21 Wednesday Nov 2018
Posted in Automobiles,
It was time. One of the cars had 220,000 miles on it, the other 190,800.We were going just to see what was available and affordable in the way of used cars. We had an idea of what type of vehicle and what we wanted to spend. We stopped at one dealership, found a car perfect for our needs and budget. And bought it. End of story,
.
20 Tuesday Nov 2018
Posted in Uncategorized
How is a chunk of bronze sitting on a chunk of granite dedicated to somebody who has been dead upwards of one hundred fifty years controlling your life? It didn’t control Dr King’s or Rosa Parks’ or thousands of other nameless people who went about the business of ending segregation. And if you still feel oppressed, only you can change how you feel.
20 Tuesday Nov 2018
Posted in Erotic Writing, Sexuality
Tags
NSFW For Grown-ups Only Please
She remembered the first time she ever knelt before a man, a boy really, and she felt his cock in her mouth, tasted its saltiness, her nostrils filled with the man odor.
Where was her dignity? Did she really love this guy? Or like this boy? Or even give a rat’s ass, one way or the other? What she knew is that he wanted this, this furtive fellatio before they joined her family at Thanksgiving Dinner.
And on her knees, beside her Daddy’s Buick Electra 225, in the chilly and oil-smelling garage as the rest of the family drank hot mulled cider and ate sausage balls, she realized her power. She, the one with a dick in her mouth, her nose tickled by boy pubes, was the one in charge.
If you want this, Suckah, you’re going to pay the price.
20 Tuesday Nov 2018
Posted in Uncategorized
This is my younger son. We had lunch the other day at our favorite Cubano restaurant Kuba Kuba Dos.
He ordered the coconut risotto cakes. We sat and talked about nothing important, but between my sons and me, every conversation is vital.
He talks of his work, his investing ideas, his dog, his cousin’s wedding plans, I tell him of the diabetes diagnosis, getting my flexibility back. Just stuff.
Who knew that just sitting with your adult children would be such fun?
19 Monday Nov 2018
Posted in Erotic Writing
NSFW Grown-ups Only
These images I take from the TV screen on rainy nights are fun. I imagine a rainy night when lovers meet as a train arrives. He greets her, wearing a trench coat as if he were Bogey in Casablanca. She, of course, is his Ingrid Bergmann, and she is perfect, because he wants her and she wants him.
They go to his place to get warm, with hot chocolate made from really good chocolate and not powdered cocoa. Before a log fire, they sip their chocolate between kisses. He slides his hand under her sweater, unclasps her bra, and her nipples almost immediately feel the teasing touch of the not quite too soft wool..
They enter the timeless giving of passion.
18 Sunday Nov 2018
Posted in Relationships, Tolerance
Tags
There are times when I feel closer to the people I have never met in the blogging world than I do to my friends, family, and acquaintances in real life. And I wonder, would my blogging friends really accept me if they knew me?
I am a Catholic, heterosexual, Republican, old, white male. To many people, in Orwellian Newspeak, that makes me “ungood”. Yet I have always reached out to people who were different from me.
Every word I used to describe myself is a superficiality. Yet we seem to be a world consumed and divided by those surface differences. I notice this when I watch real time pictures and video from around the world on YouTube. I have watched video from Russia, post Communism, and the people walking on the streets and playing on the beaches look no different from us. We could be in America, except the signs are in Russian.
We can have our differences as long as we promise not to kill each other. Is that so hard?
I read in the blogosphere of people in nonconforming, unconventional relationships. They seem to love their partners as much as I love my wife, in my typical, monogamous, male/female-paired marriage.
May be after the highly amped-up stupidity of the last two elections, I am all burnt out. These hills are ones I don’t want to die on.
17 Saturday Nov 2018
Posted in Erotic Writing, Sexuality
Tags
NSFW. MATURE THOUGHTS EXPRESSED
I am sitting here in my chair, feeling somewhat “high”
Lazy, lethargic, a little light-headed, wanting this feeling to stay.
I am a step away from sexual arousal
I want to share this feeling and also to feel bare skin against bare skin.
I want to stroke my lover’s labia, slide my fingers into her, as I press her clit with my thumb.
I want this floating out of time and body feeling to last.
No alcohol or drugs were used to bring about this euphoria,
17 Saturday Nov 2018
Posted in alcoholism, Depression, Health Issues
Tags
I grew up around drama. I grew up around people struggling with weight and weight related health issues. In 1968, Thanksgiving weekend, my mother’s brother, died of a stroke. He was only 45 and dangerously obese. He received a Purple Heart in WW Two and I suspect he was haunted by The War to the day he died. It just occurred to me that this is the 50th anniversary of his passing.
That was a very real bit of weight drama. My mother’s weight drama was ongoing. She would get serious about losing weight, then start jonesing for sweets. Eventually she developed heart disease and diabetes. She too had a stroke, but lived on another eighteen months afterwards before she died.
Her weight drama and her depression went hand in hand. There were tragedies galore in her family, her father’s alcoholism, her sister’s out of wedlock pregnancy, her father’s death from a cerebral hemorrhage. For a crazy woman, she did the best she could. Pure Christian Love prevailed over most of this.
But I came out warped, broken. I had a few missing pieces to my puzzle of mental health. The disease that is alcoholism affected me and I found recovery in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous and its 12 Steps.
The other bit of drama is my rather casual attitude toward diet and exercise. I would lose weight, gain it back over the past 12 years, I would commit to a regular program of swimming, then my sense of hopelessness would take me out of the pool.
This all combined to give a general lack of purpose to my life. Until. This time when I found out I was diabetic, I embraced healthy habits with a passion.
Today, after learning we have to replace a vehicle, I was all worked up. I was about to blow off swimming today, but did not. And I had a good workout, the longest in almost ten weeks, 1750 meters.
It takes effort for me to live life as free of drama as possible. My mother’s craziness, her outbursts of anger live permanently in my memory. Thank God she never physically abused us. And she loved us, took care of us, and wanted us to grow up to be decent human beings. But the repercussions from her brokenness linger in me to this day.
So every carbohydrate I don’t eat is in honor of you Mom. Every lap I swim is for you. I want to be the healthy person, you could never quite be.
I choose to be a positive example,
16 Friday Nov 2018
Posted in Erotic Writing
He wanted that woman.
She wanted him.
It wasn’t just her body that intrigued him. Or the anchor tattoos, like Popeye’s, on her forearms.It was her whole demeanor. She would always touch his forearm when they chatted and once, as their conversation was a bit longer than usual, she absent-mindedly (or maybe not) stroked it slowly.
So after the meeting one day, he asked her to go with him for coffee.
“Coffee? No. Anything but that. You see, I am a barista. ”
So he countered with the only thing he could think of, frozen yogurt.
After they got their yogurt, he was tongue-tied. So he just blurted out, “I think you are the most attractive woman I have come across since…”
“Since when?”
“My wife left me for her massage therapist.”
“And that was when, last week?”
“Longer than that. Two.”
“Weeks?”
“No. Years.”
“Oh.”
“So do you want to go to the movies? Or something like that?” She directly asked.
“How about you come to my place. And watch The Maltese Falcon and Casablanca?”
“Sure. If I watch another live action comic book movie, I’ll puke. Just promise you will have parmesan cheese to shake on the popcorn. Oh, and one other thing, I will have sex on the first date, if the guy’s bathroom is clean and there’s no dirt under his fingernails.”
It’s just getting too easy.
15 Thursday Nov 2018
Posted in Love and stuff, Tattoo
Tags
I can hear the rain outside and I see the street lights reflected on the wet pavement. Will it rain all day? I don’t know. It is a cold rain, the bane of the South, never cold enough to snow, but cold enough to be miserable.
The coffee is ready, I just ate a navel orange. It was a small orange, as navels go, from California. There was a nice sweet and clean taste. Time now to pour a cup of coffee.
I start another day alone. My wife will sleep another 3 or 4 hours. Her lunch is packed. She will go to work for eight hours.
Another day. Alone. So it is off to AA and the Y in the alphabet of places that fill my life.
I admire of all you who physically love your lovers. I can remember the soft feel of my beloved’s skin, her body ready to yield. And yet she was not vocal about her passion, lest the neighbors hear. As if that mattered.
Dispatches From Dystopia 