Tuesday, March 23
Monday, March 22
Life gets in the way
A very brief note to say I'm still here; life just gets in the way sometimes. This past weekend we traveled to NCL for a night full of lust and fun; I'll write about it later. In the mean time, things just carry on, swirling about me like a huge whirlpool at the bottom of Victoria or Niagara. The house is a wreck (except for the kitchen which Jane cleaned this evening... eight months pregnant and she did everything but get down on her hands and knees to scrub the dirt off the floor). So, the kitchen is clean, but now it really feels like Jane has moved in. She swears she hasn't but I'm thinking how many changes of clothing hang in the closet doesn't really have anything to do with moving in; it's a mindset.
Wednesday, March 17
The things people say...
Today, I was visiting one of our other plants and I ran into an old friend/colleague I hadn't seen in quite a while. I told him I was soon to be a parent, again. Without missing a beat, he said, "You poor bastard."
Guess that internal comment filter was off today, or maybe the net has wide mesh.
Guess that internal comment filter was off today, or maybe the net has wide mesh.
Tuesday, March 9
Bike Powered Pleasuring...
You've likely seen this already... one of my corresponding fellow bloggers sent me an email...
Technology is finally catching-up to the 1970's, when men finally discovered that women had ORGASMS...
Although I think it would require some additional machinery, frankly... like a little 250,000 RPM motor...
(Photos NSFW)
And yes, if I believed that a woman actually invented this, the vibrating motor would be ASSUMED.
Sure, sure, you could ride it down the railway trestles, but who wants to get creamed by an Amtrak Super Speed when they're in the middle of sex?
Of course, I read this email and was amazed to learn that women can have orgasms... ;-)
Always one to encourage exercise, I direct you to this bike. Or, if you're just interested in process and results, try these.
Again, I was amazed to learn that women can have orgasms. Thanks, Joanna, for the word. Damn, learn something every day...
& Jane, why didn't you ever tell me? ;-)
Technology is finally catching-up to the 1970's, when men finally discovered that women had ORGASMS...
Although I think it would require some additional machinery, frankly... like a little 250,000 RPM motor...
(Photos NSFW)
And yes, if I believed that a woman actually invented this, the vibrating motor would be ASSUMED.
Sure, sure, you could ride it down the railway trestles, but who wants to get creamed by an Amtrak Super Speed when they're in the middle of sex?
Of course, I read this email and was amazed to learn that women can have orgasms... ;-)
Always one to encourage exercise, I direct you to this bike. Or, if you're just interested in process and results, try these.
Again, I was amazed to learn that women can have orgasms. Thanks, Joanna, for the word. Damn, learn something every day...
& Jane, why didn't you ever tell me? ;-)
Saturday, March 6
Boy Interruptus
Last night, Jane came over after my invitation to drop on by to scrump. She arrived, and I was passed out on the floor of my bedroom having ingested way too many carbs. My body was rebelling and I couldn't keep my eyes open. Ralph and Drew were in the living room downstairs playing their PlayStation. Jane rousted me by poking at me, and I went dragged my weary body to an upright position. As I was leaving the room to go about my fatherly duties and put my sons to bed, Jane said "I read your blog."
"Shit," I thought. "I'm gonna catch it for Tar Beach." I stumbled downstairs and convinced my sons to climb into bed. I spent a few minutes with them and then went back up to my bedroom.
When I went back up to the bedroom and Jane was in bed, waiting for me. "Have you seen your comments?" she asked.
I hadn't, and she told me about Joanna's comments to my posting Peep Shows and my imagination. I had a fit of laughter as Jane told me about the accusation: Dude --- they're barely pubescent, these girls. At least wait to slobber until they're LEGAL, wouldjaplease? Both Jane and I nearly bit off our tongues laughing so hard; I do like my women young and these young lasses are at least 18; yes, too young for me (but not my mind). At the age of 42, my basement ought to be 35 or maybe 30, but even Jane is years younger than that. I like women, not girls. But we got a great kick out of Joanna & her hammer down on me.
The laughter put me in an "off" mood. Jane and I were in bed, and she wanted to scrump. I wanted more fun, and began to bite at Jane's breasts and nipples through the clothe of her nightgown. I was playing "dog" and biting and pulling like a dog would play with a toy. I was even growling. Jane was laughing, but it started to hurt and she yelped. More than once. Loudly.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and a loud voice: "Dad, get of of Ms. Jane." It was Ralph, deciding that I was probably torturing Jane. Earlier in the evening, Ralph and I had been rough housing; we have this came were we tickle each other and wrestle. A little father/son rambunctious time. Sometimes, he'll get Jane to intervene to save him.
Busted, I thought. I got out of bed to go to the door, and there was Ralph, wrapped in a blanket. "Get off her, Dad."
"It's okay, honey," said Jane from the confines of the candle-lit bedroom. "Your dad's just tickling me."
"Okay," he said. "Be nice to her," and he went back downstairs in the dark.
My thanks to Joanna for starting out the evening... and Ralph for ending it...
Well, not exactly... there was a bit more, albeit a bit quieter... ;-) We both got ours together, a quaking at one time...
"Shit," I thought. "I'm gonna catch it for Tar Beach." I stumbled downstairs and convinced my sons to climb into bed. I spent a few minutes with them and then went back up to my bedroom.
When I went back up to the bedroom and Jane was in bed, waiting for me. "Have you seen your comments?" she asked.
I hadn't, and she told me about Joanna's comments to my posting Peep Shows and my imagination. I had a fit of laughter as Jane told me about the accusation: Dude --- they're barely pubescent, these girls. At least wait to slobber until they're LEGAL, wouldjaplease? Both Jane and I nearly bit off our tongues laughing so hard; I do like my women young and these young lasses are at least 18; yes, too young for me (but not my mind). At the age of 42, my basement ought to be 35 or maybe 30, but even Jane is years younger than that. I like women, not girls. But we got a great kick out of Joanna & her hammer down on me.
The laughter put me in an "off" mood. Jane and I were in bed, and she wanted to scrump. I wanted more fun, and began to bite at Jane's breasts and nipples through the clothe of her nightgown. I was playing "dog" and biting and pulling like a dog would play with a toy. I was even growling. Jane was laughing, but it started to hurt and she yelped. More than once. Loudly.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and a loud voice: "Dad, get of of Ms. Jane." It was Ralph, deciding that I was probably torturing Jane. Earlier in the evening, Ralph and I had been rough housing; we have this came were we tickle each other and wrestle. A little father/son rambunctious time. Sometimes, he'll get Jane to intervene to save him.
Busted, I thought. I got out of bed to go to the door, and there was Ralph, wrapped in a blanket. "Get off her, Dad."
"It's okay, honey," said Jane from the confines of the candle-lit bedroom. "Your dad's just tickling me."
"Okay," he said. "Be nice to her," and he went back downstairs in the dark.
My thanks to Joanna for starting out the evening... and Ralph for ending it...
Well, not exactly... there was a bit more, albeit a bit quieter... ;-) We both got ours together, a quaking at one time...
Thursday, March 4
Peep shows and my imagination....
So, over at Peep Show Stories, there's a post about a wanna-be stripper, complete with pictures. And then it gets me thinking; we're all a bit freaky if we just admit it. Even these two young ladies who look, oh, so innocent; they're probably downright slutty once they land in bed... Or maybe they'd like a cookout on tar beach, maybe sample some Northern European Sausage...
Hmmmm, I think I'd like to find out... ;-)
Hmmmm, I think I'd like to find out... ;-)
Cookout on Tar Beach: Now serving Northern European Sausage
Earlier this week I was over at the University library holed up in my little graduate cubicle, the door with the frosted glass shut to keep out the noise of the undergraduates, when there's a knock on the glass.
"Hmm," think I. "Who could it be?" Who the hell knows I'm here? Or maybe it's someone looking for my cube-mate, a slightly dorky grad student studying chemistry. I open the door, and who should it be... but Tammy...
Turns out Frankie told her where to find me...
So, one thing leads to another and we're hanging out in the little room, talking and a little hanky-panky, and I decide it's time to take the party elsewhere. Sometimes the door to the roof of the library is open (I think some student has a key and opens it every once in a while). We head to the stair well and climb to the top and I'm rewarded with... an unlocked door.
Tar beach. Nothing finer.
We step out into the spring air. Early March and spring has arrived in full force here in central North Carolina. We walk to the edge and look out over the chest-high wall to the campus and city spread below us. Tammy steps up close to me, snuggles in, and we kiss. It's a warm, wet kiss. I'm thinking she likes it. We kiss for a bit and then she slides down and begins to unbuckle my pants, freeing my hard cock in the soft night air. I am enthralled when she takes me in her mouth; not even the hint of teeth and I'm all the way in her mouth, her chin against my balls, her nose against flesh.
And then she begins to bob. It feels like it goes forever, my hands gripping her blonde hair, pulling and pushing; the sounds of campus life below & the city noise drifting over the campus.
She swallows.
Afterward, we make our way back down the stairs, and she kisses me goodnight at my grad cube door, and I go back inside to try and make sense of armed conflict as an economic stimulus. My mind is just not on it. I can only imagine myself back up on the tar beach, my eyes rolled back into my head, my hands gripping her hair and head, and my rigid pole wet from her mouth.
How the hell am I going to get anything done with that memory engraved on my mind?
Nice to find another woman who likes Northern European Sausage, however...
"Hmm," think I. "Who could it be?" Who the hell knows I'm here? Or maybe it's someone looking for my cube-mate, a slightly dorky grad student studying chemistry. I open the door, and who should it be... but Tammy...
Turns out Frankie told her where to find me...
So, one thing leads to another and we're hanging out in the little room, talking and a little hanky-panky, and I decide it's time to take the party elsewhere. Sometimes the door to the roof of the library is open (I think some student has a key and opens it every once in a while). We head to the stair well and climb to the top and I'm rewarded with... an unlocked door.
Tar beach. Nothing finer.
We step out into the spring air. Early March and spring has arrived in full force here in central North Carolina. We walk to the edge and look out over the chest-high wall to the campus and city spread below us. Tammy steps up close to me, snuggles in, and we kiss. It's a warm, wet kiss. I'm thinking she likes it. We kiss for a bit and then she slides down and begins to unbuckle my pants, freeing my hard cock in the soft night air. I am enthralled when she takes me in her mouth; not even the hint of teeth and I'm all the way in her mouth, her chin against my balls, her nose against flesh.
And then she begins to bob. It feels like it goes forever, my hands gripping her blonde hair, pulling and pushing; the sounds of campus life below & the city noise drifting over the campus.
She swallows.
Afterward, we make our way back down the stairs, and she kisses me goodnight at my grad cube door, and I go back inside to try and make sense of armed conflict as an economic stimulus. My mind is just not on it. I can only imagine myself back up on the tar beach, my eyes rolled back into my head, my hands gripping her hair and head, and my rigid pole wet from her mouth.
How the hell am I going to get anything done with that memory engraved on my mind?
Nice to find another woman who likes Northern European Sausage, however...
