Author Archives: David

Where Have I Been?

15 Wednesday Mar 2017

Posted by in cooking, Exercise/ Fitness

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It’s been six days since I last posted. Too long.  There are things I want to say, activities I want to recount, dreams I would like to reveal. I need privacy.  I can’t write when my wife, partner, spousal unit is around. I don’t know why.

I have been consistently exercising again, as in 35 days out of the last 49.  Good old discipline. Good old nonkinky discipline. My swimming workout is now 2500 meters free style per day. If I don’t swim, I will walk four miles in my townhouse circuit, resting 2 days per week. It feels great.  Sometimes, while swimming or walking, I let my mind wander.  I fantasize about being in a sort of BDSM “fat camp”, where Trainer/ Dominatrices push out-of-shape males into top physical condition.  Lurid. Silly. But all fantasies are absurd,lurid, and silly to some degree.  Maybe the silly fantasies will find their way here as blogposts.

My cooking has been uninspired,  treading water in the culinary sense.  I imagine fixing a gumbo with chicken, Andouille sausage, red beans and gumbo (aka okra). Okra is verboten around Das alte Haus, but I think within the context of soup I may be able to pull such a daring venture off.

The Verizon door-to-door solicitors came by this afternoon. It is colder here than a well-digger’s toe. These intrepid lads out canvassing deserved some reinforcement. So I finally scheduled a FIOS installation. This means I have to take the lead in sprucing up the old  mini-storage unit we call home in order that the Verizon guys can do their job. MrsCorC? may not like this, but she will get over it. Or she won’t. Worse things can happen.

Life is pretty mundane. No blizzard. It’s been a fairly mild winter with just one decent size snowstorm. But that’s OK. Other than needing roads safe for emergency vehicles to operate, snow removal is waste of time.  It usually melts within a week here in Richmond.  The daffodils, croci, Bradford pear are all blooming or have bloomed.

“Life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone”- John Mellencamp

Morning- 9 March 2017

09 Thursday Mar 2017

Posted by in Classical Music, food, Sexual Identity, sleep

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I wish I could say my day started at 8:30. But that is merely the most recent time I woke up. Maybe it started at 1:51 when the pain of being in one position for too long jarred me awake.  I thought it would show some sort of noble effort if I tried to go back to sleep next to MrsCorC?; that I actually wanted to be there with her, her, wearing her beige cotton granny panties and her forest green turtleneck with little gold  Brooks Brothers sheep embroidered on it.  But no.  Her nightwear is whatever remains on her body after she takes off her trousers (khaki) and bra (beige) after work. Reality speaks volumes when I awaken in the dead of night.  I do so desire  to love you, have you, goddammit, FUCK you.

I get up, go downstairs. I’m sort of hungry. I rummage in the fridge for the log of goat cheese I bought at BJ’s, find it. I ignore the little bit of blue mold growing on the leavings of  chevre  already consumed, making slices to add to the rice crackers, gluten-free, I bought at BJ’s yesterday. Crunchmaster.  A Master, forgodsakes!  Is there a Crunchmaster General? Is there some little Crunchsub, out there, eagerly yearning for the Crunchmaster to take him/her in sordid, kinky, gluten-free cracker defilement and depravity?  I digress.  I have my little snack, topped off with dates, purchased at BJ’s. (Where else?)  for some insane reason, I fix a pot of decaf, thinking I might just drink some.

Then I go to my tan leather Danish reclining chair and just sit.  I don’t read, turn on the TV, or make an attempt at The Rosary (Thursday: Luminous Mysteries). I just sit and revel in the stillness and the silence.  Finally 3:00 AM rolls around. I go back upstairs with a mug of decaffeinated coffee I won’t drink. I go to the other bedroom, take off my pyjama top and scapular, put on a CD of Schubert Lieder, sung by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau.  I am reluctant to take off the pyjama bottoms and sleep,  completely nude!  Why? Is sexual repression contagious,  like some bizarro-world version of the clap?

Next thing I know it is 8:30. I am awake. I hear the shower running.  Mrs CorC? is getting ready for work. I get up, embrace her.  She remarks that I am strong. I infer that that comment is an acknowledgement of my sexuality. My hopes are raised  Maybe we will be lovers again.

No Mass

05 Sunday Mar 2017

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I can only call yesterday The Day Of The Backache.  It never seemed to go away. It wasn’t all that painful, but it was persistent. And I was tired . I took a morning nap, an afternoon nap and was in bed fairly early. I woke up around 3, hurting, and finally took 2 Extra-Strength Tylenol. I got some sleep but a day of pain wore me out for today.

Today Mrs CorC? is driving to Fredericksburg  for lunch with her brother and sister-in-law. It would entail about five hours of riding and sitting and is just too much for me. It was her suggestion that I stay home. I offered no argument, because, as much as I like her family, I knew I wasn’t up for the experience, err, ordeal.

So I’m home, skipping Mass, unless I go at 4:30 or 5:00. I plan to swim in a short. I want to read posts from the bloggers I follow, and have a spot of lunch.  I will write more later.

Putting On The Brave Face

04 Saturday Mar 2017

Posted by in Health Issues, Love and stuff

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Life ain’t easy. I hurt pretty much all day. It hurt to walk. Or to sit. I got through a shopping trip to BJ’s and came out with some frozen salmon, a bag of turbinado and a loaf of bread. 

When Mrs CorC? came home I fixed the salmon.She resumed her viewing of Downton Abbey on DVD. I thought I would like this, but it’s a soap opera for the PBS/BBC types. 

The weekend comes and I think there will be quality time together. Wrong.  Oh well. 

There is a saying in AA. “Don’t give up five minutes before the miracle.” I think about that a lot. And I am tired.

Sleepers Awake? Gladly!

03 Friday Mar 2017

Posted by in Gentrification

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I never imagined I would have a nightmare wherein my smartphone disintegrated and I lost my shoes. Richmond has a lot of old neighborhoods; many in various states of gentrification. I imagined a neighborhood with artists, and restored movie theatres and houses being rehabilitated.  There was a street festival in progress and I found myself near an old tobacco factory that had been turned into something else. I got lost. There were people appearing from earlier in my life, sleeping in strange rooming houses and the festival going on and a Greek restaurant nearby.  I tried to call Mrs CorC?.  It was here that my phone literally fell apart. I had old bosses appearing, promoting products, and we needed passes to get somewhere.  I noticed my shoes were missing and I needed help retrieving them. While we were waiting for an Amtrak train to stop, I woke up.

It wasn’t a horrible dream, just confusing. Am I supposed to spend the rest of the day figuring it out?  But there’s other stuff to do; AA, swimming at the Y, finding some fish to fix tonight.

Mrs CorC? had a conference call this morning. I teased her that it was about having too many conference calls. Every time she has a conference call, I thank God I am retired.

Free.

01 Wednesday Mar 2017

Posted by in Gender Roles, Love and stuff, seduction, Sexual Identity

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I walked four miles in warm, windy weather under a bright sun. The weather would change to blustery, with dark clouds and rain after I finished.

Inside, after my walk, I stripped off my sweaty clothes and savored the free feeling that only nudity offers. My imagination put aside the reality of differing libidos and values and inhibitions as I fancied myself deliberately making love with my wife. Tasting her body, caressing her, feeling her kisses on my skin. Taking her with certainty, authority, and power.

Sunday.

26 Sunday Feb 2017

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It is Sunday. The warm weather has gone. It feels like Winter again. That is fine by me.

I was up and down last night, but most of the night I slept soundly. Mrs CorC? has some sort of cold/allergy issue going on, so she coughed a lot and slept fitfully. I will tell her to stay home, rest, and skip Mass.

I’ve resumed my usual fitness activities, with a walk or a swim most every day. The tightness in my legs has gone, so PT was a success.

I want to write more and will later. I just needed to check in.

 I will write more later.

St. Valentine’s Day.

17 Friday Feb 2017

Posted by in Family

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Monday around 4:30, after a reasonably busy day,  I was out for my walk, thinking I had all my St. Valentine’s Day bases covered. As I walked along, her name popped into my head, “Dorothy”, my stepmother. I forgot to get her a card.  After my walk I was all set to go up to Walgreen’s and pick out a card to take over with some food I planned to share with her.

Mrs CorC? texted before I had a chance to go. I explained the dilemma and she offered to pick up a card for us.  Good. One less trip to make. She came home with a card and nice little selection of Ghirardelli  Chocolates.

St Valentine’s Day comes.  I go by Dorothy’s with her food, and her chocolates and her card.  She is blown away that we remembered her on St. Valentine’s Day.

“I haven’t gotten a card in years!”

Now I am a pretty cynical SOB around holidays exploited by Hallmark, Godiva Chocolates, DeBeers Consolidated Mines and all the others.  What I thought was simply a nice gesture turned into something else when I saw Dorothy’s response.  She was genuinely touched that people remembered her on a special day.

The takeaway for all you readers is that one never knows how thoughtful a simple, almost trivial,  gesture can be.

Morning

16 Thursday Feb 2017

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This represents my second go-round of waking up. Around 3:00 AM , I woke up, looked at my e-mail feed on the smartphone, and decided to be up for awhile. I took off my flannel pyjamas with the Black Watch tartan print,  put on  underwear, including a cotton-ribbed athletic shirt, AKA “Wife-beater”, jeans and my go-to denim chambray button down.  I was committed to being up. I read some of the paper, made a cup of decaf in the K-cup machine, did some desultory channel surfing. I just couldn’t focus in on the TV preacher, Mike Murdoch and his $58 pledge, or the infomercial for something, or watching Sea Hunt for the gazillionth  time.

Around 4:30 AM, I decided getting up and staying up was a bad idea. I went back to bed, in the big bed, Mrs CorC?’s bed,  and did get two and half hours more sleep.  After making a pot of coffee with the wonder ingredient caffeine, I realize I was back to the same conundrum I faced at three.What do I do with this day that God gave me?

More than anything else, I wanted to put some words up into cyberspace.  I consider the readers of my blog my friends. This glorious anonymity of the blogosphere fosters intimacy, not unlike the safe space of an AA meeting. Here I can share the paradoxes of my life: my faith and my strong sexuality, knowing they are both God-given and therefore not irreconcilable.  I long ago gave up being respectable, in the Sinclair Lewis Main Street sense of the word. (Having hillbilly relatives that made moonshine greatly facilitated abandoning that dubious aspiration.)

In the real world, there is vacuuming to be done. And floor mopping. I can make some very nice chicken salad with the chicken breasts I defrosted.  I can work on my stretching, take my stepmother to the Y, and go swimming while I’m there.

There’s a whole world out there. Let me get going.

Later, comrades!

Water Conservation, Now More Important Than Ever

14 Tuesday Feb 2017

Posted by in Hedonism, Love and stuff, Relationships, seduction

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Slightly Naughty. Using Grownup Words. Use Caution.

Jimmy climbed into the roomy double headed shower stall, spray coming from both ends, so no showering buddy gets left out. He welcomed the hot water pounding his tense neck and shoulders. It was a pulsating needle spray that was having a most salubrious effect on his work-stressed body. Looking down at his fingernails, Jimmy noticed the corona of grime about his nails and fingertips. “Unsatisfactory”, thought he as he applied the nailbrush, filled with pumice to the nails, till they were as pristine as a surgeon’s, better yet, a gynecologist’s, for his purposes.

Looking up, he saw Felicia at the shower door, holding a tray with the iced hibiscus tea they both were fond of, its red so inviting in the acrylic tumblers, made even more so by the sprig of mint and lime wedge. He opened the door; she walked in, putting the tumblers on the back ledge, out of range of the shower spray. Her hands went to work on his shoulders and neck, a splendid accompaniment to the needle spray.

“Nice.”, he said.

“Shush” she said. “you just relax.” Taking the natural sponge, she squirted the fragrant lavender Castille soap into the sponge and watched the lather build. She went to work soaping his back and legs, Turning him she scrubbed his chest and arms. She reached for the bottle of peppermint soap and squirted a bit of it into his pubes. Working up the lather, she soaped his prick, looking into his eyes as the tingle of the peppermint gave that extra bit of stimulation to his member. When her fingers were nice, slick, tingly and soapy she set to washing his scrotum,  perineum, and anus. He smiled and she smiled too, as her finger worked its way into him.  She had freer range to fully explore his ass.  His body was hers to please and enjoy. She relished these shows of power, making him even harder, his cock pulsing in her soapy hand.  Then she stopped, just shy of his release.

“You just relax, Big Boy. No need to hurry.”  Squirting more soap into the sea sponge she scrubbed his back, his buttocks, stopping to give them an appreciative squeeze.