Conversation

You are warm, caring, tough, intelligent, silly, overprotective (thank you), loving, amusing, sexy, ambitious, responsible, honest (always), sexy, sweet, forceful, outgoing, friendly, and sexy.

Oh, and in case I haven't mentioned it lately, I think you're pretty damned sexy. And wonderful both in and out of bed.

I could easily spend a lifetime extolling your virtues. But that would keep us out of bed, which would be a bad thing. A very bad thing, in my humble opinion.

Good morning, man of my dreams.

I can't begin to tell you how wonderful this morning was. Somehow, I manage to feel you with me even when you're so far away. And yes, I know there are only a few hours between us, but sometimes it feels as though we are worlds apart.

But not this morning. I still want to curl up next to you and just feel your warmth seep into my body, to listen to your heartbeat as you hold me, to feel your chest slowly rise and fall as you slumber...

To wake you with a smile, a kiss, a little bit of oral sex, and to let you know in no uncertain terms just exactly how much I adore you. Sigh.

One day.

Things to do today (completed items in bold)
Morning routine Thank you.
Create Easter basket for you-know-who
Empty dishwasher, reload, wash dishes
Get dressed (stockings and heels don't really count as "dressed")
Pick Maria up from her friend's house - they dropped her off after breakfast
Buy vodka
Visit Colleen
Attack leg of lamb with garlic
Roast leg of lamb - in progress
Cook the rest of Easter dinner
New potatoes
Asparagus
Hollandaise sauce
Peach cobbler
Take my medication (oops - I do keep forgetting to do this)
Begin filling out financial paperwork - disclosure of assets.
Call my mother and my sister
Cry
Pay at least one bill
Entertain a friend from work
Laundry

Inspired by the talented Neela (http://neela.journalspace.com/), I'm going to confide my biggest secret.

I feel dead inside.

Not all the time - I love being with you, spending the mornings with you, thinking of you throughout the day. But in the empty spaces between those times, I'm alone and numb, even when I'm with people I know care about me.

I very nearly bought you a new paddle today. It was labeled as a "hairbrush for bald men", but was a cute heavily laquered wooden paddle. And it was just so tempting, but I resisted.

What I didn't resist was the temptation to spend most of the day indulging in a wonderful fantasy starring someone we both know and love.

And a vehicle with a bench seat...

Good night, my love.

Do you remember how you comforted me when I had just moved, and I had that terrible flu? I find myself longing for that comfort tonight. To feel you with me, to know you are thinking of me, and smiling at what I am feeling. The physical demonstration of the hugs you cannot give.

I long to be held that way. I am feeling very alone and even though I know that you are always with me, I continue to cry. I don't know how to get over this one. I have always thought that people were basically good, and decent, and honorable. That they meant what they said, and that they wouldn't allow themselves to become petty and mean.

Am I just foolish to think this way? Should I start to believe that everyone is out for himself, and that anybody who claims to care is a liar?

But then I think of you. And I know that there are at least some kind, loving, decent people still out there.

Thank you.

Cute and funny as the last post was, there are some things I've hinted at but never really come out and told you. And I think it is about time. (If you've already heard enough, quit reading now, please.)

I'm going to start seeing someone, either tomorrow or sometime next week. I need to do this, because it became clear to me over the weekend that if I didn't make some changes soon, it might very well be too late, and what is disturbing now might simply become the way I live. And I don't want to live this way any more.

I know that I haven't made it clear exactly what the problem is, and while I'm uncomfortable talking about it (and if I'm uncomfortable with you, imagine how hard it is going to be with a stranger.) I think you may want to know, and you obviously deserve to know the whole truth.

I'm scared. I'm always scared. I get frightened in situations where, a few months ago, I would have told the person to fuck off and die, or to drop dead, or just to get the hell out of my face, and been done with it. Now, I cry and become immobile when things like this happen. Even in Fresno this weekend - when that woman trapped me in the doorway to my room. I couldn't come up with a smart retort to save my soul. I was too frightened that she was going to hurt me. So I cowered, and eventually told her what she wanted to know so she would go away. And even now, I'm having trouble with it. I've asked you for help with the decision I have to make about this weekend, but I think I need to find someone close by who can help me stop being so frightened all the time. I know a little fear of the spouse is to be expected, and probably healthy, considering everything that has happened, but it is carrying over into the rest of my life. I feel as though I should be doing better by now, and while that may or may not be true, it is what I feel.

I can't be as good a parent as I would like if I'm afraid. And I certainly can't be as good to you as I'd like when I feel as though I need to watch everything I say, and everything I do. That isn't me. I may not be the most outgoing woman in the world, but I've never been like this. I wasn't like this last summer, and I don't want to be like this any more.

I do adore you. And I know you want me to be healthy, mind and body, and I have finally decided to do something about it. (a hug would be nice here...)

I'm hoping to be able to get back to the fun stuff soon. I miss writing for you. I miss lots of things.

I think this may just be all your doing:

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And I adore you. (Just in case you hadn't noticed...)

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

I'm not wearing anything green - gonna come pinch me? Please?

Can you tell how worried I am about you? When we talk, when I write, when you wake up in the middle of the night, knowing I'm thinking of you?

Above all else, I want you to be happy.

Always.

I had a lovely fantasy on BART last evening, on the way home from The Makeout Room, where I went with a friend and her husband. Okay, the alcohol may have fueled this particular fantasy, which is part memory and part wishful thinking.

I'm on a trip somewhere, staying in a motel. I've let you know where I will be, because, well, I always do, don't I? But I don't have a way to really talk to you while I'm there, so we haven't spoken in days.

I'm doing the usual - taking things out of the suitcase, chilling a drink, parading around in just a towel, when I hear someone knocking on the door.

I go to answer, not thinking about the fact that I don't know anyone in this town, and that I'm not exactly dressed for company.

It is done.

I'm exhausted, but I have managed to reach everyone I can think of who might be on his little list of people to torment. Thankfully, most people have just laughed, and some of my friends' wives (and husbands, because the women had to be warned too) have gone so far as to say that they'd love to get the chance to tell him how delighted they are to hear that I'm having such a good time.

Well, one said that anyway.

All that is left is to close escrow on the house, and then try to undo the damage he's done to my credit and my status on the job. (I still think I'm going to lose the job over this... it has just gotten to be too much, if you get my drift.)

I just play one on TV...


You are the seductress pin-up! You are
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Maybe, maybe not. Can I really afford to take the chance? I don't think so.

I continue to make calls, to write emails, to warn everyone I can. Perhaps when they all laugh in his face he'll rethink his position. Perhaps.

Who am I kidding? Although the mere fact that he has driven me to calling all my old friends may be just the torment he was aiming for.

There's always hope. (Why did I have to pick this week to get optimistic?)

I know you like it when I tell you (in graphic detail) just exactly what I want, how much I want you, the ways I want you to touch me, the ways I want to touch you, so I'm going to take a little time today and tell you all about it.

Well, first of all, I really would love that unending flight in your arms. Can't think of many things that would be sweeter. But, fantasy aside, here are the things I just can't wait to do for, and with you.

Oh, where to start? At the beginning, I guess.

It doesn't matter where we are, or how we got there. All that matters is that I have your cock in my mouth, and my arms around your ass, holding you close while you cum. And later, you'll hold me in your arms and I'll rest my head on your chest while trying not to drift off... you have no idea how satifsying it is to have you that way. Sigh.

Okay, time to move on.

I want to lick your balls, and your ass. I want to see the look in your eyes, the smile on your face while I do these things. (Okay, logistics aside...) I love the way you taste, the way it feels to have my face buried in your ass. God, I'd better stop now or I'll never get to work.

More later. Much more, if I have my way.

We're pressed back into the seats as the plane rises. Of course, you take full advantage of this opportunity to slide your hand toward the back of the seat - so high on my thigh now that I'm starting to blush.

I don't think I've ever appreciated a sweater so much. But I do appreciate the way you're holding me, and even though I would never admit it, I'm not at all unhappy with what you're doing under there. Of course, you can tell, can't you? Yeah, my body betrays me again. And you won't ever let me forget it. But for now, I'm just going to enjoy what you're doing and try not to let on just how excited I'm getting.

After all, you haven't told me I can speak yet, so there really isn't anything else to do but snuggle close to you and hope this flight never ends.

We push back from the gate, and the flight attendants start telling us all the safety features and escape routes, the usual stuff. I continue to enjoy the feeling of being in your arms, although I must admit I'm a bit nervous about what your other hand is doing.

We're on the runway, getting ready for takeoff and the staff is heading back to their seats, checking seat belts on the way. I can see them coming toward us, and while I love the feeling of your arm draped around my shoulders, and your hand cupping my breast, I don't really want the nice young man checking seat belts to see it. So I try to move, to slip away, and God, what a mistake that is! You're so gentle so much of the time that I sometimes forget just how strong your grip can be. Now instead of being embarrassed by the way we're sitting, I'm just trying not to squeal when the attendant walks past.

After what feels like an eternity, but is really less than a minute, everyone is seated and the plane starts to pick up speed. We're getting ready for takeoff, and I reach up to hold your hand until we're safely in the air. You, however, are not ready to let go just yet, so I put my hand over yours just to be touching you.

You lift the arm rest, and pull me just a little bit closer. I put my head on your shoulder, and close my eyes. I don't want anything to take away from the feeling of being in your arms.

You, on the other hand, have plans that don't include allowing me to take that nap. Your hand moves farther up my thigh, and when I open my mouth to speak, you put your lips next to my ear and say, "Shh. Not a sound."

I'm on one of those indirect flights. We've stopped about halfway to our destination, where some passengers leave the plane, and new passengers board. I've found myself alone in one of the back rows this time, as the plane wasn't completely full and everyone seems to want to sit near the front.

Ordinarily I would have tried to get a front seat as well, but today I've decided room is more important than being the first off the plane. It isn't as though there will be anyone waiting for me at the airport. Once I get off this monster, I still have a long drive ahead of me.

People begin boarding, and it looks as though I might just get lucky and have the whole row to myself on this leg of the trip as well. I make myself comfortable, stretching my legs into the space in front of the middle seat, putting my head against the window and closing my eyes for a much-needed nap.

I feel something moving. Someone is taking the aisle seat. Well, I can still be comfortable with just two seats. I try not to appear available for conversation - keeping my eyes closed, and praying whoever it is has something to read. I stil have my legs stretched out, and my sweater over me (no blankets on this airline) and am trying very hard to fall asleep before we even take off, when I feel something strange.

Whoever had the aisle seat has moved into the middle of the row, beside me. Without saying a word, this person has slid his legs under mine. I go to move my legs, because this is getting a little uncomfortable, when I feel it. A hand. Under my sweater. On my thigh.

I look to my left,ready to raise hell, and then I just have to laugh. "What are you doing here?"

"Just thought you might like some company. And I was in the neighborhood, so..."

5:30 (of course)
9:30
10:11
11:30
cleaned both the kitchen and the bathroom... I must be ill. (or really happy.)
2:30
6:42
9:51
11:15
5:30 (good morning!)
6:40
9:30
12:30
9:11
11:40
Thank you, and good night.

It is funny. While I know that there are a few people who read this, and a couple of people who know who I am, I didn't think anyone but you knew about the other journal. I'm almost sure who my stalker friend is, but not quite - the person I think it might be hasn't been willing to say one way or the other. But boy is my anonymous friend pushy. And you know darned well I just don't take that from anyone but you. Tell me what to do, and most people can be guaranteed that I'll do the exact opposite. (Of course, you're not most people, are you?)

I have to admit that it is just a bit strange to think that someone who seems to know me would choose that way to communicate. I mean, I write to you here, but I also talk to you every day. This is just a series of comments on an anonymous weblog.

And in the last comment, he ended by saying "I'm waiting..."

If I was even a touch less foolhardy, I'd ask you to walk me home at night.

Tomorrow, another story. Perhaps one that reflects a very fond memory. And a nap.

I sometimes wish I was a cat. Then I could curl up next to you every evening, and just purr while you stroked me.

And I promise I won't bite. (too much)

I had a really good time today. Thank you for making it happen. Can't say it was all fun and games, as you know - public is always risky.

But sometimes the risk just makes it that much more enjoyable.


Doesn't it?

If you don't touch me soon I think I'm going to die.

That's better.

Oh, who the hell am I kidding? Even in a cold shower, I get all soapy and slippery, and spend my time thinking of just how good your hands would feel sliding all over me...

Okay, so all I think about when you're around is sex, sex, sex. Sweet, gentle sex, spankings followed by sex, blow jobs, rough sex, kinky sex, and more sex.

Maybe I should give that cold shower another try. Otherwise I'll never sleep tonight.

Today's fantasies have had a single recurring theme. You're standing there, by the wall, near the door, somewhere across the room. You look at me, and tell me to come to you.

When I do, you wrap your arms around me and ask me if that's what I want. Of course, I say yes, because there are very few things I enjoy more than being in your arms.

You pull me a little closer, sliding your hand down my back and onto my ass. You start to tap, gently, and ask again if that's what I want. Well, I'm having some trouble getting the words out, but you're waiting, so I look up at you and say "Yes." Just yes, because I'm having some difficulty finding words right now.

You tap me again, just a little bit harder, and ask "What did you say?" I have my arms around your neck,and I pull your head down so that I can whisper in your ear (I'm not sure I can keep from drawing attention to us if I try to say it out loud),"Oh, yes. That is exactly what I want."

And now I'm going to take a nice cold shower...