ROME (Reuters) - Your heartbeat accelerates, you have butterflies in the stomach, you feel euphoric and a bit silly. It's all part of falling passionately in love -- and scientists now tell us the feeling won't last more than a year.One year, huh? Hmmmm...
The powerful emotions that bowl over new lovers are triggered by a molecule known as nerve growth factor (NGF), according to Pavia University researchers.
The Italian scientists found far higher levels of NGF in the blood of 58 people who had recently fallen madly in love than in that of a group of singles and people in long-term relationships.
But after a year with the same lover, the quantity of the 'love molecule' in their blood had fallen to the same level as that of the other groups.
The Italian researchers, publishing their study in the journal Psychoneuroendocrinology, said it was not clear how falling in love triggers higher levels of NGF, but the molecule clearly has an important role in the "social chemistry" between people at the start of a relationship.
Tuesday, November 29
So this explains a great deal
This explains a lot:
Saturday, November 26
Discovered a new toy
Saturday night. Miller is asleep on the couch. Jane is KJ'ing at Osaka's. And I'm f*cking around on the computer, wasting time, while The Golden Child plays in the background. And I discovered a cool new tool for flickr from flagrant disregard. Now I can build my own mosaics. Cool, eh?
This morning I was up at 9 with Miller. I'd told Jane I'd let her sleep in, so Miller and I went downstairs for pancakes. He loves pancakes. Then, when Jane got up we spent a couple of hours straightening up; eagads, the house is still a wreck.
I never got dressed today. After cleaning and eating lunch we went up for a "nap." Right. SEX, folks, SEX.
Jane's been looking to get laid for a couple of days. My libido seems to be off; I think it's the Zolft. So, I can be depressed and horny or content and lack-all-desire.
We were able to get my desire raised this afternoon, however. By the time I got on top of Jane and slid into her, she was so very, very wet. Nice, very nice.
I slept well for the rest of the afternoon.
This morning I was up at 9 with Miller. I'd told Jane I'd let her sleep in, so Miller and I went downstairs for pancakes. He loves pancakes. Then, when Jane got up we spent a couple of hours straightening up; eagads, the house is still a wreck.
I never got dressed today. After cleaning and eating lunch we went up for a "nap." Right. SEX, folks, SEX.
Jane's been looking to get laid for a couple of days. My libido seems to be off; I think it's the Zolft. So, I can be depressed and horny or content and lack-all-desire.
We were able to get my desire raised this afternoon, however. By the time I got on top of Jane and slid into her, she was so very, very wet. Nice, very nice.
I slept well for the rest of the afternoon.
Wednesday, November 23
The "abyss" is now "flickr"
And I'm think I might have fallen in...
I'm enamoured. I'm not sure there's much else to say...
Jane is off at Osaka's again; they called her in 'cause whoever was supposed to KJ called out. So, Miller & I went to the community Thanksgiving service, but he was tired and kept crying and fussing; I put him down at one point, and he escaped and toddled up to the front of the church & climbed the stairs to be with the minister. Great, frigg'n great. We left before the service was over; I couldn't handle it.
Now he's in bed, asleep, and I'm at the computer, having fallen into the abyss of flickr and having become enamoured and wondering if I ought to move to Kentucky. Reminds me of a trip to Louisville; hmmm, I wonder if that trip was since the start of this blog. I don't think so.
I went with two colleagues; we worked for ten hours a day and then went to strip clubs for another eight or ten. One of the guys I was with, Marc, was from over at the Plant (he's gone now), and the first night we were there, when we walk out of the place he's got a stripper with him. She goes back to his hotel room to spend a couple of hours with him. I never figured out how he did it; and I saw him do it maybe half a dozen times.
Well, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, my most favorite holiday of the year. For the first time in more than twenty years, I'm not going to be at my parents'. After the catastrophe this summer with Jane and my brother (if you're not a regular reader of the Sausage Factory and Jane Says, here's Jane's post about our lovely vacation). Anyway, I'll be burning, I mean, cooking, the turkey tomorrow. And giving thanks for a wonderful wife, three great sons, a decent job, decent health, and everything else I've been blessed with.
And then next week is my birthday, which I'd rather forget.
But that is another story all-together.
Meanwhile, I'm thinking of moving to Kentucky.
;-)
I'm enamoured. I'm not sure there's much else to say...
Jane is off at Osaka's again; they called her in 'cause whoever was supposed to KJ called out. So, Miller & I went to the community Thanksgiving service, but he was tired and kept crying and fussing; I put him down at one point, and he escaped and toddled up to the front of the church & climbed the stairs to be with the minister. Great, frigg'n great. We left before the service was over; I couldn't handle it.
Now he's in bed, asleep, and I'm at the computer, having fallen into the abyss of flickr and having become enamoured and wondering if I ought to move to Kentucky. Reminds me of a trip to Louisville; hmmm, I wonder if that trip was since the start of this blog. I don't think so.
I went with two colleagues; we worked for ten hours a day and then went to strip clubs for another eight or ten. One of the guys I was with, Marc, was from over at the Plant (he's gone now), and the first night we were there, when we walk out of the place he's got a stripper with him. She goes back to his hotel room to spend a couple of hours with him. I never figured out how he did it; and I saw him do it maybe half a dozen times.
Well, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, my most favorite holiday of the year. For the first time in more than twenty years, I'm not going to be at my parents'. After the catastrophe this summer with Jane and my brother (if you're not a regular reader of the Sausage Factory and Jane Says, here's Jane's post about our lovely vacation). Anyway, I'll be burning, I mean, cooking, the turkey tomorrow. And giving thanks for a wonderful wife, three great sons, a decent job, decent health, and everything else I've been blessed with.
And then next week is my birthday, which I'd rather forget.
But that is another story all-together.
Meanwhile, I'm thinking of moving to Kentucky.
;-)
Tuesday, November 22
Tuesday night blahs
Tuesday night. Jane is at Osaka's, working. Dee is at Osaka's, meeting some guy she's going to screw later tonight (same guy she hooked up with the night before leaving to take the kids to New England; that night he was spanking her, and she told him to do it harder, and he did, and she had bruises for the better part of a week). Lilly is somewhere, and the phone keeps ringing; some dozen guys call nightly, here, looking for her; I wish she'd get a phone.
Last night, Jane called in sick to Osaka's... I don't remember exactly the specifics of how the night went, but I do remember this: (1) We were arguing; she claims Kathleen and I have been "whipped" by Drew and suck at parenting. (2) I was tired. (3) She came to bed and wanted to get off, and I was too tired to oblige, so she started in on herself. I started caressing her legs (she had her head at the foot of the bed... don't ask). (4) She asked me to touch her, and pretty soon I had four fingers ravaging her cunt, driving in and out of the wetness. (5) Once she came, I started to jack off, but couldn't get over the edge.
So, tonight, I'm here home, alone. Miller, who was sleeping on the couch when Jane left, woke up but wouldn't eat anything. Now he's on the floor, sucking down a bottle, watching Toy Story 2.
This is my life. Life is, er, what I have created.
Gawds, I need some sleep, some rest, a long vacation, and some freak in my life.
Last night, Jane called in sick to Osaka's... I don't remember exactly the specifics of how the night went, but I do remember this: (1) We were arguing; she claims Kathleen and I have been "whipped" by Drew and suck at parenting. (2) I was tired. (3) She came to bed and wanted to get off, and I was too tired to oblige, so she started in on herself. I started caressing her legs (she had her head at the foot of the bed... don't ask). (4) She asked me to touch her, and pretty soon I had four fingers ravaging her cunt, driving in and out of the wetness. (5) Once she came, I started to jack off, but couldn't get over the edge.
So, tonight, I'm here home, alone. Miller, who was sleeping on the couch when Jane left, woke up but wouldn't eat anything. Now he's on the floor, sucking down a bottle, watching Toy Story 2.
This is my life. Life is, er, what I have created.
Gawds, I need some sleep, some rest, a long vacation, and some freak in my life.
Sunday, November 20
Something about chocolate and whipped cream
I'm not sure I need to say more than this: "Diet? What diet? Let me lick it all off."
Friday, November 18
Er, maybe I can give up this obsession
If the nurses are going to start looking like this, I'm ready to give up my obsession and move on to something else.
Wednesday, November 16
And contrary to what...
Okay, I didn't go to bed, yet
Surprised? I got sucked in to the frigg'n flickr.
I've decided that Juicy Carolina, along with several thousand young women at flickr, enjoy the thought that men across the world are looking at their pictures and wanking off. I get the sense she really likes the notion.
And, I'm sure there are guys who enjoy the thought of women frigg'n themselves while looking at their pictures (although this is, I'm sure, a much smaller population; men are much more visually aroused then women).
Okay, that's it for now. Perhaps this time I'll actually hit the rack.
I've decided that Juicy Carolina, along with several thousand young women at flickr, enjoy the thought that men across the world are looking at their pictures and wanking off. I get the sense she really likes the notion.
And, I'm sure there are guys who enjoy the thought of women frigg'n themselves while looking at their pictures (although this is, I'm sure, a much smaller population; men are much more visually aroused then women).
Okay, that's it for now. Perhaps this time I'll actually hit the rack.
My hand hurts
A quick update before I go to bed... alone.
1. Jane called. We had a good chat. I'm still in the dog house; she's upset about the whole thing with her sister and the kids. She's mad at Dee for not acting as Jane thought she shoulh have. I think this has been a bad week; perhaps I'll be out of the dog house tomorrow when Jane gets home.
2. Jane is pissed at Lilly. Lilly's been (a) sleeping over here and (b) bringing guys over here while Jane and I have been out of town.
3. I'm pissed at Lilly: the front door was unlocked when I got home & the back yard fence was unlocked.
4. I told Lilly I'd spank her when she came by tonight.
5. I did. My hand hurts. She didn't take it passively. She brought some guy with her -- a student & Marine Corps reservist from over at NC State -- and he got a kick out of her flopping around on my lap as I walloped her ass.
6. Did I mention my hand hurts?
Now, to bed. I need to be on the factory floor by 6AM.
1. Jane called. We had a good chat. I'm still in the dog house; she's upset about the whole thing with her sister and the kids. She's mad at Dee for not acting as Jane thought she shoulh have. I think this has been a bad week; perhaps I'll be out of the dog house tomorrow when Jane gets home.
2. Jane is pissed at Lilly. Lilly's been (a) sleeping over here and (b) bringing guys over here while Jane and I have been out of town.
3. I'm pissed at Lilly: the front door was unlocked when I got home & the back yard fence was unlocked.
4. I told Lilly I'd spank her when she came by tonight.
5. I did. My hand hurts. She didn't take it passively. She brought some guy with her -- a student & Marine Corps reservist from over at NC State -- and he got a kick out of her flopping around on my lap as I walloped her ass.
6. Did I mention my hand hurts?
Now, to bed. I need to be on the factory floor by 6AM.
In the dog house
I'm in the doghouse -- over my post Richmond Calling. Jane's pissed.
You might be wondering how I know, as she's still up north and I've just arrived home.
I know because she sent me a text message... something like "so fucking be with her then" and there's her comment on the post which has the same general message.
It's interesting; she's allowed to have fond memories of Will or any other knucklehead, but I can't have fond memories of anyone else but her. I'm supposed to take my entire (romantic/love/sex) life before I met her and flush it down the toilet.
Let's review the facts:
I've only ever married two women, and Jane is my current wife.
I love Jane.
I may look, but I'm not sampling the merchandise elsewhere.
I had some twenty plus years of sexual activity before we met; and a few of those have provided me with fond memories. A few of them I don't remember at all. And the rest fall in the middle.
I have, even at this young stage of our relationship, fond memories of sex with Jane.
A rich fantasy life supposedly helps marriages.
So what if the Marriott in Richmond reminded me of a night of raw sex. If I returned to Gambier and walked along South Campus and Old Kenyon, I'd be reminded of my losing my proverbial cherry. Or if I went back to where I went to high school and went up the chapel steps, I'd be reminded of the first time I got to second base. All fond memories, but so what. What is of importance is that I'm married, committed to making our marriage and our relationship work. I say, "Jane, get over it. You're it, and this is for the very long haul."
I predict, however, the future: I will remain in the dog house for days after Jane returns. And Jane will not get over it.
You might be wondering how I know, as she's still up north and I've just arrived home.
I know because she sent me a text message... something like "so fucking be with her then" and there's her comment on the post which has the same general message.
It's interesting; she's allowed to have fond memories of Will or any other knucklehead, but I can't have fond memories of anyone else but her. I'm supposed to take my entire (romantic/love/sex) life before I met her and flush it down the toilet.
Let's review the facts:
I've only ever married two women, and Jane is my current wife.
I love Jane.
I may look, but I'm not sampling the merchandise elsewhere.
I had some twenty plus years of sexual activity before we met; and a few of those have provided me with fond memories. A few of them I don't remember at all. And the rest fall in the middle.
I have, even at this young stage of our relationship, fond memories of sex with Jane.
A rich fantasy life supposedly helps marriages.
So what if the Marriott in Richmond reminded me of a night of raw sex. If I returned to Gambier and walked along South Campus and Old Kenyon, I'd be reminded of my losing my proverbial cherry. Or if I went back to where I went to high school and went up the chapel steps, I'd be reminded of the first time I got to second base. All fond memories, but so what. What is of importance is that I'm married, committed to making our marriage and our relationship work. I say, "Jane, get over it. You're it, and this is for the very long haul."
I predict, however, the future: I will remain in the dog house for days after Jane returns. And Jane will not get over it.
Tuesday, November 15
Back to nurses
For no reason at all, I'm back to nurses...
One thing I hate about traveling is sleeping alone...
But I don't think I'm looking for a knife-welding nurse.
One thing I hate about traveling is sleeping alone...
But I don't think I'm looking for a knife-welding nurse.
Lilly teases me
So, Lilly calls me this morning... to ask where her FM boots are; she left them at our house.
I told her that they were upstairs in the laundry hamper in the bathroom... along with her long, brown skirt -- which I ripped when putting it over my fat ass.
She chuckled. And then she told me she slept in our bed last night... and wanted to know when I'd be home. When I told her tomorrow night, she told me she'd see me then -- in the bed.
Right, she's gonna do that. She wouldn't, even if I wasn't married to her sister.
I told her that they were upstairs in the laundry hamper in the bathroom... along with her long, brown skirt -- which I ripped when putting it over my fat ass.
She chuckled. And then she told me she slept in our bed last night... and wanted to know when I'd be home. When I told her tomorrow night, she told me she'd see me then -- in the bed.
Right, she's gonna do that. She wouldn't, even if I wasn't married to her sister.
Survived the day
What a frigg'n long day. The meeting went forever, or so it seemed. At times, it got fairly contentious, but by the end of the meeting it was okay.
I have to admit, I spend much of the meeting looking at one of the folks from our client. She's the chief financial officer of the company. She's about my age, I figure, and it's not that she had a bod or a face or whatever to die for; it's just the overall package was nice. She wore a pretty big rock on her left hand, and I kept thinking about swinging with her. I have no idea if she does, and I can't very well ask her. "Hey, Paula, I'd like to screw you sometime. Do you and your husband swing?"
Yeh, I don't see that working for me.
I have to admit, I spend much of the meeting looking at one of the folks from our client. She's the chief financial officer of the company. She's about my age, I figure, and it's not that she had a bod or a face or whatever to die for; it's just the overall package was nice. She wore a pretty big rock on her left hand, and I kept thinking about swinging with her. I have no idea if she does, and I can't very well ask her. "Hey, Paula, I'd like to screw you sometime. Do you and your husband swing?"
Yeh, I don't see that working for me.
Monday, November 14
Richmond calling...
The boss sent me up to Richmond to attend a little meeting and convince a customer to stick with us. We've had a little quality issue with our products and the customer is balking. So, send in the A-Team.
I'm at the Marriott in downtown. And, as I was checking in, I had a sudden memory that I've been here before. Liza and I hooked up here a couple of years ago. She drove down while her husband was away with the Boy Scouts. I'm so thankful for the BSA, let me tell you.
So, anyway, she met me here. We shared some wine. Then we were standing at the window, looking out at the lights of the city. Liza is shorter than I am, by almost a full head. She was in front of me, and I had my hands wrapped around her. The city lights flickered and glowed. And then I started nibbling on her neck and rubbing her skin, touching her breasts through her sweater. Soon, her sweater was pulled up, her bra was on the floor, and her breasts were pressed against the glass. We were backlit and I'm sure if anyone had looked up, they would have had quite a show.
Soon, Liza was on her knees with my cock in her mouth. When I came, she rubbed the white, sticky cum all over her face and big breasts.
I don't remember much more of the night, but I do remember the morning. When we awoke, she asked me to get on top of her and fuck her in her mouth.
Yeh, I remember this hotel.
And, yes, Liza is a little submissive. A true sub in the bedroom (unlike Jane, who just pretends to be a sub).
Okay, I guess I need to link the thumbnail (okay, yes, it's a little larger than a thumbnail) I borrowed from flickr. I can't. But, I'll say this: I love long hair; I'm partial to brunettes; I love pears. Susan, a co-worker at Plaid, tells me I like hips and hair. Abbey has the hair, & Abbey has the hips. So, admitedly, the picture has nothing to do with my post...
;-)
I'm at the Marriott in downtown. And, as I was checking in, I had a sudden memory that I've been here before. Liza and I hooked up here a couple of years ago. She drove down while her husband was away with the Boy Scouts. I'm so thankful for the BSA, let me tell you.
So, anyway, she met me here. We shared some wine. Then we were standing at the window, looking out at the lights of the city. Liza is shorter than I am, by almost a full head. She was in front of me, and I had my hands wrapped around her. The city lights flickered and glowed. And then I started nibbling on her neck and rubbing her skin, touching her breasts through her sweater. Soon, her sweater was pulled up, her bra was on the floor, and her breasts were pressed against the glass. We were backlit and I'm sure if anyone had looked up, they would have had quite a show.
Soon, Liza was on her knees with my cock in her mouth. When I came, she rubbed the white, sticky cum all over her face and big breasts.
I don't remember much more of the night, but I do remember the morning. When we awoke, she asked me to get on top of her and fuck her in her mouth.
Yeh, I remember this hotel.
And, yes, Liza is a little submissive. A true sub in the bedroom (unlike Jane, who just pretends to be a sub).
Okay, I guess I need to link the thumbnail (okay, yes, it's a little larger than a thumbnail) I borrowed from flickr. I can't. But, I'll say this: I love long hair; I'm partial to brunettes; I love pears. Susan, a co-worker at Plaid, tells me I like hips and hair. Abbey has the hair, & Abbey has the hips. So, admitedly, the picture has nothing to do with my post...
;-)
Sunday, November 13
Doing the laundry
If the frigg'n overflowing baskets of dirty clothes in this house looked like this... well, I still wouldn't fold the laundry...
Anyone want to help clean dirty Juicy Girl?
Anyone want to help clean dirty Juicy Girl?
Our Russian lass is leaving Raleigh
Well, this is sad. Nadia, who sometimes looks like an angel, is leaving us. She came by a while ago to pick up her laundry -- laundry that Lilly hadLast night out left here -- and said good-bye. I told her she'd be back. This whole Miami thing isn't going to work out.
Right. In my dreams.
It's been an interesting several months (eagads, perhaps more like six or eight). The first time I met her, she was dressed to the nines and waiting for Lilly. She was in the dining room; Jane was folding laundry. I came down and my tonge dropped to the floor and I got drool all over my shirt. I had to man-handle my tongue back into my mouth.
The last couple of months, she's been dressing much more conservatively. Too bad.
Jane, who would like to swing a little both ways (or at least try it), says that Nadia doesn't do anything for her. Ah, I don't know. She does something for me. I'd have thrown her to the couch when she came for the laundry were it not that there was somebody in a car outside waiting for her.
Changing subjects: Jane called earlier. Told me that Lilly -- who had driven her sister Dee's car up to Delaware to meet up with Jane and Dee -- arrived on fumes and with no money. So, of course, Jane has given her some money (she's headed back tonight), and now I need to get more greenbacks to Jane. I'm the fucking sugar daddy for Jane... and her sisters...
I think I'm getting screwed, and it's not as enjoyable as I'd like.
;-)
Right. In my dreams.
It's been an interesting several months (eagads, perhaps more like six or eight). The first time I met her, she was dressed to the nines and waiting for Lilly. She was in the dining room; Jane was folding laundry. I came down and my tonge dropped to the floor and I got drool all over my shirt. I had to man-handle my tongue back into my mouth.
The last couple of months, she's been dressing much more conservatively. Too bad.
Jane, who would like to swing a little both ways (or at least try it), says that Nadia doesn't do anything for her. Ah, I don't know. She does something for me. I'd have thrown her to the couch when she came for the laundry were it not that there was somebody in a car outside waiting for her.
Changing subjects: Jane called earlier. Told me that Lilly -- who had driven her sister Dee's car up to Delaware to meet up with Jane and Dee -- arrived on fumes and with no money. So, of course, Jane has given her some money (she's headed back tonight), and now I need to get more greenbacks to Jane. I'm the fucking sugar daddy for Jane... and her sisters...
I think I'm getting screwed, and it's not as enjoyable as I'd like.
;-)
Saturday, November 12
Pole dancing at home?
This is one bit of equipment I've never thought of installing at home.
What I find, er, interesting is that I came across some other pole-at-home pictures too.
I'm really going to have to rethink this...
What I find, er, interesting is that I came across some other pole-at-home pictures too.
I'm really going to have to rethink this...
Now I'm just messing around
I can't figure out what pics from flickr I can blog and what I can't. Even though every picture has a "blog this" button, sometimes it doesn't seem to work.
Juicy Robin, well she seems to work okay. As does Juicy Carolina, but she'll have to wait for another post.
The house is quiet. Lilly left to head north, folling Jane and Dee. All the monsters are gone. I'm home alone.
Lilly is nearly broke; the job at Dillard's doesn't pay a living wage. She wants to make some money. She and Melinda are talking about doing sex shows for private parties. An hour's worth of girl-on-girl action; she thinks she can get $175 per viewer. I'm thinking to get that kind of money, there's gonna' need to be something beyond just watching.
I told her she ought to consider dancing at Lipstick; okay, it's not really "dancing," put it is called lap dancing. I told her I'd pay her the going rate (ten bucks a song); she wasn't interested.
Yet, I say. Yet.
Juicy Robin, well she seems to work okay. As does Juicy Carolina, but she'll have to wait for another post.
The house is quiet. Lilly left to head north, folling Jane and Dee. All the monsters are gone. I'm home alone.
Lilly is nearly broke; the job at Dillard's doesn't pay a living wage. She wants to make some money. She and Melinda are talking about doing sex shows for private parties. An hour's worth of girl-on-girl action; she thinks she can get $175 per viewer. I'm thinking to get that kind of money, there's gonna' need to be something beyond just watching.
I told her she ought to consider dancing at Lipstick; okay, it's not really "dancing," put it is called lap dancing. I told her I'd pay her the going rate (ten bucks a song); she wasn't interested.
Yet, I say. Yet.
