Locking the Door

Sometimes a locked door is a wonderful thing to have in the morning. So there I was, asleep, possibly snoring in a very sexy way, looking cute and cuddly with my usual morning wood. And like all women who have been married for over 10 years, rather then molest me while I sleep as she once did, my wife thought this would be a fine opportunity to work on a knitting project in peace.

And then disaster struck. For her knitting project. For you see, like the undead hordes of hell, the unholy host from which all evil and fornication are spawned, like the first awakening of youthful lust corrupted by a lifetime of sick and twisted yet very creative thoughts- I awoke.

A crazed look in my eye, I spied her non-heaving bosom. Her sleep pants, not revealing the hotbed of desire that I knew awaited my attention, gently refusing to contour even remotely to her curvaceous body.

Seeing that I was awake she looked me deeply in the eye, in a way that I knew suggested that she wanted me so much she couldn't help herself. Or maybe it meant something else....

"I'm out of coffee. When you get up to take a leak bring the carafe." And then she hid her lustful thoughts behind what I knew to be the false appearance of intense focus on her knitting.

Sexily, I went pee and got her some coffee. And while I was at it, got some for me as well. I finished my cup with a grin that was sure to make her want me more then anything, at least, if I could get her to look at me.

She started talking about the different kind of yarn she was knitting with and why it had certain qualities. I took this as an invitation to make my move.

I started kissing her ankle and then slowly moved up her leg, then down the other. She didn't stop me- not because she was interested- but mostly I think she just didn't notice my advances.

I removed her sleep pants. This did not escape her notice.

"Don't be surprised if I'm too focused on this for much response. I have to count rows."

With this, I went to work, utilizing the skills acquired from decades of cunnilingus experience, and a training manual I once read, I slowly began to tease her with my tongue....

To make a not so long, but rather involved story short, I was able to change her focus.

Ouch My Balls.

Tell the truth, you think about this a lot. A romantic evening. Just you and Princess Leia and Chewy. Maybe a double ended dildo and a jar of nutella. Oh yeah, I know how you roll.

Laura and I.

Damn, this is something I would do.

I admit that I like the above version of Laura Croft better than this one.

Though I wouldn't mind pretending it was this one.

Or shit, while we're pretending to wank off, let's go for the gusto. How about her.

So, anyway. I dropped off the tee-totaling French kid in Charlotte for the weekend. I feel like a kid who's parents are gone for the weekend. So I did what any rational teenager would do when his or her parents are away. I took my girl to a movie, drank two pitchers of beer while watching the Wolfman, stopped by a quickie mart for more beer, and then took her home for some hard core bondage style fucking. Rope can be your friend.

It's all because I am long and strong and down to get the friction on.

My Cock and Balls.

Women will sometimes ask about how big my cock and balls are. There are two problems with this question. One, truthfully my cock and balls are fairly average in size and two, I obviously didn't get her drunk enough.

My theory when I was in the game was that if I attempted to shag petit women I could aid in the acceptability of the size of my pecker as well as the expediency with which I can get her drunk.

I mean come on, to a pigmy six inches is fucking huge.

At a Medium Pace.

I was just thinking about both of my loyal followers and wanted to find a song to express how I feel about you. It's really your support, kind thoughts and prayers to 6 lb 7oz dear lord baby Jesus that keep me going. So here's to you, hot babe loyal followers.

Yes, that was for you. I think we should hug or something.

Radda Radda Radda Radda. And Shit.

Schnitzel is pretty cool.

Okay, no lame ass political rants- I promise. I don't know what came over me. I didn't get laid for a couple of days over the Mrs. "special time in the red tent" and next thing you know I started thinking about less important things than freaky sex. But I'm all better now.

Freaky sex is important- in the immortal words of the Sheriff:

Words to live by.

I really have nothing important to say, something that I think both of my reads will appreciate. I recently noticed that I lost a reader, giving me a 33% decrease in readership. This would be very negative if this were a business. However, this is actually worse as the reader I lost is the one who posted pictures of her tits in every blog. Sad really. I liked looking at her tits.

The bird.

This is cool. Wiki the bird.