Oh, Baby, you're the best

I gave Mrs. Arkay her morning orgasm today. I give it to her almost every morning. Sometimes, though, she does it herself. On rare occasions, some other bastard get's to be the lucky one. This morning it was me. It went like it goes most mornings. Kinda like ths...

She gets up at 6 and goes first into the shower. After five or ten minutes I drag my sorry, lazy, naked ass out of bed. Down I go to the kitchen. Two pots of water on the stove to boil. Feed the cat (damned thing, shouldn't he be dead by now?) and the dog. The Boy will walk the dog later, when he gets up. But for now, out she goes on her chain in the back yard. Check first, make sure the neighbors behind me aren't around to see my naked self at my back door. Oops. There he is. Or she. I've got two neighbors. Oh well, what the fuck. I'm not going all the way back upstairs to put some pants on just to let the dog out. Besides, I think they're looking the other way.

Back to the kitchen. Our coffee process is a 'classic' affair, and I'm a retro-coffee snob. Remember Jimmy Dimmik in Pulp Fiction?

"Knock it off, Julie. ... I'm not a cobb of corn, so you can stop butterin' me up. I don't need you to tell me how good my coffee is. I'm the one who buys it, I know how fuckin' good it is. When Bonnie goes shoppin, she buys shit. I buy the gourmet expensive stuff 'cause when I drink it, I wanna taste it."

I'm the anti-him. No expensive gourmet shit. None of those electric drip coffee making pieces of crap either. My coffee is strained, not filtered. It has to taste like real coffee. It has to be real coffee. Maxwell House from a can. Just like my daddy before me. Though, I suspect my daddy before me always had his clothes on when he made my mom's coffee in the morning. Seven kids running around the house. No privacy at all. Poor man.

Aluminum drip pot. Bought it at a flea market. Dump out yesterday's grounds. Rinse. Fresh grounds go in the strainer. Strainer goes on top of the pot, resevoir goes on top of that. Water's boiling. Fill the resevoir. The rest goes to preheat the Aladdin Stanley Steel thermos Also a classic. No sissy coffee carafes in my kitchen. Now we wait. Seven to 10 loong minutes. (Hmmm. What am I going to do with myself for ten minutes?)

It's done. Pour. Cream. Sugar. Stir. Did you know that Mrs. Arkay does not know how to stir coffee? She pinches the tip spoon handle between her finger and thumb, dangles it in the cup, wiggles it around a little. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?! Get that goddamn spoon in there and stir that coffee! Show it who's boss, Mistress Arkay!

Two cups. As I was carrying them upstairs, I met her on her way down to the laundry. She had on a very light robe. I (still) had on nothing. We stood in the foyer for a moment facing each other. She looked into my eyes. "Is that for me?" She took it. Wrapped her hands gently around it. Felt it's warmth. Savored it's aroma. I watched her. She sipped. Slurped actually. And then, there it was...

A soft sigh. A release. Her morning fix. And I gave it to her.


Twenty-two pages of Google images to find this for you.

To see where it came from and all kinds of cool coffee stuff, check out http://www.jitterbuzz.com/indcof.html.