Joke of the Week

I decided, with Simplicity's encouragement, to post this week's joke early because of the holidays. The wife and I are going out of town sometime Friday (she probably has to work, and probably for the whole day, so we'll get a late start) and I'm going to be too busy to get this up. Plus, everyone needs a good laugh, right?

I stole this week's joke from Reddit.com; I wish I could remember the user who posted it so I could properly attribute him/her, but that's the nature of 1) the internet and 2) my aging brain.

For those who celebrate it, Happy Thanksgiving! For those who don't, happy Wednesday!

So a man is driving home from a buisness trip. He has a pretty low paying job, so obviously he doesn't have the best of cars.

After a few hours of driving, he drives past a monastery. That kind with all the monks.

And holy tits, his car breaks down right in front of the monastery.

Being a man of God, he obviously figures, "I bet the monks will let me stay with them while my car is repaired." So he goes to the front gate and knocks on the door. A man in robes answers. He tells the monk his predicament and the monk, being a monk, lets him stay the night, and even helps with repair costs for his car.

While the business man is sleeping that night, he hears this strange noise. It just perplexes him, and for the life of him, he can't figure out what it is. He decides when he wakes up in the morning, he'll ask the monks about it.

When he wakes up, he finds the monk who he met when his car first broke down, and asks him, "Can you tell me what that noise I heard was last night?"

The monk replies, "I'm sorry, brother. I cannot tell you, for you are not a monk." The man accepts this. He thanks the monks for their graciousness, and goes about his way when he gets his car back. 3 years later, he is driving on another buisness trip. And wouldn't you know it, his car breaks down in front of the monastery again.

Again, he figures, he can stay the night. And, of course, the monks let him stay and offer him the same help as before.

And once again, during the night, he hears that noise. He has no idea what it could be. He decides to ask the monk once again, with hopes that he would trust him more this time around. In the morning he meets the monk again, and asks, "I'm sorry for asking again, but what is that noise!?"

The monk replies, "I cannot tell you, for you are not a monk."

The man says, "Alright! I'll become a monk! What do I need to do!?"

The monk replies, "I need you to travel the world, and count every blade of grass if you truly wish to become a monk."

The man swiftly accepts and leaves all of his worldly possessions behind him to travel the world on this mission.

He goes to all corners of the globe counting grass blades.

After 50 years, he comes back to the monastery. He gives the monk accurate numbers and the monks give him monk-hood. And obviously, the first thing he wants to do is find out what that noise was. So he asks the head monk.

The head monk beckons him to follow him and he does. After a few minutes of walking through corridors and rooms, they happen upon a wooden door.

The man can hear the noise. He gets excited. The head monk hands him a brass key. He reaches with the key to the lock, and unlocks the door.

There is another door though. This time iron. And the monk hands him an iron key.
This happens again and again. So many types of doors and keys. Every thing you could imagine. Glass doors, gold doors. Everything

Finally, they get to a door made of solid diamond. The noise is louder than ever. The monk hands the man the final key.

He opens the door and finally sees what has been making the noise.

But I can't tell you what it is, because you aren't a monk.

Weekend Update

Happy Monday, everyone. I hope all of my fellow ‘Mercans will be able to enjoy a safe and enjoyable Thanksgiving on Thursday.

There wasn’t a lot going on this weekend to speak of, so this will be a relatively short update. We’ve been trying to get out of the house a little more on Saturday evenings, even if it’s just to run to the store or something, to break up the day some. It can’t be good, and it certainly isn’t very fun, to stay on the couch the whole day until it’s time for bed.

The one interesting thing that did occur is that I posted a link to this blog on Reddit.com which generated substantially more hits than I’ve gotten in the past. It helps that I posted in the Incest subreddit, and told a little about my relationship with L. I linked to the stories I wrote about our first time and to the blog.

I normally get around 30 or 40 page views a day, and if I’m writing anything interesting I might get up to 100. My highest hit count for a single day prior to Sunday was around 180, when JFB linked to my blog. By Sunday night, when the count switches over to the next day, I’d had over 1300 hits! And I’m close to 900 already today!

Now I’m sure it’s a much smaller number of new readers and they are clicking through the past updates to catch up, but still! I’m an attention hound, so this pleases me, lol.

Well, that’s about it for my exciting weekend. How was yours?

Joke of the Week

A wealthy lawyer was riding in his limousine when he saw two men along the roadside eating grass. Disturbed, he ordered his driver to stop and he got out to investigate. He asked one man, "Why are you eating grass?"

"We don't have any money for food," the poor man replied. "We have to eat grass."

"Well then, you can come with me to my house and I'll feed you," the lawyer said.

"But sir, I have a wife and two children with me. They are over there, under that tree."

"Bring them along," the lawyer replied. Turning to the other poor man he stated, "You come with us also."

The second man, in a pitiful voice then said, "But sir, I also have a wife and SIX children with me!"

"Bring them all, as well," the lawyer answered. They all entered the car, which was no easy task, even for a car as large as the limousine.

Once underway, one of the poor fellows turned to the lawyer and said, "Sir, you are too kind. Thank you for taking all of us with you."

The lawyer replied, "Glad to do it. You'll really love my place; the grass is almost a foot high!"

Flash Fiction Friday - Distraction - 11/22

Key Words:  (searching or seeking) and asphalt

Word Limit:  210

Forbidden words:  flippers

Extra Credit:  What kind of trees are in the background?

Bonus Words: Donate to the Red Cross fund for the Philippines hurricane relief, 

or to their general fund  1 word per dollar.

Andy pulled his police car behind the van, noting the out-of-state plate. The woman was sitting beside it, looking through binoculars. Andy glanced where she was looking but didn’t see anything of interest.

“Howdy, ma’am. Watcha searching for?” he asked.

“Good morning, sheriff,” she answered without lowering the binoculars. “I don’t know yet, but I will when I see it.” She lazily scratched her side, causing her bare breasts to jiggle. Despite his best efforts to remain professional, Andy felt his cock stirring.

“I see,” he answered. “Is there a reason you are sitting there naked?”

She grinned. “It beats standing. Besides, I’m not naked,” she said. “I’ve got my swim fins on.”

Andy started feeling uneasy; something was off about this woman. He walked closer and said “Ma’am, you’re going to have to come with m…” He never heard the ringing sound the shovel made as it smashed into his head.

She jumped up in shock, staring at the gangly man standing over the sheriff. “What the…? Are you trying to kill him?”

“I hope I did! I’m tired of living in his shadow!” the man exclaimed. “He’s still breathing, though.”

“Okay, good. Put him in the van and we’ll go rob that bank you told me about, Barney.”

210 Words. I probably will donate to the relief effort, but I don't know when I'll be able to or how much.

Get over to Advizor's site to read the other fine entries for this week's Flash Fiction Friday.

Grammar Question

I’m sure that some of you are cunning linguists, so I’m asking for your help on a question. In fact, if you want to forward this on to others in order to find an answer, I welcome that as well.

B and B’s father (whom I’ll call J) (and if you don’t know who B and J are, it’s not really important, but it’s part of the whole L narrative)…

Let me start over for clarity. B and J both have an idiosyncratic grammar usage that I have never heard anyone use, or heard of it being a part of a regional dialect. They use negative contractions (isn’t, doesn’t, aren’t, etc) as positives in specific circumstances.

For instance, the wife and I were talking with J one night, and he said “I had a golf tournament the next day, and so didn’t my wife.” In the context it was clear that he meant “… so did my wife.” As near as I can tell, J does this every time he means to say someone else also did something. B does it a lot, but not every time, which leads me to believe he learned it from J.

I once asked B about it, pointing out where he’d even written it that way on a Facebook posting, and he said he had no idea that he did that. He agreed that it’s clearly incorrect usage, and said he’d have to watch what he said from then on, but he still does it maybe once in every three or four times that it would come up.

I've never heard either of them say something like "I wasn't at the store" when they meant they were. But both will say "I was at the store and so wasn't he." It's only when they are including someone else that they do this. But they use it correctly when they say "I was at the store but she wasn't" or "I wasn't there and neither was he."

J was in the Navy for 30 plus years, and apparently among all their travels they spent a great deal of time in Spain, so I wonder if something regional there would have influenced them. I picked up the habit of saying things like “I’ll go with” from the way sentences are structured in German (though the first time I became aware of that usage was from some young adult book I read when I was 9 or 10.)

So anyway, the question is: have any of you heard of this usage of negative contractions to mean a positive? I’m really curious how something like this would have started.

Weekend Update

Happy Monday everyone; I can’t believe Thanksgiving is next week!

 This weekend could have worked out better; the niece went out of town Friday after work for a concert so the wife and I had the house to ourselves until late Sunday evening. Unfortunately, it’s shark week so we didn’t get to take advantage of the situation as much as we’d have liked. It was nice being able to walk around the house naked again, and leaving the door open while peeing, though.

I made Maryland Cream of Crab soup Saturday for dinner, and it came out pretty good. I didn’t like the bits of shell still in the crab; for what I paid for a pound of it, I wish it had been cleaned better. But it was tasty. The wife suggested that next time we use imitation crab and that I use half the other ingredients. I agree, as we wound up with way more soup than the two of us can eat, and now I don’t trust reheating what was left over. I’m sure health wise it’s fine because it’s been in the refrigerator; I don’t think it’ll taste very good, though, so I’m going to throw out quite a bit of it.

We both needed to get out of the house for a while after dinner, so we drove out to the mall and walked around some. Then the wife thought to look at some inexpensive jackets to replace the one she’s been wearing for seven or eight years and is pretty worn. We looked in two different stores but she couldn’t find anything that appealed to her, and my knees and feet started hurting something fierce, so we came on home and had a few drinks before heading to bed. We were both so stuffed from eating two big bowls of the soup (and Red Lobster cheese and garlic biscuits) that the alcohol wasn’t giving us the buzz we really wanted.

We did some more running around Sunday and wound up getting a few nice gifts for various people. The wife looked at some more coats, and though she found a few she liked she didn’t to spend as much as they’d cost. Personally I didn’t think they were too expensive, and told her, but she didn’t want them. I’m a cheap bastard when it comes to what I’m willing to spend on my own clothes, but I don’t mind her getting what she wants and needs.

For dinner Sunday night I used a recipe a Facebook friend of mine posted. He didn’t name the recipe, but it’s chicken breasts stuffed with cheese and coated with crushed Gold Fish crackers. Fried on both sides for browning then baked in the oven. It turned out really good, and I’ve already got some ideas of what I’ll do next time to make it even better. The cheese was a good stuffing, but I think it would be even better with cheese, ham, and mushrooms. Or perhaps a mushroom sauce over it. Yes, I know I’m basically describing a Cordon Bleu, but I’m not skilled enough of a cook to make Cordon Bleu. I am, however, skilled enough to make a chicken breast stuffed with ham and cheese and covered in a creamy mushroom sauce.

As an aside, I still think it’s funny that my favorite meal of all times was a chicken cordon bleu (French) served at an Italian Ristorante in the German town my wife grew up in.

At least this weekend I didn’t have to watch my Cowboys lose another game; they had their by week and didn’t play. I was hoping the Eagles and Giants would lose, but no such luck. Yes, that means I was nominally rooting for the Redskins, but I believe I can safely say that’s the last game they play this year that I’ll root for them. On the other hand, I’m not sure why I even care about what the rest of the division does. The Cowboys simply aren’t good enough to do anything with a playoff berth even if they squeak in.

How were your weekends?

Joke of the Week

Druggist's Bad Day

Upon arriving home in eager anticipation of a leisurely evening, the husband was met at the door by his sobbing wife. Tearfully she explained, "It's the druggist - he insulted me terribly this morning on the phone."

Immediately the husband drove downtown to accost the druggist and demand an apology. Before he could say more than a word or two, the druggist told him, "Now, just a minute - listen to my side of it.

This morning the alarm failed to go off, so I was late getting up. I went without breakfast and hurried out to the car, but I'll be damned if I didn't lock the house with both house and car keys inside. I had to break a window to get my keys.

Driving a little too fast, I got a speeding ticket. Then, about three blocks from the store I had a flat tire.

When I finally got to the store there was a bunch of people waiting for me to open up. I got the store opened and started waiting on these people, and all the time the darn phone was ringing its head off.

Then I had to break a roll of nickels against the cash register drawer to make change, and they spilled all over the floor. I got down on my hands and knees to pick up the nickels - the phone is still ringing - when I came up I cracked my head on the open cash drawer, which made me stagger back against a showcase with a bunch of perfume bottles on it, and half of them hit the floor and broke.

The phone is still ringing with no let up, and I finally got back to answer it. It was your wife -- she wanted to know how to use a rectal thermometer. Well, Mister, I TOLD HER!"

Out with it!

Something has been going on with L lately; she hasn’t made much effort to contact me during the day, and when we do talk (via text messaging) her answers are curt and don’t really encourage further comment. I’ve been obliging and just letting the conversation drop, and today I’ve decided I just won’t start any conversation. If she wants to talk, she has my number; if she doesn’t, fuck it.

Now on Monday she was a little more animated, even wishing me a Happy Veteran’s Day. But as it happens, she also wanted to ask me to set a few of her boxes out the next morning for B to pick up when he was in town to look in on his father. Once I agreed, she went quiet again. I’ve consider maybe she’s just been really busy, but when I ask how her day is, she answers “Slow.” That’s it; nothing more. If I talk about how my day has been, I might get an “Okay”, “right”, or “cool”, but that’s it.

She and B have been in town twice since the wife and I last spent the night with them, and she was in town herself this past weekend visiting a friend of hers. The only time we saw her was when she wanted to get a few other boxes, and then they only stopped long enough to grab them and they were gone. I don't expect them to go out of their way to see us, but when they're already in the area? I couldn't imagine going down to their neck of the woods and not at least letting her know and seeing if they want to meet up. Usually I find out their in town because she posted something on Facebook after the fact.

I don’t like confrontation generally, but I’m also impatient; so probably sometime today I’m just going to come out and ask her what’s going on. I’d rather get it out in the open than just sit here sullenly, harrumphing about how she can text me first if she wants to talk, by god, because I’m certainly not texting her first. It may turn into a fight, but better that than this cold distance.

I suspect she’s not even really mad at me; she usually is quite upfront about it when she has a problem with something I’ve said or done. I think she’s still sulking because the wife said something kind of rude (but not that big a deal, really) the last time we stayed there. When L complained about it that Monday after, she said something along the lines of “I only put up with her because of you.” I didn’t really say anything to that, because if I had it would have been to tell her to go fuck herself. I mean, yea, the wife shouldn’t have said what she did (and I did talk to the wife about her habit of saying what’s on her mind no matter how inappropriate) but L is exactly the same way and has no room to complain.

Another possibility occurred to me today, though. The last time L got this distant with me without a specific reason to be mad at me was when she and S were first ramping up their relationship. She later told me that it was because she was emailing so much with him she didn’t have time for me. It does make me wonder if she’s starting something with someone new (or even someone from the past.) At the moment I give the chance of that about a 15% or less, and 70% more likely it’s the thing with the wife. And the remaining 15% is just recognizing that it could be something else altogether.

Like I said, I’ll probably confront her about it before the end of the day so hopefully I’ll at least know what’s going on. The problem with that, though, is that no matter what she says is the reason (if she says anything at all), it’s not necessarily going to be the truth.

Weekend Update

Happy Monday, and to my fellow Veterans, Happy Veteran's Day! It's a short update this weekend because nothing really worth writing about happened. Virginia Tech won and the Dallas Cowboys lost, so it was an up and down weekend.

This Isn't About Football!

If you follow the NFL at all you’re probably aware of a recent problem with the Miami Dolphins. One player, Jonathan Martin, has accused another player, Ritchie Incognito, with bullying and racist behavior. I’m not going to get into the debate about whether Martin needs to toughen up or Incognito needs to tone it down; I’ll leave it to ESPN to blow that shit way out of proportion. Frankly, as long as it’s not the Cowboys locker room in disarray, I’ve moved from mild interest to mostly indifference about the specific issue.

One thing did catch my eye yesterday, though. A lot of the Dolphins’ players have come out in support of Incognito, and most of them say he is not racist despite his use of the “N” word in a voice mail left for Martin (who is bi-racial). And this is coming from the other Black players, one of whom said (paraphrasing) “He [Incognito] is honorary. You don’t understand because you ain’t Black, but he’s honorary. He’s more Black than Martin.”

Martin is bi-racial, from a well-to-do family, and graduated from an Ivy League college. Those factors apparently make him “less” Black than the blonde-haired, pasty skinned (except where he has tattoos) Incognito in the eyes of his teammates (and probably a fair amount of the Black population in general.) A statement like that is obviously intended to be an insult to Martin and, conversely, to be a compliment for Incognito as well as a defense. I haven’t heard anybody else mention this, but one wonders what would have been the reaction if a White player, in defense of a Black person, had said something similar.

It caught my eye because of a couple of experiences I had in the military with this kind of double standard. The first one happened in Basic Training between two of my fellow recruits (thankfully I wasn’t directly involved in this one.) I wish I could remember their names, but that’s beyond me at this point, almost 30 years later. So let’s call them Burt and Ernie.

Burt was White (I assume he still is) and Ernie was Black, and the two of them struck up a pretty good friendship early on. At least once a day Ernie could be heard calling Burt a “cracka-ass redneck”, though it was understood to be good-natured. Burt was actually from the mid-west, if I remember correctly, and didn’t really have any of the characteristics I would have associated with either a cracka-ass or redneck, but it was all in fun.

One day the two of them got into an actual argument over something, and it was apparent that their tempers were heating up. This wasn’t their typical back-and-forth banter where one would take a contrary view just to have something to do; they were honestly at odds on some idea or another and were having a heated exchange about it. It didn’t help that this argument was being played out in front of everyone in the barracks, especially since four or five of the other Black soldiers were behind Ernie, egging him on. Now this was not in any way a racial argument, or a Black versus White thing; it was probably something as banal as which college was better or the like. But every point Ernie made was underscored by screaming laughter of his peanut gallery, and Burt would get shouted down when he tried to counter.

Finally, Ernie said “What the fuck do you know? You ain’t nothing but a dumb, cracka-ass redneck!” which of course resulted in howls of laughter from the others. Burt answered “I think I know as much as a Black boy who never left home until two months ago.”

Did you cringe just now? Did you do that reflexive thing White people do when they read about a White person who said “boy” to a Black person? It’s especially bad that he used the qualifier “Black” with it, but “boy” was the over-the-line moment, wasn’t it? If you didn’t, then hey, that’s great; you’re more enlightened than most. If you did, don’t feel too bad; I cringed writing it.

Well, pandemonium ensued as can probably be expected. The four or five Black guys behind Ernie went nuts, screaming at Burt and edging closer to him. For his part, Ernie looked as surprised at their reaction as Burt, who later told me he never considered that they would take what he said as anything other than the tit-for-tat exchange that he intended it to be. But if a Drill Sergeant hadn’t come in to see what all the ruckus was about, it could have gotten bad for Burt.

As it was he got reamed for making a racist comment, and there was some talk (though probably more to scare Burt than actual intent) of kicking him out of Basic Training. Of course Ernie didn’t get in trouble for calling Burt a “cracka-ass redneck” because, you know, they’re just words and Burt should have been  mature enough not to be bothered by mere words. (For the record, Burt and Ernie remained friends. It took a few days for things to settle down, but by the end of training it was mostly forgotten about by most of us.)

The second incident was a few years later, when I was stationed in Germany, and did involve me directly. I’d gone bowling with a group of guys from my unit one night, and the beer was going down pretty easy. The good-natured insults that were a normal part of Army life were flying, and though I’m normally quieter and more reserved, that night I was giving as good as I got. I got in a number of good zingers that even the brothers were impressed by, and we all had a good time.

The next morning I was eating breakfast with some of the guys who’d been there that night. Mitchell, one of the E-3s (Private) in my crew, was telling me that one of the girls working at the alley the night before had asked him who I was. I fake-angrily berated him for not having told me the night before when I could have done something about it, which had the guys at the table laughing. The angle I was playing up was that I’m married and can’t go back over there while sober to chat the girl up, but I’d been drinking the night before and could have gotten away with it then. Not to brag (yea, right) but I had them in stitches.

When Mitchell caught his breath he said “Man, that chick was right when she said you talk shit as good as a brutha.” To put that in context, most of the guys that I’d been there with were Black, including Mitchell, and there was a lot of shit-talking going on. I laughed and said “What did she mean ‘like a brutha’? ‘Bruthas’ ain’t the only ones who can talk shit, now!” I was mainly just playing around, still in character from before, but I was genuinely confused as to why she would have put it that way.

Jones, also Black, was laughing and said “Sgt. CuriousRob, she meant that as a compliment! You should be proud!” Still in a joking mood, I said “That’s not a compliment; it’s insulting! It’s as bad as if I said you play tennis as well as a White person!”

You just cringed again, didn’t you?

Of course the point I was making, and however much I was joking I was still making a point, was lost with those at the table. Jones, who actually was a pretty good tennis player, assured me he would whip my ass on the tennis court right then and there to prove Black people can play tennis as good as Whites can, and even better! I didn’t get in any trouble over the incident, but it sure drove home the fact that the double standard exists (and that people willfully misunderstand a point if it means they can get their rage on.)

Flash Fiction Friday - Midday Express - 11/8

Required Words - Conductor, Ticket, Destination
Word Limit - 200 words, exactly
Forbidden words - suitcase, vulva, Wysteria,
or Horwarts Express
Bonus Points - Remember that private compartments
cost triple that of a regular seat.
Extra Words - Include a rhyming couplet = 25 words,
Name her Tammy = 15 words. Put her in charge = 25 words.
BUT, you can only chose one of the Extra word categories.

Howard shifted slightly when the rail employee entered the car. “Stop!” he hissed. “It’s the conductor!”

“The conductor drives the train, dummy,” Harriet smirked, keeping him firmly in her grasp. “That’s the porter; he’s coming to check our tickets.”

Howard tented the blanket they were under to hide her motions. He’d wanted to get a private compartment, but those were three times more expensive. Fortunately, this car wasn’t as crowded as usual considering their destination. The porter made his way slowly up the aisle while Harriet continued to stroke him.

“Harriet, please stop!” he whispered urgently. Without warning he grunted softly, jerking as his orgasm spun through him. His cum smeared messily between the blanket and his naked stomach and groin.

Harriet wiped her hand clean on the blanket, smiling broadly; Howard noticed she didn’t seem to care if others were watching. In his post-orgasmic bliss, he realized he really didn’t care either.

“Tickets please,” the porter intoned, bored. He knew what they were doing, but had seen far worse in his time. At least they were using their own blanket.

Harriet stood up, the blanket sliding off and revealing her bra and panties. “Sorry,” she smiled at the porter and pointing to the overhead bin, “our tickets are in my purse.”

The porter smiled broadly. “No problem ma’am.” Yes, he’d seen far worse indeed!

225 words. Get over to Advizor's site to read the other entries, and remember to check back there throughout the day to catch the later entries.

Dinner with T

The last time I talked to T (y'all remember T, right? The gay guy I used to work with who was going to be my "first" if things had worked out? Right, him; okay good you do remember) was a few months ago. I'd messaged him asking how things were, and he said things were "fine", but didn't offer any elaboration. We messaged back and forth a bit, and I said we still needed to do dinner sometime to which he agreed, and that was it. I still feel some guilt over whatever part I played in his and P's problems, so I let it drop. I figured if he wanted to meet up he'd contact me.

Early last week I received a Linkd-In request to add T to my connections, and I accepted. I wondered if he was going to try to contact me through there, but a day or two later he hadn't so I messaged him and asked (as always) how things were going. Previously he always answered "we're doing fine" but this time he simply said "I'm doing fine." I wondered if that meant he and P had broken up for good, and whether it made any difference. We talked a bit, then I asked if he would be free the next Monday (last night) to meet for dinner, and he said he would be. We set a time and place, and to skip ahead we met at a local Applebee's he chose, inside a mall in our area.

Aside: I'm not a fan of Applebee's and it wouldn't have been my first choice, or even my seventh or eighth choice, but it did have the advantage of being out of the way and not likely I'd see anyone I know there. And really, they've made some menu changes, and I rather liked the Wonton Chicken Tacos.

We exchanged pleasantries while we looked over the menu, and put in our order, then got down to serious talking. He told me that he and P are doing better than ever after almost splitting up. It had gotten so far that P had gotten his own apartment and was in the process of moving out. But at the last moment they admitted they didn't want that, hugged it out and are back together. It's actually more complicated than that, of course, and they are still working on their issues, but really that's about what it came down to.

I apologized for my hand in the problems, with the text I sent so long ago that P saw. T assured me that it was a minor ripple in the waves of all their problems, and that I shouldn't feel guilty about it at all. He said he told P that I just make a lot of sexual innuendo, but that I'm straight and married and not a threat to him at all. I asked if he'd told P that he was meeting me for dinner and he said he did.

I caught him up on my busy summer, telling him about my adventures with Brent, Simplicity, and the resumption of things with L. No, he doesn't know about my relationship with L, and I spoke of that in really vague terms, that it was just a one-time (so far) resumption of a prior relationship. He wasn't very interested in that or my adventures with Simplicity (again, fairly vague details.) But brother, did he want to know about Brent!

I explained how he and I met online and, after some time, decided to meet up. I didn't sexualize the encounter like I did here on my blog, but I didn't leave anything out. T asked if I would do it again, and I told him that though I'm not obsessed with it like I was previously, the curiosity is still a part of me and under the right circumstances I'm pretty sure I would. T said he understood, and that he wished things could have worked out between us. I agreed, and said that I'd thought about that, not knowing what his and P's status was, but that I wouldn't feel right about it now since he and P were making an effort to put things back together. He agreed and said he didn't want to screw things up with him, and we pretended we didn't know we were both lying.

T said "I would like to see it though, you know, in person," then excused himself to go to the men's room. I had a feeling he was hoping I'd follow but I wasn't going to. When I lie about how I wouldn't feel right about messing around because of the possible effect it could have on the person's relationship, I like to wait more than five minutes before going ahead and messing around anyway. He came back to the table and seemed a little disappointed, so I offered to send him a picture. He said that wasn't the real thing, but sure go ahead. I sent two I thought he'd like, and I was right.

We left the restaurant and walked around the mall some and continued to talk. As we approached the other end of the mall, T said he needed to piss again, so we walked to the restroom. I followed him in, knowing that he wanted to have a look and thinking I'd let him, but I chickened out. The urinals were too close together, and I really did have to pee; there's no way I would have been able to with him gawking at me. Hell, even if he had no interest in looking at my dick, I wouldn't be able to pee standing that close to someone else. I ducked into a stall and finished up, and wondered if he'd step in and ask to see. The mall was almost dead, as usual (I don't know how it's managed to stay open as long as it has) so it would have been safe enough. But he didn't, so I zipped up and washed my hands and followed him out.

We continued walking around and talking, and at one point he made a joking sexual reference about something I don't remember. I chuckled my nervous laugh, and he asked if he'd stepped over the line. I assured him he hadn't; I just laugh like that. He said he jokes around like that to try to help me feel more comfortable about it, "so the next time, whoever it's with, you hopefully won't be as nervous." He said he was disappointed when I went into the stall in the bathroom, because (duh) he wanted to look. I told him about the shy bladder, and said "besides, T, I'm a grower not a show-er. There just wouldn't be that much to see." I thought to say he could have come to the stall and asked, but decided not to.

Finally we were at the end of the mall where he'd parked. He admitted to feeling a little jealous that my first time wasn't with him, and asked again if I would do it again. I understood what he was really asking, and told him that I would, under the right circumstances, and that he would be someone I would be willing to do it with if those circumstances came together. He looked satisfied, and maybe a little relieved, with that answer. We said we'd get together again soon, shook hands and said our goodbyes.

Weekend Update

Happy Monday, all. I've really been trying to figure out if I have anything interesting to write about from this weekend, and so far I can't think of much. I know, I know; not having anything interesting to write about hasn't really stopped me before, so I guess I should just press on.

Let's see: Friday we took the niece to dinner at a local joint. She'd had two wisdom teeth taken out Thursday and the place we went has some pretty good soup, which is about all she wanted to eat. I won't get into just how hysterical she was about the blood from the surgery Thursday night, but I will say I don't know how she can bear to have her period. She had calmed down considerably Friday, though, so it wasn't a chore to be around her. Well, no more of a chore than it normally is.

The wife worked Saturday morning for a few hours, and when she got home we went to visit my parents like we usually do. The rest of the day was spent at home watching college football (Virginia Tech lost again) and I cooked "Better than Takeout Fried Rice." I made it with a mix of chicken and shrimp, and it came out really good. We had the leftovers for dinner Sunday night too.

L and B stopped by for a few minutes earlier in the day so she could pick up a couple of the boxes she left at our house one of the times she was moving from one guy to the other (I can't remember which one, honestly.) It was good to see her, but I was in a bit of a snit because I knew they'd been in town most of the day and didn't make an effort to see if we wanted to meet up for lunch or dinner or something. I don't know if she noticed, and it wasn't like I was grouchy or surly or anything, but I just didn't feel all that enthusiastic about her coming by.

The niece came home from work and got some things together an left to spend the weekend with her dad, so we had the house to ourselves. Neither of us were really in the mood to take advantage of the time alone, so we had some drinks, watched more football, then went on to bed around 10. It was really 11, of course, but we'd already set all the clocks back for the time change.

Sunday morning, after breakfast, the wife and I did finally take advantage of being alone. It was... okay, I guess. After 22 years I suppose I shouldn't expect it to be mind blowing; I do wish the wife was a little more "there" though. Anyway, we headed out to run some errands, then headed home and spent the day watching football (the Cowboys won, but barely, and against a bad team, so it didn't get me all excited.) We had a few drinks after dinner, then went on to bed before 10.

So that was my weekend, for what it's worth. How was yours?

Joke of the Week

Bill (it's usually Bill) catches a taxi home one evening, the cabbie charges him almost double the usual fare and when Bill complains he becomes abusive.
Bill resolves to get his revenge if he comes across this taxi driver again.

A week later Bill goes to get a cab home and notices the driver from the week before is third in the taxi rank.
He strolls up and gets in the first cab, once inside he tells the driver that he doesn’t have any cash but, if he takes him home he’ll give him a blow job.
The cab driver goes mad and kicks him out of his cab.
Bill now gets into the second cab and makes that driver the same proposition: a blow job for a lift home. The second driver also refuses and kicks him out.
So now Bill gets into the third taxi, the guy who ripped him off, and asks to be dropped a few blocks away.
As the cab drives off Bill smiles at the first two drivers and gives a big thumbs up…

Flash Fiction Friday - Happy Holidays! - 11/1

Required Phrase- "Oops, wrong picture"

Word Limit - 250 words

Forbidden words - College, Collagan, Colloquial, Cauliflower

Bonus Points - Share a real "oops" story if you haven't already as your main post

Extra Words - Christmas time is coming. You get 100 extra words if you make this about a holiday greeting.

“Bill, did you take care of the cards?” Linda called out to her husband.

“Yes, dear; I took the memory card with the picture you selected to the printer this morning. I showed them the catalog with the card you want circled, and gave them the slip of paper with the Christmas greeting you wrote.”

“Did you give them the mailing list too? When did they say they would be done?”

“They finished them this afternoon, and have already started mailing them out to the addresses on the list. It’s all taken care of, and it couldn’t have gone smoother.”

“Whew, that’s such a relief!” Linda exclaimed. Giving Bill a kiss on the cheek, she said “Thank you honey. You did wonderfully. How did they look?”

“Look? Oh… I didn’t think to look at them first.”

“Honestly, Bill!” she cried. “Didn’t they offer to let you see them first? What if the image is crooked or they messed up the greeting?”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Linda,” Bill answered, starting to feel a bit put upon. He’d done everything she’d asked, and the printers were professionals; what could possibly go wrong?

“Well,” sighed Linda, “you’re probably right. Did they give you a proof?”

“No. Wait, maybe they did!” Bill went out to the car and picked up the envelope the printers had given him. Realizing sheepishly that it was the size of a greeting card, he now understood that they might have expected him to look at it and approve it. Oh, well; what’s done is done. He strode into the living room and gave it to Linda, then went to fix himself a drink.

Linda opened the envelope and pulled out the card, happy to see that had gone correctly. She opened it just as Bill moved behind her chair and leaned it to see it with her.

“Oops!” she whispered, realizing she must have mixed up the memory cards. When would the cards hit, she wondered?

“Wrong picture, I presume?” Bill deadpanned. “You look lovely as always, dear, but I wasn’t aware that Phil had such an impressive member.”

350 words exactly. Head over to Advizor's site throughout the day to read the other outstanding entries.

Now to earn those extra points:

The first (of many) time that L left the boyfriend to get back with the ex, the wife and I drove down to spend the weekend with them. We rode down on our motorcycle that Saturday, and we all rode together (the two of them on B’s bike) to a winery in the nearby city. It was a fun day, and I stupidly thought all of the drama was past, and the two of them would work things out and be stronger than ever.

A week or two earlier, L had asked if I wanted a picture. I said yes, thinking she meant to send something innocent, like her with a new hairstyle or blouse or something. Imagine my pleasant surprise when it turned out to be a picture of her pussy, perfectly framed, with her fingers on each side spreading the lips. It was beautiful, and I was happier than I’d been in some time because (in my mind) this meant we were back on! Over the next few days we exchanged a few more pictures (I sent more than I got in return, but whatever.) Of course days later I was back to wondering just what the hell was going on, because suddenly L was acting distant again. (This has been a common, repeated pattern that I now know will probably continue forever.)

But no matter, I had some really nice pictures, and where there were some there may someday be more. Of course I couldn’t leave them in my main picture gallery in case the wife saw them, but I’m the technophile with a long history of being sneaky, so I moved the pictures to another folder and didn’t think twice about it.

Friday night, before the wife and I drove down to see L and B, we’d been fooling around and she let me take some pictures of her. She’d had a bit of wine, so had loosened up somewhat from her normal stodginess, and I wound up getting some good boob pictures, pussy shots, and even a few action photos of her giving me a blowjob and my cock in her pussy. Of course after the sex was over she insisted I delete the pictures, and though I wanted to hang on to them she watched me and made sure I deleted them all. (Please forgive this tangent, but it is important.)

Anyway, Saturday night we were all sitting around drinking some wine we’d bought, laughing about old times and generally having a good time. L excused herself to go to the bathroom, and the wife suggested I show them both a picture of some stupid thing or another. She picked up my phone (which didn’t bother me at all) and pulled up my gallery, then hit me on the arm and said “I told you to delete those!” I looked at the phone and saw the picture of L’s pussy! It was the representative picture of the folder I’d “hidden” all those pictures in!

I’ve said before that I generally don’t panic in emergency situations, and this is an example of that. Though my heart was pounding and I had no idea how that folder could possibly be in the gallery, I quickly realized that the wife only saw enough of it to think it was one of the one’s I’d taken of her the night before. I calmly took the phone and said “Oops, I thought I had; I’ll take care of it now.” The wife kept trying to watch, presumably to make sure I really deleted it, but I didn’t want her to look too closely or she’d notice the BIG ASS RING on the hand in the picture. Then she’d remember she hadn’t posed in that way for me, and… well, nothing good would come from any of that.

“Okay, I have to go to the bathroom, and I’ll delete it,” I said. I fully expected her to object, but she didn’t. I’d been drinking a good deal of beer and wine, so it was totally believable I was about to piss my pants. I was scared enough to anyway! Once in the bathroom I desperately tried to figure out why the pictures were showing, and how I could get them off the gallery without deleting them.

(I found out later that the Android operating system helpfully scans every fucking folder on your phone and shows all pictures it finds, and couldn’t give two shits if they are pictures you want to hide. The phone I had at the time didn’t have a built in way to mark a folder as hidden, but fortunately my current phone does.)

Alas, it was beyond my capabilities that night to figure it out, and I had only a few moments of “pissing” before the wife would get suspicious; I had to delete the pictures. Oh, they were such nice pictures, especially that first pussy shot. Though I have others similar to it, none are so artistically rendered as that one. I still mourn its loss.

I later told L about it, and she refuses to wear the ring she’d had on in the picture. The wife has a well-known eye for details, and L is afraid, even now some two years later, that she would recognize it and raise a stink. I’ve told her that after all this time even the wife won’t remember; she’d had some wine that night herself after all. However, it’s probably best if L waits another year or two before wearing it, just to be safe.