A riddle:

Q. How can you tell if the hot young girl you're chatting with on AOL is really a man?

A. Check the screen name. If she has one, she's a guy.

Hahaha. Get it?

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.

I'm getting too old for this

Well, I've done it. I missed a day. So much for the One-A-Day post policy. On the other hand, better that than babbling about nothing (like I'm doing now).

Yesterday sucked anyway. Last Monday I posted that I stayed up way too late chatting the night before. 3 a.m., i think it was. Well, Saturday night I was up till 5. Jacked off three times during (so it wasn't all bad. ;-p~) But, boy, I'm playing the price now. I got four hours of sleep before having to get up for church. I still feel like crap.

Lou Costello said it best. "I'm a baaaaaaaaad boy."

Short and sweet

A quick thought. Nothing much, just want to sent that ugly genital pic down-screen a little as well as keep my one-a-day going.

I got laid last night, slept till noon today, then had Chinese for dinner. Does life get any better than this?

Who does this?

Ok, today we have a question. How many of you guys do this?

--------------->

And how many women like their guys like that?

I had done it a couple times just for the hell of it. The hardest part, of course, is the grow back. Itches like crazy--for weeks. So, last time I did it I decided to keep it that way. Almost a year now. I can't say that I like the way it looks. Truth is, in my opinion all cocks are ugly and repulsive. But I definitely like doing it.

I've asked my wife if she likes it. She wont say. I would take that as a 'no,' but that's not necessarily the case. Many years ago I thought about growing a beard. I had asked her a number of times what she thought of the idea and she always said, "It's your face. Do what you want," or something like that. So finally I did. Then I asked her if she liked it and always got evasive answers like... "Do you?"

Then one day, after having it for several years I shaved it off. She got pissed. Turns out she liked it.

For what it's worth, she's been keeping her cunt shaved. She knows I like it like that. She won't tell me that she likes it though. Manipulative little bitch, isn't she?

Uncle Bill

Remember when we were little and Uncle Bill would come to visit. Only he'd never stay long. Only for the afternoon. And Mama would be so glad to see him. And she'd say "Let's go inside where we can get away from 'these damned kids.'"

And Uncle Bill would say, "I have and idea. Who wants ice crean?" And we all would, so Uncle Bill would give each one of us a quarter. And he'd say, "Why don't you all run down to Green's Carryout and get yourself some ice cream."

And we'd all run off real quick like, 'cause we'd be afraid Mama would say no and take away our quarters. But Uncle Bill would hollar, "Y'all have fun now. And make sure you don't come back till you had all the ice cream you can eat."

Only Karen wouldn't run off like every one else. She stand there and real polite like she'd say "Thank you, Uncle Bill," 'cause Karen was always standing polite and thanking people.

And Uncle Bill would say, "Why you're welcome Little Darlin." Then he'd get all smiley and say, "You know you're growing up to be quite a pretty lil thing. Maybe I should send your Mama for ice cream so you and I could visit for a while." Then he'd wink at her. And she'd git all embarassed like.

And mama would say, "Now Bill. Don't tease the girl like that. She'll start believing you." Then she'd tell Karen, "Run along now. Git." Only she'd say it like she was mad or sumthin'.

And Uncle Bill would take out his wallet and give Karen a whole dollar and say, "Why don't you buy yourself something real special for a pretty little girl." Then he'd wink again.

And Karen would would politely take the dollar and say "Thank you very much," all over again.

And then we'd go and spend all our money on ice cream and candy and stuff, and we wouldn't come home till it was all gone, 'cause one time when Bobby had a dime left over when he got home Mama said, "Why don't you give that to me, sweatheart, 'cause you'll only lose it or spend it on something foolish."

And when we got home, Mama would be all smiling and humming while she was making the bed. And Lil' Janey would say, "Where's Uncle Bill. Ain't he gonna stay for dinner, 'n say 'hey' to Daddy when he get's home."

And Mama would say, "No, Uncle Bill had to go. And since he and your daddy don't git' along too well, we're just not going to tell Daddy that that he was here. That way Daddy won't worry. Ok?"
And Janey would say ok, but you know she didn't mean it, 'cause Janey was always saying stuff that was supposed to be a secret so Daddy wouldn't worry, so Mama would take one of the dollars offa her dresser and give it to Janey and say, "Here, Honey, put this in your piggy bank to help you remember."

And Janey would run off to her piggy bank and forget all about Uncle Bill coming to visit, 'cause now she had a dollar. Only I never knew where Mama would git that dollar, 'cause whenever we'd ask if we could have some money to get some ice cream or a licorice whip or sumthin', she'd always say, "shut the hell up, I ain't made of money you know. Now go on outside and play and leave me alone." Only Karen 'n me, we never asked 'cause we knew better.

But Mama was always real nice after Uncle Bill came to visit.

I've run out of time today

So here's a picture.

Don't you hate when this happens?

Oh, how foolish we were when we were young

Granted, back then we didn't have the internet so information, not to mention experience, was harder to come by than it apparently is today. Especially for young, innocent, naive, boys like yours truly.

When I was 20 (and 20 was younger then than it is now), Sandy and I went to a movie. I remember the theater we went to but I don't remember what we saw. Sandy and I worked together in a restaurant where I was an assistant manager and she was a cashier. There were rules against such fraternization, but you know how it is. She was hot and I was horny--young, innocent and naive, but horny nonetheless. She was a senior and a cheerleader. We were both seeing other people at the time (her boyfriends name was John--you have to draw it out and say it with disdain--jooooohhnnnnn). I was a bit of a geek and a dork and had virtually no experience, aside from a little girlfriend groping and some sibling explorations a number years earlier. She apparently had more.

I do remember reaching and groping during the movie--she was very soft and somewhat accommodating. And I remember praying to God that she didn't stop me--she didn't, until I tried to unzip her pants. Afterwards, we got into my car to head back home. I started to put on my seatbelt, she stopped me. I was confused, "huh?" She didn't explain.

So there we were quietly riding along down the parkway when she all of a sudden leaned over the center console and laid her head on my shoulder. A moment or so later she was opening my jeans. I was surprised. Pleasantly surprised (duh). As she reached in and worked it out I ascending rapidly toward (some sort of) heaven. For the next 10 miles or so we remained just like that... me driving, her with her head on my shoulder and my cock in her hand. She just held it. Didn't stroke it. Didn't caress it. Just held it.

I imagined what it would be like for her to just lean a little farther down (would her braces hurt?), but I was so damned afraid of loosing the moment that I didn't say a thing. Finally, we got to her neighborhood. She put me back, we kissed, then she started to get out. I did ask if she wanted to go some where else for a while, but she said no. And don't ask me to explain it because I can't, but she said it in a way that confirmed what a young, innocent, naive boy I really was. It might have been a chuckle in her voice. It might have been some words that I've long since forgotten, but I remember that impression. I was a silly boy.

And at that moment I knew I had missed something.

I went home and jacked off.

In the 25+ years since, I've jacked off to the memory hundreds of times. Each time, though I fantasize it a little differently and end up with my first blow job (from a girl.) In real life, that came many, many years later.

This picture is for "About me #2" over there <---

By the way...

I'll probably be seeing Lindsay tonight. Should I tell her what I dreamed?

I stayed up way too late last night...

Online. talking about naughty things.

I've been online sinc 1996--so, just under 10 years now. It didn't take long for me to discover the AOL chat rooms and once I did, I was hooked. And yes hooked is the word. It wasn't unusual for me to be up chatting until 2 in the morning several nights in a row, and on occasion I'd see the sun come up over my keyboard and past my monitor.

The process was pretty simple. My wife would go to bed and I'd say that I'd be there in a few minutes. I'd get online to check my e-mail and while i was doing that, I'd scan the chat rooms too. I'd find a room that looked promising, like dolcett, jbr or f4k9. I'd poke in, check a few profiles, get a little aroused then look a little more. It wouldn't end till I had an orgasm. Usually half a dozen chats, a couple dozen pics and at least one really hot cyber session later. Oh baby, oh baby. Yes, yes, yesssssssss. mmmmmmmmm. That was nice. Always delayed as long as possible.

Then I'd crawl into bed, catch a few hours sleep then drag myself up and to work the next morning. Once or twice I called in sick to catch up on my sleep. (this, i understand is one of the signs of a full blown addiction)

The pendulum eventually swing the other way and I stopped chatting almost completely--totally lost interest. I reconnected with real tlife. But not before hooking up twice in real time though. And I still check back occasionally. The rooms and people seem to have changed though. Or maybe I have. Probably both.

But, as you can see every once in a while I slip back into the old habit. Last night's topic was 'home nudists.'

A note to RC:

Thanks for the comment the other day. I'm a little curious myself. Let me know if you check back in. I read some of your blog. I like your perspective--especially on "What Things May Come."

Happy Easter

It's Easter. He is risen indeed.

Is sex on Easter a sin? Or is it the highest form of praise to the glory of God? I love the scene in Arthur Miller's play "Creation of the World and Other Business" when, after witnessing Adam and Eve's first sexual experience and hearing Eve cry out in the throes of passion, God comments, "I've never heard my name praised so genuinely." (Or something like that.)

High praise indeed.

A little background

The description to the left (or right, or wherever the hell it is) say's I'm in my mid 40s and I'm a good guy. The former is arguable, depending on how one defines it. By my definition I'm pushing the upper limit. The latter is purely subjective. You get to decide.

You've also learned by now (if you've read the one and only post preceeding this) that I'm married. 20+ years now. Wonderful, loving wife. Pretty too. And two wonderful children, hereafter referred to as "the boy" and "the girl" or collectively as "the kids," although they're really beyond kiddom. Both are of voting age plus a couple.

I am a church going man. Christian. Most of my friends I know from church. I know Lindsay from church. I know Joanna from church too, but you'll hear more about her another time. One might consider me a hypocrite. I suspect that I am--church on Sunday, blog on Monday. I'll not dispute it. One might consider me dangerous. I'm not. I've never hurt any one. I've never touched any one without their consent. I've never touched any one underage (except when I was also underage).

What I try not to be is judgmental. At least not in a spiritual, everlasting, you're-going-to-hell-if-you're-not-saved way. I do believe that evil exists. I believe that people are capable of evil acts. I'm not afraid to say so. I'm not afraid to choose my friends based on what they do or don't do, or say or don't say.

So, let's just say I'm looking for the line between the strict doctrine of my salvation, which I do believe in, and the chaos of unbridled hedonism.

There's a bottom line here. I'm not sure what it is yet.

Let's start with this...

I had a dream about Lindsay the other night. Lindsay is very cute. She's also tall. And thin. She's athletic. She's sweet. She's smart. She's wild. She likes to party (but she doesn't want us to know that. Although she's told me a little, she doesn't know how much I know). Lindsay is 16. And I dreamed about her.

In my dream she was everything she is in real life. In my dream she was also pregnant. In my dream she was coming to me because she couldn't go to her parents. Her mom and soon to be stepdad. She didn't want advice, but she did want comfort. So, in my dream I put my arm around her. I told her everything would be alright. I cradled her for a while. I comforted her. In my dream I was jealous of the boy. Whoever he was. I didn't ask. In my dream I knew that I could make everything alright. And I was happy that she came to me.

Then I woke up.

I told my wife about some of the dream. But I didn't tell her everything.