a call in the dark....

...come back to us!!!
 From Coopernicus.

I heeded the call. It has, after all, been since Halloween. We had zero trick or treaters. ZERO. Nicht. Nada. Zip. Nothing.  I was (vaguely) disappointed, but this is the Bible Belt...Or the buckle thereof. Pick your bit of the belt, how's that?
Then a zip through November, fraught with various illnesses and malaise, a trip to the ER for my painted man, headcolds and stomach viruses all around...  I do work in a call center. It is on par with a daycare for illnesses. A good Thanksgiving was had (we had guests! J2&TRex(with baby bump in tow!) showed up unexpectedly). I think I should just get used to the fact that nobody RSVPs, and if I invite people over, I should just plan for a crowd and clean accordingly.  Got responses on Samhain and nobody showed up. No responses for Turkeyday and we had guests. Go figure. So I'm just going to remember 'If you invite them, they may come', and not wait for a 'Yes, I'll be there' to run a vacuum and put up my laundry piles.
I also managed to complete another NaNoWriMo, and I'm still writing it. Reliquary of Dreams. Time travel. If you want the link, EMAIL ME and I'll hook you up.

So that brings us to December in this listing of things and stuff. December. Cold. I think of December and I think 'It's going to be cold. Very cold. All the light will go away and it will be cold.' The light goes away because it's at the wrong angle in the sky to begin with here... having your golden orb hanging about 10 degrees off what it should be (subjectively) isn't fun at all and messes with my sense of time. But it hasn't been cold. Up until the last 2 weeks or so, we've been warm. Warm. 60's warm. But I still got sick. Still have the chest part of it, too. I was an early adopter of this particular cold (one of the supervisors just came down with it), getting it on the 8th...How do I know? Because I stayed home on the 9th (aced out on that one-thought I was calling in sick only to hear there were system issues and everyone was home). Then I missed the 12th, too. Still ill. Then it settled into a chest cold (it's not bronchitis...not severe enough-just a continuing cough) and there it sits, still gathering & clearing my winter sniffles.

Then, my stress levels went through the roof. As if it weren't enough (not to sound like I'm whining, but it feels like I'm whining and maybe I am, but I don't want to-does that make sense???) that money is tight not only due to the economy in general-
tangent: Milk here, whole milk, is at $3.58 a gallon. WHAAAA? 2 years ago, it was $2.19 a gallon. shakin' my head, i'm shakin' my head...
-not only due to the economy in general, but I've been sick, Sic-un's been sick (including his trip to the ER), so hours spent at work are down-which creates less money- the circle means it's tight...
Then I get a call from my dad. on...the 15th? 16th? one of the 2.
Mom's in the hospital. She couldn't breathe, so they took her in. Admitted. They took two liters of fluid out of one of her lungs. Yeah. Hold a 2 liter bottle up to your chest. Now. Drain that from one lung. Yeah.
They run their tests. She tells me Monday they found 'spots'. No more information, just 'they found spots' and 'more tests'. My anxiety and panic attacks start. Brief little random attacks of the little guy in my skull freaking out on me...I breathe and they go away. So I'll be ok, Mom'll be OK, not a problem, we got this.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011, I found out my mother has lung cancer.

Here's your kiss and punch, kiddo: It has not metastasized, but it's very aggressive. Oooh, more passive-aggression: Your mother will be having chemo for Christmas, radiation on her birthday (NYE...grampa's little tax deduction). Per my father.
It wasn't until i spoke to my sister 3 days later that I found out what was really going on. Still a 1-2 punch combo, but not nearly as dire as Dad made it.
Yes, it's aggressive. No, it has not metastasized. It responds very well to chemo. Stage 1. Stage 1. Small-cell sarcanoma. Her lung started filling up with fluid again, so they sent her to ICU with a respirator and a drain. She was getting enough oxygen, just not expelling enough CO2.  They started the chemo, it has been responding. All plusses. ALL PLUSSES. Potentially out of the hospital this weekend. She does chemo for 6 months on a 21 day rotation, light radiation to protect her brain and other internals from any radicals after the chemo is finis, she'll be good. They've found dead cancer cells in the fluids she's been getting rid of. The doctor says the fluid expulsion is basically her body fighting it the only way it can.
All is good on the Mom front, right?

I feel like I'm losing my mind.  The anxiety attacks have become almost a daily happenstance. Out of nowhere, the little guy in my head starts screaming for Momma....My heart pounds, my breathing becomes labored, I start to sweat, my stomach knots, sounds go wonky and my vision blurs because I've suddenly teared up. This morning's episode lasted somewhere around 4 hours... About 15 minutes before I left the house, here comes the shakes and the thought 'Ok, slow down. Stop. Just be still, breathe' because I know all hell is about to break loose in my skull and I can't control it and it's going to go physio...
I have to coach myself through my calls so I don't start berating the customers. My smile is plastered on my face like so much makeup if anyone who isn't an intimate friend looks at me. I have to count my breathing because otherwise I start hyperventilating. People standing around me talking makes me want to curl up and scream with my hands over my ears. Little things are becoming big things. We're switched to stadium seating for a few weeks while reorganization of the teams takes place-Oh.My.God. It's just a seat switch, right? Not working for me. Not working at all. Other phonepads don't sound right. They have a buzz. This chair sucks, that one does too. This computer is slow. I want my old seat back. 'We switched to stadium seating' becomes 'Why the fuck did you let that snotty little fucking lisping cow sit in MY SEAT?!?!' Little becomes big. Someone annoys me, just their voice or mannerism or hell, they BREATHE and it kills me for a couple of days. I get a coaching ('you did this wrong') and I want to quit. The only thing that's preventing me from it is that I really don't want to go looking for another job, and, well... Back to money.
I can't afford missed work. I can't afford a shrink (even with insurance). I can't afford a doctor, frankly. I don't have a primary, so I'm left with the stupid 'take care' clinic that's great for diagnosing a sinus infection, but pretty much useless for anything else. So I'm self-medicating when I'm off work and aum-aum-aum-ing my way through each. fucking. workday. Because I can't call in to make myself better, and I can't afford a doctor to make me better.
And I still owe the hospital for my ER bill from JULY when I had my toe xrayed.
And someone ran into Lancelot while I was in the store getting sodas and beer a couple nights ago. Lovely little dent by the driver's door, towards the rear. Some old lady from 2 rows over said she saw it and 'he just drove away before I could pull out a pen for his license plate'.
Thanks. My one possession worth any money at all and now it's severely damaged. It was his best saving grace...He didn't have any body damage. Well, that's fucked now.
Christmas really really sucked this year. Sic-un did get me a new mouse. I loves it. HE got new slippers and a shirt and some new hats. I gave my other loves baked goods and candy. It's all I could really afford.

So stress is through the roof and the insomnia is worse and I feel like crap and I want to just huddle in a ball and cry for a month on my momma's lap.

How are you?

http://www.signs-of-stress.com/images/StressSymptoms.gif

Good evening! Or, 8 Talking Points

...and I say Good Evening because it IS still evening. 11:38 by this little clock in the corner. When I notice it as 12...something, I'll say Good Morning. That way, you'll know how long it takes me write and exactly how verbose I can be. I'll also be referencing 1 or 2 back posts here, just to bring you all (3? or are we down to 2?) up to speed.

First... I'd like to request a rollcall. Who's still reading? Even an 'Anon' comment will be welcome.

2. Yes, I've been 4channed. Blame it on Sic-un. He started back on /b/ and got me into /b/ (until he got the 2nd ban laid upon our widdle heads), then I turned to /ck/ and then, finally, to /fit/.
Why?
Well, back here, I posted I thought I had 1 good chance to right the wrongs I've done to my body. That still holds true. As a matter of fact, (ahem)
(drumroll?)

3. I have lost 13 pounds.
(thank you)
At least, when I'm not PMSing. I've been doing cardio (one of the Gazelles, and before you kick me for doing it, it's not a treadmill, you can do SOME different movements on it and I can do a partial squat to work the quads), stepping it up gradually, and on Tuesday last I started up Convict Conditioning, which really is a series of bodyweight lifts designed to work on form. The conditioning gradually makes itself harder, not only changing the form of the exercises but also the length and the duration. For instance, if you start out the pushups by doing wall pushups, it moves you through 1x10 reps to 3x50, and eventually through the various forms until you're doing 1 handed pushups. Here... See??

....and there's a WHOLE SERIES of these-pushups, pullups (wall pullups, then move to bar), squats, jacknife pikes, bridges... Even a headstand so you can get to handstand pushups and walkovers. So I've been doing that. And I bought a dumbbell set. And NO. It's not the girly pink little handweights sold to soccer moms. It's bars and clips and separate plates. True dumbbells. I'm driving Sic-un crazy with running out of the shower practically every morning "SEE??? I HAVE A BICEP!" "LOOK! QUAD COMING OUT!" "FEEL MY HAMSTRINGS!!!!"
And
(can we get another drumroll???)
4. I've cut out almost all the brown fizzy liquids I drank by the gallon. Well, almost by the gallon. It SEEMED like a gallon. Eight 12 ounce cans of Jones in a day, some days. On the weekends, especially. I will say I do still drink somewhere between a partial and 1 full soda most days at work. However, the full soda days are becoming few and far between. I've been trying Gatorade as a stop-gap. Water just gets so... blah? And don't tell me 'Put a flavor pouch in it!'... They all have aspartame which gives me raging headaches. And any of the vitamin waters are  nutritional nightmares. So I've been limiting my sodas to (average) fewer than 1 per day, my water drinking has gone up astronomically and I've been filling the rest in with juices and iced tea.

5. I've dropped a size in my jeans... Did I mention that?...hmmmm.... NO! You didn't hear about my whirlwind shopping venture. I took Sosu with me and I think I kinda scared him. I literally walked through the aisles picking things seemingly at random in a hurry (almost at a dead run) through the stores. It wasn't random. I got a full new wardrobe of GREAT clothes (and went back and picked up the pair of slides and another pair of trousers for work) and I HAVE dropped a size in my jeans. So I picked up a few pair. I've been sticking pretty much with 2 of the 4 I bought because...well, the other 2 pair are just a TAD snug (shows what happens when you assume a size), but I'm looking at it as "I don't have to go jeans shopping again WHEN I drop another size".

Hey... It's 12:06. Good morning!

6. The wild sex life isn't. As soon as I post that I really dig having 2 boyfriends plus a partner, guess who suddenly stops having sex? Yeah... No fault of anyone's, I don't think.  Sic-un keeps tweaking out his back or it's the weather or we're just tired from work. And J hasn't been over in FOREVER. You can insert a scowly face here, Dear Reader. Sosu's been busy avoiding his homelife so he's been trying to stay with friends down in his town so he can still hit school....
Can't say I blame him for the homelife avoidance. His mom has pretty much turned on him mainly because he is saying "I'm 18. I'm growing up. Please do not expect me to be the good little yes man." Only it's not quite in that manner. And I don't think his sister is helping matters any. She seems to have become quite a tattletale. Sic-un's ex wife tells Daughter to call Sic-un and report on any of Sosu's bad behavior. "He stayed out all night and said he was at your house!", things like that... I don't think Sosu quite realizes this CAN BE a safe haven, and for most infractions of any of these 'rules' he's under (from his mother), the most his Dad will do of any 'punishment' is lecture. Like last week... He called, asked if he could spend the night. "Sure." He came in, sat for about 3 minutes, then went and passed out in his room. Fine. Great. I told Sic-un "Watch, he went to a friend's house, was going to spend the night, ingested SOMETHING and now doesn't want to go home to his Mom's because she'll go ballistic." Which is what happened. His friend said "Here, have a drink!" and then when they had been drinking said "Uh, can't spend the night, kicking you out!".... Sosu was offended, which I'm proud of him for. That's a shitty thing to do to a friend, right? No lecture, a little worry.
Stuff like that. So I completely understand why he hasn't been around. He's 18. But the sex life suffers. Part of me minds, but part of me doesn't. And I don't mind because I am trying to get healthier. And I still jiggle.

7.  The reason I've gone on this big healthy kick and trying to get fit and all is because those pictures I took of myself on my birthday-no, you haven't seen them. Nobody is gonna see them until I have some muscles to show and get rid of this fucking gut of mine!-...Those pictures scared me. I was looking at my grandmother's body....

When I was 13 or so, my uncle got married and we went over for the wedding. I watched my grandmother get dressed for the rehearsal dinner, like girls do when they're young and not invited to an evening function. You sit, usually on the end of the bed or perched on the cedar chest and watch as the older woman gets ready, taking note of the process, knowing some day you'll do the same thing, perhaps for your daughter, a niece, a granddaughter: how to check pantyhose for runs, pull out the slip, make sure everything is pressed and tidy and clean and perfect and you touch the silver hairbrush set that's on the dresser, and look at the old pictures of relatives long passed as the woman going out for the evening looks in the mirror and makes sure the lipstick hasn't bled or smeared, one last pat to their hair. You've watched them get dressed and you've seen their body and you wonder if yours will be the same.

In my grandmother's case, she had a great set of legs. TERRIFIC legs. Gramma had gams. Not long legs, but terrific legs.  She was short, under 5'. And she was a large woman, but very graceful, very light on her feet. I always thought it was horrifying that having 10 kids (later found out she had 17 frigging pregnancies or something like) so thoroughly destroyed her body. She had a spherical torso, but these great legs. Very thick, very wide, very round. Round body, great legs. And I think that's how grandmothers should look, really. I don't like the idea of a grandmother being a glamorous older lady who still dresses as if she were 16. I DO like the idea of a grandmother who smiles, is full of hugs and LOOKS like they make a mean cookie. And she did. And that's all fine and dandy when you're talking about a 65 year old who IS a grandmother... It's not so fine when your're talking about a 41 year old who IS NOT EVEN a mother. That woman looks at a picture of herself and flashes back immediately to the wedding in 1983 when she watched her grandmother get ready for the rehearsal dinner.
I got scared.
I'm only 41. I shouldn't look like that. I shouldn't BE like that.
So I decided to change. I'd like to be rid of the round by Xmas. I've already started redeveloping my waist (I HAVE A WAIST!!!). Everything else will follow in due time. And by Xmas should be good.



So that's what I've been up to and doing. Just work and working out and trying to not go crazy insane with PMS and keep my protein levels up and hoping things will maybe be a bit better, soon.

Surprise recipe!  Darkneuro's Brotein Cherry Shake (yes, it contains protein powder...it's my post workout or not so bad for you shake when you want something sweetish)
1/2 cup plain yogurt
1/2 to 1 cup milk/almond milk/soymilk
1/4 to 1/2 cup frozen dark cherries (I use Kroger's Private Selection...they're yummy!)
1 scoop vanilla protein powder (I use Jay Robb whey protein-it's not bad. Still kinda...chemical? But not bad.)
Sweetener of your choice to taste (I've used sugar and some stevia... both work well. Honey is a bit of a different flavor)
Blend it all up with some ice for texture. Brotein shake :)
G'night my loves. Roll call, remember. I'd like to know if anyone still pops in.

LIIT at a birthday...

J2 (the newly free-range J2) had a birthday this weekend. A bunch went to the Urban Bar & Corner Cafe in Knoxpatch. I was invited (!), as was Sic-un. It always surprises me when people want to Hang Out. One of the bunch is a new friend...Let's call her Grasshopper. She is rather like a grasshopper, bouncy and smart. She is a smidge naive, and just got out of a rather toxic relationship, same as J2. J2 wants the Grasshopper. Grasshopper (rightly so, IMO) has put the kybosh on any relationship status change right now. She wants to enjoy being single. She wants to get some ya-yas in. I can SO understand this, and applaud her for saying 'I want!'. Apparently, the douche she just broke up with went so far as to tell her she couldn't buy a dildo...After all, wouldn't she just prefer the dildo to him? He is a douche and she is better off. And I'm glad I know her. She's fun!
So who are these people?
I went with J2 and J-they're roommates. You know J... J of the pretty dick? One of the boyfriends. And that's how I'm referring to the people that I sleep with outside of my relationship with Sic-un, who is my Partner. Sos-u is a boyfriend. J is a boyfriend.
So we 3 went to pick up Grasshopper. J was the designated driver, J2 was planning on getting drunk as was Grasshopper. I was planning on Going Out, like normal people do. I tend to get very insular and be a home-body. Hence the surprise when people want to Hang Out. Dressed up.
Yes...I dressed up.
Black knee boots, leggings, pullover long-sleeve teal shirt, black cardigan... I looked good. Hair.. Um, I recently cut my hair. It's back to being short. And apparently I did a really good job. People keep complimenting me on it, so I think it looks ok. I did notice a ton of grey in it when I was cutting it, so I did a color to it. Still dark honey blond (well, maybe a medium honey blond), but no longer grey through it.
And makeup. Hair was spiked up.
So I looked good, and Sic-un had given me carte blanche for the evening. Didn't do a whole hell of a lot of good, since my period was this weekend (but it means it's NOT going to be here NEXT* weekend!), but I flirted and had a good time. People seem to like me and it always stuns me. It really does. I smoked way too much and drank 7 Long Island Ice Teas (LIIT). I have also vowed to never again wear high heels while drunk.
Why? You ask.....
You would ask, Dear Reader.
When I drink, my knees have a tendency to lose functionality on stairs.
Mostly on stairs.
And there are a lot of stairs at Urban.
So my knees are bruised and scraped.
And, sad to say, somewhere along the line, my right toe was dislocated.
See?--->
I think I have it snicked back into place, and I have it taped up and I'm going to be wearing hard-soled clogs for the next few days (stiff soles. Works wonders). It hurts, but...
I had a good time. I hope to continue being social.

Now. NEXT weekend...
Thursday I turn 41 by the calendar. I'll still be about 8 in my head, but the calendar says I'm going to be 41. I'm planning on making a lemon meringue pie and that's it. That's all I have planned, except for hitting Big Ed's Pizza for dinner-you get a free tshirt on your birthday. I don't have to work, nor on Friday, and Sic-un is taking Friday off. We're both off Saturday and Sunday.
Saturday morning, the local Tai Chi Society is holding an Open House. And! And!
They have a class starting on March 5 that I can actually attend! At hours that aren't too horrendous! It's the reason why I haven't taken a Tai Chi class before. I was thrilled to learn the Tai Chi Center is right there when I moved to this loverly little town. However, all the class times for Beginner were at times when I was at work. Why Tai Chi? With the change of the calendar comes the realization that I have one more chance to get somewhat mobile. I say one more chance because I have started noting stupid little aches and pains that just weren't there before. I can't help but think a good stretch will help wonders. Some activity. And Tai Chi is supposed to be absolutely wonderful for balance and flexibility. Sic-un is going with me, at least to the open house, and he's remaining open minded about the class.
I'm not hoping for a miracle cure for his back, but I'm hoping for some pain easing for him.

Sos-u.Worth the wait. Definitely worth the wait. Definitely. Stunning kisser, good hands. He's cuddly. Puppy-pile this weekend. I drunk-texted him from the bar, he said he'd be asleep on the couch. Ended up puppy-piling. He's cuddly.

And what do I call him? Friends with benefits doesn't quite fit the situation, with him being my partner's son. Hence the realization last night that I have a Partner and I have 2 Boyfriends. I like my life right now. I'm having fun, my mind is engaged, I'm looking good, and I'm taking steps to get even better.
I'm looking forward to the next year, see what it will bring.

Revisiting some words...

....that I've written. I'll add to it, believe me, but these are a couple of my previously published faves.
************************************************
For S (*waves*)

Compelled

He was young. He was only 21. Reminded me a lot of someone acting a part out from a movie. But a gangster movie. Godfather, Goodfellas… Something like that. That low quiet manner that says “Fuck with me and you’re dead”. I’ve always been a huge fan of that attitude. Usually it gets me into trouble, but that’s OK. ‘Cause when I went to the guys who have a gentle manner, who aren’t rough ‘n’ tumble, then I just got my heart broke.

But him? I knew his type. Best if you just fucked ‘em and then let them go, or stay, or do what they like. But you’re not the girlfriend, don’t ever go thinking you’re the girlfriend. So you have no hold on them… But his type? His type is fun and it was time for a little ‘his type’.
We had made arrangements, spur of the moment. He was going to come over and we were going to fuck. That’s about as basic as you can get. I was incredibly horny. I had been thinking about this for the two hours it took for him to get to my place. My hands started wandering. I was wearing a sarong, with a tshirt. I had left my bra on, didn’t want to seem too eager, but pinched my nipples until they ached anyway. Started fingering myself, anxious for him to arrive. I watched the door as I ran my fingertips around and around my clit, getting wetter and wetter, thinking about him catching the skin of my neck in his teeth. I could still feel that delicious little nip.

The door opened, he saw me with my hand in my sarong and smiled. Beautiful blue eyes drinking me in, coming towards me on the bed. I pushed myself up onto my knees. He lightly grazed his hand onto my face, leaned in and kissed me slow and deep and lush. It was soft and hard all at once. I wrapped my upper body around his, sucking and nipping his lips, his tongue. He grabbed my tshirt by the hem and pulled it over my head. I started running my hands all over his body, staring at him, kissing him.

He reached his hand down, found the opening to my sarong. Running his hand up, he placed his thumb on my clit and pressed in, then started massaging as he started fucking his fingers into my pussy. I began moving my hips to match his rhythm. I quickly removed his shirt, tugging it over his head. Moved my hands to the button on his jeans, pulled the zipper down over his hardness.

I had to touch his chest. Covered in glorious texture, it was irresistible. I kept running my hands over and over his chest as I kissed him, as he continued fucking me with his fingers. He smelled like nothing and yet like everything. His presence consumed me. I felt like I was in a whirlwind, touching and fondling and licking and sucking.

I was touching him, leaning up to kiss him. He started nipping my neck, my shoulders, all the while finger fucking me with his thumb on my clit. The orgasm came out of nowhere, no warning, just upon me. He pulled off my sarong with his free hand, lifted his other hand to his mouth, licked each finger almost delicately. He leaned over me to kiss me. I could taste my juices on his lips. He reached around and before I could blink my bra had joined the rest of my clothes. He bent further, started mouthing my nipples, leaning me back onto the bed, his fingers continually moving in and out, his thumb beating a quick tattoo on my clit. He leaned me back, chewing on my nipples, nipping my ribcage.

I kept fondling him, touching where I could touch, scratching and rubbing him, spread eagled on the bed with his hand between my thighs. He kissed me again, hot and sweet. He slowly quit manipulating my pussy, moved his hands to my breasts, pulling and tweaking my nipples. He laid beside me, continuing to fondle, kiss. My beautiful cunny was tingling, dripping juices dampening my thighs. I kneeled up over him, straddled his hips. He continued pulling and tweaking my nipples, looking at me as though he wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do, but enjoying it all the same. His hard cock told me that.

I rubbed that hard cock up and down my cleft, circles around my clit. Shivers ran through my body. I had taken him by surprise. I could see that in his face. Had anyone taken charge with him before, or was this all new to him? The thought of taking over this beautiful man’s sexual experience was enough to drive me insane. I plunged myself down on his cock, taking it in one motion, sealing my wet sheath to his groin.

His blue blue eyes widened, feeling me surrounding him. I kept staring at him, gripping his hot cock in my cunt, milking him with just my muscles. Rubbing that wonderfully furry chest and watching him wrap his brain around what he was feeling with my pussy clenched so tightly around his beautiful cock.

I began moving up and down on his cock, slow, measured strokes. I wiggled my hips every time I hit bottom. He kept twisting and turning his head, trying to escape me watching him. I followed him with my gaze. He grabbed my hips, tried to set the rhythm… I wouldn't let him. I ignored his attempts, and kept up my own pace, in and out with that little wiggle and a clench at the bottom of every stroke.

I reached down to his hands still gripping my hips, still holding me, trying to set pace. I moved my legs down his so I was face to face with him, with my tits on his chest, my feet between his knees and his ankles. I was rubbing my clit all along his cock, bottoming out, a little clench, soaking him down with every stroke. He kept arching his back, lifting his hips, thrusting deeper into me. I was supported completely on his chest, my hands at his on my hips, just moving my hips to rub on his cock.

I grabbed his wrists. His eyes widened again. In one movement I pulled up my knees so I was kneeling again, sat down hard on his cock, pulled his wrists above his head and held him down with my hands. I started pounding my cunt onto his cock fast and hard and deep. I wanted to lean forward and tell him ‘Fuck me NOW’.

He was gone. He was shaking, moaning. I came again, snapping my pussy down hard on his pulsing cock, flooding him. He was soaked. I screwed my cunt down hard on his cock while I came, gripping, throbbing, squeezing his cock hard. He arched his back, roared like an animal and then came, shooting his seed deep into me. I held his hands above his head, twitching and pulsing around him.

****************************************************************************************************

And a tip o'the hat to MonMouth, long may he blog! (from his 2005 blogversary)

On The Way...

It was on the way to Mon’s party. I had stopped to pick the blog-boy up just a little something. I was on my way through the underground station, going up the stairs. Then a queue. Something was happening on the street, but they couldn’t tell us before we started up, no… I stopped along with everyone else.

Because of the amount of people in the stairwell, nobody was moving anywhere. Bodies were pressing into each other. I was breathing the over-perfumed dead-thing of a coat on the woman in front of me. Someone was pressing into me. Because of the angles, I really could not see who it was. It was a man, though, I could tell that, not only from the hardness of his body, but his hand was on the rail next to mine. Large hand, strong hand… Light sprinkling of hair right where the band of his watch met the base of his hand.

The crowd behind me pushed forward slightly. I felt him push into me, centering on my ass. I gasped, pulled my head back from the woman’s coat, afraid I’d smother in the scent of gardenias. I felt his hands, suddenly on my waist. “Steady.” I felt his breath hot against my ear and neck as he pulled me towards him slightly. The woman in front of me turned, smiled and nodded and then turned back around. I had leaned back even further to avoid that hideous coat. He breathed again in my ear, sending shivers throughout my skin.

“So push back again if you mean yes. Otherwise, we’ll just chalk it up to being crowded.” He waited. I took stock of where I was, and what could happen. I also took note of the sudden rush of dampness to my thighs, the pebbling of my nipples. I took a deep breath, feeling his hands strong on my waist. I leaned back, deliberately pushing my ass towards him. He ran his hands down my sides, feeling my hips and my garters through the thin wool of my dress. He ran his tongue along the rim of my ear, again sending a wave across my skin. He pushed his now hard cock into the cleft of my ass, pulling me towards him. I pressed into him.

Suddenly, pressure in the stairwell eased. The crowd above was dispersing, people were moving. I held onto his hands at my waist and we walked up onto the street. He could have easily pulled away… He didn’t. I could have quickly walked away… I didn’t.

We made our way to a small alleyway between the buildings. We moved as far back from the street as we could. “Condom?” He breathed into my neck once again, still behind me. I fumbled in my purse, pulled one out, handed it back to him. He pushed my skirt up to my waist, put my hands on it to hold it, pushed me over ever so slightly. He unzipped his pants. I was turned on enough by this time I could feel my dampness halfway to my knees. Placing a hand on my dolphin tattoo, I heard him open the condom with his teeth, felt his free hand fumble, putting it on. He stroked my tattoo, causing me to shiver again.

Still stroking my tattoo, his other hand ran down the crack of my ass straight into my pussy. He curled his fingers, wiggling them, and made it feel as if there were ten hands stroking me instead of just one. I gasped, pushed back towards him, arching my back. I braced one hand on the wall in front of me, the other was still ridiculously holding my skirt up for him.

He left off stroking my tattoo, and still running his fingers all over my pussy, grabbed the hand still holding my dress. He maneuvered my hand around my hip to my groin, pressing his condom-covered cock into the Y formed where my legs met my ass.

“Touch yourself.” He moved his other hand back to stroke my dolphins, trace their pattern again into my skin. I began to slowly, almost languidly, move my fingers in circles around my clit. The softness of the wool quickly soaked up my juices, became damp in my hand. He began pressing his fingers into me, first one, then two… Then he began stroking. I gasped again, pushed back onto his fingers, quickly catching the rhythm.

His firm cock slowly replaced his fingers. He stretched me, the dampness now seeping down my stocking covered legs towards my shoes. Still stroking my clit, I could feel every inch of him pressing into me, his balls slapping against my ass as he fucked into me. I kept rubbing my clit, lightly, now that he was inside me. I was milking him with my muscles, drawing up then releasing in the rhythm of his fucking. I left off teasing my clit to brace myself fully against the wall, slam my pussy back onto his cock, multiplying the pressure, feeling like I was adding inches to the strokes. He moved into me faster. I couldn’t keep up the contraction of my muscles with the speed of his strokes, gave up trying, instead wildly pulsing around his thick cock.

I came, openmouthed and panting, pressing hard back onto him. His cock swelled, pressed. He shouted his pleasure, once, then groaned, leaning over my back, my neck, pulling me into him, the rhythm unsteady, easing up. He slipped out of me, pushed away. I heard the sound of the condom being pulled off, thrown away down the alley. Then a mouth, hot and hard against my tattoo.

Footsteps, going away towards the street. I pulled my dress down, bent to pick up my purse. Thankfully it hadn’t spilled. I turned, caught a glimpse of a tall man, dark hair, nice suit turning onto the street opposite of where I should have been headed. Making my way to the street on my unsteady knees, I joined the sidewalk crowd, turning right where he had turned left.

It boded well for Mon’s party, I thought. 

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As I said, I'll write more....soon. Inspired, methinks.

i found a picture of you....

It's always a bit disquieting to me to go through old pictures. People I will never see again, places I can never go again, it's all really quite maudlin. Or at least it always seems that way to me, going through my own pictures. Now, other people's pictures, that's another story. I love going to antique stores and flipping through the pictures. Someone else's life. You can make up stories to go along with the pictures. "This is the summer they finally made it to the beach without Aunt Margaret complaining all the time. Of course, her and Uncle Harry were in Boca that year..."
I ended up last night showing Mako some of the people I've known in the past. I wanted her to see part of what I was, part of who went into me, part of that which is me. There was George, that bad picture of TD, IdiotBoy (of course!)...I didn't show her PB, nor did I show her mine own Archangel (and you won't see him either. Scout's honor.). They were in the other box.

They were in the other box.... So let's go through, shall we? Both boxes, this time?

George(1)... I hesitate to say his last name, to out him in so public a forum, frankly. Reduce my liability and all that. I will say I was taking some good pictures back then. Walked around with my dad's old Yashica around my neck snapping whatever pictures struck my fancy. I could handle that SLR like nobody's business. Met him at Rocky, he was wearing leather armor (YUM!) and we basically fell into bed for a couple of weeks. Through him I met Dwayne (no pictures of him, sorry) and ended up with Dwayne for about 8 months or so.
TD(3)... One of the very few pictures of him I have. There's another one, you can at least see some of his face, kinda... oooh boy. He was... I won't say he was a mistake, but I should have run far and fast. This was at Donna's in Albuquerque. It's all well and good to say I should have run, but I didn't. I ended up wasting a lot of my time with him, learned how to NOT treat people, got some incredible orgasms and learned very hard and very fast that I couldn't count on anyone, really, beyond myself, at least at that time. And when it comes down to it now, I can count on the fingers of one hand now who I can guarantee would be there if I made it absolutely clear I need you. I live with one, Mako is another. TD was very definitely NOT one I could count on. It goes without saying I turned him over to the universe to take care of. He wasn't worth the karmic debt.
Ah, Peter (2). One of my gays. Great kisser. Yes, I said he was gay and yes, I said he was a great kisser. We ended up on his couch one night after bar. It started in the bar, to be sure, and wasn't really the alcohol, although that lubed things, so to speak. It was the music and the mood of the night and the whole "What the fuck!" about just everything... I was 'on', he was, too. Great kisser. Last I heard from him, he was in Albq, living with someone (yay!), T-cells still at good levels. I fear he is dead now and I miss him very much.
Graduation!(4) Mine, that is, as if you couldn't tell. He is my best friend of the time, Jasen. He, I fear, is caught balls deep in a bad relationship. I reached out and was rebuffed twice, which stung very badly. I say bad relationship, but I really mean cruel, abusive, obsessive and toxic. Still. Twice, and then rebuffed, and no way to get ahold of him. Sad sort of write off, and the type I hate the most. My nurturing instincts cringe. Still, it was a happy day. And I looked good. My hair behaved!
Ah...The artist (5). I won't say his name, mainly because he is the ONLY guy I have EVER met who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone and you can't ever get away from knowing someone who knows him or knows of him. I was here for Sis' wedding and met someone at the wedding who knew him. I was in fucking JAPAN and met someone who knew him (at the food court area, Atsugi, during one of my many walks)... Forget Kevin Bacon, it really should be 6 degrees from this guy. So. That's that guy. He kinda pissed me off. Has a real desire to be really passionate about everything, but ends up not having a passion about anything because he is so very jaded at such a young age. Oh, but THAT'S another thing!! Fucker showed me a very very good fake id. HE WAS A MINOR! I could have gone to jail! Fucker!
PB. (6) Only 2 pictures I have of him. I worry about him, I hope he is ok. He is a very shining soul. He basically disappeared. I'm letting him stay disappeared, but I know where he's at. He's held a place since I was 12. Will always, but.
But.
One of the games I play with myself is 'What would I do if X walked through the door?' With PB the answer is I don't really know. I'd like to trip him again and beat him to the floor. Just thinkin' about him turns me on. I wouldn't leave Sic-un for him, I know that. Sic-un is stalwart, steadfast,stickier than static cling, thank the god/dess. I can trust Sic-un, easy. He's mine. PB? Um. Hm. Depends. Is he gonna stick around again or is he gonna disappear again?
Craig. (7)Beautiful Craig. He liked to tease, but had no libido for women. Gorgeous, though. Smart, fun, witty. That was out at the cruise area in 1990. We went to go laugh at the lizards picking up young, gorgeous trannies. Fun times...
Jeff. (8)Oh, and Ed's in the picture too. Jeff. He was hung like a horse and didn't know thing one about using it. I still managed to get off, but it was a hit-or-miss proposition. Great guy, though. Marriage material, definitely. He'd be a great father, too. Laid back, one hell of a kisser. Gave me my worst hickey ever. I looked like I had been punched. My upper lip was solid black on the left side and the bruise from the hickey went up to just below my EYE. Beer drinker. Tip for beer drinkers: Eat cucumbers and pineapple and drink apple juice to kill the taste of beer in your cum. Please.
Another of the Artist...(9)
High school grad pic.(10) yours truly. Mako said she'd do me at 18. Hell, I'd do me at 18! I was cute! Hate the hair, though. Don't remember it being that... fluffy.
Dave... (11)Hot kisser. Clingy girlfriend, hot kisser. Figures, doesn't it?
The Last (12). Won't waste more time on him. He had 10 years of me. That's enough.



And oh, look... There's Con-man mowing the snow that one winter. And my Bear-baby, beautiful lady. Miss your softness, Suzbear, need your chin-nip.

See? Maudlin.