Pirate

I'm dating a pirate.

Remember "The Date".  Well, it turns out he's busy preparing for another career (laughing).  This is how our texts went:

"Hey there, how's your day going", I asked him.

"I hate people"

"Um Sweetie, you're in a people profession".

"People suck"

"LOL, poor baby, I'm sorry".

"I'm gonna become a pirate".

"Laughing still, why a pirate".

"When people piss me off, I can just make them walk the plank".

"Mean pirate", I texted back laughing.

The next day, I text him again to ask how is day is going. 

"Work sucks"

"Well, that is why they call it WORK and not PLAY"

"And that's why I'm gonna be a pirate.  Work be play".

And on another day, he texted me, "I'm running away to the islands.  Wanna come?"

"Sure, how long are we staying?"

"I'm not coming back".

"How we going to live?  This girl's got to eat".

"I told you - I'm gonna be a pirate".

"You just want to plunder and pillage and ravish the wenches".

"Tis a pirate's life fer me!!!"

Hmm, if I'm dating a pirate - does that mean I'm a wench?  Laughing.

I am a good girl

Thanksgiving Trade

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The Date

I had wanted to get a little into my weekend w Harley.  However, now that I'm actually sitting in front of the laptop writing, I feel more like writing about my date last weekend.

 

The entire evening was a bit surreal to me.  Many factors contributed to that feeling, but the first might be the most difficult to understand - "dates" are kind of rare for me.  Obviously, I go out.  As I think about it, it's hard to explain how it felt different.  What felt weird was that I wasn't expecting him to ask me out.  In most of my dates, I either hinted pretty strongly or I just asked myself if they'd like to do something.  Another weirdness was that he planned everything.  Except for what time he was picking me up, I had no real clue what to expect.  Okay, he had said dinner so I was expecting food.  Guys, a little hint here, girls hate not knowing what to wear.  This is where he did another unexpected act - he texted me the day we were to go out saying that since I had to dress up every day for work, that he was thinking casual.  Rachel was going to get fed and Rachel knew what to wear - Rachel was happy.

 

This brings me to the last point of weirdness.  I don't like admitting that I have a "type", but I'd be lying to myself.  Most of the men in my life, even the Boyfriend, have a very athletic build.  My date was not the athletic looking sort.

 

Enough of the weirdness, what about the actual date part of the date.  He picked me up at home.  I had offered to meet him somewhere, but I have also come to learn some guys are pretty sensitive on picking their date up at home.  I felt safe w him, so had no issue w his coming to my house.  I decided to wear my favorite jeans; my favorite pair because they make my ass look fantastic.  I also wore a sexy pair of heels w a reasonably skimpy blouse.  I was pretty sure he'd be impressed.  We went to a casual steakhouse.  I love steak.  I think he was nervous because he never shut up.  I have known him through work for years and never known him to say more than a few words.  He was a bit manic telling funny story after story.  He kept me smiling and I learned a little bit about him.  He may not have looked it, but he was quite the athlete in school playing offensive lineman during high school and college.  Between football and his grades, he was able to score a small scholarship to a small college.  A few serious relationships w one being really serious . . . right up until he found her sleeping w his best friend.  His secret desire is to write a novel.  He's started dozens, but never finished a single one.  I was able to commiserate w him on this.  I told him that I'm great w beginnings, its ending that I suck at.

 

We walked over to a nearby "World of Beer".  It was a place to sit and talk.  I was pretty sure he was getting more comfortable when he slowed down w the manic monologue and began working on getting me talking.  There was also a theatre nearby and we rather impulsively decided to take in the last showing.  I love going out to the movies.  I just don't do it very often because I don't go by myself.  I had never been to this theatre before and it was awesome!  Okay, not trying to bore you w the trivial details, but this is leading to something.  It had been good evening and I was feeling playful.  During the movie, I hooked my arms around his arm and leaned into him.  Of course, the playful part was getting into just the right position so that my breasts pressed into his arm.  A little later, he used his other arm to cup my face and tilt me up for a kiss.  I hadn't seen that coming!!!  I like a man that just does.  A little more time passed and I hadn't noticed that he hadn't moved his other arm back, instead keeping it on mine.  And I nearly missed it at first, it was so soft and subtle.  His fingers were ever so gently caressing my breast.  It was actually kind of cute.  He was so daring w his kiss and being cautious at copping a feel.  After a bit, when his it was obvious I had to be aware of his touch, I pressed into him some.  He took that as silent permission, which it was, to continue.

 

The evening ended w his driving me home and walking me to my door.  And yes, we kissed again.

 

 

I Have A Date

I have fallen into a very bad habit.  In reading back over my last several posts, they have all been related to FFF.  It's a problem only in that I focus on a story and then mentally kick myself for not writing about the other thoughts running through my head.  I also think writing FFF was easier than focusing on me.  I will still do FFF; just gonna limit the time I spend so I can include other things too.

 

The first thing worth mentioning is that I have a date tonight.  Yea me!!!  Okay, truth is, I am not all that excited.  I have been second guessing going out for the last two days.  I was working up my nerve to call him yesterday to cancel, but he called me first just to tell me how excited he was.  Now, without being a total bitch, how in the heck was I going to cancel after he said all of that?  I don't know if I have a "type" of guy that I prefer to date or not.  I don't know if women have a "type" or, if we did, would we admit it to ourselves (that might be an interesting blog question someday . . . for someone w a lot of followers . . . hint).  Okay, so if tonight's date is not my typical date, then why am I going out w him.  Timing is everything and he asked at exactly the right time.

 

Which brings me to the second Rachel thing that's blog worthy - I went to Biketoberfest w Harley last weekend.  I said he'd been throwing out the "hey there's" again.  I hadn't thought about Biketoberfest being right around the corner.  I had a great time because I was w Harley.  Harley had a great time because it was a weekend of beer, bikes, and boobs.  Laughing. 

 

Speaking of boobs, wet t-shirt contests are pretty much a mandatory event.  Needless to say, we took in a few (I'm sure Harley had us there at contest time by accident).  I'm curious what you think of the girl below?

 

 

I thought she was kinda cute.

 

 

 

 

 

She's me.  Yes, I did a wet t-shirt contest.  Again.  Okay, to be honest, these particular photos are not from this year.  These were taken of me from another show a few years ago.  But I think you get the general idea of what Rachel brings to the stage.  :)

 

Circling back to my date tonight.  I know Harley.  I knew when we returned to the real world that he would probably pull a vanishing act.  I can't really say that he has yet.  We've texted.  But as the week progressed, I didn't want to be sitting at home thinking about him.  During one of my kicking Rachel moments, my date tonight asked me out to dinner.  And later, I felt bad because maybe the reason I said "yes" was not the best - but what was I supposed to do when he told me how much he was looking forward to it.  One of the things he'd said was that he had not stopped smiling since I had said yes. 

 

Okay, time to go make myself look real pretty for him.  He deserves it.

 

 

FFF

Story One

The Old One picked his way carefully across the cemetery; mindful to avoid walking across the honored warriors buried beneath the ground and equally cautious to avoid treading upon the dead warriors scattered above the ground.  The latter would soon be joining the former in this holy ground.  The victory was costly.  He silently prayed the spilled was worth it.

 

The Old One, w the spilled blood still warm, extended the invitation to discuss surrender at nightfall.  Walking to meet their war lord, he remembered waiting w General Lee for Grant at Appomattox Court House.  He remembered  Lee being resplendent in his dress Greys.  Lee was ever the gentleman.  Grant arrived straight from the battlefield, muddy and rumpled, in his Union Blues.  The Old One approached the agreed upon location to discuss terms of surrender, a specified grave site he knew well from his past.  He laughed silently at his memory of Lee and Grant.  Like the Yankee General, he was walking muddied and rumpled straight from the battlefield.  He wondered if his opponent would assume the role of a resplendent Lee.

The defeated war lord was no Lee, but then who was he thought.  He stood waiting and he was not alone.  His wife had joined him.

And she was naked.

"I had not thought you would come", she said from her perch.

"Given your dress, I rather suspect you DID think I would come," he challenged. 

She smiled demurely, which only emphasized her nakedness all the more, before responding, "given the circumstances, it seemed appropriate".

The Old One said nothing in response, instead turning to the defeated war lord who asked, "your terms, sir?"

"You and your army need only take an 'Oath of Loyalty' to the Pack".

"You are as kind as you are strong sir.  I thank you on behalf of my young pups".

"And me" she asked from her perch.

Silence was his response.

Jumping down, she slowly walked to him.  She stood in front of him, neither of them saying a word, for the longest time.  "You've changed", she said softly.

"Broken hearts do that".

She maybe thought of saying more, but realized more words would have been wasted.  For her, there was but one thing to do.  Getting onto her knees, she whispered, " I submit, Old One".

==========================================================

Story Two

Cemeteries turned her on.  He did not know what it was about them.  He could buy her roses or bring her a fresh kill; nothing compared to how wet she became in a cemetery. 

Cemeteries made her wet . . . and wild.  He really liked the wild.  She became a beast.  And when she became a beast, then he was free to go full wolf.

Tonight, she had been especially wet . . . and wild.

They wrestled fairly aggressively for a long while before he spun her around onto her hands and knees.  Then he entered her from behind.  Riding her, her hips firmly in his grasp, he began to growl louder and louder.  He brought the wolf then. Literally.  One moment, he was a young man riding his girlfriend, the next he was the wolf claiming his bitch.

Afterwards, she perched atop a headstone, looking down upon his tired and pleased body, in triumph.  She had done this to him.   

But then she wanted more.

"You could become one of the Pack warriors if you wanted . . . maybe one of the sub-leaders".  She saw herself being supportive.  He didn't.

"I'm happy now though . . . I'm not interested in that", he tried to tell her again.  It was not a new argument for them.  He did not like conflict and had no desire for power.  He was happy being in the background.  But, she wanted power and status.  And she did not understand anyone who did not want the same.

They ended the discussion that night like they did every night - w a kiss and mournful parting.  But, as he watched her leave him that night, he knew, there would be no more invitations to meet at nightfall.  He wasn't enough.

He watched her walk away that evening; neither of them knowing that he would one day become far more than a mere warrior for the Pack.

The Old One was not always the Old One.  He was once young.  And this was the day his heart was broken.


 

FFF

The Old One faced the open window stroking the cat nestled in his arms.

 

"War is coming," he said, seemingly to the cat before turning to face the couple standing behind him.

 

They said nothing in response.  Like many before them, they had failed to appreciate the strength of the Pack.

 

"I can keep the body count low . . . " he said w a long pause before adding, " . . . but it will require a peaceful gesture".

 

"Anything, I'll do anything", the man said quickly in desperation.

 

The Old One smiled. 

 

"You will simply need to sit here and share a drink w me . . . "

 

"Gladly", the man responded.

 

"Your witch however . . . ", and she made eye contact w him for the first time since entering the room in defeat, " . . . made many disparaging remarks about the Pack . . . and attempted many unpleasant spells . . . she will need to . . . how shall I say it . . . 'earn' their forgiveness".

 

The cat - her familiar - leapt from the Old One's arms and began to stroll to the open door.

 

"Follow the cat . . . ", he said before pausing again, " . . . naked".

 

FFF

He hated her.

 

He hated those damned earrings her gave her.

 

She'd ruined his life.

 

But men could not be sexually harassed.  And especially not by a drop dead gorgeous woman . . . now matter how big a soul sucking bitch she was.

 

He'd lost his wife, his family, his home, and even his fucking collection of Superman comic books because his wife demanded those in the divorce.  He'd lost his reputation.  At work, everyone saw him as "her boy" . . . no matter that he earned this job long before she was hired and not a damned one of them could put up w her behind closed doors.

 

But no more.

 

Tyler Durden understood, "he that's lost everything is free to do anything".

 

Commanded again to perform, he 'encouraged' her to bend over her desk.  Grim faced, he flipped his tie over his shoulder and slid into her.  Slipping into her, he decided this was the last time. 

 

"How does she always manage to be so wet?" 

 

He lubed himself up on her wetness more for him than her pleasure.  Holding her firmly across her desk, he pulled all the way out of her.  Eyeing his goal, he smiled, she did not know what was coming.

 

When he began pressing back inside of her, it was her ass he was claiming.

 

She started to move away, but was trapped in his grip against the desk. 

 

Fucking her ass until he was done w her, he said, "consider this my resignation".

 

 

Confession: I Was Married Once

It happened not long after Harley left me for the first time.

 

I think I've said before, but I doubt y'all will recall - Harley and I lived together for quite a while many years ago.  The age difference didn't matter to me.  And I don't think it matter any to Harley.  He's very outgoing and his friends were always over.  He never tried to exclude me from any of their activities.  I was excited to come home every day after work.  I wanted to be everything he ever wanted in a wife.  And yeah, while he hadn't proposed, I dreamed that he would eventually.  I've often thought this was one of the happiest times of my life.

 

He left to return to his first wife because he missed seeing his kids every day.  I was married a few months later.  Aside from mom's dying, this was the worst time of my life.

 

It was the cliché rebound relationship.  I knew it was a mistake pretty soon after we were married, but I was honestly determined to make it work.  Looking back, I tried a whole lot harder than I should have.  I was young and naïve.  I felt guilty, like it was my fault for holding him to an unfair standard (Harley).  I took the blame for anytime he got angry.  I thought I was a stronger woman than that - that I would never let myself be in an abusive relationship.  And yet, there I was, taking the blame for when he lost his temper . . . and for getting beaten. 

 

One night, the last night we were together, I had rushed home from work to fix dinner.  When you're in that kind of relationship, you can feel another outburst coming on.  In my warped brain, I thought I could make everything like it used to be when we first got married by having dinner ready when he got home and maybe wearing something sexy for him.  (Now that I think about it, this maybe has something to do w my not being all that great a cook.  Most of his outbursts happened either when I was cooking or right afterwards - because of his drinking and not my cooking, thank you very much.)  When he got home, I could tell he'd been drinking again.  He was always more angry after he'd been drinking.  He saw me in a very shear nightgown and immediately wanted sex.  I don't know, I guess I should have been flattered, but he stank of sweat and beer, and his erections always lasted forever when he was drunk.  I had fully planned on putting out after dinner.  Dinner was going to get ruined.  I was starving.  And he stank.  I just didn't want to be underneath him forever and then eat a ruined dinner.  I tried to encourage him to eat first.  A little something in his stomach would also help sober him up.  In hindsight, maybe I should have just gone to the bedroom and laid down.  When he was done, he probably would have just rolled over, gone to sleep, and I could have found something to eat alone in the living room.  But I didn't.  He got angry and began accusing me of all sorts of things.  He always accused me of sleeping around when he was angry (and, for the record, I had not once).  He threw dinner off the stove making a mess and burning me a little bit w the splatter.  When I got angry, he smacked me to the ground as well.  Then he stormed out to be w people that appreciated him more, he said; code to drink more.

 

I cried on the kitchen floor for what seemed like hours.  The thing that motivated me to call 911 was knowing he had gone out to drink more and would be even worse when he got back.  Making that call was one of the hardest things I had ever done.

 

The police were there in seconds.  There was an officer who lived in the complex and he came running over from his apartment.  Several cars soon arrived.  I was embarrassed at the attention.  Being Harley's ex made me fairly well known.

I was completely shocked when I saw Harley rush into our apartment a few minutes later . . . with my dad right behind him.  Daddy told me later that one of the officers on scene first had called Harley who had then stopped to get him.  The two men I loved most in the world were there on either side of me - and they had apparently already decided I was leaving that night.  Now that I think about it, there never was any real discussion.  Daddy just packed my car and drove me home.  Harley followed and stayed until the officers radioed that they had my ex in custody (I would have loved to have seen his face when the police came into the bar to get him).

I was divorced a short time later.

 

 

Harley Returns

I am my own worst enemy.

 

Harley texted out of the blue this past week.  Nothing special.  His standard "hey there".  It had been a pretty crummy week, Harley's text came at the right moment to boost my spirits, and so I texted right back.  I went w the equally eloquent "hey".

 

Fortunately, we soon moved past our initial mutual guardedness and proceeded to blow up each other's phone.  All he would say was that he had been thinking about me - not what caused him to start thinking about me or what he had been thinking or anything - in other words it was probably mostly just a line.  I didn't care.  I ranted about everything f'ing wrong in my world. 

 

He's continued to text through the week.  No hints about wanting to see me or anything.  But the texts are beginning to get more flirty.  I figure its either a matter of time or he's positioning me to make an overture.

 

When enough time passes, I do okay at getting through most days w/o thinking about him.  As long as I haven't been drinking, then I can usually resist the urges to reach out to him.  But when he reaches out to me again, I just don't have it in me to not respond. 

 

And its always so complicated when I do respond.  Don't be too guarded, but don't be too aggressive.  Don't be too critical, but don't pretend like its completely okay he fell off the face of the earth again.  Don't sound like your schedule is packed full, but don't sound like you've just been sitting and waiting on his call either.  Like now, he's probably positioning me to suggest we go out some night soon, but I've learned that he almost never goes when I make the suggestion first.  When anything else gets this complicated I walk away.  But I can't w Harley.  At the end of this complicated dance, is happiness because we're together . . . .

 

. . . until he goes away again.

A while back, a very dear friend suggested a video about me and Harley's dysfunctional complicated dance (YouTube: The Friend Zone).  I went back today and watched it again several times. 

 

FFF

 

"Who does this remind you of", Therapist asked the group.

 

It was a bizarre group.  A group of women, all w man issues, in a group being led by a man.  Sometimes, to get things started, he would show them a picture and ask them what it reminded them of.  Since it was a bizarre group - he showed bizarre pictures.  Her favorite had to be the angel sitting at a table drinking Jack straight from the bottle.  It reminded her of her. 

 

Most described a fight w their boyfriend.  One where he apologized for whatever sin he had committed, thought they would want to immediately spread their legs, then whining w insistence till they said yes.

 

"Rachel", Therapist asked turning to her.

 

"Harley".

 

"After a fight", someone prompted.

 

"I see photo guy being like my boyfriends - all but for Harley -  asking to fuck; then whining if I'm not in the mood." 

 

"You thought of Harley because he is not like all the others," Therapist said, "what does he do that's different".

 

"He doesn't ask".

 

 



The Boyfriend's Booty Call Concludes

Boyfriend took me out to a local sports bar.  Yes guys, I am that girl who likes to drink beer, watch football, and fuck.  We had a great night out.  The beer was cold.  The waitresses were hot.  The games were great.  It was maybe one of the best nights I can recall ever out w the Boyfriend.

 

We even had a few semi-serious conversations about our relationship.  And that's something we just never do!  He had been staring at me and smiling.  It was a little disconcerting.  I asked him several time - "what".  He would just change the subject or make some dorky comment about me being pretty (like I'm not smart enough to see through that).  Now, we weren't fighting.  It was more playful than anything. 

Finally, I told him if he ever expected to get head again, he had better speak.  He said that was kind of what he was thinking about.  "What, wanting head again", I said back laughing.

"That's not what I meant - and yes maybe when we get back to the apartment - I meant in all the years we've been together, you have never told me no".  At first I said how I told him no all the time; that I maybe disagreed w him too much.  That's when he leaned forward onto the table and in his serious Boyfriend voice (I rarely get the serious Boyfriend voice) said, "you know what I mean (I really didn't), you have never told me 'no' when I've wanted to make love". 

 

I think its funny how life does things.  Daddy and I will be watching a game, he'll make some bizarre comment and a few seconds later the announcer will make the same comment.  I write a post about not saying "no" to the Boyfriend and, about a month later, he's making the same comment.  Daddy is always asking if ESPN has a microphone in our house.  Guess I should wonder if the Boyfriend has found my blog.

 

He started telling me about the guys in his office and how they were all bitching about sex; specifically, the lack of sex.  Apparently, they struck out at home far more often than they got laid.  He said that's when he started thinking and realized that he had not struck out once; not ever.  "The more I thought about you always being there whenever I needed you . . . the more I needed you". 

I responded back to the Boyfriend that taking care of him was kind of like my job.  He said he liked that, but added that our relationship "under construction" at the moment and he didn't know what I would do.  This is the closest we have come to having a serious conversation about my moving out. 

I apologized for making things complicated.  He shocked me when he said he completely understood - the car accident and Mom's dying - "it had to feel like your world was falling apart".  "I understand you need some time to sort things out.  Later, we can see if we both still want the same things and if we want to try again".  For the Boyfriend, this was a deep relationship discussion!

The beer, the food, the games, the talk, I was feeling pretty good by the time we returned to his apartment.  In the bathroom, I remembered his original request earlier that evening about me being naked and I smiled, "why not".  However, I decided to add a little kink to his request - I came out of the bathroom totally naked except for my heels.

I found him in the kitchen.  He took one look at me and his smile was all the appreciation I needed.  I walked into his open arms for a series of kisses.  Its very submissive and sexy being naked in a pair of high heels w your lover fully clothed.  In time, he took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom.

He sat me on the edge of the bed.  Then, lifting my legs into the air, he lowered himself onto his knees and tasted my wetness.  When he stood up, he lowered my legs and grabbed my arm to spin my head towards the edge of the bed.  I had an idea what was expected.  He lowered his pants and I opened my lips to receive him.  We went back and forth like this for a while.  He would get on his knees between my legs for a while, then he would stand and pull my mouth back onto his dick. 

When he was ready, he had me stay on the bed, but get onto my hands and knees.  Standing, he came up behind me.  He slid into me w ease.  Taking my hair into his hands he pulled my head up and then just stood there deep inside of me.  He let go of my hair and pushed my head gently down onto the mattress so that just my ass was sticking up into the air.  I love this position.  Taking my hips firmly into his grip, he began to thrust.  Gently at first, then harder and faster.  I don't know if it was whiskey dick or what, but he had amazing staying power.  He pounded me forever!!!!  The Boyfriend is not one to change positions once he starts fucking and I was totally okay w that this time. 

I love being an active aggressive participant in making love.  I also love being the willing vessel and just receiving.  That evening, high heels still on, my ass high up in the air, on my hands and knees, face buried in the mattress, I was enjoying being ridden hard by the Boyfriend. 

I can always tell when the Boyfriend is close to cumming.  He breathes a little different and grunts a little more.  Laughing.  The poor thing must have been on the edge for a very long time because he was making those familiar noises for a very long time.  When he did explode inside of me, I could tell he was totally spent.

I tried to move my head just a bit to look back at him, but he stopped me.

"Don't move", he panted almost like it was all he could do to say that much. 

"Okay", I said laughing, "I won't.  But you ought to sit down".

"Not yet . . . I'm right where I want to be".

I smiled and stayed right where I was.  I'm not really sure how long I stayed there like that for him.  I kept my head on the mattress, closed my eyes, and just let him enjoy being inside my well-fucked sheath.

 All in all, I would say the Boyfriend did pretty well for his "booty call".



By Request

Advizor asked me to finish the story.  There really isn't that much to tell, but far be it for me to leave him wanting.   :)

 

I changed to go over.  I know, it seemed kind of silly to me also to get dressed knowing that I was going to get undressed as soon as I got there.  To my defense, I had decided he was going to take me out for dinner and drinks after he got his dick sucked.  Mostly, it had been a long week and I wanted to get drunk.  Boyfriend could be my DD.  And I figured that after swallowing his cum and a fair amount of top shelf alcohol that I'd be wanting to get laid as well.  I changed into my local slutty clothes. What I will wear around my hometown is considerably different from what I will wear out of town.  In this case, I put on a very low cut sheer blouse, painted on blue jeans, and my favorite pair of black heels.  My goal was sexy enough to have the Boyfriend change his mind and want me to stay clothed.

 

Arriving, the Boyfriend almost seemed surprised to see me.  I said laughing that if he wasn't all that excited, then maybe I should go on back home and turned like I was going to leave.  He damned near leaped to grab my shoulders shouting that he was excited and led me into the living room.  He said he was afraid I might change my mind or was just teasing him.  I made it very clear to him that I had never left him hanging . . . or erect I should maybe say. 

 

We jabbered for a little bit about nothing of any importance.  I finally told him he was going to have to tell me when he was ready for me to get down on my knees for him.  He kind of laughed and said, "how about now".  Standing, because we had been sitting on the couch, I asked him again "in clothes or out".  The test - how sexy had I dressed.  "You do look nice", he said.  Smart man to compliment the girl getting ready to suck on his dick.  He had decided on "in clothes" when I suggested I take my top off . . . "in case any spills" (God forbid cause I do try to swallow it all).

 

He remained sitting on the couch like a king on his throne.  I kind of liked that image when I thought about it then.  I was surprised his dick was not hard when I set it free.  That was okay too though, I also like getting my lover hard in my mouth.  Men can't really know what that feels like.  Its a special feeling for a woman; at least, it is for me.  I like knowing that I am doing something my lover finds exciting and that he wants me.  Men are not always the most talkative, so I guess God found a way for the penis to do its talking for a man. 

 

I have learned that the Boyfriend responds best to my holding him deep in my mouth for prolonged periods alternating w vigorous head bobbing.  This blowjob progressed pretty quickly.  It had been a while for us.  And apparently it had been a long time for him!!!!  I swear he deposited a bucket full in my mouth!!!

 

The Boyfriend Texts For Help

The Boyfriend was blowing up my phone last night.  And before you say "so what", let me add that it would have been weird even before our relationship went onto the back burner.  The Boyfriend and texting are not exactly on friendly terms.  If that wasn't bizarre enough, Mr. I Don't Text is also trying to be funny.  Fair enough, I will give him his props, he was making me laugh. 

 

I'm was also trying to figure out what's up?

 

I was texting my friend Randi in between texting the Boyfriend back.  Randi knew immediately, "Rache, sweetie, what is every man thinking about any time he is texting a girl".

 

Duh - Rachel can be a little slow sometimes.  (And you men are such pigs - laughing).

 

Poor thing, he was bringing his A-game too.  Despite our relationship kind of being in limbo, I do love the Boyfriend.  Being flirtatious is not his strength.  I could almost imagine a gang of guys in his apartment feeding him lines to text.  I wish there were, we might have gotten to the point a little quicker.  As it was, we texted for the longest time.  I knew he would never ask me straight out - "can I fuck you tonight?"  I thought he might eventually at least ask if I would come over.  After about 30-45 minutes of texting banter, I could tell he was never going to just put it out there.

 

"I bet you're feeling horny, am I right".

 

"Yeah . . . sorry".

 

"Sorry?  For what Sweetie?"

 

"I dunno.  I know you moved out wanting some space and here I'm texting you for sex".

 

"Don't apologize, a girl likes knowing that she turns a man on".

 

"You do.  You always have".

 

"Would you like some help w your condition"

 

"That would be GREAT"

 

"Tell me what you want".  Sadly, being aggressive or descriptive can be very hard for the Boyfriend.  But sometimes . . .

 

After a pretty long pause where I was afraid I'd asked the Boyfriend for more than he could do, he responded.  "I would really like you on your knees".

 

I smiled and asked him, "dressed or naked".

 

"Naked".

 

"I can do that for you . . . on my way".



The Friend Zone

The Marine had to cancel our dinner plans.  His wife was sick and he didn't think it a good idea to leave her alone.  I couldn't really complain even if I was disappointed.  I pretended to pout.  He promised to make it up when I returned.

My previous post on the Marine was no tease.  I really don't know when we get together how the night will end.  I think the night would have ended happy; just not sure if it would have had a "happy ending".

 

Advizor made a comment, "God help him if he is" in the "friend zone" which got me to thinking.  If I didn't know how the night was going to end w the Marine, then did that mean the Marine was NOT in the "friend zone".  More to the point, do I never think about sex w any of my guy pals?

 

I remember a date who, when we were having dinner, I called him "nice".  I laughingly remember the pained look on his face, "don't call me that . . . it's the kiss of death".  He explained that girls didn't like the "nice" guy.  I disagreed and added something his being nice and a good friend.  You would have thought I'd kicked him in the nuts, "Oh great, might as well kill myself now . . . I've entered the friend zone" (thinking back on his pained expression, I probably shouldn't have laughed, huh).  I know some will wonder, he copped a pretty good feel that evening; strictly upstairs.  He never did get laid, but I will say that was more for his fault for want of taking the risk.  So, was he a friend?  Looking back, I'd say he was a date at that time.

 

When I go out w the Marine.  Its not like I'm planning on sex or even really thinking about sex.  But, if asked, then I would have to say the possibility exists.  And I like that feeling.  Is the Marine a friend then?  We're friendly.  I'm close to him.  I think of him as more than a friend.

 

The question remains then, is the "friend zone" the dead zone?  I want to say "no".  I think most women would want to say "no".  We like to say our lovers are our best friends.  Wouldn't it seem that becoming friends, then move you one step closer to a relationship.  So, why then do most men dread entering the "friend zone".  Men have their viewpoint.  Women have theirs.  I don't know that either is necessarily wrong.  This is where I know what is in my head, but the blonde in me is preventing me from putting it into words.  When I go somewhere w a man who is not in the "friend zone", its not like I am thinking about sex.  But I am not-not thinking about it either.  It might be easier to explain in terms of how I dress.  When going out w a man not in the "friend zone", then I am more likely to dress like I'm going on a date.  I may just be casual, I may be sexy, but on some level I have considered how I want to dress for what might happen later.  When I go out w a man who is in the "friend zone", then I am not even considering the "what might happen later" aspect of the night.

 

I like getting dressed for the Marine and wondering "what might happen later".

Advizor's FFF

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The Marine

I decided today what days next week I'm going to Tampa for an overnight business trip.  I texted a gentleman friend from that area and now I have a dinner date.  He needs a name - I think I will call him the Marine because he served twenty years in the Marines.  He's also a retired professional (I'm not going to say what profession), meaning that he has retired twice in his life..  I can already see Advizor doing the math, so yes Marine is quite a bit older than me.  The Marine is a little more than twice my age.

 

I met him through Ashley Madison.  Like many, I started an Ashley Madison account a long time ago.  Stop - don't be rushing over to try to find it.  My profile is down right now, it's down more often than it's up, and it may never be up again.  When I do make my account active, then my inbox is usually flooded w messages in just a few hours.  Seriously guys, do sending dick shots really work for you.  Once I delete all the dick shots, assholes, and whiners, I am generally left w just a few messages.  The Marine was more an accident than anything else.  His message made me smile (if you recall, I have said repeatedly this is the best way to get me separated from my pants) and I responded.  What I didn't notice was his age.  My fault entirely because he clearly stated it in his profile page.  He pointed it out again in a message, but by this time we were emailing and I didn't see any reason why age should matter w our just emailing.   His emails were funny and helped me through the days.  I also liked the way he could be sexually suggestive w/o being crude or disrespectful.  In a lot of ways, he reminded me of Harley.

 

We've met for dinner and drinks three times now over the past several months.  And it has been just dinner and drinks.  The first time, I didn't know what to expect.  We'd been emailing for several weeks.  Our emails are mostly friendly w just a flavor of flirting.  I told him I was coming to Tampa for a business trip.  He asked me to dinner, making it clear that he only meant dinner and was not coming onto me.  He also teased that if I came onto him, then he might not be able to fight me off.  He took me to Shula's.  Daddy would have been so jealous.  Daddy is a big Dolphins fan and idolizes Don Shula.  He's talked about going to Shula's whenever we're around one, but something always seems to get in the way.  Really, I'd be just as happy going to Denny's.  I'm more about who I'm with and The Marine is a great dinner companion.  I love listening to his stories.  Some are sad.  Some are funny.  He's had a long interesting life and he apparently loves to talk.  I like listening to him. 

 

And I'm talking about him why?  I don't know actually.  I find him interesting.  And we're going to dinner again next week.  And I never formally ruled out actually sleeping w him.  Its been something we've not discussed that much.  We've talked a lot about ourselves.  He's been open about the women he has seen.  I'm clearly the youngest.  I think he likes being seen w me; at least I hope he does!!  I like the companionship when I am in that area.  It makes a long dull trip something to look forward too.  Did I mention that he's 6'7".  I've told him a lot about me.  He knew about Tree.  We didn't meet for dinner during the brief window I thought things were possibly getting serious w Tree.  But we still talked.  He was sad to learn of my breaking up w Tree.  He's been like a mentor of sorts.  

FFF

His dick slid into her as easily as her teeth bit into hot flesh. 

 

It was her obligation to service him.  He was the pack leader.  Tobias, her mate, sat watching.  Her eyes were closed.  She could not see Tobias next to them, but she could smell him.  Tobias was the next most dominant male in the pack.  He had sensed it was his time to lead.  He had challenged the Old One . . . and lost.  By rights, the Old One should have killed Tobias.  Instead, the Old One had demanded she impale herself on his dick.  The Old One took her hips in his vice-like grip and thrust her body up and down along his length.

 

The three of them were dressed - well, she had been dressed - for a pack dinner.  She knew that all would be able to smell the Old One's scent on her . . . in her . . . and know she had been made to service him. 

"Tobias", the Old One said, "join me inside your bitch."  Tobias entered her ass.  Everyone would be able to smell the packs two most dominant werewolves in her tonight.



I Think Its What A Girlfriend Does

The girls were talking about sex the other day and I was surprised to learn how some could take it or leave it.  Most seemed to think twice a week was enough.  They joked about how their men took long showers sometimes and were 'probably' taking care of things themselves in the shower.  One described her husband masturbating on the bed beside her.  I didn't get it.

I realize that not everyone has the same sex drive that I have.  But even so, I have been asked for sex when I was not really feeling it.  I would feel sad if my lover was taking care of himself when I was lying there in the bed waiting and willing.  The Boyfriend may be a bad example because his idea of frequent sex was twice a month (if it was a good month) and I was far more likely to be pestering him.  Harley, however, was a beast.  There were times, not many I grant you, that Harley began making moves on me when I really wasn't feeling it.  I never doubted for a moment that I could have said "no" and there was never any pressure on me to perform.  But I wanted too.  He needed me to do that for him.  I don't know any other way to say it except that I think its what a girlfriend does.

Now, I will quietly admit that I have sometimes wished for Harley, and sometimes the Boyfriend, to hurry up and finish.  The Boyfriend was probably the worst.  Most often, the Boyfriend would last five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes inside of me (not that I ever actually timed it, okay).  But sometimes, he would get these 'diamond-cutters' that just simply would not bust.  Oh My God!  It sounds like a lot more fun than it is, especially if you're the poor girl taking it, and taking it, and taking it.  I tease.  It was fun.  But sometimes, I'd be exhausted, my legs would be sore, I would be drenched in sweat, and he'd be dripping sweat all over me . . . did I mention that my legs were sore.  And he'd still be going strong.  I think the longest was a couple of hours, but usually I think it was around an hour.  Harley was more consistent; generally about a half hour I think.  But sometimes, he could not finish either.  I think it was more frustrating for them actually.  They wanted to finish but couldn't. I'm saying to them, "cum in me lover".  I'm saying to myself, "finish already". 

Some of my favorite memories though stem from these times.  I could always tell when the Boyfriend was getting close to finishing.  Harley was a little bit the same.  Their breathing would become deeper and their thrusting more steady.  Harley also grunted more when he was getting close.  It was kind of cute actually.  I always liked, during a marathon fuck, when I could sense them getting close to cumming.  I loved those moments the best because I think they needed to finish inside of me perhaps more than ever.

Okay, Mr. Murphy is waiting.  Its time for me to go mow the lawn.
 

 



Me and Mr. Murphy

My job, since Daddy's accident has been to mow the lawn.  It sucks to not have a brother!!!  It's been a few years, Daddy has actually done great w rehab, and could taken the job back himself.  I talked w him about it cause I had heard some men take it personally when they can't mow their lawns.  He said that started mowing his parent's lawn at six and that he was okay w me doing it.  Then he said, under his breath and maybe thinking I couldn't hear him, "and the guys would be pissed if I took over from you".  I thought he meant the neighbors were worried about him over-doing it, so I said something about how sweet they were.  He just smiled back at me and walked away.  It hit me later - I'm slow sometimes - I realized he meant our male neighbors.  I had never thought about it until then, but I mow the lawn in daisy duke shorts and a bikini top.  Hey, its gonna take a hour or more, I might as well get some sun!!!  I never for a second thought about Mr. Murphy watching me.   Mr. Murphy sits on his front porch every Sunday morning to read his paper. 

 

And all of this is a bunch of words to avoid ranting because it's fucking raining again.  I would have kept on mowing, but its coming down in sheets.  We are talking a white out!!!!  Damn, the Coast Guard might not fly in this.  I tease cause the Coast Guard will fly in any thing!!!  Anyway, I had planned to mow this morning.  I try to mow every Sunday morning.  Now I understand why Mr. Murphy is always sitting on his front porch every Sunday morning too.  But that's not going to happen.  Now I will need to do it after work during the week.  Dammit man!!!

 

But I can't really bitch and I'm sorry God.  We need the rain.  Daddy reminds me DAILY how it used to always rain every afternoon in Florida.  I've heard more than one person say, "you could set your watch by it".  Then it didn't rain for years, Daddy said.  So, let it rain, even if it is messing up me and Mr. Murphy's plans.

 

FFF

Godiva pleaded w her father in his office not to lay anyone off in the store.  Times were hard and there were not jobs to be found.  He remained firm, yet she persisted.  Frustrated, he said, "you think so much of them.  I'll make you a deal.  Strip to your skivvies, then walk through the store.  See if your precious employees thank you for your sacrifice or stare at you".  Without hesitation, Godiva immediately began removing her clothing (silently, she was grateful she'd actually worn both bra and panties that day). 

She walked slowly and w pride down the aisle.  She refused to be embarrassed when so many would be keeping their jobs now.  However, news of her father's challenge ran in a sprint ahead of her.  She was surprised to find the store abandoned.  She beamed when she realized what the employees had done to protect her dignity.  She grinned when she thought about running back to stick her tongue out at her father.  Instead, she paraded to the front.

Tom, the lone security guard, watched her from the closed circuit cameras.





The First Time w Harley

Our first time together was awesome. 

We went out a few times.  A lot of kissing.  Fair amount of hand holding.  A little bit of serious heavy petting.  But no sex.  Now, I don't know if men know it or not, but women do think about sex.  In this case, I wondered if or when Harley was going to make a move.  And how.  I think I spent a lot of time daydreaming about the "how".  Especially in the shower.  And early mornings when I was laying in bed.  Maybe I can be accused of being overly traditional too, but I was going to let him make the first move.  However, I had already decided that, if he did, I was good w it.

We were at dinner on maybe our third or fourth date.  I asked if he would like to go to Disney World w me.  I had many friends who worked there and had been given a few passes.  I don't remember now if I said that someday I wanted to stay a few days overnight in one of the Disney hotels or if Harley asked me first if I had ever stayed in a Disney hotel.  Either way, we finished dinner picking out the dates to go and stay for a few days.  And trust me, I made sure those dates were right around the corner too.

We spent the day at the Magic Kingdom and it was magical.  I had a blast w Harley.  He's a riot.  Splash Mountain has always been my favorite.  Harley was a big fan of the Pirates and Thunder Mountain.  As much fun as the day had been, it was nothing compared to the night.  And maybe because we each knew what the night would bring, Harley was being an awful tease.  His hands were always brushing against my private bits.  And a few times standing in line, he nibbled along the back of my neck.  (FYI, nothing gets my juices flowing like having my neck kissed). 

I was the one who finally asked if we could see if our room was ready.  God knows I was!!!

I cannot speak for all women.  Just for me.  Sometimes I like sex to be romantic and to be made love too.  And sometimes I simply want to be fucked.  Harley is an expert at both.

Romantic sex is hard to describe.  Harley insisted on carrying me across the thresh-hold into our room.  I later learned this was a long time fantasy of his (he rarely told me about any "fantasies").  Apparently, he had wanted to carry his wife across their thresh-hold when they married, but she put up a fuss.  I do not always understand women either!!!  Inside, I asked him to let me PLEASE shower first.  I was sweaty.  I felt dirty.  And I really wanted to slip into something special for him.  Ever the gentleman, Harley told me to take as long as I wanted.  I don't know if it matters to anyone, but we were staying at the Wilderness Lodge.  It was beautiful.   I wanted to hurry . . . and I wanted to relax at the same time . . . there was a swarm of butterflies in my tummy . . . I tried to focus on the task at hand . . . shower, make-up, hair . . . and then slip into what I hoped he was going to love.  I came out of the room wearing a white chemise, white thong, white hose, and after a lot of debate, white heels (I really was not sure about the heels.  A girlfriend had told me to do it.  It was way out of the box for me then).  I was surprised to see, when I left the bathroom, that he had brought candles to light the bedroom.  And in the candle-light, he visually took in every bit of me.  Harley made me feel like a priceless treasure.  Like I said though, its hard to really describe being made love too and all the feelings that are going through me.  I expected the clothes - my clothes - to be taken off immediately.  Silly me!!!  What I remember most (well, maybe not "most") is that my outfit did not come off!!!  We kissed, he nuzzled my neck, he took my breast into his mouth . . . I still get wet when I remember him doing that for the first time . . . then he removed my thong.  Only my thong.  He kept my heels on me so apparently my girlfriend had told me right.  And then he tasted me.  I cannot even begin to describe what I was feeling.  He would kiss me sometimes and I delighted at feeling my wetness on his lips.  In time, he came up between my legs.  Before he entered me that first time, he took my hands and held them in his above my head, he kissed me, then he raised up to stare into my eyes - w me looking back into his - while he slowly slid inside me.
 

Bend Me Over The Bed

I have been working on a post about my first time w Harley and . . . well . . . it caused a bit of a problem.  Let's just say that things have been a bit damp.  And if Daddy is home, then I have to keep checking that I don't have a huge wet spot in my crotch.  I needed help!!!  Laughing.

 

The obvious thing to do was call Harley.  Yeah, not so much.  The last few texts I sent to him got the one-word response back.  A buzz-kill I did not want.  I wanted someone that would pay attention to me - Yep, that means the Boyfriend. 

 

So, I called the Boyfriend.  What I wanted to say was, "will you bend me over and just fuck me".  What I did say was, "have you had breakfast yet?"  He said no and I told him I'd be right over.  I'm not sure what was driving me crazier - the anxiety or the growing wet spot on my pants.

He met me at his door expecting us to go out for breakfast.  My heart about to explode and no way I could just tell him what I wanted, I took his hand and directed him back inside to his bedroom.  I pushed him onto the bed, straddled him, and kissed him.  He smiled up at me, "did you want something?"  "GOD YES", I thought and of course didn't say.  Finally, I just worked up the courage to tell him.  Bend me over the bed.  Fuck me.  Don't ask, just take.

 

He's not great at it, but given the right amount of encouragement, Boyfriend can become somewhat aggressive.  He rolled me over and began removing my clothes.  I love being naked before my lover.  He pulled me up and told me to get onto my knees.  Then he lowered his pants.  Apparently, he was not fully prepared for me yet (smiling).  I took him between my lips and enjoyed the sensation of him becoming erect in my mouth.  After a bit, he stood me up and bent me over the bed.  In an added nice touch, he took my hands and put them behind my back.  And there I stood, waiting for him.  It was a strange feeling being in that position and not being able to see what he was doing. 

Eventually, he positioned himself up behind me and took hold of my hands behind my back.  He found my entry and pushed himself in.  I love that initially feeling of fullness. 

The Boyfriend simply stood behind me, w me impaled upon him, enjoying that initial feeling w me.  Then he began to fuck me.  No gentle increase in rhythm.  No tender words, "does that feel good".  Just full on hammer time.  In a few moments, he told me to get onto my knees on the edge of the bed.  Sliding back inside of me, he took hold of my hips rather than my hands.  He gripped my hips as hard as he was thrusting - which was pretty damned hard!!!  To be ridden as hard as possible was exactly what I wanted.  My head to the bed, my ass in the air, I just enjoyed it. 

Now, maybe I can finish my other post.