Home Early

Note: This is my first foray into erotic fiction. Comments are welcome. Criticism urged. Plagiarism, No.
Here it was 3:30 on a Friday afternoon. Jimmy had just secured the last lug nut with the air wrench, completing the tire change. New tires too. Not a lot of profit, just enough to not feel to bad about taking Felicia out to dinner tonight or tomorrow. He looked at the completed work order stack, the work in progress stack and  the pending stack  All orders were nestled snugly in the completed stack. Wanda, his office manager, could handle the customers coming in to pay and pick up their vehicles. He was done for the week, ready for the weekend, a long weekend with Labor Day on Monday. In addition, the children were on their way to Felicia’s parents’ house and a special Grandchildren Spoil-A-Thon was in the works for them. What the Heck, it’s the end of summer; the kids are deserving of some spoiling. The text from Felicia as he left the parking lot confirmed the children were at Gram’s.

Turning out of the parking lot, he wondered how long had it been since He and Felicia had been completely alone, child-free and carefree for 72 hours.  Plenty to ponder, nothing to plan.  After all, who wants sex on a schedule? A stallion at stud? Perhaps. A scheduling freak? For sure.

It did not seem like a long drive home. He saw her Volvo in the driveway. She’s back, he thought. He let himself in, finding the house strangely quiet, except for the music, emanating from the bedroom. Beethoven’s Fifth. Final movement. Her music; the drama in the chords and orchestration meant one thing. He knew what to expect. Quietly treading the stairs, he spied her through the crack in the door he knew she purposely left ajar. He saw her on the bed, the flowered red silk kimono, open and gathered and bunched at her waist, her thighs open. With one hand, she spread her labia, the other guided the wand vibrator up and down on her exposed sex. Fascinated, he watched as she moved it, varying pressure, directing it from lips to clitoris, elusively teasing herself, then hard and direct.

He felt his cock hardening as she approached her climax, her body tensing and she screamed as she came and came and came again. He knew what would follow and each time she squirted he was astonished as the first time he saw her squirt,soaking the towel placed beneath her ass.

She was quiet in her afterglow.  After a few minutes, she sensed his presence.

“Hello Big Boy” (her pet name for him)

“Hello yourself Slut (his pet name for her). That was some show.”

“Wanna see the replay?”

Sure enough, she had the camera on a tripod, positioned to record her “Quality Alone Time.”

“I see your mind is as dirty as it was the night we got it on in the back of that hearse I was fixing in the shop.”

“‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever’. John Keats said that. And what is more beautiful than a dirty mind coupled with a passionate heart?”

“Amen, Slut. Now get your ass out of bed, pour me some iced tea, and join me in the shower. We have three days to play like we’ve never played before. And don’t worry about what to wear this weekend.”

Uncomfortably Numb

I made some posts on Facebook recently. One was a link to a story on Vatican Radio about a Catholic activist in Vietnam who was released from prison. He was put there for demonstrating for political and religious liberty in Vietnam.
http://en.radiovaticana.va/news/2014/10/03/vietnam_frees_catholic_activist_after_three_years_in_prison/1107847
These are things we take for granted in the USA.
The second was a comment I made:
“Where did we get the idea that having sex is a right? Or that having sex will make us happy? just wondering that’s all.”
Let’s get back to the title. The desire to detach ourselves from the travail of this world is shared by many. Businesses like Anheuser-Busch (or its successor) or the Mexican drug cartels are more than happy to facilitate this detachment. I don’t need to mention the advertising or entertainment industries, do I? Seems like no matter how hard we try to escape, reality always catches up. So our foray into numbness is always short-lived. And we never quite get numb, because we know the fix, or the endorphins, always wear off.
Were Karl Marx alive today, I think he might transpose some words in his famous statement, “Opium is the religion of the people.” We keep trying to consume our way into happiness. What we get is more damage , further intrusions of reality, from addiction to bankruptcy, STI’s, or the basic guilt and remorse we feel for treating people like instruments for our gratification.
The newly-freed Vietnamese political prisoner was jailed because he engaged and challenged his country. Religion was hardly his opium. It was anything but.

Back in the Pool

This vacation saw me getting back to an exercise regimen. I did a 40 minute walk on the beach Monday. Wednesday, I decided that $10/visit is a small price to pay for a little satisfaction and aliveness. So I  spent the. ten bucks and went to the Y. The Outer Banks YMCA is a nice facility. The locker room is a tad spartan, but there is a sauna.

I already shared about Wednesday’s swim. Thursday I swam 2050 meters. Yesterday I did 1650 meters. My stomach was a little unsettled, so I stopped at 1650 meters, just over a mile. The great feeling post-workout is that sense of emotional well-being and euphorbia that an aerobic workout provides.

Diet-wise, I have been been eating lots of grilled seafood. The scale at the Y appears to be inaccurate. So I will check my weight at home.

Back Again.

I am sitting in a rental condo in Duck, North Carolina. The sausage links are frying in the pan, an infomercial for the Bissel Symphony.is playing on the tube, and, outside the mist and wind of the tail end of a Nor’Easter make a mockery of our. “sun n’ fun” vacation.  Enough TV. I just started Glenn Gould’s recording of J.S. Bach’s  Goldberg Variations.  It is one recording that I must have. 

Despite the rain, this vacation has been great. I went to the Outer Banks YMCA yesterday and, after paying the $10 guest fee, I swam 1750 meters. I had not done a swim workout in forever. My weight loss plan has derailed and II have felt uneasy for about two months. That changed on this trip.  I have been reading, spending time with my wife, eating some fresh, local seafood, walking, swimming and generally enjoying myself.

The book I am reading is The Slave from Laura Antonio’s The Marketplace Series. She tells a good story., making this fantasy of “voluntary”  human trafficking seem plausible.

Have a new tablet computer. I am using the hunt and peck keyboard and I don’t”t think the italic font went off. Oh well. Deal with it.

198.6

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I was entirely too reticent to go the “Y” yesterday afternoon.  I was still tired from interrupting my sleep pattern from Holy Hour that morning at 4:00 AM.  Upon returning home, I napped about an hour or so before I went to Weight Watchers at 7:30 AM.  I weighed in, discovering I had lost 1.6 lbs over the week. I now weigh 198.6 lbs.  I am under 200lbs!  The morning was spent doing all the mundane things one has to do, buying gasoline and groceries, for instance. I went to Aunt Midge’s old house, raked some leaves, put mosquito larvae killer on the puddles on the pool cover.  J and I had a late breakfast at Bob Evans. I have become quite fond of their Garden Harvest Omelette.  We have had the same waitress three weeks in a row, a nice Southern lady named “Chucky”, (who knows why?).  After breakfast I realized I needed more sleep. So I had nap #2.  Then, after more procrastination, I finally went to the YMCA. Weighing in on their scale, the numbers 198.6 again appeared.  The weight loss is real! Putting on my Speedo, I looked in the mirror, saw more muscle definition in my abdominals, less belly.  One can lose weight over the age of 60,  Gentlemen.

I began my swim, starting slowly, then sustaining a pace.  I am slow, but faster than yesterday.  The water feels sensuously cool. i feel the back muscles stretching with each stroke.  41 mins: 54 secs later, I have finished my 1750 meter swim.

That evening, while J and I are dining al fresco at the local Cheesecake Factory, I can feel the endorphin high kick in, a feeling better than booze, better than pot. It was a great end to a good day.

Weigh-in

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Saturday is my Weight Watchers weigh-in and meeting day.  I am not here to endorse Weight Watchers, but I participate in the program and thus it is part of my life experience.  So yesterday I weighed-in at 201 pounds, down from 208.8.  All I did was measure my food  portions, eat the meals I prepared for myself, and order prudently off restaurant menus..  This week, my goals are to get back to swimming, and find my pedometer and get it operational.  I know I do a  lot of walking but how many steps a day is unknown right now.

Quite frankly the celibate part of my marriage sucks.  Celibacy in a long-term committed physical relationship, e.g. a marriage, is a perversion, (see recent rant). 

More about Perversion

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Perversion- 1) “The alteration of something from its original course, meaning, or state to a distortion or corruption of what was first intended.”-
2) “Sexual behavior or desire that is considered abnormal or unacceptable.” Both from Oxforddictionaries.com
Homosexuals used to be considered the archtypical perverts, distorting sexual desire for the opposite sex into desire for persons of the same sex. Until very recently, gays and lesbians lived in a shadow world. Few people admitted to knowing a homosexual, much less admitting to being one. That has all changed in the past few decades. Now, it seems “coming out” has become a staple of popular culture. Admitting to being homosexual, while a profound statement to the person making the admission, is hardly newsworthy any more. “You’re gay? Take a number and wait on line.” is rapidly becoming the response.
Other sexual “perversions” have followed this track. Granted, there are some very serious sexual deviations that are decidedly unacceptable, pedophilia to name one. Admitting to a sadomasochistic desire is now no longer a big deal. This begs the question, how can your sexual proclivity be considered abnormal if nearly everybody accepts it? And, if being kinky or different is what you’re up to, are you willing to establish boundaries or limits to that kink? What if your thrill is in the flirtation with depravity itself? If the act is no longer held to be depraved, by you or anyone else, will it continue to thrill?
Sex as the procreative act is just one of several purposes. To have procreative sex gain more significance and value over sex as recreation and pleasure is rapidly becoming a perversion in its own right. Having more than two or three chldren will definitely raise a few eyebrows. “They have six children?! Don’t they know about birth control? Don’t they know the planet can’t support so many children?” You know the remarks. I dare say many of us believe them.
I’m not saying run out and become straight, give up kink, or have sex only when you want a baby. I am saying that broadening our thinking has, in a perverse way, narrowed our thinking.

Hush-A-Boom.

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One of my favorite episodes  of  Rocky and Bullwinkle is based on the premise that Bullwinkle could remember everything he ever ate,  One particular item he consumed was a banana on which, written on the peel, the formula for making the silent explosive “Hush-A-Boom” was recorded.  All I remember about the formula was the final ingredient, “a pinch of salt.”  Why I mention this is that I returned to Weight Watchers after an eighteen month hiatus.  I have regained some weight (Surprise! Surprise!),  up to 208.8 lbs as of Saturday, May 17th.   I really enjoy WW. I like being accountable and mindful of what I eat. I measure my portions.   I carry my lunch and snacks to work with me.  What is hard is the food diary, recording the stuff.  I am aware of my “points”, but , after working three ten-hour days in a row,  I just want a few precious more minutes of down-time during the day.  So, like Bullwinkle, I am remembering eveything I ever ate, in order that i can record them on my record, maybe. 

An Old Post Yet To Be Published

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I wrote this a long while back, in May 2014.  We had yet to sell my Aunt’s house.  I thought I would post it as it is.  I remember the day quite well. The tentative title was Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!  This was before my shoulder and back surgeries.  I was  still working.

It is Sunday. I am sitting in my late aunt’s house, now vacant, enjoying my coffee and taking time to write, enjoying the few noises I do hear. The birds sing, the insects hum, and, in the distance, a freight train moves down the main North/South line.  It is a freight because I can hear the wheels grinding on the steel rails for a long time and the air horn sounding.  When I leave the house I stop at a grade crossing to watch a Northbound Amtrak train, with nine cars, plus a locomotive.

Later I go swimming. First I weigh in and decide 204.2 lbs isn’t bad for  5ft 11in. It is down from 208 lbs a month earlier.   I do a long 1650 meter swim.  It  takes 38 min 50 sec. Not bad, I ratonalize, for a 63 year old.  I feel the stretch of my back muscles, but the stiffness in my legs restricts the efficiency of my kick.   The cool water feels great to my body.   It is an exquisitely sensual feeling, to experience my body awaken.  Later, at lunch, I remark to my wife that the endorphin rush is kicking in, a great high.

I wrote a lot more semi-philosophical gibberish about, appetites, and craving  food, alcohol and sex.  I frequently eat to change the way I feel. “That donut or (———-) (name your food of choice) will sure make me feel better or quiet the churning in my gut”.  Food worked before booze for me in changing how I felt.  And worked again after I quit drinking.  Sex was the Big Mystery, the Big Kahuna of Excitement and Mood Alteration.  I loved it.  Still do.  Being naked with a woman, coming together in a sweaty pile, making noises, and feeling that my partner (wife) and I have uncovered the secret to Oneness with The Cosmos.  (How’s that for gibberish?)