Randi's Christmas Tree

I do not have children of my own.  Lately, I have been having fun doing things w Randi and her chldren.  Yesterday, she and I planned to leave work early and do some Christmas shopping together.  Her big project, she said, was to get a Christmas tree and apparently she was all about having me as slave labor to help.  I did not care - it sounded like fun.  I've only ever had artificial trees, so going out to find a real tree was something new for me.  When we were done w our shopping, Randi surprised me by pulling into a store to check out their trees. I had thought she was planning to go home and collect her children first.  She laughed and said having the kids along was like trying to heard kittens and she did not need to be carrying a big ole tree at the same time.  (Note: Randi is fairly small, so any size tree is big to her).  She may have been worried that I was dissappointed so she quickly added, "not to worry, there will be plenty to do w the kids and decorating the tree later".  And so, sans children, me and Randi began the hunt for the perfect tree.

 

I said a moment ago that pretty much any size tree would be tall to Randi.  But Randi wanted to look at the trees that towered over her by another whole Randi.  And besides just being tall, do you know what else trees that big are - they're heavy!

 

Randi and I struggled to stand some trees up and spin them around looking for "bare spots" (again, I'm used to artificial).  I started looking for someone working there hoping to ask for help please.  Randi told me not to waste my time.  She said "help" would be looking for us soon enough.  "On a good day, I'm at least cute . . . . and you're fucking hot . . . finding men to help us won't be a problem".  We laughed and I kept looking for someone.  But she was right because, before we stopped laughing, someone appeared.

 

Tree Man looked to be marginally legal age w long dark hair, beat up ball cap turned backwards, tight blue jeans covered in tree sap, and gloves w the finger cut out. While he looked nothing like him, Tree Man reminded me of a young Brad Pitt.  Randi flirted w him mercilessly.  He was holding his own though and went right back at her.  I was pretty sure he knew it was all in fun though.  Randi did apologize for monopolizing his time and asked if he needed to help someone else for a while instead.  He smiled and said it was fine.  He pointed to some others helping him in the tent.  Then he whispered to us that longer we laughed and talked w him, the more of a God he was going to be when we left.  Randi apparently took that as a sign for her to elevate his status to legendary . . . and, of course, she made certain I was her partner in crime.  Again, it was really all mostly harmless and pretty tame.  Nothing was ever said or done that couldn't be seen on the Disney Channel.  He helped us pick out a tree and loaded it into our truck (Randi borrowed a truck from a friend for the day).  Randi made it a point to give him a full body hug in view of all his co-workers, then she slipped him a tip.  As we were pulling onto the highway, she said she included my phone number in w his tip

 

 I thought she was joking.  How could I be so nieve?

 

We got the tree to her place.  She said it probably needed to soak overnight in water before we decorated it and we made plans to do just that today.  I planned to go home and wrap gifts for a while, but probably really just veg in front of the tv.  Randi and I talked about maybe hooking up again later.  But first, she had to return the truck . . . and apparently she needed to 'pay' for having it for the day (I gather this was a long running joke between her and the boyfriend from whom she borrows the truck).

 

Driving home, I got a text . . . and not from Randi. 

Wishing



I can not scream loud enough how much I wish this was me right now.  

Conflicted

I slept w Harley and the Boyfriend yesterday (yes, the same day and, obviously, we didn't actually 'sleep').  I went to bed for the night the happiest I have been in a long time.  Today, I am wracked w guilt and wondering if I am a bad person.

The Boyfriend Is Sick

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Sex Daydreams

Does your mind wander during sex?  I do not mean noticing that the ceiling maybe needs painting.  I mean do you sometimes think about  a former lover?  It is not really a question I can ask my girlfriends.  And I suspect they would not be all that truthful - there are the things you admit to others and there are things you admit only to yourself.  I don't know, maybe I am just overthinking again.  My mind wanders, that I know.  Not all the time, not even most of the time, just sometimes.  It's hard to say when exactly it occurs.  I guess when I am not as into the moment as my lover  or, if I was to really be honest here, sometimes when he is trying to please me orally (and I drift to past encounters to maybe enhance the moment as well).

When my mind wanders (daydreams), a moment I find myself remembering a lot is of a time w Wide Load. 

 

I had gone to the bathroom to get ready for bed.  He was out onto the balcony drinking beer.  I was bent over the sink brushing my teeth when I saw him looking at me from the doorway.  I often keep the bathroom door open, but generally no one is watching me from the hallway.  He lowered his pants a bit for me to understand. 

 

I really do need to learn NOT to be a smart-ass.

 

I kept on brushing my teeth, but stuck my ass out and spread my legs for him.  Now, I really was just joking.  I mean give a girl a chance to finish brushing her teeth.  But, to his defense, I guess I did give him the go-ahead.  A moment later, he was standing behind me, knocking at my entrance.  Geez, I was still brushing my teeth!

 

Okay, I can sound like I'm protesting.  Truth is, I was incredibly turned on.  Thus the reason I wander to that moment (among others).  I loved it that he needed me so badly right then.  I loved being made (even if I did give him the go ahead) to take care of him.  I loved him being forceful.  Weird it may be, but I loved it and I still think about that moment a lot.

And maybe I am the only one, but I do remember it, and other special moments, sometimes when I am making love. 


 

 



Therapy Sucks

Therapy sucks!

 

No, Therapist was great as he always is.  I just did not enjoy the direction the discussion took.

 

Therapist was asking recently how I got engaged.  There were emails asking me to finish w more details of the Boyfriend's birthday trip.  But the Therapist was also asking - not about the gift (sex) - about how my engagement came about.  It turned into an unpleasant conversation.

 

The trip, I thought, went pretty well overall.  Since I started writing this blog, I have recieved dozens of emails telling me what a wonderful person the Boyfriend is and what a terrible person I am.  Opinions I tend to agree with.  It sucks to believe that secretly.  It was just painful to admit it out loud to the Therapist.  Not missing a beat, he point out that it should have gone pretty well since I was the one putting in almost all the effort. He added that is why it did not suprise him at all that I was the one who proposed. And apparently this is the reason he pushed me to tell the story.

 

Therapist did not stop there.  He started asking about many of my relationships.  I would describe a boyfriend.  He would get me to just talking - pleased that we on a different subject - then he barrages me w how I was the one doing w almost every boyfriend all the relationship work.  Not done, he brought up Mom.  I tried to argue w him.  It was hard. A lot, not all, of my best times w Mom were when I arranged everything. 

 

Therapist said something that stuck w me.  He said that every family has fun at Disney World.  Disney designed it that way.  Disney does all the work.   



The Boyfriends Birthday Presents IV

Two Corona's and a shot of tequila (always a must whenever I drink Corona) meant I was feeling pretty loose during dinner. I delighted in slutting it up for him (see the picture he took of me). I'm pretty sure our waiter enjoyed it too because he was most attentive. I slipped a heel off and ran my foot along the Boyfriend's leg. A few times, I even felt up his crotch with my toes. He surprised me when he grabbed my foot and wouldn't let go. He started tickling me - I am crazy ticklish - till I begged him to stop. We had a nice time. And maybe that is why he was rock solid again by the time we were leaving the restaurant. Driving back to the hotel, I started to tease him with a little road head, but mostly I just kept him nice and warm between my lips. I think he drove around the block a few times to make the trip longer. I took that as a compliment. Once in the room, Boyfriend led me out to the balcony. He knows how much I love balcony sex overlooking the ocean. He lifted my skirt up and slid inside of me once again, just like I was made for him. Keeping my heels on maybe added to the visual, but it also kept me at the right height for him. And I will admit it, I let him do all the work this time. I just stood there, leaning over the rail, enjoying the Boyfriend inside of me, feeling the night ocean breeze on my face and in my hair, listening to the roar of the ocean waves, and delighting in the star filled night sky,

 

When the Boyfriend finished inside of me, I simply had to go for a walk on the beach. I know he just wanted to sit down (the poor dear had been hammering me for a long time), but I pouted till he agreed to come with me. Mostly, we just walked. It was late and the beach was deserted. Also, it was turtle season, which means there is a lights out ordinance all along the beach. Basically, when there is no moon, it is pitch black out there and no one can really see you until they are right on top of you. Several times we stopped and watched the ocean. He'd stand behind me with his arms wrapped around me, and often he would kiss me along my neck. It may have been the happiest and most relaxed I had felt in a long long time. A few times, he gently cupped my breasts while he nuzzled my neck. He slipped a hand beneath my blouse, then under my bra. His hand felt good on my breast, holding me, squeezing me. Then he slipped his other hand beneath my bra and now both breasts were his. In time, he slid one hand down under my skirt. He caressed the outside of my warmth, and even there he could tell, he had me dripping wet. He dipped a finger into my moisture, then brought it up to taste. He did it again and brought it up for me to taste. I delighted in sucking my juices from his finger. I loved pleasing him and I knew he loved this. He repeated his actions, always keeping his hand just a bit longer each time under my skirt. Finally, he kept his hand there, moving it just right, while he continued to kiss my neck, and he held my breast in his hand. I felt like my body was his captive. It was perfect. And when I came, I did something I rarely do, I came again and again.

  

I turn around and kiss him. Then I go down to my knees. Work like that should be rewarded, right!!!! He joked asking if I getting ready to propose (I mention this because I think it had a lot to do with what followed later).  I joked back "I could, but I was thinking you might enjoy me sucking your dick more". In hindsight, I am not sure what the Hell I was thinking, or if I was even thinking. I felt good. I wanted him to feel good. He hardened in my mouth, but I realized it was going to be a while before he could cum again. Still, I kept on because I really believe he enjoyed me giving him head there on the beach.

 

Walking back to the room, still on the beach, I asked him how he wanted to finish inside of me. I offered to keep sucking him if that's what he wanted, but I was afraid his stamina this time would exceed my oral endurance. The way he kind of laughed makes me think he wanted me to keep giving him head, but instead he said that he understood I was tired and he did not want to hurt me. I joked that sometimes I liked his hurting me. I kept on that it was his birthday and he was not going to bed with an erection. He laughed saying that was what he loved about me (yep, he said the "love" word). He loved that I was always there for him . . . and added that he did not just mean sexually. I said the same about him; also adding that this trip was as much a thank you for how considerate he had been with my parents craziness as it was his birthday.  It is hard to explain, almost a full year later, exactly what I was feeling in that moment.   It had been an incredible day.  The beach, the alcohol, the sex, all had lowered my normal defenses and inhibitions.  And so I said it, "why don't we get married".  Yes, I was the one who proposed.

 

The remainder of the night had me on my back, legs over the Boyfriend's shoulders, and him fucking away in me until what must have been dawn. I was a very tired engaged girl when I finally rolled over to sleep.