Super Bowl

Damned Packers.

Go Steelers!

I do not understand women.

Friday was Super Bowl Day at the office. Everyone was to wear the colors of their team. I borrowed a friend's Steeler jersey (it helps to have nice rack and a killer smile). I tend to pull more for players than actual teams. In the day, I was a big Green Bay fan, but that was more because I had this major crush in Bret Favre. He looked like he was always so excited and having a good time. I am irresitably attracted to those characteristics. By now, you should be able to figure out that I am a Big Ben fan too.

Which brings me to my point - I do not understand women.

I listened to some of the ladies saying they were pulling for Green Bay now that Bret was not there. Huh? Bret was the only reason I ever pulled FOR Green Bay. The standard complaint was that they did not like Bret because he was full of himself. Let me repeat myself - huh? Women say that they like men to be self-confident. But, if a man actually is self-confident, then we accuse him of being full of himself. I remember watching Bret and Green Bay once with Daddy when they were behind and driving down the field. Daddy said, "there goes Favre, willing them down the field". I remember Daddy smiling watching it. And I remember that Bret was smiling every time the camera was on him. The most serious drive of the game and he looked like he was having the time of his life. How could I not be attracted to that?

I guess for the same reasons, I like to watch Big Ben play.

Go Steelers!

I'm Back

I'm back!

I was going to say that returning to blogging must be like returning to the gym after a really long lay out. I say that I was going to say that, but it is nothing like returning to the gym. If I skip the gym enough days in a row, then it takes everything I have to drag my fat ass back into there. I do it because I know I have to do it. And that is nothing like how I am feeling now.

Instead, I think returning to blogging again must be like having sex again after one really long dry spell. I want too. I really want too. I know what goes where. I am dripping wet with excitement. But I feel incredibly awkward and self-conscious about my every move (in this case, every word I write . . . or do not write).

Where have I been? Those are stories to tell some other nights.

In deference to my anxiety and feelings of awkwardness, let me start slow, kind of like foreplay. I promise to warm up and share better tales.

A few weeks ago, I went to visit Mom and Dad. Mom was cooking something and Dad was watching football. Dad was unusually talkative, which may have had something to do with the beer he was drinking, and I sat in the living with him for most of the time. Thank God for football. My parents and I went through a pretty rough patch for a while when I was in my teens. It may have been only days, but I swear it felt like there were years we could barely speak without fighting. But, no matter how tense things were, I could always talk football with Dad. Those games are some of my fondest memories. Okay, I am sure that is boring information for you, but it is part of the memory for me. Daddy must have been feeling really comfortable. He offers me a beer - something he never has done before. I needed the beer to not get frustrated with him and that damned flicker. We are watching the game, but he keeps flicking channels. What is it with you men! Mostly, he kept flicking between the game and this auto auction. Every now and then, he would mention having owned one of those cars and fussing that they were now selling for obscene amounts of money. A Ford F100 rolled across and Daddy told me how this was his first car (okay, truck) ever. I remember this for two reasons. First, it was important to me because he told me how it was his first car. Second, and this might be the real reason, he proceeds to tell me how this is the car he was driving when he met my mother. Memorable enough on its own. But he tells me about their first date. He picks up her at Granddaddy's house, opens her door, and he described how she slid all the way over to sit beside him. He told me how she was the first girl to ever slide over to sit next to him. I thought that was so sweet and romantic. Daddy said that bucket seats were the worst thing ever to happen to cars. I was still thinking how it was all romantic about a girl sitting next to her date when I went into the kitchen to get us each another beer. Mom said to me that she agreed with Daddy. Smiling, she whispered, "more room". Right then I needed that beer to medicate the images flitting through my head. But later on, I kind of smiled at the thought of my Mom and Dad having fun in his truck.

Paradox

The more interesting stuff I have to actually write about, the less time I have to actually write about it.

Pray for You - Jaron and The Long Road to Love :: Official Video

A friend told me about this video and I am still laughing. I do not think I am the only one who finds it as funny as all get out, but maybe I am weird. I will hope everyone enjoys it as much as I did. Also it probably tells you how bizarre my sense of humor can be.

Daylight Savings Time?

It has been Halloween since the Boyfriend has expressed any interest in me physically. In hindsight, I suppose I could have tried a little hard my own self to encourage him. To continue being candid though, I think I was okay with it. And I am not sure it is just me either. Wide Load has been less aggressive also; not as un-interested as the Boyfriend, but still less than his usual self. Why? Well, it could be that we all caught some rare sex-killing virus. But I think it is the damned time change. Am I the only one who hates it. It is nice that the sun is kind of sort of up when I am driving into the office for the day. It is depressing as hell that the sun is going down when I am finally driving home . . . well, to the gym. It feels so late. I do not have the energy to work out. The only thing that has changed is the time. What gives. I should be the same, but instead I just want to get a shower and go to bed for the night (not to get laid, so get your minds out of the gutter guys). I notice the crowd has thinned in the gym too. Wide Load says this is normal this time of year anyway. Why do we still change the clocks. And please will they either remove that feature on the electronic devices which automatically adjust your clocks for Daylight Savings Time or will the government get back to when it was supposed to be? Why did it get changed off its normal schedule anyway. It is bad enough that we have it, but to have it all screwed up just adds salt to the wounds. Okay, I did warn you that I can get bitchy.

Maybe I will wake the Boyfriend up with something special tomorrow?

Control

I love it when my lover takes control during sex. I am not sure how long it took me to realize this. Over time, I realized the things that I remembered the most or I enjoyed the most when I was with someone.

I remember the first time a lover held my wrists over my head while he rode me on top with me looking up into his eyes. He was gently thrusting into me. My hands were rubbing along his back, I think (what man does not like that!!!). He took a hold of my wrists and lifted them over my head. Then he just held them there while he looked down into my eyes. It may not sound like the most intense or erotic thing in the world, but I still think about that time. I felt so completely under his control and that he was completely inside of me.

I love being taken from behind. Face to face is for romance. From behind is when I want to be possessed. (And don't you think my ass is meant to be ridden from behind?)

I have been tied down once, but I do not find that nearly as pleasurable as being held in place my my lover. I can not explain the difference. I feel a tighter bond to my lover maybe. It is him holding me with his strength.

I remember the first time a lover took my hands and held them behind my back while he rode me from behind. I remember asking him about it later when we were curled up in bed talking. He looked genuinely suprised. "I did that . . . I did do that, didn't I?" He said he had never done anythhing like it before and had not really even thought about it then. I was bent over the bed and he was behind me. He said he had a rough day and that he had really appreciated being with me that evening (I really am incredibly supportive). He was fucking me and apparently I was really starting to get into thursting back onto him as well. I remember exactly how he sounded when he said - hesistant and nervous to tell me - that he wanted to ride me and fuck me. He did not want me, to use his words, "fucking back". Without thinking, he said, he took my wrists behind my back to limit my moving. I think he was afraid how I might react. I don't know, maybe it does sound bad that way I am describing it now. Its now how I think of it. I laughed and told him it was perfectly okay, that I was glad he went with how he felt and needed me. To this day, I sometimes slip my hands behind my back hinting for them to be held there.

Gray Rainy Days

I have been a little down the last few days. It has been gray and rainy every day. At least, that is my excuse and I am sticking to it!

Been thinking too. (I hate it when that happens). What does it say about me that I have two men in my life who I care for very much. Okay, I know what it says about me. The word "slut" comes to mind. When I saw Primo, it was out of town and that seemed to make it more of a dream. A very nice adult oriented dream, but still just a dream and not as real. Time with Primo was like putting on a bikini at the beach. I put my bikini on not even thinking about how little there is to it, but I would never consider wearing it anywhere else. I do not know, maybe I am not making any sense. Maybe I am just over-thinking it. I care for the Boyfriend. I care for Wide Load. I do not want to stop being with either one of them right now.

I guess that means you will get more stories too.

Oh, and on the "slut" word, I know some guy will write that being a slut is a good thing (so let us just say you did and don't, okay). I do not disagree. But it is a time and place thing. I like being a slut in the bedroom. I do not like thinking that is who I am though.