This is a completely lurid sexual thought, inappropriate almost any situation. Discretion is urged. NSFW 18+

Maybe she liked it, when I licked her asshole, but could never admit it to herself?

This is a story I started a few months ago. I read it again and liked it. But my own assessment of my writing is like the love I have for my sons, unconditional, completely lacking objectivity.

For Olivia and Jade

Brenda knew it was time. Her “Journey Of Self-Discovery” , now ended, she found herself the distaff Odysseus, returned to her own private Ithaca. Only it was this suburb, in her now-battered hometown. Somehow, the graffiti marred plinth, reflected the battering her psyche had taken.

It wasn’t that Toby was a bad lover. Hardly. For a kid, he was pretty good. He did stay hard, when he wasn’t drunk. He had learned at the quim of a previous lover, the rudiments of cunnilingus. Yet he was in a hurry, as if he operated from a flow chart of foreplay, that governed each fuck. Every. Damn. Time.

Kiss mouth. Thrust tongue in mouth. Parry with her tongue. Stroke back. Unhook bra,. Move hands to tits. Fondle tits til nipples harden. Undress Woman completely. Put hand on pussy, rub pussy, Insert finger in vagina to check for moisture.(Good job, Stud!). Insert penis into cunt. Thrust in. Pull out. Thrust again. Repeat, if necessary.

And so on, and so on, and so on.

Once the novelty wore off, and Brenda,dog- tired from waiting tables, wasn’t writing that novel she promised she would write in her off hours, the Toby-diversion felt more like a second job. Toby was youthful and virile, just as she’d fantasized about. But he talked about football and fishing, not much else. She almost wished he followed NASCAR, just so he would talk about something else, for Heaven’s sake.

Waiting tables, wearing the face mask, was ok. She worked at a breakfast, brunch and lunch place, that looked like it would give her free afternoons. But that never worked out. Toby again. He was like a dog who endlessly required walking, or fetching the Frisbee©. Only it was sex. Damned if he wasn’t through hanging dry wall at the new apartment project,not long after she had gotten home herself. And then the tab popped on the can of Natty-lite.the joint rolled, lit, and toked. Toby and his magic erection was off to the races.

Finally, she said the magic words.

“Toby, I’m done. I’m packing my stuff . I won’t be here when you get back this afternoon.”

It went as she thought it would. It seemed to register with Toby, as if she was ordering Chinese take-away.

And she got into the Honda with the dent in the right side, filled the tank, and merged into the Northbound lanes of I-95.

After breakfast at Cracker Barrel, lunch at Cracker Barrel, she dreamt of fixing Roger dinner. That is if he still wanted her in his house, much less his bed.

She dreamt more and more of her reunion with Roger. She drove on, now about four hours away. Dinner? I don’t care. Hope he doesn’t either. I know. I will pick up his favorite Chinese, mu shu pork, steam dumplings, snow pea pods at Mr Chin’s take away shop coming over.

Chinese food filling the car with flavors, she rehearsed again what she would tell him. It would wouldn’t work. He could interrogate like a TV detective.

Her story? She had shacked up for six weeks with a kid who hung dry wall, while his school was closed. Was he clean? She thought so. They could use condoms till she got tested

Talking about the diner would be easy. She took orders and brought eggs, bacon, home fries or grits and toast to the customers. Even though it was in Melbourne, it wasn’t rocket science

Maybe it wasn’t too late to teach again. She could tutor and build a base of students, given the current unpleasantness.

All the thoughts left when she rang the bell.

“Chinese for Mr. Stokes?” That was the ice breaker.

Roger. He was what mattered. How he would greet her. How would she know she was home?

She pulled into his driveway. No strange cars. That’s good. Nobody else was giving him a test drive on the proving ground, as it were. At least, not tonight.

“What took so long?” was his answer.. Taking the order from her hands, placing it on the table in the entry way , then he pulled her in to his embrace.

• Truth
• Want? Need? Lust?
• Ayer
• Ides Of March
• Triskadecaphobia

Wherein I rediscovered myself..

I wasn’t lost for long really. But it doesn’t take long for negative self-talk to do its damage. Plus there aren’t a lot of Sunbeams For Jesus appearing on the news these days.

I was sort of dithering around with all the stuff I ought to be doing, but wasn’t. I did not ring the bell to get off the bus at the Corner of Diet & Exercise. You know what I mean?

But finally, attributes like inner peace, calm and freedom are working their way back in. Part of being set free involves shutting off the negativity. You do not have to believe lies.

The Truth is not a “personal” thing. The Earth is not round, solely for you. It is a sphere for you, for me, for Lady Gaga, and for Donald John Trump.

But I’m walking again. I’m controlling my intake of starches, sugars, and fats. Starches and Sugars and Fats, Oh my!

I take my blood pressure daily. It is trending downward.

It’s getting better..

I slept maybe four hours before I awoke. I have been up about two hours, looking for entertainment (?) options on YouTube, as is my habit.

I caught the tail end of The Russian Orthodox Liturgy from a church in Moscow. Patriarch Kyril, Head of The Russian Orthodox Church, was there. He told a joke in his homily, which is odd for an Orthodox homily. But he is the Big Guy, so I guess he can if he wants.

Crazy Seeker, the Ukrainian metal detecting duo, were magnet “fishing” in an algae- choked pond in a swamp, somewhere in Ukraine. When the magnet wasn’t catching on submerged logs, they managed to pull up scrap iron that should have been recycled. But why recycle, when you can drive out to a swamp near Kiev, and toss it in a pond? The Ukrainian sense of fun is lost on Americans.

Finally Marina Morlock, The Russian Motor Mouth, decided to unpack her groceries for the entire cyberworld to see. It looked like she bought Russian delicacies in nice boxes that are microwavable. And we have thermonuclear weapons targeted to fall in the general proximity of where Marina lives. Really. We do.

No one is a citizen of any country anymore. Rather, we are all hostages. And we hold elections to decide who gets to hold the guns to our heads. But consider this. It’s better than having Stalin around , running things.

When I get in the groove of the discipline of praying the Holy Rosary Of The Blessed Virgin Mary, I can repeat the fruit of each Mystety from memory before I pray a decade while contemplating that Mystery.. The Fruit is the benefit that come to those devoted to The Rosary.

The most intriguing fruit of the Mysteries is the fruit accruing to The Joyful Mystery of The Nativity. That fruit is POVERTY. Poverty. What we fear almost as much as cancer or death itself. The Nativity, that joyful season,devoted to the ostentatious display of wealth.Wait. I meant the joy that accompanies the Birth of Jesus.

Yet the Religious take a vow of poverty. They do something to earn a living, everything from simply asking for donstions to making cheese or bread or wine to keep the Order, the Community functioning

Poverty, a benefit? That doesn’t mean we want the poor to go without food or clothing or shelter. Poverty. Not for others, but for ourselves.

Consider poverty delivering us from the lure, then the trap of material wealth, the accumulation of things.

Look. I’m no poster boy for this. It’s deuce difficult. I’m not telling anybody to take this road.

Choose it for yourself., as we all must do to be truly free.

The time is 1:31 AM (Eastern North America).I am listening to the Flower Duet from Lakme´ by Leo Delibes sung by a young soprano, Sarah Shafer The other vocal part is taken by a flautist. Now Ms. Shafer is singing the Casta Diva from Norma by Bellini.

The Casta Diva is a challenging piece in the operatic repertoire. Truth be told, I love bel canto opera. My wife? She doesn’t understand.

Now Beethoven’s Violin Concerto performed by Itzhak Perlman, violin and Der Berliner Philharmoniker, Daniel Barrnboim conducting.

This is absolutely sublime beauty, I have ignored for too long.

High Culture is part of the common ground we, as human beings all share. Open the concert halls and the opera houses. End the lock down as soon as possible.

I have not posted in a while. I have had some well-being drama, family drama, cultural drama, political drama.

The last two I will ignore for the time being. My thoughts and feelings, AKA opinions, don’t really matter, and are highly unoriginal. You know, the way your thoughts, feelings and opinions exist solely for your entertainment.

The well-being drama seems pretty scary, as I try to get my blood pressure, lipids and A1C back under control. Diabetes, stroke, heart disease are very sinister and cause for concern Wondering whether I will ever have sex again always takes a back seat to wondering whether I will live to see my next birthday. Know what I mean?

So it’s back to the rather diligent self care that I practiced before the COVID-19 precautions supplanted all other activities in 21st Century America.

I walked this afternoon. I kept it simple, just 2 miles. The idea was to finish and recover in a reasonable amount of time and be ready to walk tomorrow.

The blood sugar, actually my A1C is in the diabetic range. I’m taking metformin for right now.

Family Drama centers around my son, his wife, and how his mother messed his head up as well as mine, forty two years ago. I’m back to re-living that nightmare.

So I’ll leave it at that.

1. The Covid-19 pandemic and the moves made to slow its spread have adversely affected the American and global economies.
2. The Chinese economy is basically an export economy. They sell stuff to the rest of the world.
3. With the rest of the world in recession, fewer Chinese exports are being purchased.
4. This should have repercussions throughout China.
5. If a one party totalitarian dictatorship has to concern itself with civil unrest, civil unrest should be forthcoming.
6. Can the Communist Party of The People’s Republic of China survive?

It is agonizing to watch former V-P Joe Biden stumble through a speech, a Q&A session with reporters, even friendly ones, and misremember facts. Why is The Democratic Party subjecting this man to this humiliation? We notice, people, we notice.

What if the strategy isn’t about getting a man of questionable mental faculties elected President? There is the unspoken message that implies an incapacitated President Biden will resign. Then a Vice-President Harris will assume the Presidency.

He has to win for that plan to work. Another message that the Biden candidacy sends is that senility and aging is pathetic, embarrassing to the affected individual. He is a burden, not just financially and emotionally, but also in the practical terms of care, for his children and , well, heirs. Joe Biden depicts the worst fear, about aging that many people have, creeping, irreversible dementia.

They wouldn’t do that, would they? Run a mentally enfeebled man in the most visible political campaign in America? They would, if the dystopian strategists of the Democratic Party wanted to send a subtle message that euthanasia is a valid end of life choice. Remember a hundred years ago, a public relations mastermind got women smoking with a publicity stunt. That was not about politics, but it was about molding public opinion and values.

Are millions of Americans thinking, “Don’t let me get that bad that I make a fool of myself “? That sure piques interest in euthanasia, at tbe onset, voluntary, of course. It is always “voluntary“. Then when the global health care budgets get tighter, and the demographic collapse looms, precipitated by the effects of the Zero Population Growth Principle, and ready access to abortion, euthanasia will no longer be voluntary. The dystopian master planners get their way, with the help of a failed politician in his dotage.