I'll miss Gary

Gary Coleman passed away today.  He was a good kid, a troubled adult, and overall, a sad story of a one-trick actor who couldn't trust the people around him or himself.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100528/ap_en_tv/us_people_gary_coleman

Can you ever use the "L" world with a cyber friend?

And I don't mean "Lesbian."

Can you ever use "Love" in a conversation?  Not as in the "I love you" but as in "I love that about you" or "I love how you make me feel" or I "love" talking to you.

Is it too much?  Can it skew a relationship?  Should it?  Can we explore strong feelings about people without fear or do we all hide behind a facade of ironic cool?

Do we let ourselves express emotion or do we bottle them up because we are miles and miles apart?
Or, are we allowed to say things because the miles make reality un-real, so it's OK to say it.

Is expressing emotion over the Internet like the prisoner on death row getting married?  It feels good but you know it won't last long.

I'm glad I said it, but it sounded funny in my head when I saw it scroll by in the chat window, so it made me wonder.

Oh, I can't believe I almost missed it....

Today is "Draw Mohamed Day."  So, with my apologies to real artists, here is my attempt.

I believe in everyone's right to religious freedom.

I believe in my right to say what I believe.

I also believe that no one has the right to tell me what to draw.

The freedom of expression, free speech, the marketplace of ideas 

SHOULD NOT, MUST NOT

be restricted by fear, intimidation, or legislation.  

My religion, the most personal of all choices, is for me to choose.

I have the right to reject yours, you have the right to reject mine.

But, you do not have the right to stop me 

from writing, from thinking, from exploring what it means to me

Free Speech is not free.

We must stand and fight for it every day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The beginning and retraction of "Draw Mohamed Day"

One Reason to Draw Mohamed

Information on Islam

A strong defense of Free Speech in the face of religious hate

"Muslim Sensitivity Training"

And an extra link about drawing, just for fun

Thank you Hooters

I was struggling to come up with a topic for today's post yesterday afternoon. Not much was happening in real life, the weather was fine, my job is boring, but fine, and nothing interesting has happened in the bedroom lately, good or bad, so what is a blogger to do? Check CNN.

Well, thanks to the great folks at HOOTERS we get this story:

Hooters want employee to lose weight

Now, I think she's cute, nice hair, good smile, seems to be happy in the picture, but they've asked her to lose weight.  OK, I get that, I understand that you don't want a fat chick in Hooter's shorts, and I fully support a business that sets and objective, realistic standard that employees must meet.  I don't want fat cops chasing bad buys, or ugly people on my TV selling me bathing suits either.  I know how marketing works.

BUT!!!  OH MY GOODNESS, did you see that manager? 

Are you insane?  This guy is telling her to lose weight?  Come on!  Weren't they smart enough to put someone else on camera?  Lets see this walking submarine fit in to a Extra or "double extra small" pair of shorts. 

Well no, please, oh hell no, please do not let me see that.

And here is a FOX News story of her with better pictures.  She can server my table any time.  

Seriously? $9 for a hot dog?

As I was walking around the Market District I noticed that a new restaurant finally opened so I went in to get a menu.  I was shocked, then I laughed, then I showed it to my friends in the office and they laughed, then we put our money down in the "When will it fail?" pool.  I picked 16 weeks.

I couldn't let it rest, so I wrote the manager a letter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To The Manager

Are you kidding me?  Seriously?  This must be some kind of April Fool’s Day joke, $9.00 for a hot dog? $8.50 for a cheeseburger?  And $.75 to add Jalapenos?  You are charging 75 cents to add 4 slices of peppers to a burger that is already over priced by $4.00?  You guys are killing me, I’m laughing so hard I think I might pee.  I can buy 12 ounces of Jalapenos for $2.50 and get 35-40 servings.  So that’s what, a 1000% mark-up?

Are you fucking kidding me???

But let’s not stop there…

A meatloaf sandwich for $11.25 – that’s basically a fancy hamburger for $12, sure.

A chicken sandwich for $10.50 – I can get a whole chicken for $7 at Vons

Salads for $12 (taco); $13 (Spinach); and $15 (Thai Beef), are you joking, please tell me you are joking.

Soup for $9?

Shrimp for $16?

I want to meet the manager who put together this menu because I want him to by my shares in Lehman Brothers and Enron.  Maybe he’ll buy some beach property in the Gulf of Mexico as the tar balls wash up, because he is an idiot.

You just taken over a space where 5 restaurants have failed in 10 years.

You bring in a menu that is over priced for EVERYONE in my building

You won’t get the students, you won’t get the first years, or the homeless that will invade your porch.

You want to charge $8.50 for a burger when In-N-Out and Headlines make fantastic burgers for $5.  You want to charge $11 for a chicken sandwich when the Novel Café is terrific at $8.  You want $9 for a hot dog when the Stand is delicious for $4.50?  I still can’t get over that one, $9 for a hot dog, I got one today, fresh grilled, delicious, good cheese, $3.

And, oh shit, what is this?  I hadn’t even turned the page for your Mexican menu.  $13.—for three Tacos?  WTF? You are just cracking me up.  $13 for 3 corn tortillas and 6 ounces of beef?  What freaking decade are you stuck in?  Are you a lost extra from the movie “Wall Street?”  Haven’t you been watching the news?  Do you really think people have money for a $10 quesadilla?  (47 cents for a tortilla, 20 cents for cheese, 50 cents for chicken, you get the idea) You slay me, you really do.

We’ll stop on the pizza.  There is a Papa John’s, Dominos, Pizza Hut, and three Italian places in the area already.  Delivery is delivery, but the Italian spots have EXCELLENT slices and whole pies for under $17 and you want $26 for a meat lovers? 

Well, I can’t see for laughing so hard.  Every time a restaurant opens up in the village we start a pool to bet on how fast it will close.  After I passed around your menu not a single pick in the pool gives you more than 6 months.  I guess your closing will be lucky #6 for the landlord.  I put my money on 18 weeks.

Well, maybe I should be hopeful, if there are people with enough money to spend $9.50 on a breakfast burrito that was made for $2 and some cheap labor, maybe our economy is doing OK. 

But it’s not.

Amused lunchtime diner.

P.S.  No one from my floor of reasonably well paid, fully employed professionals said that they would go to your place for lunch with such high prices.  That is 35 “NO” votes.  Good luck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maybe they'll last a while, I doubt it.

There goes my boyhood dream

Now I'll never be a cop

Click here for the dumbest story of the week.

It's spilling over...

When I am with my on-line lover I am very direct, very specific, and I ask a lot of questions which I expect them to answer. It’s starting to spill over in to real life. I’ll need to be careful.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I got it last night; to be specific I got sex last night. At 9:30, my wife and I were getting the house cleaned up in the clothes put away. We went into the bedroom to put away the laundry and she locked the door behind us. With a small house and three kids, a door lock is the first requirement. I mean, the thrill of being caught can add a little spice to the relationship, but not when it is your eight-year-old daughter. That's a little too Jerry Springer for me. She lay down on the bed and gave it a pat indicating that I should join her. Just seconds after our first kiss we heard our middle calling for us. She's been having nightmares lately so as we got up off the bed my wife went in to check on her and I went into the living room and turned on the TV. Locking the door is the first step, but actually making sure the kids are asleep is the first prerequisite to the first step.

Much to my surprise, an hour later after a disappointing episode of "the Big Bang Theory" and some more cleaning, I heard the door lock again.

"It's only 10:45 PM" she said, and patted the bed again.

We kissed for a while, which is something she really likes. We kissed and touched a little and kind of drifted off to sleep and then came back, got interested, and then drifted off again until we decided that we had better get started or nothing would happen at all.

My hands went to the inside her knees and spread her open and began feeling her through her soft cotton pajama shorts. With one hand between her legs I scooted back up and started kissing her again. I was touching in small soft circles above her clit, a move that she enjoys and can get her close to orgasm. I whispered in her ears that she should take her pants off and she did. I had shaved that morning so I was relatively smooth and I took the opportunity to go down on her.

She has a beautiful sweet pussy. Fragrant, pink, not as shaved as I would like it but that's okay. I kissed and licked and tasted and played for a few minutes until I was hard and she had taken her shirt off. I crawled up to kiss her neck and slid inside effortlessly. When you don't have sex very often you want to relish it. It has been two or three weeks since my last time with my wife and it was a struggle not to cum too quickly.

I love being inside her, I love feeling the warmth that wraps around my cock and I like feeling her body underneath me. We kissed some more as I slowly stroked her in and out. Every time I pulled out I had to catch my breath, it felt so good. But that little pause, that separation from her body helped me last longer, and when I got past the initial surge where I wanted to hump and thrust and cum just to be finished, I regained control and was able to go in and out slowly.

I pulled out all the way and reached underneath our bed and pulled out her vibrator. Her vibrator has lasted a very long time; I bought it for her before we were even married under the ruse that she needed it for "back pain." I'm not sure how many times she used it on her own before we were married, but we used to together a couple of times and she knew exactly why I bought it.

I lay on top of her and kissed her deeply and slipped myself back in and then raised up and directed her hands as I turned on the vibrator and placed it gently on the tip of her clit.

I kissed her lightly as she masturbated for me with the large shiny round head. I pressed into her, forcing her knees up around her chest, trapping the head of the vibrator between her body and mine.

"Does it feel good?" I whispered in my wife's ear. She bowed her head to say “Yes” but did not say the words aloud.

"Does it feel good?" I asked again and her other ear as I kissed her lightly on the cheeks and on the forehead and across closed eyelids. She nodded her head again and orgasmed underneath me. I started to pump in and out again as she pulled the vibrator away and gave my body room to move.

I kissed her lightly on the lips and asked, "Did you cum for me?" A few more minutes of pumping and I filled her, cumming in a strong steady stream and it was bliss. She wrapped her arms around me and held me close and I finished deep inside us her heels locked on the small of my back.

We kissed for a few more minutes as I softened and pulled out. We held each other close for just a moment before the need to cleanup and fall asleep overcame us. I got dressed, unlocked the door, checked on the kids, and turned off the light in the kitchen which we had left on accidentally. She washed up, put her pajamas back on, climbed into bed, and was almost asleep before I snuggled in next to her to give her one more kiss.

"You really like the talking thing don't you?" She said with a little bit of distaste in her voice.

"Yes I do." I said, "I like a multimedia presentation."

She laughed and we both slept.

Old e-mails

I was re-reading some old e-mails from last year (which makes them ancient in cyberspace) and came across a conversation with 42 entries.  I had written a potential post and sent it to some friends and on-line acquaintances.  Reading the conversation made me realize how much and how quickly things change among people who don't really know each other though we talk every day.

1 friend is still my friend
1 is still high on my list but we don't connect as much as we both would like
1 now hates me
1 hated me for a while by now is playing nice again
1 ignores me
1 is ignored by me
2 vanished from the blog world

Cyberworld relationships can be deep and meaningful as long as the premise is maintained and the facade agreed to, but then they fall apart as one person decides not to play their part, or they escalate into real emotions that cant be fulfilled, or maybe they just run out of daily time to play the game of long-distance frustration.  I love my friends, a few of my enemies, and miss those I don't have time to see anymore.

I wish I had the time to read every blog that catches my eye and have the heated debates and wonderful flirt sessions I had just a year ago.  Ahhh, such is life.

Anywhooo, the section of the conversation that caught my eye was written in response to the question below:

You write just to write. Right? 

Do you want something/anything to come back to you as the result of your writing?

My answer is mostly late night gibberish, but I still like the way it sounds.

My ironic detachment and uber-cool persona cringes at the adoration of my fans, but I will condescend to admit that I write to "bother" people, and to, occasionally, bring a tingle to their naughty bits. But mostly I write because shooting people is illegal in 49 of the 50 states and I don't know how else to get rid of my stress.   I write to write, to think out loud, to curse the gods of this world as well as the man in the mirror. I write to test the logic that I see lacking in a world crumbling around me, I write to get off, to sound off, and to sign off. I write to you, for you, for the deranged masses that yearn for the insanity of logic and the freedom and fear of honest living. And, I write, because I can not dance

And, if the person who read this first, remembers reading it, I want you to know that the e-mails we exchanged that day made me smile again today.  I still like your blog, and I hope you are having a wonderful time.

Hanging out at Starbucks

I have to start hanging out at Starbucks more often. I'm here helping a friend out on a project and it has been a pretty steady stream of hot little coeds and over dressed business women, I do have to be here more often. And to the pregnant woman in the Navy Pea coat....You have GOT to get into modeling, please, the world needs to see your face.

I had cake.

I got this post from "The Chronicles of Ivy and Haley" and think their blog is fun to read.  I wish they posted more.....

You know you are a stripper when...

You gain a little bit of weight and everyone asks you if you got a boob job.

I'm feeling an odd sense of superiority about this one.  I want to say to the other girls "Oh, so you paid $7,000 for those?  Yeah, I had cake." 

A tainted victory

An open letter from a disgusted fan of real sportsmanship

To: 
Mike Knowles
Monrovia High
845 West Colorado Boulevard
Monrovia, CA 91016



Coach Knowles,


I know I will not be the first, nor, I hope, will I be the last, to say that I think you are a piece of crap for disqualifying the South Pasadena pole vaulter for wearing a friendship bracelet. Your “rules are rules” argument is a coward’s way out. Your team got beat, you didn’t like it, so you ruined a young girl’s career and stole a championship from a team that was better than yours.


It was, is, and will always be a tainted championship.

other bloggers, not you, the other, other bloggers

I use this blog to talk a lot about my personal life, my wife, my friends, and to bitch and moan a bit and clear my head. But what do you do when you want to talk about other bloggers?

What do you do when you have made friends with them but want to discuss what's going on in those relationships?

Do you start a new blog?

Do you say the truth and let the chips fall where it may?

Do you warn them that a topic is coming out?

Do you anonymize it so much that no one knows who you're talking about but the posts become endlessly vague?

How do we talk about the people that we talk about other people with?

We take pride in the fact that we are "honest and open" in these blogs, but when we want to talk about each other, we always pull our punches because, bloggers are people too.

Seriously Bad News

I can't believe they finally did it. The bastards.

The evil empire here at work finally blocked HULU.

What am I going to do at lunch now? Seriously, what am I going to do?

I watch "The Simpsons" and "Community" and a little John Stewart while I eat my salad. So why oh why have they blocked it?

WHY???????????((shaking fist at sky in dramatic fashion))

Pachalbele's Cannon

OK, one more music video, just proving that I'm as much as a music geek as anything else.

A discovery, at least for me - The Axis of Awesome

I found these guys from using Google Reader - PLAY, a new way to discover random blogs and waste a lot of time at work.

I've embedded a classic called "Titty Bar", but also check out the link below the video where the prove that every pop song ever played can be done with the same 4 chords.





Same four chords

a half written post....

This post is only half written because the story is only half over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Round One:

It started less than 24 hours ago when my sister-in-law, call her SH (skanky ho) caught my brother-in-law looking at pornography on the Internet. At first that is all we thought it was. But it was enough for her to freak and kick him out of the house. My wife heard about it first but we both agreed it seemed like a bit of an overreaction. This problem hits close to home for my wife because, if you have read my blog you already know, we went through a seriously rough patch last year over my pornography habits. To hear about it in her brother's life was very painful. But even in the midst of those bad memories, she realized thought that SH was overreacting. She had a technology friend come over, search the hard drive, and recover the porn that had been deleted. I have no idea what kind of porn it was or how much there was, or even how long this has been going on, but he admitted to it last seen at least six months.

At the end of Round One, brother-in-law is caught looking at porn, wife searches for and finds more, kicks him out of the house. Harsh, but easy to empathize with given the betrayal, even while thinking she is going overboard.

Round two:

We find out later that SH, has told the four children ages 7 to 16, what their daddy has done. She told them about the porn, about him hiding it, and about catching him. How does a mother, with any sense of maternal affection for her own children, unleash that kind of anger on a seven-year-old? Her two youngest are too young to even understand what porn is.

I can empathize with her feeling upset, but even at the beginning, it seemed as if she is shutting down any door that would lead to his rehabilitation within the family. I start to wonder, and still wonder, what else was going on besides these bad choices.


Round three

My wife was holed-up in the bedroom with the door locked on the phone for over two hours last night. I'm getting little mini-updates and she opens the door to check on me and the kids as we go through our bedtime routine.  During one of the phone calls she finds out that her brother went to a massage parlor on two occasions, though he claimed that nothing happened either time.

So now we have porn, and a massage parlor visit with no "happy ending." While it is difficult to believe, we have to take him at his word for now. So at the end of the night we have her brother at his mom's place, an offended wife at home telling everyone who will listen, parents, siblings, best friend, and her own kids, all of the dirty details of what's happening.

As my wife and I cleaned the kitchen and shut down the house she told me how difficult it was to hear what was happening because of what had gone on between the two of us last year.  She said that she was very happy that she never told anyone about our problems, not even her mother. "Our problems are our problems," she said.  This was big for her because in her family you talk about everything. I remember during one of our first dinner together at her place, before we were even seriously dating. I got a full update on her moms bowel habits, the older brothers girlfriend problems, and some information about a cyst that I will never forget.

I hugged my wife gently and thanked her for not kicking me out and for staying with me long enough to work things through.  I wish I could add that we went to bed and made mad passionate love in appreciation of each other, but instead we brushed our teeth and fell asleep in record time.

Round four begins

I slept like a baby.  My wife says that she couldn't sleep because of the worry. I know, however, that she was snoring within minutes of hitting the pillow, so she might have worried for a little bit, but not too much.

I got up early, went to the gym, taught my spin class, tried to flirt with the cute brunette on crutches, and went to work. Almost immediately I get a phone call from home giving me the next part of the story.

My wife wants to go down and talk to her. I tell her "no way." I tell her that the only person who should be in the middle of this mess is a priest, a marriage counselor, or a policeman in body armor. All she would do is get caught in the crossfire and that means that you get hit by bullets from both sides. I was able to talk her out of going down to see them. I think her intentions were good, and came out of loving place where she's trying to help, but it's too early, and any efforts to get her to calm down would be seen as a defense of his actions. Since his actions are indefensible, I told her that she shouldn't go. Luckily she didn't because round five got worse.

Round Five

I had just finished lunch with some friends and was walking around the neighborhood getting some fresh air when my phone rang.

My wife called to give me the latest news.

It turns out that this morning, SH was on the phone with someone, ranting, when the two oldest kids asked her what was going on. They had already been told that their dad was a porn freak and had gotten a hand job from a masseuse. Then this wonderful mother, this nurturing figure of levelheadedness, decided that the two oldest kids 15 and 17, a teenage boy and an oversexed teenage girl, should see all the porn that their dad was appreciating. So she showed them, she showed them all the porn.

Now, I'm a guy, I was once a horny teenage boy, and I love pornography.  I know that their son has seen porn. He's a teenage boy with an absentee mother a good computer, and a fast Internet connection. He has seen porn. His older sister, who claims to be a virgin but behaves in a way to make me doubt that claim, has also seen it. I'm sure she has seen it live. While this is not their first exposure to naked people having sex, to see it from their mother, to see it with an angry, vindictive, unforgiving diatribe as narration must have an impact.

What is their son thinking now?  "My dad looked at porn and now my mother hates him and has kicked him out of the house. I've looked at porn so what happens to me? Does my mother hate me? Will she kick me out of the house, will she hire an attorney to kick me out of the family?" Besides all the issues of seeing his mother ranting out of control, he now has his personal conflict about what might happen to him if he ever admits to looking at this material.

I love my voice recognition software, but when I tried to put a paragraph into italics, if launched Internet Explorer and brought me to this website. Maybe my computer likes Broadway more than I knew.


I admit, and understand, that this is all conjecture on my part but I know everybody involved, and I'm pretty sure I'm pretty close.

Round 6

The way in which parents handle conflict between each other has a fairly profound impact on their children. As much as my brother-in-law is at fault for this crisis, her inability to control herself in front of her kids, to keep boundaries between adults and children, and to think of others before she thinks of herself, is reprehensible. And yes, I know that sounds judgmental, because I am judging her, so sue me.

Her brother went over to the house to talk to his wife this morning. Her parents were there because they live across the courtyard of the duplex they bought together. I like having my dad just where he is, about 500 miles away. I love the guy, I really do, I do not want him in my business. During his admission to her parents of the things he had done, he broke down in tears and expanded on his confession and explained that the "happy ending hand job," previously denied and then confessed, to was actually a pre-arranged visit to a prostitute, with whom he had sex.

Oh shit.

I believe that he did the right thing, or at least it is on the track and doing the right thing, which is a full confession. From my personal experience it does no good to lie after being caught. Trying to minimize the damage by minimizing your behavior just leads to further damage when you confess more, and then more, and then more. It really is like tearing off a Band-Aid on a hairy arm. You have to do it all at once. It will hurt like hell, but it's better than having it hurt like hell again and again and again. If he wants to rehabilitate himself, if he wants to regain his role in the family, he has to get it all out in the open, me must force the issue and explore what is wrong with the relationship that allows him to make these choices, and deal with the problem, and then the symptoms.

She is still in the pain stage, lashing out at him to all who listen. She has already called an attorney, and will probably not let him in the house.

He asked to come home, and she said that she would put it to a vote with the kids.  I can't imagine that being a fair discussion.

"Your no-good whore buying, porn addicted, baby killer communist father wants to bring his hooker-loving dick and is dirty mind back into our home.  And by the way, he may try and kill your pets while you sleep.  Should we let him back in?" 

I can see how that vote is going to go.  She's the parent, she should decide, she shouldn't lay the decision on a 7 year old.

So, we have quite a weekend in front of us. On Saturday we are all getting together for a
“First Communion” service for the two young children in his family. He and his angry-as-hell wife are supposed to stand at the front of the church and smile and shake hands with the priest and kiss each other on the cheek and say a couple of nice words about how wonderful everything is. Personally, under my dark blue suit, I will be wearing a flak jacket and packing a trauma kit. Luckily, there is no family lunch after because that is supposed to happen at mom's house on Mother's Day.

And oh what a Mother's Day will be. My kids have no idea what is happening, we have chosen not to tell them until the situation clarifies. We will certainly not be talking about prostitutes, hand jobs, and porn. However, their oldest girl, rightfully upset, may talk to her cousins, which means my daughters and my nieces from a different brother. What do we tell them when life turns so ugly?

My wife and I successfully dealt with my issues behind closed doors, something for which I am forever grateful.  But now, we have a lot of public ugliness to deal with. 

Damn him for being an idiot, damn her for shitting it all out over the rest of us.

Round 7 will be too interesting to miss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why am I writing this? Because I think with my fingers and words don't make any sense until I see them on a screen or slip of paper. 

just a note with some good news.

I know I'm not using this blog very much, so to the 2 or 3 readers that drop by, i just like to say hi.

i have been "good," or mostly good with my eating the past week, and so the news is that I was under 214 on all three scales (home, gym1, and gym2) so i think that progress is real, though coming slowly.

Losing weight fast doesn't do any good if it comes right back on, so I'll stick with losing it slowly and for a long time.

I think my teaching cycle three days a week is helping. Not only is it a really intense workout, it kills my appetite all morning. It's a stark contrast to swimming, which, though much less intense and always shorter, leaves me sooo hungry, so very very hungry, so i have to be careful after time in the pool. Maybe it's seeing Brandi in the pool with her cute little bikini and face that never smiles, ever.

So, a bit of good news, 214 on three scales. I'll take that.

On the Phone

It's no secret that I like cybersex, the build-up of words and images in our heads that arouse and confuse us, the tension the cuts through the keyboard and lights up all the right lights in our mind.

I was chatting/flirting with a friend the other day, innocently enough, she tells me her husband is on the phone, so I decided to tease her a bit.  So, with minimal editing and a few name changes, here is:


ON THE PHONE
 
Carrie: just a sec...hubs phone...

Roy: OK, so while you talk to him just think of me, coming in to the room
I casually unbutton your slacks while you talk
You make a show of slapping my hands away, but I know you aren’t serious
The fly opens and the silk of your panties shows through
My fingers slides inside, feeling for the soft lips behind the silk
You catch your breath
He asks what’s wrong, and as I press on to your clit, you claim to have stubbed your toe

Carrie: fucker. :P

Roy: you try to keep talking, but you also move your feet apart
I move behind you and slip three fingers between your legs, cupping you, holding your cleft in my hand
you press your hips back in to mine and you can feel my erection
I thrust back and you have to catch yourself on your desk
my hands start to move over the silk and you struggle to talk.

Carrie: you are killing me

Roy: as the conversation continues, you feel one finger on the edge of the fabric,
pulling it aside,
you feel air on your skin
you feel me
you want me inside you
I close your office door and pull the blinds
your slacks hit the floor and I kneel behind you
first, I pull your panties up, splitting you
then slide them down, exposing you.

Carrie: and he did ask what wrong...fucker! LOL!

Roy: you talk about schedules and shopping as you turn around and lift one foot up to the chair behind me.
he asks you about PTA but all you can think of is the feel of my tongue in your cunt,
you whimper just a bit and he asks if your toe is really hurt.
you pull my head in tighter and say that it’s really sore
my hands slide up and pull you open, exposing the inner skin, the hidden lips,
and I wrap you with my tongue and gently suck an orgasm directly out of your clit.
you dribble, you gush, you flow, but the words have stopped, your mind is blank,
and he is calling your name through the forgotten hand set.

I sit back on my haunches and look up at your wet thighs, covered in glistening satisfaction.
you catch your breath and resume the conversation, explaining that the boss had stepped in to the room

Roy: the grocery list is reviewed as I stand before your open legs, and as he rants about something, I slip in to your hungry cunt.

Carrie: I like that
I swear to God he KNOWS you're tormenting me and that is why he feels the need to keep frickin' talking

Roy: not wanting you to get 'caught', I slip in slowly, steadily, and then pull out again, in and out, keeping you full, keeping you on edge, waiting to cum
your breathing is hard to control, you want desperately to cum again, to match your orgasm with mine, but he is asking too many questions.
I hear his voice and thrust deep when it is your turn to talk
I time my moves to torment and tease.
you know I’m going to fill you as he tries to say good-bye
you know I’m holding off until that moment when you must speak.
my hands move to the buttons of your blouse, you try to push them away,
but the look I give freezes you.
you know not to fight me.
your are in my hands now, full silk, smooth, heavy with the womanly weight of your perfect breasts.
a clasp is undone, and your skin is mine, smooth, soft, full, glowing.
you try and focus, to ignore the feelings in between your legs,
my lips on your chest, kisses on your neck.
I reach behind you and grab a legal pad and write the word "cum" in thick blue ink

Carrie: fuckerfuckerfucker :P

Roy: one hand is on your phone, so I take the other and bring it between our bodies,
and guide your fingertips to your own wetness.
you want so badly to cum, don't you Carrie?.
you want to cum and to flood me, to feel my heat fill you
my stroking combines with your fingers to build the urge more and more.
oh, fuck you want to cum, but now he's asking where his shoes are,
and if the dry cleaning is ready, and where the blue tape was put last night.
you feel me getting bigger inside, filling you tighter.
you try to pull your hand away from your tender nub but I take your wrist and hold you in place, forcing you to obey, to touch, to torment.
I press my cock in deep and pin you back against your desk as you struggle with basic sentence structure and coherence.
"I think the tape is in the (oh shit) hallway closet"
"yes, your shirts will be ready on (fuck fuck fuck) Saturday

Carrie: uhm..yeah...having definite trouble with language

Roy: your fingers circle your cunt and wrap around my cock as you tell him about adding soap to the laundry
you spread wider for me as you ask him not to finish the chicken because it is for dinner tomorrow
you bite my neck to keep from groaning as my hands spread your ass cheeks on your desk blotter.
tears form in the corners of your eye as you feel the inevitable tingles deep inside your hips.
can feel it building, and are powerless to stop it.
you can feel it flooding, but can't hold it back
your nipples begin to spark and you guide my lips to them once more
you pull my ass inward as you spread, open, and wrap around me.
your voice cracks as you beg your husband to let you go back to work.
you hump hard against my cock, trying to force me deeper, as Line 2 begins to ring
you whisper in my ear, hoping he doesn't hear "finish me dammit, fuck me."
you wrap your arms around me, shifting your phone to the other ear to maintain a semblance of conversation
you feel the inner muscles start to twitch
I feel you tighten around me
I thrust long and deep and deliberate and then I pick up speed.
I am over you now, pressing you deep into the wood of your desk.
your panting has overcome language and your thumb seeks for the 'end call' button
you pray he can't hear you, but realize, that you don't care if he can.
your thumb presses down as 'fuck me' escapes your lips
"just fuck me, please fuck me, finish me, god damm Roy, make me, make me cum"
time stops,
the universe is suspended
all that is real is motion
all that is now, is two bodies in synch

Carrie: I wish my damn cell had a mute button
but dropped call is an awesome excuse!

Roy: :-) "cum for me." is whispered in your ear, I press hard and fast and deep as the phone drops to the floor

Carrie: FINALLY!

Roy: if only you had a door that locked.

shopping at the mall

a friend of mine went shopping the other day

she told me it was to buy clothes for her daughter

but I think she just wanted me to know

That she was close to a store that I like.

I told her to buy something small, red, and sexy.

Two days went by and I did not hear from her

until early this morning when she e-mailed me a picture.

She had found just what I wanted

Small, red, cute, and sheer enough that I could see her fingers

inside them as she snapped the picture

The Early Bus

I saw you get on and I think you saw me too,

Come'on, sit next to me again

Like that one time "at band camp" I giggle

Come sit next to me, and laugh at my jokes again and smile like you used to.

Sit next to me. And hold my hand.

Friends to the East

Written some time last week, but the sentiment is still the same.


It is four o'clock on the West Coast and it is very quiet online. I have made very good friends with three other bloggers and they are all are East of me, some by quite a distance; so, as the day grows new for me, their work day end and they go home. They help me laugh, flirt, giggle, smile, and get and lose a dozen erections a day.  They are my friends and I just want to say thanks.

:-)

And to my west coast friend, don't feel left out, we are just too busy these days, and that's no fun either.

My friend's daughter is home from school

Since this is going to post on Sunday morning I thought it would share something that happened during services last week.

My friend’s daughter finished college and is back home for a few weeks. She is now 21, I think, but I met her when she was 11. Even then you knew that she would grow up to be a beautiful woman. I ignored her as much as possible for the next six years until she at least turned 17, hit puberty, and could be considered at least a teenager before I started, well, you know, thinking about her.

Her mother is not very attractive, too thin, too harsh, but hair is too too too big, and she never smiles. But her daughter does.

When I saw her Sunday afternoon I was still fresh from having sex the night before with my wife. I was a little amped up, a little on edge, and my mind was not focusing on the passages being read that day. She is tall, around 5'10", long brown hair, and a figure that just gets me. She is not too skinny, she has curves, a beautiful smile, pale skin, and the sun dress she was wearing was not very appropriate for church. Perhaps it was the only one she had left behind when she moved away to school in a colder climate. Perhaps she didn't realize that her very small panties could be seen through the light white fabric of her dress. Maybe she could see, like I could, every stitch of the fabric of her bra. Perhaps she chose that outfit exactly on purpose.

The thoughts that she elicited were new in her context. She is a sweet girl. Really. She is the kind of you would believe her if she told you she was going to wait until marriage to lose her virginity. My guess is that she probably still is a virgin. Her parents have told me that she had no serious boyfriends while in school and I do not see her as the one nightstand type. That is why the thoughts I had surprised me a bit.

She has gained some weight while she has been away at school. Perhaps 10 pounds, maybe 15. She has gone from a thin little girl to a curvy, well proportioned woman who looks like she could take a pounding. She looks sturdy enough for fucking now. I know this is a horrible thing to say about my friend's daughter, but it's true. She is beautiful, supple, tall, strong, she has a smile that makes you want to hug her, and a body that makes you want to tackle her, throw her on the bed and go until it's time to leave in the morning. She has the kind of body that makes men late for work. She has hair for pulling, for wrapping up in your hand and tugging until her head comes up and she looks back over her shoulder to see what you are about to do to her. She smiles though, when she understands.

My thoughts, when I saw her first, was that it was nice to see her again. But then she smiled, laughed, and crossed and uncrossed her legs as she listened to the sermon. I didn't get much out of church that day, but I enjoyed the service very, very much.

Attention to detail

I love Irina Shayak.

I saw her first a long time ago in a lingerie layout that I can not find today.  I was happy to see here in this year’s Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition,  As I was going through her pictures today, I noticed a little discrepancy, that shows that either the editors weren’t paying attention, or didn’t care, or they bought to almost identical swimsuits, or that I’m looking much too closely at these layouts. 

So here it is. The white lace overlay is on her right hip, right?

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2010_swimsuit/models/irina-shayk/10_irina-shayk_11.html

The brown triple strap is on her left, correct?

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2010_swimsuit/models/irina-shayk/10_irina-shayk_12.html

But here, on her title page, it’s on the left.  So, did they flip it on purpose to make room for all the logos and navigation buttons?  Interesting to know.  http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2010_swimsuit/models/irina-shayk/

And see?  I don’t know how my boss can accuse me of not paying attention to detail.