Jane wants a religious job

Jane and I were talking the other day, and she shared with me that she'd like to get a job in a church, doing something. Okay, thought I. I can buy that. Tonight, she tells me that perhaps this wouldn't be a good idea as she'd always feel guilty: unwilling to give up the freaky side of her and doesn't think that would jive with the religious community. Oh, I don't know. It looks like it might here. I can imagine this is what Jane had in mind.

Okay, probably not. Maybe more like this one. No, truth be told, she's into mild spanking and a little nipple torture, but not much else. This would be way too much for her.

Okay. You got me. I was just looking for a way to get the fetish pictures in here. However, Jane was talking earlier this week about working in a religious community, so I don't think I'm all that far off base here.

Things around the house are quiet. Drew is off with friends at a church gathering; Ralph is at a sleep-over; Miller is alsleep (having fallen off the bed a couple of minutes ago); Jane is asleep with Miller next to her. Would be the ideal time for a romp, with the older boys away and all. Perhaps I should wake her up; a quick slap on her ass would likely do the trick. Alas, alas, there ain't been much sex lately, and I suspect there will not be any tonight.

We did have a nice little fuck the other night; I'd like to tell you all about it, but, actually, I don't really remember. It was one of those 2am screws that in the morning was but a distant memory: I know it was nice, but I don't remember the specifics.

I'm thinking this young lady could use a little. I know. I know. There I go again with the gratuitious linking. Sorry.

Hmmm. I wonder if Jane would like to be caged up like that?

Aside from the guilt thing, we were also talking tonight about swinging. Jane's said she doesn't want to go to NCL for the sex, just the voyeurism. Well, that's okay, but... Then in my email, I got an invitation from a couple; okay, it wasn't just me, but it was in my inbox. Hmm, I'd do more than voyeur her. Yes, I would.

Anyway, so I said, why don't we have a party here. And she hemmed and hawed a bit. And I said, okay, who would you invite? I got two couples out of her: Sam & Anne and Paul & Joanne.

And I thought, well, sure, I'd mess around with Anne and Joanne. And then she said, "Well, you guys would be watching on the couch, 'cause I only want to sleep with women."

Hmmm... Well, okay. Maybe we can stand around and every once in a while one of the women will come up from air and suck one of us off.

And maybe I'll just have to add Goofy and Butterfly to the party list.

Well, enough for now, dear reader. Off to see if I can roust Jane for a little quickie.

I'm looking forward to being not so newly wed

Ah, I just love bloggers, you know. Here's an experienced blogger who's killed off at least one blog and recently created another, one that's worth keeping an eye on. This is Sophia from Not-So-Newlywed:

After several minutes in that position, he drew back, withdrawing completely from me. He pulled upward on my hip with one hand, the other planted between my shoulder blades, keeping my head and shoulders down. Then he guided himself back towards my pussy. Before he got there, though, he slapped my ass cheek, then used the same hand to dip a finger into me. When his finger was sufficiently wet, he trailed it back slightly to the pucker of my ass. He entered my pussy with his cock, and stopped. With the wet finger, he poked gently at the bud of my ass. When I didn't pull away from his finger, he poked a little harder. At the second poke, I leaned forward a little, pulling away from the finger. When he withdrew his finger, I leaned back onto his cock, and his finger nudged again at my ass, forward, back, forward, back I went, until the rhythm of my actions increased. With each time I leaned back into him, his finger nudged a little harder, until just the tip of it entered my ass.

His hips began pumping into me, each time I'd lean back, and his finger began following my ass, so that just the tip of it stayed inside the pucker of my ass. After several thrusts, he used his other hand to grab a handful of my hair and pull my head up so I was on all fours. He held me still, so I could no longer lean forward and back, and continued thrusting. With each thrust of his cock into my wet pussy, he pushed his finger a little further into my ass. Soon his finger was buried inside of me as his cock was pulling out, pushing in. He slowed his rhythm, and stopped, buried deep with his cock. He pulled his finger out of my ass, and as I groaned, he worked up some saliva in his mouth and let it dribble to where his finger had just been. When I was sufficiently re-wetted, he gradually worked his finger back into my tight bud.

He released my hair and pushed my shoulders back down to the mattress then, with that same hand, swatted my ass. That seemed to set him off, and cock and finger began pumping in and out of me. Both holes being stimulated, I lost myself in the rhythm. When he withdrew his finger and began pumping even faster, I let out a moan that became a series of moans, as his cock seemed to push the noise out of me.

I love her prose.

I hope Jane and I are so in synch when we're no longer newly married.

Hmm, and that prose is quite a turn on. Where is Jane? Or will I have to take care of this myself?

Bloglines

Have you discovered Bloglines? See mine here.

Yesterday and two years

Well, yesterday was the second anniversary of the first date Jane and I had. And to think that now little Miller is crawling all over the place. My, how things have changed, and mostly for the better, I might add.

However, and there's always a "however," isn't there, we had a little bit of a fuss yesterday. Everything was fine. I was ill, so I spent the day in bed. Kathleen brought over Drew and Ralph so they could give Miller his gifts. I slept through it all, the sounds of women's chatter and boys' giggles floating up the stairs and through the open door and invading my head like little wavelets. So, far, okay.

Then we went to church. I broke out in a sweat -- the fever popped, but otherwise it was uneventful. Miller was well-behaved, flirting with all the pretty girls. One of the college students was home, and Miller settled into her arms for part of the service, resting his head on the open flesh showing cleavage. And then after church he spent time in the arms of his girlfriend, one of the older middle school girls who just adores him. So far, okay.

On the way home, I pulled in to pick up the mail. Mistake. Beth had send me a Christmas card; I didn't even notice it as I handed the stack of mail to Jane. "Can I open this?" she asked.

"Sure," I replied. I mean, come on, what am I going to say?

She opened it and there was a fairly innocuous card with a gift certificate for a local Italian restaurant. Jane went silent. Livid. All the way home. We got home and I stumbled in with the baby, my illness kicking up a notch. Jane made me soup, silently. She wouldn't talk to me. When pressed, she said she wasn't made at me. Sure, I believe that. Not.

I told Jane I'd write Beth and tell her not to ever write or call me again. Jane said I'd resent her, if I did that. I'm thinking that would be better than the cold shoulder and the silent treatment.

Needless to say, there was no sex commemorating our 2 year anniversary...

What happened next

We necked. We humped. I got so turned on, I wanted her to sit on my face (first time in a while), and Jane told me she was on the tail end of her period. Well, there goes that idea, eh? But, we had a damn good scrump with her on top and me getting lost in her big boobs.

Nice. Very nice.

Blog, baby, blog

Last night, Jane put on a little red top thingee, thinking it would announce "Fuck me." Er, the darn baby again... needless to say, it didn't happen. Today, she IM'd me and said she wanted me to put on the santa boxers she bought for me & and 10pm she wanted to sit on my lap and tell me how naughty she's been. Well, here it is 45 minutes after the appointed hour and I'm upstairs online and she's downstairs baking cookies. The baby's asleep on the couch in the living room, but I'm still not getting any. Maybe 'cause I poked fun at Jane this evening. Turns out when she moved here to NC, she never got a driver's license... tonight I find out she didn't get one 'cause it was suspended... I've been harping on her to get license with her married name on it, and she's been avoiding heading off to the DMV. Hmmm...

So, a little while ago I stumbled here and here. Hmmm...

UPDATE: Jane just walked in the room and peered over my shoulder at my blogging... time to spank her and then ram her solid. ((Unless the baby wakes up...))

Bye for now.

Baggy Lettuce

And the, every once in a while, I just stumble across... hell, I'm not sure what...

I've been thinking recently this blog has slowed and my vanilla blog is all externally focused with me writing about politics and the news and whatever else. There's no me in it.

Today is Saturday, and Jane and Miller have been out of town for a while. Jane took the baby to visit her mother. I couldn't say no, of course, but I wasn't keen on the baby heading up north the land of chicken pox and various viri; Jane's dysfunctional family is also all ill. Jane is returning this evening; I'm at the office right now, attempting to kill off a few "to-do" items.

Jane and I haven't had a lot of sex recently. You likely gathered that. It seems we really only have sex when one of us is about to leave or just gets back. Thursday, the day Jane left, I got up early for a 7am meeting; I went in, and it was cancelled, so I returned home to have breakfast with Jane. We'd thought about sex the night before and all through the night, but somehow it just never happened. Between the baby and sleeping; oh, we had a nice time nestled together, but there wasn't any doing it.

So, we went down the kitchen to have breakfast. Not a real breakfast of eggs and bacon, but a bagel & cream cheese. Jane had English muffin and jelly. We stood in the kitchen holding each other, my hands rubbing her breasts. I was standing behind her, my hard-on pressed up against her. We kissed. We ate bagel & muffin. I rubbed jelly on her breasts and licked it off, pulling the nipples hard into my mouth. I reached over to where a couple of clothes pins were waiting; slowly I put them on her nipples. They squeezed the flesh, tightly, getting red under the pressure.

After more necking and groping, we stripped off our pants. Jane pushed me to the chair in the middle of the room. I sat down against the hard wood, my hard wood sticking straight up. Jane faced me and settled down on my cock, riding it, the wetness dripping down my dick and onto my thighs. I buried my face in her full breasts. After a couple of minutes, Jane said, "Get behind me."

Who am I to argue. I love it that way. She removed herself from the spear; my penis popped out of her wet gash with a popping sound. She stood and turned around, arms on the wooden buffet. She was standing, her legs spread apart, her back parallel to the floor, her arms on the buffet, her head resting against the wood. From behind her, I slipped inside her pussy; the wetness felt so good. We fit so nicely together, my cock in her cunt. She backed up against me and then I started pounding. I looked down and could see my cock riding into her, sloppy. I thought about putting a finger in her ass or maybe driving my cock into it, but I didn't. I drove into her pussy, hard. I banged her so that she moved with the rhythm, bucking against the sideboy, making it hit the wall with our movement. I imagined her head was hitting the wood, and I pushed harder; she pushed her arms against the wood, pushing back. I drove, and I drove.

Finally, I came; my legs buckled slightly; my hands gripped her waist.

Ah, I love having breakfast in the kitchen.

Reminded me of the last time I did it in the kitchen. Before Jane and I met, and it was with the "married woman" and we had some afternoon delight; she was up on the counter, facing me, and I pounded her shaved pussy and buried my head in her huge boobs.

When we'd been making out, Jane made mention of us doing it in the kitchen in front of the window; anyone walking in the alley would have been able to see us, her breasts in plain view in the morning light. She asked if I'd done it in a public place before. I immediately thought of another time when I was with Lisa, a friend of mine from long ago; we went to school together. A couple of years ago, Lisa and I hooked up in Richmond. We met at my hotel room, shared a bottle of wine and a little cheese & crackers. And then, we stood against the large window, looking out over the darkened city. We were on the 10th floor, and well lit. Anyone scanning the hotel would have been able to have seen us. I stood behind her, kissing her neck, my hands traveling her body and holding her breasts. Soon she was on her knees, her blouse and bra off, her skirt hiked up around her waist, her mouth solidily around my hard cock. She sucked my off, and my cum covered her breasts; she took my cock and wiped the wetness around her face. A beautiful sight.

She wrote me recently; seems her husband got a promotion recently and she's moved down her to Raleigh/Durham. I wonder if they'd be into swinging. The four of us could get together... hmmm...

One could get lost in here...

Give a guy high speed access to the web and he could get lost... And then, every once in a while, sometimes you come out of it...

But not often...

The baby... is making sex difficult

Infants will do that, you know. The little bugger seems to have a knack for screaming at just the right moment.

Sometimes, in order to get him to sleep, we'll bring him to bed with us. I know. I know. That right there is gonna put a kink in the sex. I know.

So, the other night Miller falls asleep and around three in the morning I shifted his berth, freeing up all sorts of space in our queen-sized bed. Earlier in the evening Jane had broken out the toys: the glass dildo, the silver bullet, and who knows what else. All of it was waiting for me, but, alas, we'd had to move it when Miller decided he was sleeping in the big bed.

So, three in the morning, and Miller's in his own crib. I decide it's time for a little love'n... Jane had been asleep for a hours; that was about to end.

With Miller safely away, I found the glass dildo on the floor. Finding the lube was not so easy; the first tube I found was foot cream; that sure as hell wasn't gonna do for what I had in mind. With the long glass dildo and the lube nearby, I scooted up to Jane and cuddled against her, my hands exploring and my mouth nibbling. I bit on her neck. I pulled her nipples. I pressed up against her ass, and she pushed back against me.

I got rough with her, pulling her head toward me. My hands grasped her hair. I kissed her lips forcefully. I was rough, pulling.

Pretty soon she was wet and ready. "How do you want me?" she asked.

"On your knees," I said. I had a little something in mind. Jane got on her knees and I went for the glass and the lube. I lubed up the glass, and then from behind her I slipped my hard cock into her very wet pussy. Once buried in her pussy, I took the glass dildo and slipped it into her begging ass. Yes, Jane was on our bed, on her knees, her head in the pillows, and my cock was buried in her cunt and a glass dildo was in her ass. In and out. In and out.

When I came, my little white muck dripping out of her slip, I pulled the dildo out of her ass, and then we cuddled softly together.

Last night I wanted a repeat performance. As I was slipping Miller into his crib he woke up and started to scream. Okay, no sex last night.

And then at five this morning I was up to pack and catch a plane. As I write this, I'm at the hotel in New Orleans, my one-bedroom suite more than 700 square feet. And I'm thinking of Jane. And I'm a alone. And broke.

Such as it is.

A side job of selling sex toys

Jane's been thinking of starting one of those sex toy businesses. You know the ones: you get friends and friends-of-friends to host parties. I wonder if it would turn out like this, one evening?

A person of principle?

I was over at The Plant this morning, and I ran into a guy I used to work with. He asked how the baby was. I told him Miller was growing like weeds. Then I told him Jane and I had gotten married. He said, "I figured you would. You're a man of principles, a stand-up guy."

Hmm... I thought we got married so Jane would stop asking me... ;-)

I want some. I want some!

On the road. At a Courtyard, hooked online with a new ethernet card. Surfing for free thanks to Marriott. And avoiding work. I have a report to crank out for a customer, but I just can't get my shit in one sack. In part cause I've got sex on my mind. Jane called earlier and wanted to have phone sex, but I wasn't interested. I should'a; perhaps it would'a put my mind at ease.

I like phone sex, when I'm in the mood. I guess that's the same with any sex. In bed, the phone cradled up to my ear, my hand on my cock, her voice in my ear, the heavy breathing. Sort'a like this masturbation video. La petite morte. The little death. Damn straight. Give me some of that little death, eyes rolled back in my had, my spine twisted, my face contorted.

Married life... falling into a rut...

Married less than six weeks, and we've fallen into a rut. Okay. Okay. So, we've been shacked up for a while, making it more than a six weeks... hell, more than six months...

We get back last night from visiting my folks for Thanksgiving. Miller isn't feeling so good, but he doesn't want to go to sleep. So, Jane puts Nemo into the player and Miller stands in his crib, dancing, while watching that damn movie. I'm scheduled to head of town for the week, so I'm a little itchy for some action... and we fall asleep intwined together. No sex.

It's the usual, you know. Married people don't get it on. If I'd wanted to keep getting laid, I should never have gotten married.

But married life is good, even without the sex. Jane says her sex drive has gone into the toilet 'cause of the meds. Her depression, you know. Frankly, I'd rather have her not depressed, even if it means I'm not gonna get any. When she's not on her meds, oh, the situation is bad. Real bad. So, Jane's blaming her lack of sex drive on the Zoloft.

And I can relate. I was depressed, and my doc gave me Zoloft, too. Worked like a charm, except it sent my sex drive into the toilet, too. Part of me figured it was age, you know, since I'm so aged and decrepit. Then, maybe six or eight weeks ago, the doc also put me on Strattera. I noticed I was having a difficulty focusing; actually, I think I finally noticed it 'cause I wasn't so blue. After a week or so, my sex drive came back.

Jane thinks maybe she ought to get some, too.

Let's see... we've had sex maybe once or twice the last week. Once while up vising my folks. The baby was asleep. We snuggled together in the darkness, our hands tracing on each other's bodies, following the curves, flesh to flesh. I got hard; my fingers probed her wetness, and she whispered, throatily, she wanted me to climb on top of her. "Fuck me," she said. "Fuck my wet pussy."

I climbed on top of her, my cock driving into her wet cunt. Her pussy feels so good, always. The wetness. The friction. Her leges were splayed wide apart as I drove into her, back and forth. Our mouths met in a wet kiss.

When I came, it felt like I was turning inside out.

Jane's been having nightmares

Tonight after dinner, Jane tells me she's (a) going out for the night to Wal-Mart and (b) she had nightmares last night. In her dream, I had an affair... she will not tell me with whom, but it's somebody I've met, and in the dream Jane spoke with this other woman, and the other woman told her about the affair.

If I were having dreams about having an affair, it would be:

• This drop-dead blonde I ran into while exiting the elevator while escaping from a meeting. She was wearing a long, black dress, and had long, blonde hair, and deep, crystal clear eyes, and when she smiled at me, all I could do was stumble out of the lobby;


• Jane's friend Allison... who, while not as much of a knockout as the girl from the elevator today, is damn, damn sweet and damn, damn sweet looking... I imagine her milk-filled breasts, the warm nectar seeping into my mouth as I pull the nibbles with my lips and teeth;


• Anne of Sam & Anne... who Jane says she's out shopping with right now... Sure... Sorry, I digress... Back to: I'd like a taste of her sweet pussy again... not likely to happen as I think she and her hubby have decided to hang up the swinging... and, anyway, Jane doesn't want me to swing now that we're married;


• Cindy, the mom of Ralph's school chum, but he's changed schools and I haven't seen her this year


• Or, perhaps, Heather, a young lass I knew back in college. We hooked up the night before graduation. She came over to my room, and we blew a little boo, and we were talking about our summer plans, and she was talking about having moved out of her room using a horse trailer, and she's talking about the horse shit in the back of the trailer, and the next thing I know, we've locked lips and then we're naked in my bed and going at it and going at it and going at it, and then some of my drunk buds came by and pounded on the window to get me to come out and party, but the party was fine were I was. And in the morning, I got hard again and climbed on top of Heather who was lying on her stomach, and I stuck my hard cock right up her ass, and she rocked back and forth, liking it, and I came in torrents, again (God, I was young). And then she had to bug out and go pick up her kid sister at the airport before graduation. I saw her one time a year or two later, but circumstances didn't permit us to get back the groove. I've wondered whatever happened to her. The last I heard, she was an elementary school teacher in Brooklyn or Manhattan or one of the other boroughs.

Yeh, those are the women I'd dream of having an affair with.

Let's get it on, let's get it on. Not.

So, to review, Jane left the house some three hours ago to "go shopping at Wal-Mart." And she's worried that I'm having an affair?

Jane's friend Allison

A long time friend of Jane's, Allison, came over today with her infant son, Fromme. Jane's been saying that Allison was attractive. And that I'd want to sleep with her.

• Blonde.


• Big, milk-filled breasts.


• Little pounch of a tummy.


• Bright smile.


• Nice ass.

So, we're at the table eating pizza before the girls took the baby's out for a night-time stroll, and I'm checking her out. And, I'm wondering if she's freaky.

Jane says she's not. Too bad. Too bad.

So, what's it say that I'm checking out my wife's friends?

On the road again

Well, here I am, on the road again. Traveling for The Man. You know how it is; the boss says go, and pretty soon you're rolling down the runway headed for some other gray destination. I find myself in the middle of country, along with the Mississippi, staying at a downtown Marriott. When I checked in, the guy at the counter offered me the concierge floor; oh, nice. Hot and cold running water. Free soda and cookies. Where's the full-service maid? That's what I want. A full service experience while on the road.

So, today I'm doing business with a supplier. They want me to meet with their quality assurance manager. Oh, oh, oh. Damn. Five-eight. Trim. Damn nice in pants. We're running over figures, and all I can think about is her figure and what it would look like spread over the queen-sized bed back in my hotel room on the 20th floor.

But, of course, I was all professional. Kept my thoughts to myself. Well, and now I'm posting them for the world to see. Tall, young, thin blondes in tight pants.

Yu la la... All the girls in Paris, France, love to do the Cancan dance...

Sorry, I digress.

Yesterday before leaving, Jane gave me a little send-off.

If you're looking for birth control, have a baby around. Miller has done a great job of killing off the mood.

Yesterday morning, I was getting ready to leave; was about to jump in the shower. Jane put Miller in the swing (a little electric jobbie; best money I've ever spent). Miller likes to watch FINDING NEMO. He'll stand in his crib or sit in his swing and watch Nemo, hour after hour, time after time. So, Jane popped Miller in the swing and then joined me in the shower. Yu la la.

I soaped up her breasts; we were talking. Talked about going back to North Carolina Life. As we were talking about it, she started playing with my "dooder," and it got hard in her hands, hot water splashing on my back as she stood back against the wall. Pretty soon I was long and hard in her hands. I reached down, my fingers trailing between her legs to find warmth and wetness that wasn't coming from shower water. And then she was standing with her back to me, bent over, hands against the wall of the shower. I stood behind her and slipped into her warmth. Oh, damn, it felt good. And then I was banging up against her. Her head was hitting the wall as I pounded into her.

Ah, what a great send-off.

Escorts in New York, Hookers in London

Well, it's been more than 2 months since I've checked my email. I know, I know: how the hell can I survive without reading mail? Well, truthfully, it's not my only mail account.

Anyway, I received a note from Alexa who asked me to take a look at her blog, A New York Escort's Confessions. I'm sad I haven't been reading her blog since September. Well, we'll add her to the list of regular reads...

And speaking of regular reads, Belle de Jour has ended her blog.

I'm afraid, darlings, the time has come for me to go.

About the same time I stopped reading my email, Belle was hanging up her blogging. I wonder if she's hung up the hooking, too.

Ah, well, in the great circle of life the void will be filled. In the mean time, it's time to head back to Alexa's blog and dream of a business trip to the big apple.

I need a life coach

Ah, yes, I need a life coach. Certainly, I do.

So, I'm sure you're wondering what's going on in the life of Simon Winky and Jane. Well, you might know that Jane is now Jane Winky. Yup, we did it; we got married. I'd say that I said, "I do," but I didn't. I said, "I will."

I will. I will. I will.

Right now, I'm traveling for work. The boss has me all over the frigg'n place trying to either drum up business, make sales, create partnerships, whatever. Sometimes, I just want to stay on the plant floor, you know.

A couple of weeks ago, I was back in Miami at the scene of the crime, back where I'd met Alex. Perhaps you remember her, the dancer who danced to Cocker's "You can leave your hat on."

I was sitting in the darkened hall, watching. Like a good voyeur. Janet is the waitress; pretty; personable; the take-home-to-moma type. Not a hot bod, but a young lady who would turn heads on the street, at least at home in Durham.

I asked her about Alex. "Curly hair?" she asked. "I haven't seen her in months. She was talking about moving to New Orleans. I don't know if she did, but I haven't seen her." And then, she gave me a real smile; teeth. I'm hooked, and I wondered if it showed.

The dancer on stage was wearing FM boots. Do you wanna make love... or do you wanna have sex with me? blared from the loudspeakers. She ground away, lit by hot blue lights.

I wasn't surprised Alex wasn't there. I'd told Jane before I went south. I'd told her I was going to look up Alex. I'd also told her that dancers don't last long in places like this. High turnover. A life so good it begs for motion. Sure. I remember she told me she was trying to stay ahead of her parents, trying to hide from them. They'd hired dicks to track her town and she'd have to bug out in order to stay ahead.

I wonder how a child gets that way with parents. A hell of a relationship. And what's of real interest to me is that these folks -- she for sure, and her parents by description -- are bright. Not like it did much good, huh?

I imagine some night a private dick coming into the club, sitting in the shadows, his hat pulled down tight over his eyes leaving his features in the dark. When she comes by for a lap dance, she can tell he's a PI. And then, he calls her by her real name. And she knows her cover's been blown and she has to cut out. She goes backstage under the pretense of dressing for her next dance, but in reality to gather her things and then duck out and get in her late model Volvo and drive off, leaving the PI in the club's darkness.

I'm drawn back to the here-and-now. The dancer onstage is tall and looks like a southern belle; I was a twitter as she moved lusciously on the stage. And then when she took her top off and her huge, massive, doctor-augmented breasts come into view, I lose all interest. "Why?" I ask myself. Why would she do this? Big boobs. Little boobs. As long as they're natural. I've never seen a pair of augmented breasts which compare to those that the Good Lord has provided. Particularly on a young woman.

Well, it takes all kinds, eh? For every body type, there's a guy who wants it.

And what do you want? Me, I want a naked body pressed up to mine.

No more strip clubs, at least for a while. As a newly married man, it's probably not a good idea to spend a whole lott'a time in clubs. Of course, as a married man, that means I'm not getting laid. You know, married people don't screw. Okay, well, we have a couple of times. The most memorable of the first week of marriage was in the kitchen, Jane bent over the counter, me taking her sloppily from behind while the baby napped in the living room.

Ah, this is the life, eh?

I guess it's going to happen

The three of us stumbled down to the court house today to get the marriage license: Jane, Miller, me. Well, okay, nobody was stumbling.

Jane and I are standing at the counter, Miller's in my arms, and an attorney who's filing papers says, "Don't do it... oh, I guess you already have."

Jane chuckles. "Yeh, we sort'a went out of order."

"Well," he says, "looks like you know how do to it."

So, now, Jane and I are sitting here at home. She wants to know why I always blog about the negative stuff. Why can't I just be happy? she asks. Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm a pessimist at heart. Maybe my meds aren't strong enough.

The other night Kathleen was by. She's coming to the wedding. And so is my dickhead brother; they don't get along. I said it would be alright: everybody's taking their meds. Kathleen said, "You're not." Oh, oh yes I am.

Last night I spoke with Julie and told her I was getting married. When I told her Jane had asked me, she wondered if it was the Zoloft that said yes.

And speaking of Zoloft, my sex drive has been in the toilet. No, not water sports. More like non-existent. Although, two nights ago, Jane and I did have sex twice in the evening and once again in the morning. The morning was rough and quick and punctuated by cries from the baby. Between the baby's crying and screaming and Jane's moaning, I'm pretty certain we woke the neighbors.

Sorry for the delay in posting; I haven't been all here.

Oh, and Jane wants me to remind everyone to read her take on things. Her blog is here. She wants me to tell you that it's a great read. Truthfully, I don't know, 'cause I don't read it. I'm sure it's full of juicy details about our relationship. I'm sure she disagrees with everything I say. At the very least, you'd get a chance to hear the tale from her point of view.

Tying the knot

Oh, did I mention that Jane has convinced me to tie the knot? Well, I haven't really said yes, but we'll do it.

Jane says the invitations to her family are going to read:

Hurry, hurry, hurry. Step right up, folks! See the age-old mystery of marriage. Man in misery, woman in her element! See desperate man try to escape the ball and chain and woman's skillful whip talents as she captures her man! Only shoing once, so RSVP now!

To my family, the invitation will read:

I did it! I wore him down. Hurry up and get here before he changes his mind.

Ain't that the truth.

And then, Jane tells me she told our neighbors we swing. This after when she learned our neighbor David wears his girlfriend's thongs: white lace ones.

Oh, that's just too much information, all the way around.