The football moratorium begun last year continues. Tonight Popeye is back. I have written plenty about him in tbe past. No more need be written.

I did some cooking, the sweet potato /pear dish of the last post, with a small bottom round roast. The meal was well-received.

I had the dental appointment I had to reschedule last week. Everything went well. The back molars extraction has made a huge difference. Less places for bacteria to hide. I left with the same number of teeth I came in with.

I’m tired. It’s not that late but I’m tired I’m going to bed.

I woke up around 4:00 AM. after sleeping about five hours. I wanted to sleep more, but other things beckoned, hot coffee, the Silver Meteor’s passage through Ashland, (on time!), the silence of the pre-dawn morning, a scan of Word Press and Flickr.

I checked the NFL which offers little surprises this year from prior years. (yawn).

I am waiting for something to happen. J will be leaving for work in a few minutes. Her lunch is packed. Here comes Autotrain NB 52 through Ashland. #86 is due in about rwo minutes, if it is running today (It is) Will passengers be boarding because it is a federal holiday? Apparently yes.

Now I want to go back to sleep. Get a do-over for the morning. Why not?

I stayed awake and went to 8:30 Mass. I was glad I went. I came home, ate breakfast, slept, awoke.

I did laundry, wrote an erotic story, to get some sexual feeling back. J came home. We then went to a 5:00 Mass together, just so I could be with her. We had dinner. Now I sit, waiting for trains to pass, much like how I started the day.

And now, I think of Armistice Day tomorrow, how we morphed it in the States to Veterans Day, then further morphed it into another marketing opportunity. A sale in a person’s name is the highest homage we can think of, here in America.

“We forget how to cry. We save photos instead.”- Jacques Brel.

That line from a Jacques Brel song haunts me even more, now that we have storage available for more photographs than we could ever hope to take or save.

I have wedding pictures from failed marriages, marriages I have shed not one tear over. One of those former spouses is dead, the other blows through relationships as if they were Kleenex©. I am the survivor.

So I will take my Sunday, with the wife who loves me in the only, if not the best, way she can. And trust that our best days will be filled with passion. And that changing the sheets will be necessary a lot more often.

Erotic Writing. For Adults

I had it all out there when she got home, the gloves, the lube, the condoms, the wand, her butt plug.

A simple command, “Strip.” And she undressed, the shoes, the trousers, top, bra, panties, All that was left on her body was the collar, the ankle bracelet, and the nipple rings.

“Go piss. Do whatever else you need to do. Use the bidet afterwards. And keep the door open.”

I didn’t really care to watch. I just wanted to let her know who was in charge.

“On the floor. Head down, ass up. And I just watched. Stared really. at Her broad magnificent, woman’s ass, the ass women think they are not supposed to have.

“Spread your ass. Let me see your rosebud.” She obeyed and exposed her hole, I spit right on it, then put on a glove, took the lube and got my fingers good and slick . I felt her anus stretch, moved the finger in and out, then two, then three.

And then I pulled them out, replaced them with the butt plug, her favorite one, stuffed like a Christmas goose.

And I left her there a minute, exposed, in the midst of being used. I pulled on another glove, and the lube, and set to playing with her cunt. Her excitement was building when I took the wand and buzzed her labia, up and down, letting the vibrations travel around. Her clit, I ignored. I put on the condom, entered her as if she were just another bitch. I thrust then told her, “Grind on my cock, whore.” she did all the work from then on. I made no sound as I came, but she must have felt the pulsing when I shot my load.

“Stay like that. I might want to take a picture.”

Another Prose Poem

My resolution to sleep late faltered at around 5:45 as J showered and dressed for work. By 6:00 AM, I was wide awake, or thought I was. I had read the obituaries, checked Word Press blogs, and am now watching trains, as the coffee brews and the need to sleep has me looking at the Smart phone screen with one eye as I punch the little letters on the screen and see words appear.

I should, at some time, go to Mass, even as I mourn the collapse of faith about me. Predators and monsters wear chasubles, albs, even miters. The Precious Body feeds broken hearts, no matter who consecrates the Bread.

Auden’s September 1, 1939 reads again in my head, as if for eighty years , we remain in that bar, to mark the end of yet another low, mean decade.

I want that cup of coffee now.

I’m up. I’ve read some emails, WP posts, checked out some photos on Flickr©. I had been sleeping since almost 8:00 PM. Low back pain has its spell on me.

I guess it’s time to pack J’s lunch and see if sleepiness returns.

Later, this morning.

It is 1:46 AM. Her lunch is ready. I am watching a Porky Pig/Daffy Duck cartoon, full of the usual high jinx. I am feeling sleepier, and sadder. I think frustration fuels the sadness, frustration witb the relationship, and the seemingless endless sleep interruptions.

Late sleeping today? Yes.

This was not der Tag, similar to that day of reckoning inagined by the German military planners of 1914. For a few hours, I did fear the collapse of civilization, as we know it. Then I went swimming. On the way to the Y, I prayed ten Hail Mary’s. And I asked for her protection,

Seriously. I did. When I see that the world’s problems are too big for humans to fix, I ask for God’s help and the Blessed Mother’s prayers and protection. That doesn’t let me or any other human off the hook from working like Trojans. But it keeps my intentions clear. Doing God’s will isn’t about what I stand to gain, in the sense of earthly praise and reward. I pretty much wasted and lost whatever credibility I had among humans after my years of drinking. Now I just try to do the right thing by doing whatever small right things I can, as they are presented to me.

And I keep it very small and simple. I try to keep quiet. And not hurt anybody physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually. Keeping quiet is challenge enough. Amazing how much serenity can be obtained from one decade of the Rosary. Oh, and a 43 minute swim.