Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Quick and dirty

The weekend was a bit difficult because I felt rather self-inflated. Why should I - a beautiful, sexy, ripe, kinky slut - be trapping myself indoors out in the suburbs while I could go hit the local yokel bars downtown? Sure, I could have but I felt a bit lazy, a bit wary of the drunk drive back to the 'burbs (too many 20-year-old memories of that), a bit penny-pinching, a bit too-good-for-your-hick-town, a bit insecure, a bit conflicted. I know what would have happened if I went out drinking, too. I was feeling very wet and wily. If I had gone out I would have put a few drinks back, found a pinball table, and suggested heavily to the first co-ed that we find a place to fuck: my car, his car, the alleyway, wherever. Not that this would have been bad form, because you all know me to shun criticism when it comes to standards. But it would have a) wrecked my anonymity, b) tarnished my nouveau virginity, c) made me feel a tad empty and slimy for stooping to either Billy College Boy or Jack Hick Redneck or Mike Hippie Tiedye, and d) done me in enough to stumble loudly back to my parents house in slight disarray and guilt.

So, I opted to stay in and catch up on geeky things like fixing my ipod nano and building a good workout playlist. I sorted paperwork and made lists of "to do." It's strange out here in suburbia and semi-retirement land. Days bleed with no punching-in the clock and no internet 24-7. Is it Tuesday? Is it Saturday? What time is it? So far, time is sectioned by the phone alarm at 9am, the hour I take to wake to the cheerfulness of my parents, the 1/2 hour walk/run on their treadmill, the 1/2 hour with my mom's 5lb weights and crunches (honestly, exercise does stave off the starving horny inside me and makes me a more agreeable person), maybe a lunch if you want mom to make something because she's already pulling something together for dad, the errands (more boxes into storage, a visit to grandma, groceries with mom, free stuff to goodwill, 2-3 hours at the wifi coffee shop), the dinner (I've been crowned the Salad Queen), the dinner in front of the TV with a bottle of wine (I've been drinking more consistantly here than I did in Madison), the hour of cable (okay, okay, "Weeds" is cool), and then 2 hours messing around in my bed while the Tylenol PM kicks in.

Where the hell does time go? Where has it gone? I've been a week here and only have 2 weeks and 5 days left.

Yesterday dad and I went up north and east by about 2.5 hours to see some land they bought. They're moving finally after 16 years over by the Mississip. My military-retired dad is contracting to have a house built by eco-friendly builders and is considering a huge vegetable garden, growing some out of control prairie restoration patch, and wants 2 solar panels on his property for all their energy use. My military, strict as a ruler father is turning hippie. He even mentioned perhaps growing a beard and a ponytail!!! Apparently my mother is going along with it willingly and enthusiastically and is learning about canning and how to have a fish pond.

Things are a bit weird up here. But it hasn't been nearly as horrendous as I thought it was going to be.

We all got a bit stressed out this morning though and dad decided to storm off to see about fixing the air conditioner in their house and mom stomped off to see about some groceries. This gave me a quick sneak upstairs alone. Finally, after a week. Alone! And long enough that I could justify pulling out my little naughty bag, popping in a couple of batteries, firing up the erotica stories. I thought I'd be able to sit back, spread wide (even though on the edge of the bed with the laptop on the bureau beside me), and enjoy a slow-building, body-shattering cum. Interesting, it took about 2 paragraphs of naughty older men touching juicy girls and I was buzzing in my panties. Literally about 2 minutes. Good lord! A premature ejac! Quite the first. But understandable no doubt. I took a quick shower (this was after working out and hauling 6 boxes by myself to the storage room) and noted that everyone was still gone. Yes, the little hungry piggie, I sat on the edge of the bed again, laptop in front of me, egg down the thong, and again about 4 minutes this time. Trying to hold off but indulging all the same.

I'm running around like cold barbed wire rolling up my back and cherub cheeks flushed from need. It's impossible. Waking up with wet dreams and ideas of fingers walking down my thighs, wet lips on my belly dimples. It's one eye open and a forced mental block. Push it down. Ignore it. Lock it away.

Meanwhile, Andy and I are making ticklish prep for this Saturday. He asked me via email if I wanted to know the itineray and I thought he was talking about his work schedule that weekend for our out-of-town rendezvous. I guess he meant our itinerary which includes an official, formal, out-in-the-open dinner date - including reservations!

(Taking liberty and posting what I want:)

Me: A real date sounds like a lot of fun... it's not a pity date for your mistress who you haven't ever taken out in public is it?

Anyway... off to use an electric saw on wood pallets between the rains. Man, I can't wait to get my own time and freedom back.

Don't be surprised if I jump you this Sat btw, I've got constant wet dreams right now and am waking up grumpy and frustrated.

Andy: So after about 2 weeks in Paris I wonder if this phrase will come back to haunt you, "Man, I can't wait to get my own time and freedom back. "? I mean I know you'll enjoy the private space and time to keep your sexual sanity, but I'm betting you'll miss some of those demands on your private time as well (like me, I hope).

< and now for some whiplash subject changes! .>

The date is not pity, no. Atonement, maybe a bit. Last chance, most definitely. I'm very much looking forward to it... as in scary, weird, heart pounding, sweating palms, deliriously looking forward to it way too much. My chance to show you what you've missed. What I've missed.

Me: RE: Coming back to haunt me: I'm sure it will. The grass is always greener, right? I know what homesickness is. But, honestly, I think I've grown to become pals with homesickness b/c I've never really had a 'home.' What is it that my myspace page says again? Home is where I rest my head. I'm a more frustrated and affected by loss of freedom/solitude/personal space/privacy. I will most definitely miss certain 'demands' although I never looked at you, or other playmates, as demanding of my time. You were someone to look forward to, and perfectly timed usually. I realize that I probably masturbate 3-8 times a week and have actual physical contact 1-3 times a week. Without either for a month is frustrating and not having that privacy/space to even get off is insanity-driving. I know I'll at least have the latter in Paris, but my wonderful lover(s) will take a lot more work. It's almost like we've built a very reliable but spontaneous connection and that will be hard to find again.

Atonement is an interesting word to use. I am not about to read into it. ... I've been thinking and daydreaming about it. First, I woke up thinking that your wife would come down to surprise you and there we are, in the lobby, small overnight bags. We'd chat and then you'd walk in and be a bit taken aback. We wouldn't get any time together and you'd have to rush to hide the condoms. Then, there's the other spoiler where the US military plans a surprise and it's been hurry up and wait and then is all cancelled. Then, there's total heart pounding, wondering what we would actually do together while dressed with time to converse (does the whole dynamic get squashed when we realize we aren't good conversation partners or does it all improve by 200%), excitement, already running through my closet in my head (ball gown like I'm a princess, secretary wear like you like, a casual dress and boots, underwear or no underwear), how long will we be able to stay dressed and in public - after all, we do have time but not too much time.... all these things. ... What have we missed? I can't wrap my head around it.

Andy: Ok. Atonement. Our... umm.. relationship/affair/tryst thing has been wonderful (what the hell do we call this thing?). But I can't help feeling that I've somehow marginalized you, or just not given you the attention and affection you have so richly deserved. (And I suspect that you feel that by my giving you no strings attached, good sex, that you've gotten what you wanted. But from a guy's perspective that just seems way-too-good-to-be-true.) I just want to make that up to you in some small way. To atone for every second I may have taken you for granted. Not much else to read into it. You don't know what you've got until it's gone...

[complications addresses]

Conversation: Are you kidding me? A little bit of nervous banter, yes. But we're both talkers. And incurable, incorrigible flirts. This will be fun.

Wine: [reminding me] Your bottle of Spatlese, the note and the wine glasses were at the height of my infatuation with you. V1.0. You were on webcam with me, drinking a white wine from a tumbler and I had to chastise you. Will the pallets and woodchips be protecting those glasses?

Ugh: I sometimes snore. Sometimes not. Please think of it as cute and endearing, and not a stain on your memory of me.

Morning: I anticipate needing to leave the hotel by about 7:30 to 8:00. You'd be free to stay until checkout which I think is at 11:00. We can have breakfast sent up if you like.... although I think I recall your not being much of a breakfast person? Too bad we're 12 blocks from the lake... it'd be nice to take a walk on the shore at sunrise....


It's sure to be a delightful evening and morning. Although, we will be skipping the early AM walk, I'm checking to see if he'd enjoy an early quickie instead with some room service on the way.

And for some of those reasons I'm glad I skipped going out this past weekend. Sometimes the wait is worth it -- granted, not like a virginity pledge wait, of course. But a little bit of romantic, sexual, sensual tension inside me and outside in the air between the Mississippi and Lake Michigan might end up just raining a bit of desire across this wet state.

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