HNT Five

For what it's worth, I think my muse is dead.

Time to regroup.

Still, it is HN Thursday, so here's this.

HNT Four

Today's HNT is dedicated to a memory that spawned a fantasy that's been with me for about 10 years now. Here's the story.

I knew a woman once. To call her a coworker is overstating it. We both worked at the same place for about a year or so. In that time our paths crossed maybe half a dozen times. Christmas parties, meetings, saying hello in the halls. That sort of thing.

She was probably early thirties at the time. Married. By virtue of our limited contact with each other, I did get a sense of her personality. She was, in simplest, terms a wild child. Vocal. Outgoing. Her dress was both loud and outragous. Not costricted by the standards or conventions of 'business attire.' We had lunch in the same room one time during which she commented, to whomever she was with, how much she liked shopping at Vickey's Secret.

Once, after she had already given notice that she was leaving, I came out of my office to find a water cooler conversation going on. Her, and about four or five others, having a little gab session. I stopped to join the conversation.

During the discussion she said two things that have stuck with me. The first, we were on the subject of marriage. She hadn't been married long, she said, and she liked being married. She loved her husband. The only problem, according to her, and she looked right at me when she said it, was the whole expectation of monogomy. My stomach fluttered.

Nobody followed up on that comment. It was said in passing, and every one pretty much let it pass. The subject was changed.

A bit later, and I have no idea how this came up, she related to us that a number of years earlier she worked in a small design office. She told us that in this office they liked to have fun, both during and after work. And one of the fun things they did was to declare a naked work day. No clients, front doors locked, every one undressed. Completely.

A lot of things go through my head when I remember her. She could have been lying. She could have been flirting. A little, or maybe a lot, of both. Who really cares though. I may have missed a wonderful opportunity with her. I've got the memory, which is pretty precious. And I've got a wonderful fantasy too. NAKED WORK DAY.

So here, in honor of that memory, is me at work.

Well, Half Nekkid actually. Click here to see what that's all about.

Father's Day from both perspectives

It was a strange Father's Day. Since she's living in Florida now, for the first time (since she was born) The Girl wasn't here. She sent a gift and she called, which was great, but you know it wasn't the same.

The Boy got me a gift too, so he and I spent a good part of the day playing Brother's in Arms, Earned in Blood. Very cool game, if you like WWII First Person Shooters.

Mrs. Arkay and I were both a bit out of sorts all day. No appetite, no energy, no desire to do anyting. So even the traditional Father's Day dinner didn't happen. Normally we'd have boiled a pound of shrimp and grilled a couple steaks.

The really cool part of the day, TCM showed The Courtship of Eddie's Father (1963, Glenn Ford and Shirly Jones). The last time Mrs. A and I watched that movie was 20 years ago on the night she went into labor with The Boy. We watched it while waiting for the contractions to reach two minutes apart.

Seems appropriate, doesn't it?

My dad's no longer around. He passed away on Thanksgiving weekend in 1999. Very unexpectedly.

One of my favorite memories of my dad was when I was four years old. It was 1962. He was 25 years old and had four kids. The oldest, my sister, was five. It was the first winter in our new neighborhood. My mom still lives there today. He took took my sister and me for a sled ride. She and I sat on the Flexible Flyer while he pulled us a long. We crested a small hill and suddenly our sled began to pass him. As we slid faster, him he started running along side hollering, "Whoa, sled! Wait for me. Wait for me, sled!"
My sister and I laughed and giggled all the way down.

A long overdue update

I haven't mentioned this recently, but I know you've been wondering. The dry spell has ended.

Mrs. Arkay is healthy, with no lingering concerns. Unfortunately, with the Girl now living in Florida, she's been a bit dipressed lately. She misses her daughter terribly. And we all know what that does to one's sex drive.

So, just as I was thinking it might be time to find a mistress, she called me upstairs. Said she needed help shaving her pussy. That was the beginning of a wonderful night together. Candles and wine. A shave, a massage, lots and lots kissing, sucking, licking. And, oh my God, I love eating and fucking a clean shaven pussy.

The great rippoff

Ok, since becca ripped this off from andy, I suppose I can rip it off from her.

Type "(your name) needs" into google and write down the first ten results.

("arkay needs" gave nothing useful, but my real name produced the following)

Arkay needs: bail money ~That's what he gets for chatting with underaged girls on aol.

Arkay needs: to be cloned ~Think of the possibilities; more of him to go around, and doesn't every guy want to be able to suck his own dick?

Arkay needs: a massage in SF Bay area ~Actually, Arkay got a massage in the SF Bay area. It was wonderful!! (Two exclamation points wonderful.) He wished he had more money.

rkay needs: you ~To post his bail, clone him, give him a massage...

Arkay needs: seeders ~I believe this is a video game reference, but for some reason it makes me think of swallowing cum. Arkay's up for that.

Arkay needs: your support ~As a character reference over that aol thing he mentioned earlier.

Arkay needs: them ~The judge didn't buy that argument either.

Arkay needs: to write more of his personal philosophy about this great city ~They give great massage in San Francisco.

Arkay needs: to try multi grain breads ~Arkay is willing to try anything.

Arkay needs: to appologize to the victims of priest sexual abuse. ~Oh, come on. They enjoyed it just as much as he did.

HNT Three

Guess what people, it's HNT again. In keeping with the panty theme I started two weeks ago I offer you this...

This, my friends is truly the stomach of an aging pervert.

Enjoy if you can. Comment if you like. If you want to join in the fun, click the hot box below.

Addictions

Don asked me if I believe in sexual addiction. Being the kind of guy who always find his answers somewhere in the middle ground, my response is "yes, but..." Actually it's "no, but..."

I do believe in addictions. Drugs. Alcahol. Cigarettes. And i usderstand the reasoning, or logic, behind expanding the definition of the word to other compulsive behaviors. Sex. Food. Rage. Thrills. Shopping.

But, I believe we've watered down the meaning too much. I think we use the word addiction too loosely in order to excuse any bad behavior that we don't have the courage or strenght to overcome. Or more to the point, in order to avoid summoning the courage or strength overcome it.

I think that's sort of what was going on in Carla's situation. Robert was using the word addiction as a way of accepting Carla in liggt of what she had done, a way of maintaining hope in their relationship.

Ever hang up the phone

Ever hang up the phone and ask yourself, "What the hell?"

I met Carla in 1997 when I was hired to replace her. She was leaving the company, on good terms to work in her husband's business and during the two weeks that our employment overlapped we worked closely together. Then over the next several years I ended up calling her a number of times to consult on various projects.

We became pretty good friends. The having-lunch-occasionally kind of friends. Once she invited Mrs. Arkay and me to her house for dinner. That's when I first met her husband, Robert. Eventually, though, Carla and I drifted apart.

So, the other day I got a phone call from Robert. His therapist recommended he call. He explained that he had recently caught her involved with another man and wondered how far back the behavior went. He remembered what a great rapport she and I seemed to have the night we had dinner at their house and thought maybe there was more than friendship between us. Basically he just wanted to know if Carla and I had an affair during the time that we were working together.

He paused and there was a long silence.

I sensed that he was getting nervous at the other end of the line wondering what the hell I was going to say and wondering to himself how he would react to whatever it was. He probably even started to doubt whether he did the right thing by calling. For the record, I think it was a mistake.

So finally I broke the silence. I told him that I really didn't know what to say. Regardless whether she and I had done anything, how would he know that I was telling the truth? Especially if I said that we didn't. I told him that I was trying to think of what to say that would give him any assurance at all but, in fact, there was nothing. So all I could say was, no, Carol and I did not have an affair.

Interesting, huh? But wait, there's more.

The conversation went on for a good 20 minutes more. He explained that his wife suffers from a sexual addiction but she refuses to accept that she has a problem. His problem, according to him, is that he enables her behavior. He's done a lot of reading on it, blah, blah, blah... He asked for some details about our relationship. When did I last see her? How many times had we gone to lunch together? Had I ever been to their house when he wasn't home? I gave mostly vague answers. Don't remember. Don't remember. Yes, once, while working on a project.

I got all the details and the history of her condition. I learned that my relationship with her was probably an early manifestation of the addiction--a safe encounter that could have led to something more. Personally, I think the claims of addiction and enablement are dubious attempts to put a label on what's little more than bad behavior. But that's just my opinion.

Most people think I should have just ended the conversation rather than listen to all of that. But I was hooked. I was fascinated. I wanted to see where all this went. Plus, I still liked Carol. I was a little concerned. It didn't go much farther than that though. He thanked me for talking to him. Thanked me for being honest. Said that he believed what I told him. He then asked me to call him if she tried to get in touch with me. I told him that I would, but changed my mind after thinking about it. Apparently he did to, because the next day he called back and said if she called me, that was between her and me. I shouldn't feel obligated to let him know. I told him I doubted very seriously if she would call anyway.

And that was that. I haven't heard from either one of them since. The thing is I really, really, really want to call her.

HNT Numbu 2

Very busy day, so only time for a quick post.



This is me pretty much every morning! Happy HNT everybody.

Mens Underwear Part 2

So, since I brought it up, let's talk about that thong for a minute--beginning with a question. Guys in thongs, what do you think? Discuss amongst yourselves.

Here's what I think. Guys look good in boxers. That's pretty much it. Not that I'm one look at guys, but I don't necessarily avert my gaze from boxers. To anything else my response is something along the lines of, "I don't really need to see that." Tighty-whities, briefs, bikinis, string bikinis, thongs, wear what you want but keep your pants on.

But it's not about what I like to see, it's about what I like to wear. And for some reason I like to wear things that are sexy--now pay attention here 'cause here's where it gets tricky--not things that look sexy, but things that *are* sexy. Even though once I put them on they technically cease to be sexy. Truth is, my gut is going to pot so nothing really looks sexy under that. But that's beside the point.

This leads me to question two. Guys in panties, for or against?

I think I started pawing around in my wife's lingerie drawer about 15 years ago. Every once in a while I'd pull something out and try it on. I liked it. Eventually I let her in on that secret. Actually what I did was start taking them off of her and putting them on myself during foreplay. Then, eventually, "I don't have any clean underwear. Can I borrow one of yours today?" Once I actually bought her a pair of panties as a gift just so that I could wear them.

At first she was cool with it, but eventually she started to complain that after I wore them they didn't quite fit her right any more. Imagine that. So a year ago last Christmas she asked what I wanted and I told her a pair of panties. She got me two. A striped Body By Victoria boyshort, and a black Body By Victoria thong. I got the thong you saw last Thursday during Victoria's Secret's February clearance sale (2005). Picked up three more last August while the family were away in Florida. And a few more earlier this year. I think I now own 10 pairs.

Men's underwear is boring. Women's underwear is exciting. That's it in a nutshell.

Oh, and if you were wondering, I was probably about 9 the first time I ever put on girl's underwear. They were my sisters and I wore them all day. No one ever knew.

Mens Underwear Part 1

I must say I was quite surprised at the response to my HNT. Specifically to me wearing thong panties. Here's why.

If you look at things in terms of form versus function you'll quickly find that women really won out on that one by claiming both prizes. Mens bodies are functional. There's no doubt about that. Yes, there is beauty to be found in them. It's the beauty of a a well defined and well maintained form. It's a functional beauty. Like you'd find any construct, be it building, machine, furniture or anything else that is well designed, built and maintained.

Women's bodies are every bit as functional as men's. You can argue all you want about the differences, but the bottom line is that there's not much a man can do with his body that a women can't do with hers, and then some. And a woman's body is something more. It's art. I've said it before. There is no single thing in God's creation more beautiful than a woman's body.

This is why artistic adornments like make-up, ribbons and lace, leather, spandex and fishnets (crap, i'm getting hot now), and stuff like that work so well on women and not on men.

This is why we men wear boxers and briefs, and why bikinis and thongs never quite work for us. But we keep trying. Every generation or so some designer will develop a skirt for men. They never catch on. We will occasionally wear thongs. When we do they're made of cotton with large front pouches to hold our manliness. They're very functional. And they don't look that great.

Men's underwear is boring.

Happy HNT every one

Since this is my first HNT post, and since every major activity should begin with a good cup of coffee, this is me doing what I do every morning.

Boiling water goes into the pot.

Then you wait.

And wait.

When it's done, pour and enjoy.

Some things you might be wondering:

First of all, if you're don't know what the hell I'm talking about, click here and scroll to 4/25 for My Coffee Post, and here .

The camera is a 1.3 megapixel camera phone. Not the best quality, but it's what I got.

And yes, you're witnessing one of my little kinks--Victoria's Secret Pink collection. More about that later unless I hear an outcry of "oh god, please no."