot; that stuff is hard to clean out.) I always apologize and act like it was an accident, but I get a little kick out of doing it. I didn’t do this Sunday night, though; it was getting late and we had to work the next morning. Hey, I can be a gentleman!

I cleaned her up, she rolled on her back, and we broke out her toy to finish her off. It didn’t take long before her pussy was clenching and squeezing my fingers, and it always makes me happy when she comes. We snuggled a bit and kissed some more, then turned off the lights and went to sleep.

Weekend Update

Other than the results of a couple sports events, the weekend wasn’t bad. The wife and the niece both worked Saturday morning, so I had some rare time for myself. Of course I took advantage of the opportunity and had a nice, leisurely jerk-off session. I also got the majority of the grocery shopping done and puttered around the house for a while until the wife got home. We went out for a quick, fast-food lunch, then came home and relaxed the rest of the day.

Unfortunately I got to watch Virginia Tech lose to an unranked, mediocre Duke. I honestly wasn’t surprised at all; I told my coworkers two weeks ago that if the Hokies broke the top 15, they’d lose to anybody, including Duke. There’s something about Tech and the way they play when they have a chip on their shoulder versus the way they play when they’re comfortable. I like the chip-on-the-shoulder VT very much; I don’t like the comfortable VT. Now they are out of the top 25, and rightly so.

But it’s just football, and college football at that, so I wasn’t going to let that ruin the rest of the day. I made Cajun sausage and shrimp pasta for dinner from a recipe the wife found on Facebook, and it turned out really good. The niece insisted that she wouldn’t eat it if I cooked the shrimp with the rest of the dish, because she doesn’t like shrimp and even the flavor of it in the meal would turn her off.

I was tempted to tell her to find her own damned dinner, but the wife suggested I cook the shrimp separately and we could add it after dishing out the niece’s. It made it more work for me, but I reluctantly agreed. The point of having it all together is to get the blend of flavors! But it was still good, and the niece got to enjoy it as well. We finished the night with some drinks and more college football, and went to bed pretty early even for us.

Sunday morning I dumped a bunch of ingredients into the slow cooker for a homemade chicken and dumplings while making waffles and sausage for breakfast. (When I complain again about my weight, which I certainly will do, you have my permission to refer back to all these meals I talk about making.) I had to run over to my parent’s house to fix their internet connection, and while we were out we made a few more stops but were home in plenty of time for the 1:00 kickoff of the Cowboys/Lions game. I had a feeling the ‘Boys would keep the game close but lose it in the end just to fuck with me, and damned if that’s not exactly what they did. It seems I’m just destined to root for teams that wind up being average or worse.

But the chicken and dumplings turned out good, and I’m looking forward to some leftovers for lunch today. The Eagles and the Redskins lost, so it wasn’t a complete bust of a football weekend. And I got laid before the wife and I went to sleep. So I can’t really complain, all in all.

How was your weekend?

Delusions of Grandeur

I used to play guitar when I was in my teens (what teen didn’t, amiright?) and though I was never that good at playing well-known songs, I did write my own. Before going into the Army, I had a notebook full of stupid, angsty-teen poetry set to ridiculously simple chord progressions. I wasn’t talented enough to play anything complex, and I was too lazy to work at it enough to become talented. I took lessons briefly at a local music shop, and even won a talent competition through them with an original song, but I couldn't stick to the lessons because I'd get distracted going on tangents and writing more songs.

I never really lost my drive to write songs, even though I rarely play anymore. Most of the time I work on a line or two mentally, enjoying a little word play, then discard everything. When I’m really into it I’ll pick up my usually forgotten guitar in the basement, tune it up, and run some rifts while I think of words to go along with whatever sound comes out of it. I'll get bored or distracted soon enough and the bug leaves me, and I neglect the guitar for another year or so.

About 15 years ago my wife and I used to hang out with a woman she worked with and her husband. He’s an outstanding banjo player, and he has a bunch of friends who all play various instruments at skill levels far above anything I could ever hope to achieve. Sometimes I’d take my guitar and sit in with them, trying to follow along as best I could with the chord progressions. They didn’t seem to mind that I was off a lot of times, and there were a few songs that I could sing pretty well because they were in my vocal range. Mostly they played bluegrass or “old time country” (a subtle but distinct difference), and when you get immersed in it like I did it tends to grow on you.

It grew on me so much that I decided to write my own “bluegrass” song. I never could get the chords right to match what I heard in my head, and I didn’t feel confident enough to play it for the guys so they could help me work it out, but I did think the lyrics were pretty good. So, for your amusement, I present my first foray into bluegrass:

How Could You Tell Me that You Love Me

I knew when we first met that we would marry
We’d live our lives in perfect harmony.
I loved you just as much as I could, dear
But not enough to keep you here with me.

(Chorus)
You said that you would stay with me forever
I’d never face this world on my own.
How could you tell me that you love me
Then go and leave me here all alone?

They say for every man there is one woman
And after all of this I guess it’s true.
‘Cause I can’t stand to spend my time without you
The only woman I’ll ever want is you.

(Chorus)
Our friends all say I should be happy for you
But I can hear the sorrow in their tone.
How could you tell me that you love me
Then go and leave me here all alone?

(Now you’ll have to imagine a kick-ass bluegrass break here, with competing solos from the banjo and either a mandarin or really good guitar player. If it’s recorded, give it about 45 seconds. If it’s live, it could go ten minutes or longer and involve everything including the jug.)

You said that we would meet again someday, love
And begged me not to follow you too soon
But I can’t live another day without you
I’m joining you beneath this dying moon.

(Chorus)
The ground you’re lying in is cold and barren
but not as dark and empty as our home.
How could you tell me that you love me
Then go and leave me here all alone?

I didn’t do a FFF with the Halloween theme this week, but maybe this will be a good substitute.

Darker Smiles

I’ve written before (recently, I think) that I like when the weather gets cooler because it means I can cook with the oven again. I also love that so many food options open up again that really don’t work that well during the hotter months, like soups and casseroles.

The bad part about the change of seasons, though, is the lack of sunlight. I don’t mind the cold, and I’m one of those idiots who love the snow (especially driving in it), and even the wind doesn’t bother me that much. But between the shorter days and the dark gray skies, the long periods without sunlight just really drag me down.

I don’t think I have full-blown Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) or anything, and I feel bad for those who do. But I am usually down more than up this time of year, and I have a more negative outlook about everything, including myself, than I do in the spring and summer. I try to hide it, but I don't think I do a very good job of it.

It’s not all doom and gloom; I still have fun doing certain things. I generally enjoy Halloween, and though I always eat too much (thereby increasing my own self-disgust) I love Thanksgiving. Christmas is kind of a mixed bag for me; there’s the family and food aspect, but gift-giving is always so stressful because more often than not we don’t have much money and even when we do have money I simply have no idea what to get anybody. I wind up giving gift cards, but it seems so pointless if everyone else is doing the same thing. I’d like to suggest doing away with gift-giving altogether with my family, but then I’d feel like a cheapskate.

On top of that, as an Atheist I keep getting conscripted into the “War on Christmas.” Bill O’Reilly assures me that it happens every year, so it must be true.

This year there are some work-related things to look forward to that I haven’t had before. The employee stock purchase program should give the wife and I a nice little lump of money at the end of November, which I’ll use for Christmas gifts and to pay down some of the smaller bills. Also, there’s a decent chance of getting a bonus this year; it’s not guaranteed but signs are promising. The company didn’t pay out bonuses last year to the rank-and-file employees, but since I was a new hire I wouldn’t have gotten anything regardless. And I should see a pay rise, though it will most likely be pretty modest. I’m thinking 1.5% to 3% because it’s based on my own performance as well as the performance of my division as a whole.

So I’m trying to stay as positive as I can about things, and keep my spirits up. I know I have no right to bitch about things; plenty of people have it worse than I do. But the next three or four months are going to be a battle.

Weekend Update

Happy Monday, y’all! We start off another week, and Fall weather is finally here in earnest. I love this time of year because it hasn’t yet gotten brutally cold and depressingly overcast (like it often is by February), but it’s cool enough that I can use the stove to cook without it making the rest of the house so damned uncomfortable. It’s easier to sleep at night because the bedroom is cooler too. (That’s in my corner of the world; I recognize it’s not the same for everyone.)

We drove down to visit L and B Saturday and spent the night there. It was a nice enough visit overall, but nothing really interesting happened. Which is to say, nothing happened between L and I (no opportunity and for all I know no interest on her part) and everything just sort of dragged. An older couple, friends of theirs, came over and we all went out to eat together, then came back to the house and hung out a while. Maybe it was their presence that muted it for the rest of us, or maybe there just wasn’t anything to be excited about. I didn’t even get a decent buzz going Saturday night.

Sunday was better, if only because after we got home I had a cigar while I listened on the radio as the Cowboys beat the Eagles. I got to bed early last night and except for the threat of a sinus infection trying to come on, I feel pretty well rested.

But right now I’m feeling kind of pissy at L. She started bitching about something the wife said early Saturday when we first got there, and how she only tolerates her for me. I’ll admit that what the wife said was blunt, and maybe a little rude, but L is making it a much bigger issue than it really was. I’ll be the first to admit that the wife has this habit of saying inappropriate things, not meaning to be rude but just making observations that aren’t necessary to make. But it’s not like L doesn’t do that same goddamned thing!

I know the wife isn’t perfect; lord knows I know it! But it just rubs me the wrong way because L is in no position to complain about someone being blunt and/or rude, or saying the first thing that pops into her head! And then she complained that “nobody says anything to her!”  Now it might be that L is angry about something else and just taking it out on the wife (or actually me), but I swear if I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s jealous of the wife.

Anyway, that was my weekend. How was yours?

Joke of the Week

I'm going to try to start posting a "joke of the week" each Friday (and it almost never will be a politician.) It could be some silly joke I remember from my childhood, something I've read or heard recently on the innerwebz, or something submitted by my faithful readers (hint hint.) I might not get one posted every week, though.

This week's entry comes from goofball.com.

Bull Frog Blow Job

By: portajon Published: 03/23/2004
 
A woman went into a store to buy her husband a pet for his birthday.

After looking around, she found that all the pets were very expensive.

She told the clerk she wanted to buy a pet, but she didn't want to spend a fortune.

"Well," said the clerk, "I have a very large bull-frog. They say it's been trained to give blow-jobs!" "Blow-jobs!", the woman replied.

"It hasn't been proven, but we've sold 30 of them this month," he said.

The woman thought it would be a great gag gift, and what if it's true...no more blow-jobs for her! She bought the frog.

When she explained froggy's ability to her husband, he was extremely skeptical and laughed it off.

The woman went to bed happy, thinking she may never need to perform this less than riveting act again.

In the middle the night, she was awakened by the noise of pots and pans flying everywhere, making banging and crashing sounds. She ran downstairs to the kitchen, only to find her husband and the frog reading cookbooks.

"What are you two doing at this hour?" she asked.

The husband replied," If I can teach this frog to cook, your ass is gone!"

FFF - Cat Eyes - 10/18

Required Phrase - "Follow the cat"
Word Limit - 225
Forbidden words - 
Pussy, Black, Halloween, Fear
Bonus Points - 
Keep the body count low (next week is different)
Extra Words - 
Make the cat her cat.

Just before Emily became fully awake, she heard a whisper: “Follow the cat.”

Her eyes flew open. That sounded just like… but no, it couldn’t be; he’d been dead for two weeks. She stretched, sliding her fingers through her sex and shivering at the remembered delight from her dream.

“Follow the cat.” Such an odd thing to hear in her dream. She sat up and looked through the open door into the hallway. The house Paul inherited was falling apart. He’d had some grand ideas on how to fix it up, but as usual it was just talk. He couldn’t stay focused long enough to start a project, much less see it through. “What cat?” she thought.

As if the thought beckoned it, an ebony cat padded into the hallway and stopped at her door. It sat and stared at her with its haunting green eyes, and she knew it wanted her to follow. Heart pounding, Emily rose and followed as the cat turned and darted down the hallway. The cat stopped in front of the closed door to what would have been their master bedroom. She opened the door and stepped inside.

“Paul!” she gasped. The room was freshly painted though there was no new paint odor. The colors were the ones she’d insisted on, despite Paul’s heated objections. The cat entered the room and rubbed against her leg, purring loudly.

Emily looked down at the cat. “I guess you’re mine now, huh? Or am I yours? Well, let’s see if we can find you something to eat.” Before following her out, the cat sniffed at the wall. The old, peeling paint was of little interest to it.

***********

My take is 279 words, but I don't know if I'm over the limit or not. I earned the bonus words, but as of Wednesday evening the number of extra words had not been specified. Actually, I might be taking the whole word count thing too seriously.

This is one of those stories that I would like to flesh out a little more and seeing where I could go with it. I probably won't, because I'm lazy, but I'd like to. Meanwhile, go to Advizor's site and read the other entries for the week.

Cutting Loose

The wife and I are going to see L and B this weekend, probably spending the night Saturday night. It doesn’t seem likely that any shenanigans could occur, because it not only depends on opportunity but also L’s feelings about it at the time. But I’ve been surprised before, so who knows? I will, of course, report anything interesting (or boring, for that matter) in my weekend update next week.

I’d told L earlier in the week that the wife and I were coming down to visit some of our favorite shops there, and that we’d like to hang out if they aren’t busy. She suggested we spend the night and said maybe we could have a fire as well. I said I’d bring a big old bottle of wine, just for the wife, and L said “Yea, so she’ll chill out!” I responded “chill out, pass out… whatever.” That got a laugh from L.

It sounds mean, but it’s true: the wife needs to chill out more. I don’t care if she drinks or not, but if she’s got a little buzz going she’s a lot more fun to be around. Otherwise, she just watches and gives the impression that she’s judging everyone else. It gets oppressive, and we just want to cut loose! L and I discussed that part of it, then she said “And I hope B behaves!” meaning she hopes he doesn’t become the overbearing jock dude that he usually does when he’s drinking. You know the type: bullying and laughing at everyone, in that big, booming laugh like he’s the life of the party.

Then L said “Can we just not invite them? Lol.” (She didn’t literally *say* “lol;” we were texting so she wrote that.) I said that B and the wife would actually make a good couple, which L agreed, and I said if they did get together, it would just make economic sense for L and me to get a place together to share expenses. I was joking of course (mostly).

This morning L and I were chatting on Facebook. She mentioned that she was Googling marriage and couple weekend retreats for her and B and she’d texted him to see if he’d be interested. I said if there was one where he could drink and everyone told him “you’re right” he’d be all for it. We joked back and forth about that, then she asked when we were coming down Saturday. I said “anytime you want us. I’d come Friday night if I could, so you say what time.” She laughed and said “Well you come on down Friday and B and [the wife] can meet us sometime Saturday.” I said “Could you imagine? Actually, I do!”

That set us off to start a different version of the “remember when” game. The “remember when” game, if I haven’t explained it before, is where L or I will say ‘remember when we were kids and we…” Usually this comes up when we’re planning to do something together for the first time, like going to the annual fair, Christmas parade, or the like. It’s our way of pretending that we did grow up together, and making up memories of those times. It’s fun for us, and we come up with some really outlandish “memories” sometimes.

Anyway, this time it was different; L started “remembering” ahead. She said if we ever did live somewhere together (as we’ve talked about before, but never more than half seriously) she imagines we would be the “fun” couple that everyone would be happy to see. I said we’d keep everyone in stitches, and they’d be like “I don’t know what it is about those two, but we always have more fun when they’re here.” She talked about us going to karaoke nights, and everyone wanting us to do the duets like we always do. I said that we’d act like “oh, no, nobody wants to hear us sing. Oh, okay.” And the crowd would hear the first few notes of our “signature” song and be like “Oh, boy!”

We kept on like that for a few minutes until it was time for both of us to start getting ready for work. I’ve been chuckling and grinning all morning, and I can’t wait to see her Saturday. Again, I don’t have much hope for any shenanigans, but it will be good to just be with her, cutting loose and cracking each other up.

Anybody have any ideas what we can do with B and the wife for a day or two?

Afterthoughts

Last night, L spent some time with the woman who first told her about S killing himself. S’s best friend worked at the same place as the woman (and where L and S had also worked), so she had information from the friend that the friend got from S’s family. Some of the information may be disturbing, so consider if you want to read it before going on.

According to the second-hand account L got, S was in one of his cars, with the exhaust hooked into it somehow, and he shot himself in the chest. He’d apparently taken the other cars to his father’s house, which makes me think this wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing. Personally, I think he’d probably planned this, or at least thought about it, for some time before it happened. Some evidence I’ve gotten from L makes it seem possible that it might have been on his mind even around the time she was there the last time.

But even if that’s true, I don’t know that he would have done anything to L. It’s easy to say he was crazy, and he might have been, and maybe if she’d been around he would have hurt her. But I just don’t get the feeling he was in a crazy rage when he did it. His actions prior to the event (moving the cars, cashing his insurance policy in, etc.) sounds like someone who was thinking in at least a somewhat rational manner. Not that killing himself was rational, but he was going through it in an orderly fashion.

And I’m having trouble trying to get this right, and forgive me if it comes out disjointed, but there’s something that’s been on my mind the past week. There are always murder/suicide stories where (usually) a man kills his wife, girlfriend, or lover (or all three?) and then himself. I hate to hear about these things, and I always wonder why the guy didn’t just kill himself and let the other person go on with her life.

So yea, S was unstable, as seen by the fact that he did kill himself. But he knew where L works, and her schedule. If he’d been that kind of crazy, there is literally nothing that would have kept him from taking L with him if he’d wanted to. If he’d shown up there and asked for her, L would have gone, grinning at the romantic (in her mind) gesture, and he could have easily killed her before killing himself.

For that matter, he absolutely hated B as much as B hated him, and for mostly the same reason. And yes, he knew where B lives, where he works, and had a pretty good idea of what his schedule is like. It would have been nothing for him to corner B somewhere, somehow, and kill him. It’s surprising what can be easily accomplished if you no longer care about what happens to you in the process.

So, yea, S could have done any of that, and for all my bravado there’s not one damn thing I could have done to protect L. But he didn’t, and I wish there was some way I could express my gratitude to him for that. I don’t mean for that to sound morbid or in any way like I’m happy he killed himself; I’m not. But I admit that I’m glad I’m not going through that anguish right now. I hope it was a quick and painless end for him.

Weekend Update

Good morning, everyone. Happy Monday! (I can say that despite being exhausted because the Dallas Cowboys beat the Washington Redskins last night. Staying up late to watch it is while I’m exhausted.)

I left work early Friday (yay!) because I got a migraine mid-morning (boo!) It was nice having the weekend start early, but I was sleeping in a dark room most of the day, and moving around very gingerly Friday night.

If you’re thinking “Uh oh, Rob is losing it; he told us about his migraine last week,” you’re right and wrong; I probably am losing it, but not over this. In the past three or four years, my migraines have tended to cluster. Once I get one, there’s a good chance within two to seven days I’ll get another one. Then I’m usually okay for several months, though even that isn’t guaranteed.

Like last week’s migraine, this one wasn’t a full blown one. I think I caught it on time with some over-the-counter meds that helped keep it down. I still felt thick-headed and slow Friday night, and physically drained Saturday, but I’ve had worse. That and the dreary weather was all the excuse I needed to stay home watching college football and cooking.

Speaking of cooking, Saturday I made a really good chicken tortilla soup in the crockpot and herb and cheese bread in the break maker my mother gave me this summer (it was an old one she doesn’t use anymore, but it still makes really good bread.) Then Sunday, while lazing around the house for another day, I cooked a big rack of pork ribs that turned out pretty good.

So there you have it, my weekend in all its boring glory. How was your weekends?

Flash Fiction Friday - Three Resignations - 10/11

Word Length = 237
Required Word = Resignation
Bonus Words = Tell us about her earrings (25 words)
Extra Credit = Surprise me

Take 1

The earrings he’d given her to celebrate his appointment as Ambassador rocked in time with his thrusts. She was bent over the desk (THE desk), her black dress hiked above her hips. Despite the indelicate circumstances, this wasn’t the lustful fucking they’d begun years earlier; it was the tender love-making of good-bye.

She would have preferred a more comfortable setting, but White House parties cannot be neglected. Even the short time they’d been away was risky, but she judged the chances of discovery minimal. Everyone was paying attention to the President, and would be unlikely to notice them gone.

He knew she wasn’t sad that he’d be leaving tomorrow; years of politics would have scoured such sentimentalism out of her for good. But he did hope she would miss him the way he would miss her. The affair had started out as no-strings-attached fun, but their relationship had blossomed into a real friendship.

Neither of them heard the door open, but the President’s voice was unmistakable when he thundered “What the hell is going on here?!” Startled, they turned to him, her dress falling expertly in place but his cock, hard and glistening with their juices, pointed like an accusing finger.

“Henry!” she stammered. “It’s not what it looks like!”

“It looks like my friend is fucking my wife on my desk!” he bellowed, venom dripping from his words.

“Hen… Mr. President!” he gasped. He stuffed his cock into his pants, but there was no hiding it. “I’m very sorry, sir.” he mumbled. “I’ll have my resignation to you in the morning.”

Take 2

“You have a lovely bottom, Ms. Harlow,” the principle of the prestigious John Paul II Catholic (go Saints) intoned.

Rita rolled her eyes, but since the pompous ass was behind her, thrusting as methodically as always, he didn’t see. “Thank you, Mr. Collins,” she giggled, hoping it didn’t sound as forced to him as it did to her. “Oh, George, you’re so big! You’re going to split me open!” His needle dick wouldn’t split open a starving virgin, but his pace quickened meaning it would be over sooner.

 “Ms. Harlow, I do believe I’m going to… ungh!” He pushed forward once more, pressing her into his meticulously neat desk.

“Oh, George, no! Not inside me!” she protested, knowing it was already too late. She was on the pill, but now that stuff was in her, and she’d reek of sex the rest of the day. “I’ve told you not to do that!” she said, pulling her dress down and fidgeting with her earrings. They’d been a gift from her grandmother when she was 13, and were the only earrings she’d ever worn.

“Terribly sorry,” he answered, closing his pants; the flush of exertion on his face the only betrayal that anything other than Christian business had occurred. “However, your other numerous services, including this, will no longer be required. Please gather your things and vacate the premises immediately.”

“What?!” she screeched.

“Perhaps I should have told you sooner, but I’m being forced out. I’ve tendered my resignation effective tomorrow and you’ll find a letter of reference on your desk. Goodbye, my dear.”

Take 3

“Lisa!” he sighed in resignation as she unzipped his pants and stroked him. “We don’t have time for this. The party starts at 7.”

“So, we’ll be fashionably late,” she answered, grinning mischievously. She pulled him free of his boxers and knelt to take him in her mouth.

Dalton’s protests vanished as Lisa expertly sucked and licked him to a full erection. She stood and led him by his dick to the den. She stepped out of her lacy panties, lifted her dress to her waist and bent over the oak desk.

Needing no more encouragement, he entered her and was gratified to hear her sensual moan. He pulled out completely, then pushed himself back in quickly. Her long, elegant neck, the black dress, the light glistening off her earrings (a 10^th anniversary gift,) all combined with her breath-taking beauty, made him fall in love with her again the way he had years before. Their friends could wait.

Lisa moved her hand down to stroke her clit. She’d only intended to give her husband of 20 years a quick anniversary gift, but found herself responding deliciously. Between his beautiful cock and her fingers, her orgasm built quickly and burst through her. As her spasm caused her pussy to clench around him, he shuddered and pulled out. She quickly turned and took him in her mouth again, swallowing his cum gladly.

“Oh, baby!” he groaned loudly. “That was fantastic!” She licked him clean and tucked his cock back in his pants.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” she whispered in his ear. “Here’s to twenty more!”

I didn't know if I'd be able to write one story this week, but yesterday I finally had the inspiration for Take 1, and quickly wrote it down. As soon as I finished, I knew I also wanted Take 2, so wrote that in just a few minutes. By then I decided I'd write a Take 3, because 3 just seems like a nice, round number. That one took a bit longer, but I think I like it best. All clock in at the word limit plus 25 word bonus, total 262.

Go to Advizor's site and read the other fine entries. Remember to check back through the day, though, as some of them will come in later than others.

Getting Better

L decided that she wanted to go to S’s “celebration of life” ceremony last night, but wanted me to go with her. She wasn’t sure how the family and friends would receive her, and really I can’t blame her. They knew at least some of the ups and downs of L’s and S’s relationship and undoubtedly some of them would be thinking “she’s the bitch that caused him to do this.” L was especially concerned about S’s sister.

Of course I agreed to go with her, even though I didn’t know any of S’s circle. Hell, I barely knew him, and L was never with him for a long enough period for any family/friend mingling. But when my little sister needs me, I’m going to be there.

We met at about a halfway point between us because L didn’t want B to know she was going. In fact, she had to wait until he’d left for work (yay nightshift!) before she could even leave, meaning she got there a little after 7. Then she had to wait until he called on his break and pretend to be at home while she talked to him. While we waited she said she wanted to break down but couldn’t because she didn’t want B to know.

Finally B called and they talked. I had a hard time not laughing because of the sudden increase of traffic. The whole time we waited, the area of the parking lot we were in was quiet. As soon as she answered the phone, a steady parade of cars went by for no discernible reason. L tried coughing to cover the sounds, but soon her fake cough started turning into a real cough. When she finally hung up with him, we both busted out laughing about the absurdity of it.

Finally we headed for the funeral home. L was still nervous, and by the time we got there and she saw all the cars there (most of which she recognized as belonging to people she and S had worked with together or his family) and panicked. We parked in a KFC parking lot adjacent to the funeral home so she could watch and try to get her nerve up.

We talked about S, of course, and other things. She cried some, but we also laughed as we joked and reminisced. It may sound morbid, but she really needed to be able to do both. We watched people leave, and she pointed out S’s sister and her husband, and S’s best friend and his girlfriend. It was dark where we were, so I don’t think they even noticed us, but L watched and wondered if she should at least call over to the sister.

L had tried throughout the day to contact the sister to see if it would be okay to show up. She didn’t have her phone number because of the fucked up cell phone, and couldn’t find it online. L tried to reach her via Facebook, and had me try as well, but she never responded to either of us. As badly as L wanted to be there, to have a last viewing (which we didn’t even know if there was one, under the circumstances) she also didn’t want to cause problems for anyone.

So we watched, and talked, and laughed sometimes, perhaps inappropriately. We talked about the concerns about S I’d had from almost the beginning, and how I’d tried to tell her. Over time, I told her, I’d come to think I was wrong and it was mostly jealousy that caused me to think that. She said she’d known something was off about him, and felt like that was part of why she couldn’t stay with him for any extended length of time. I admitted that I felt a small sense of relief, not because I wanted something like this to happen, but because I was so worried about things ending in a different way. Fortunately, she understood what I was trying to say, and didn’t hold it against me.

Once everyone had driven off, L had me drive her over to the parking lot. She braced herself and said let’s go in. She gripped my hand tight as we crossed the lot, pulling me closer any time a gap grew between us. When we got inside, a woman greeted us, and L said we were there for (last name.) She was trembling all over, and still gripping my hand tightly.

The woman gave an apologetic smile and said the family was gone, and L asked if we could see him. The woman made the same face and said that he’d been cremated (which L knew S wanted), and L thanked her and we left. Heading back to the car she said she was surprised that the cremation had happened so soon. Then she remembered he’d been dead since Thursday; it only seemed soon because she’d just found out the day before. That’s when she finally broke down.

I held her in my arms as she cried; her face buried in my chest as I gently rocked her back and forth. She felt so small and frail at that moment, and it broke my heart for her to be in so much pain. She knows that they couldn’t have been together; she tried and it just didn’t work. But she did love him despite that, and the finality of it was hard for her to bear.

She finished her cry and turned her head a bit to wipe her eyes. I was still holding her, and she saw our reflection in my Pathfinder’s windows. She said “Damn it, we still make a cute couple!” and we both chuckled. I held her a bit longer before we got in the car, and then I took her back to the parking lot where her car was parked. We talked some more, and she seemed to be starting to feel better. She said she needed to do that, even if she couldn’t spend time with the family; to say her goodbye, after a fashion.

I hugged her again before she got in her car, and she said “Thank you for being such a good brother. You always make me feel better.” She also said she was going to put this behind her, move forward, and really try to make things work with B since she doesn’t have a choice now (her words, not mine.) I told her again I’d always be there for her, in any way I could.

Terrible Day

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the new turn of events in the continuing sage of L. As I’ve mentioned in the past, she’s bounced back and forth between B, the ex-husband, and S, the on-again, off-again boyfriend. She’s currently with B, and things seem to be okay between them, though I know she still gets irritated (or downright pissed) at him. In the back of my mind, I’ve known that at some point she’d start mooning over S, missing him, and completely forgetting all the reasons she keeps running away from him.

L running to S is no longer a concern, though. She found out Monday morning that S killed himself the prior Thursday.

I know, right?!

From what she was told by a mutual friend of theirs who they used to work with, S shot himself outside his house in his field. L and S had an aol account that they used to communicate with when they were talking, and he’d written three messages to her over the past three weeks (that she didn’t see until after she heard.) Nothing unusual, the same kinds of things he’d write to her whenever they were split up to tweak her heart strings. Even the last message, which he wrote around 2 p.m. Thursday, didn’t sound overly dramatic. Of course, now that we know what happened, it’s a little easier to see the meaning behind it.

We’ve been emailing back and forth since she found out. Because her cell is fucked up, she can’t get to her contacts info to get word to a few people she wanted to talk to, so I’ve been relaying messages from her via email to those others via Facebook. Needless to say, I’ve gotten very little done at work today.

I didn’t know S well, but he was mostly a decent sort. I don’t know if there was anything he could have done different to keep L around or not; so much of their problems were tangled up in timing, emotions, and their own life-long, cultivated hang-ups. L said in one of her messages this morning that she feels guilty, like she’s responsible. I told her that it’s natural to feel that way, but this is NOT her fault. She said she feels like it is, but she also thinks about what if she had been there, or her daughter, and how much worse it could have been.

I told her I don’t think S would have hurt either of them, but the truth is I have always had more than a little worry about that. Several times when L has run from S, she’s told me that he has “crazy eyes.” Like he’d get mad about something and some look would just come over him and it scared her. Some posts back I wrote about “Crazy Eddie’s Last Hurrah” and how the final verse made me uneasy. It’s because I could easily see S in the roll of Crazy Eddie.

I feel bad for S, and wish he could have gotten help of some kind to get him through his problems. Maybe L was a big one for him, but he had plenty of other issues going on too, and I think L is starting to remember those as well (based on the conversation we had at lunch.) And I feel really bad for L, because I think regardless of where she was mentally with being with B and trying to put their lives back together, in the back of her mind she always assumed S would be there when the time was right. And whether that ever happened or not, she had real, deep feelings for S, so she’s going to go through mourning process that I wish I could help with more than just someone to email and text with.

Monday night we got on Facebook (again, her phone is fucked up) and she spent most of the night venting about her feelings. Of course right now in her mind everything about S was perfect, and everything about B is wrong. There wasn’t a lot I could say in text, and the only thing I could offer was a virtual shoulder to cry on. What she needs is physical arms around her, holding her and comforting her, but I’m too far away. It’s a safe bet that B isn’t going to be able to offer that support because of the circumstances.

She’s starting to come to grips with it now, though, and I think she’ll be alright. Near the end of Monday night’s conversation, she acknowledged that for all the good things she was saying about S, he did scare her sometimes. And for all the bad things she said about B, he was there helping her raise her daughter. Her emotions are all over the place, and will be for a while, but the pain will diminish over time. It will probably never disappear, but it will be bearable.

Weekend Update

Happy Monday everyone! The Cowboys lost a close game to the Denver Broncos, but overall I'm in a decently good mood.

Friday we went out to dinner with L's ex FiL. We've stayed close with him even through L and B's problems because he's a pretty good guy, and we enjoy spending time with him. He always pays the check (except one time when I sneakily paid it first) which makes me feel bad, but that's just the way he is.

Saturday started out nice enough, and we even went for a ride on the bike. We rode out to a Wal-mart that was further out to get some things we needed because we wanted to enjoy the ride. Unfortunately, as we walked around the store, a good 30 minutes from home, I recognized the signs of a migraine coming on (I get blank, flashing spots in my vision). We picked up some Excederin Migraine pills and checked out, and I took one immediately before we headed home.

Because we were on the bike, though, I had to stay in the moment for the whole ride. It's hard when part of whatever you're looking at is gone and you have to keep shifting your vision around to pick up everything. The good news is the visual aura goes away after about 20 minutes. The bad news is that means the headache is on it's way.

If you've never had a true migraine, you just can't understand how it is. It's not a headache like you get when you're stressed, or drank too much, or a kid is screaming beside you (though any of those situations can lead to a headache.) The worst part of a migraine isn't really even the headache pain; it's the overall wrongness you feel from it. When I was a kid I'd get them once a month or so all through high school, and they always laid me up. The next day is no picnic either, when you get the migraine hangover. Fortunately I mostly grew out of them, but I still get them. Every once in a while I get them in clusters; I'll get one, then anywhere from one to seven days later I'll get another.

Fortunately for me (and the wife), Saturday's wound up being pretty mild. As soon as we got home I took an Ultracet and lay down for two or three hours. I should have slept, but I never could. (Another side effect of migraines for me is sometimes I'll get a raging boner, even though the last thing I want to do is fuck.) I finally got up and moved around, and really it wasn't so bad. I had the headache, but I wasn't nauseous. I was sensitive to light and sound, but it wasn't debilitating and it faded as the night wore on.

I made a half-assed dinner and we watched TV, and I had some drinks (though alcohol isn't the best thing to do with a migraine, so I didn't get drunk.) I took another Ultracet before bed, and we hit the sack. The wife gave me a pity blowjob, but I couldn't cum so we broke out her toys and got her off. By then I was hard again so we fucked and I finally came, but it almost felt like I was doing it more for her sense of accomplishment than for anything I needed.

Sunday was a good day, though, as I avoided the worst of the migraine hangover problems. I even mowed the lawn, and used the weed eater, without ill effect. I made a big pot of chili  and a pan for dinner of corn bread for dinner (comfort foods) and we "enjoyed" the Cowboys game. (It actually was enjoyable for 58 minutes. The last two sucked balls though.) I didn't sleep well last night, but I'll trudge through the day and try to get in bed early tonight.

So how was your weekends?

Excuses, Excuses

I playfully flashed the wife this morning, just because I was feeling good, and she laughed and said “Tonight, maybe.” It will depend on whether or not the niece is home, you see, although we have had sex when she was here, too. So there’s at least a chance for sex tonight. Yay! I guess.

Maybe my ambivalence about it stems from having sneakily jerked off this morning before the wife woke up. Post orgasm, it’s normal to not have sex as much on the brain as it is when it’s been a while since you came. But even outside of that, it’s been a long time since I had that feeling of anticipation about planned sex with the wife.

I still enjoy having sex with her, especially when it just kind of pops up (hehe) unexpectedly. She’s not really responsive when I lick her pussy, and her blowjobs are fine but perfunctory, but the sex is… adequate. And usually we finish her off with her toy(s) unless she’s not really feeling it. Yea, it’s routine, but what are you going to do after 20+ years? She’s not the type to try to branch out too much, and I’m not the type to push for it (even though I want to branch out quite a bit.)

So I guess it’s no surprise that I really just don’t get excited about the idea of having sex later tonightwith the wife. If everything comes together (hehe) and we do have sex, it will be… fine, and maybe even good. But it’s hard (hehe) to get real stoked about it, especially when there’s a better-than-even chance that it won’t happen at all. We’re going out to dinner tonight with L’s ex FiL, which means I’ll probably have one or six beers (it could be anywhere in that range.) Then I’ll probably have a few when we get home, either beer or vodka. So, you know… whisky dick is a distinct possibility.

And honestly, sometimes I drink to excess on purpose, so I’ll have an excuse not to have sex with her. Like, if it’s 8 o’clock, and I know she’s kind of expecting something but I’m feeling like there’s a good chance I won’t be able to get an erection (because I’m just not excited about it), I’ll have that extra drink, and maybe another extra drink. She’s gotten pretty good at reading the signs over the years, and knows that when I’m having those drinks sex probably won’t happen. I feel guilty about it (sometimes) but not enough to, you know, not do it.

And in my defense, sometimes I get that way because of her. I might be feeling amorous all day long, and while we’re sitting on the couch I try to sneak in a kiss or a quick snuggle, just to let her know I’m ready for action. If she doesn’t react, or pushes me away (physically or mentally) it kills my libido and I just shut down. Later she might start hinting about something happening, but it’s too late then and I just claim to be too tired, or have that third or fifth drink. Like I said, she’s learned to read that sign, even if she’s become adept at ignoring all the others.

FFF - Not Tonight; You Give Me a Headache - 10/4

“Baby, are you still mad at me? Well, I guess so. Very classy, Karen; real mature.”

“Fuck you, Donald! Don’t even speak to me!”

“God dammit, Karen, this is not my fault!!”

“I can’t believe your brother is the guy who fucked Ginny over!”

“I had no idea! I haven’t talked to that asshole in five years! And fuck you, Karen! If you’ll remember, I was the one who told your insistent ass not to invite him in the first fucking place!”

“Well why wouldn’t you invite your own brother to your wedding?”

“Because. He’s. An asshole!”

“Well, Ginny’s a mess. Mom said she won’t leave the bathroom. I’m sorry, Don, I know it’s not your fault. I’m just upset; this was supposed to be my special day, you know? Everything was supposed to be perfect. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Yea, okay.”

“This hotel is supposed to have some really good food. Let’s order room service; Daddy’s taking care of everything!”

“You go ahead, I’m not really hungry. But order me a bottle of bourbon.”

“Baby, please don’t be like that. Look, we’ve had our first married fight. Let’s have our first married make-up sex! Oh, very classy, Donald; real mature!"

This week's FFF limits were 175 words, but we got an extra 25 words for having them on their honeymoon (and extra credit for them being on vacation.) We had to use the word insistence/insistent, and I almost forgot to add it. Fortunately, putting it in (hehe) got me right to 200 words.

We were not allowed to use bird, bed, beg, big, begin, beguine or Bedouin though. I almost forgot that too, and had "big" in the story, but changed it once I remembered.

And now here's a bonus from me to you: a joke!

A veterinarian answered his phone late at night to the shrill, panicked voice of a customer. "Doctor," she shrieked, "you have to help. My two wee doggies were having a go at it, and now they're stuck together!"

"Splash some cold water on them," he suggested.

"I tried that, doctor; it didn't work! Please help!"

"Try smacking their noses with a rolled up newspaper," he offered.

"Oh, Doctor, that didn't work either! Please, please help my little dears!"

"Okay," he sighed. "I'm going to hang up. Hold your two dogs over the phone and I'll ring you back."

"Doctor," she gasped, excited, "do you really think that will work?"

"It just did for me!"

If you can pull yourselves apart long enough, go over to Advizor's site and read the other entries. They're sure to be much better!

Blowing Off Steam

I’ve become totally, and most likely irrevocably, cynical in regards to the US’s future. Our current leaders, at least on the national level, are narcissistic children with virtually unlimited access to power, and there aren’t any adults to smack their hands when they get out of line (because they too are children.)

I don’t vote in elections anymore, and if that makes me a “bad” American, then so be it. I gave it up before, only to think things might actually get better in 2008. When I realized that even the skin color doesn’t matter, and that we get the same people doing the same things no matter what letter in parenthesis they have beside their name, I gave up. I don’t even bother voting in local elections anymore. I find it tedious and pointless to choose which of the two evil choices is “lesser” when there’s truly no “lesser” about it.

It annoys me when people disagree with me about this, or if they agree but only about “the other party” while insisting their party is different. They’ll rattle off one factoid after another showing how their party is the good guys while the other party murders puppies and steals candy from babies, completely ignoring the fact that someone from the other side could do the same thing about their side. Facebook is full of this kind of thinking. Both sides are right about the other side, and completely wrong about their own side.

It’s even worse when people agree with me, but say “well, if you don’t vote you have no right to complain!” Excuse me? Of course I have the right to complain. I have as much right to complain as the person who “voted” for some write-in candidate. I certainly have as much right (or more) to complain as the people who voted for the candidate who won. And if the people who voted for “Evil A” instead of “Evil B” can complain because their evil guy didn’t win, then I certainly can complain about all the fucking evil!

I still pay attention to social issues, to a point, but I’m too lazy to be any more involved than liking a post or sharing an article on Facebook that I agree with. People are bound to change their minds if I post enough witty, snark-laden messages for my point of view, right? Sure, it happens all the time.

I try to justify my non-involvement, but the truth is I probably wouldn’t be any different in a country where the leaders acted like adults with a responsibility to work together and lead to the best of their abilities. We’ll never know for sure, though, because I’m not sure such a country exists.