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I messed up yesterday. I was so excited at being motivated and getting shit done that martini o'clock came early and that spells the end of progress. I only managed a little more paperwork and re-seeding 1/2 of the front yard (about a 45' x 90' chunk). I did get to AIM with beloved Carriem and Nividian for a bit in the evening. Bedtime meant audio book on the ipod (I love my iPod!), then zzzzzzz.
This morning I awoke from the most erotic dream I've had in a long while. I was in a movie theater and the show was in the audience. It was only 1/3 full, but of high school/college age kids fucking. All were M/F and hot hot hot. Some were partially clothed, some were naked. In the row in front of me, a couple seats over, was this really good looking girls getting relentlessly banged by one young stud after another. I watched that scene the most, groping myself as I did, and wanting to fluff the guys (like they needed it) and eat her pussy raw, flicking and sucking out all the jizz these dudes had deposited. The last thing I remember is a guy, I don't know, 17? 18? walking up the aisle naked sporting an absolutely humongous stiffie.
Waking up to that of course I had killer rebar! I started with a dry, slide the skin up and down best I could being circumcised (bastards!) movement, but then the LO got out of bed. I grabbed some lube (it sits on the headboard in a convenient pump dispenser) and started a slow fist hump. He came back to bed. Rather than go for it anyway, I got discreet. He, a few months or maybe as much as a year ago, told me that he felt bad that I waited till he'd gotten out of bed to jerk off. (We have some work to do, you betcha.) I didn't want to go back to that mindset this morning, but I wanted to finish myself off, so I quietly stroked. My cock was pre-lubed anyway, so WTF?
Watching young studs fuck girls is a huge fetish of mine -- a pic gallery is ready to upload with some commentary, either later this entry or next. If next, I really want that next to be today.
I lounged after he got out of bed for keeps, not to masturbate, but to contemplate my daily morning haunting of you know who. He did, btw, open that email I'd sent Saturday. No response, but the history function says there's no other way it would have reported that. So well good. At least I'll be the one to have parted olive branch in hand, leaving him to be the asshole if he doesn't accept it, or even make a show to. Moral high ground? Yup. (Or 'yep' as Ryan used to write.) So what? Good for me!
This morning, as I was shoving through paperwork (at 6:30 at my home desk -- being a salary man you have no clock to punch in and out of), I was suddenly overcome with that body flush, sweat on forehead vertigo that means danger! You are about to puke! You have 5 seconds to get somewhere! I didn't puke, but felt queasy all morning. I called in to work as a no show. Then Gatorade. About a quart of it. Then better. The LO left for work around 1 and I proceeded to make me a martini, out of habit, not craving. It's pushing 2 and I'm already on my second. I feel in no way impaired. There is definitely a problem here.
Despite the sudden progress my heart has made, I still ought to post the e-dialog I had with someone that really sent me healing. There are things in it that I don't think I ever shared and if anyone who reads is trying to put it together, or waiting to before offering me any advice.
In bed this morning as part of my ruminations came again the recognition of two completely different people. There is Ryan and there is JWB. When I write I really need to distinguish them. I did a little before, but I'd like to again. Ryan was sweet, attentive, watched and knew even the tiniest detail about me. Then I told him things I never had anyone. No one ever looked at me that way, let alone really made love to me. Even as I type this I can see his slight smile, his gentle eyes probing deep into mine without blinking or flinching. I can hear his voice speaking logically, rationally, deeply of emotional, spiritual, and intellectual things. I feel his hand brush my face as I watch him mouth 'I love you'. And that out of the blue, for no apparent reason, he'd do that. How I craved his taste and scent!
JWB is Mr. Hyde. Cold, distant, fearful, cowardly, irrational, downright hateful. But only behind a keyboard. To my face, when it's 1 on 1, he's sheepish and acts so ashamed of himself. When others are around he falls silent, but maintains the posture of one who's involved in the group. I don't look at him, but he stares at me. Is he whacked or what? Is he still hooked on me? I'm kept in a state of confusion. But the sky is clearing for me.
What I begin to see now is how bi-polar he really is. And worry for him, however unreachable he is now. I can miss Ryan, but JWB is toxic. What a bitch to be rendered helpless.
I got a book today titled Where Stuff Comes From. Right up my alley! The cool thing in light of this entry and the times, the dedication is written "To Jack and the memory of Joe."
Ryan is a memory. A beloved one.
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Have any comments you'd like to share?
[So far 0 smart ass remarks have been made.]
encroaching increase of darkness - 2008-11-02
Bones - 2008-09-20
random bitchings and musings - 2008-07-09
Man with Huge Cock - 2008-07-04
Eric and other crazy shit - 2008-06-29
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Thinkin' 'bout: nothing
Dog(s) keeping me company: needed nap
Current read: 40