Everyone is so busy right now. I haven’t been on the WC much lately – too much work, so little time. Easter is on Sunday, and I just can’t get excited about it. It just means that I have less time to get my work done this week. It’s not fair! Every day that is a holiday should be extra, meaning that if Friday and Monday are holidays, then they should get tucked in after this Friday and before next Monday. That means Thurs, Fri, Good Friday, Sat, Easter Sun, Easter Mon, Mon, Tues, etc. You people that are “employed” still get your days off, while we who are “self-employed” can fit in the all-important work days, and then take that extra day off. I hear you howling! But you get those days off, while we still have to work, because we don’t get paid for not working like you do. If we want to take days off, we have to work like maniacs to fit all the work in, so we still meet our deadlines.
Now you see what you’ve done? I sat down to write about sex and instead find myself obsessing about work, work that I should be doing right now, since my lunch break is nearly over, a lunch break that I probably shouldn’t have taken, to write a piece that I shouldn’t be writing. My rent-boy muse has decided to take his holiday early, too, and I’m left alone here to contemplate my navel. Where is he? Probably Tenerife – I don’t know where he goes. He never takes me along. My best friend is S/E like me, and he’s just as manic as I am, since he has to go to Finland next week. It’s alright for some! I want to say that I hope it snows there … alas, he’s going to freeze his tootsies off anyway. Maybe I should send my muse there in his place and take my friend to Tenerife where it’s warm. Somehow, I don’t think his wife would go for that. Anyway, my muse is already gone.
Maybe I’d be more in the mood if I took my clothes off. Nobody’s watching, except you my dear reader. Well, it’s just too cold for that. I can’t even conjure up one of my Rupert Everett fantasies. He can be a little cool as an actor, but he’s not half dishy. I loved him in An Ideal Husband. I so wanted to be Minnie Driver. Did I ever tell you my friend knows her cousin from way back? Probably not. That’s me: I know people who know people, but I’m never the first one in the chain. Of course, he’s never met Minnie. I say that with only hint of jealousy because I know that he has actually met a few rather famous personalities.
There I go, more digressions, I slip into streams that I don’t want to swim in – the water’s cold – and the one where I’d like to go skinny-dipping seems to be closed for the holiday. Maybe I’ll just leave you a pic – she wants to be my friend, apparently. (Why did I ever open a hi5 account? It’s closed now.) Why is it only women that want to be my friends? Don’t hunky guys ever flaunt themselves in internet sex chat rooms? I’m not into hunky anyway, so I suppose it doesn’t matter.
Just pray that I dream of Rupert tonight and not the woman-across-the-street’s dog (again).
I’ve been sitting here working all day, and all I have been able think of has been taking my clothes off. Sometimes, I just find wearing clothes repulsive. I know that sitting on a wool desk chair will get uncomfortable fast, not to mention that I’d get cold rather quickly. Still, they have to come off, at least for a short time, until it gets old, or I start turning blue. (I can put a towel on the chair.)
Excuse me ……………
Ah yes, that’s better. I love this feeling of freedom – and the answer is, no, I do not have a webcam. I don’t do pictures, in any case.
Well, what now? I know – I’ll watch you. Call me Big Sister, as I watch your everyday lives, walking around, working, taking care of the kids, however you spend your day or your night. Yes, the night is more interesting – don’t mind me, I’ll just sit here quietly in the corner as you make love to your partner. Pretend I’m not here – OK, if you get off on that, you can imagine I’m there, naked, in a dark corner of your bedroom. Don’t worry, I have very good night vision; you can have the lights off.
Rough stuff? No, I’m not interested. I’ll be looking out the window, watching my friend, the moon, traverse the sky. Oh, that’s better, gentle kisses, a little bit of tongue action. Now, you’ve got me. Wait, don’t hide under the covers. I don’t have X-Ray vision. I’ll turn the heat up a little, as you turn up your heat. No, don’t hurry on my account. I like it slow, and the slower you go, the more excited I’ll get. I might even, yes, do that, along with you. Don’t pay any attention to my moans. Oh, that was good! I like it when someone does that to me. That should get you going. Mmm, that too, I never would have guessed that a tongue in my ear would have that kind of effect.
You’ve forgotten me by now. I’m still here, but I might just move a little closer. I want to feel your heat – yes, right here on the edge of the bed. The moon glistens on your sweaty bodies, and I have to restrain myself from giving you a hand. The rhythm picks up. You are getting serious now – and so am I – the air is thick with the sultry musk of your copulation, and I’m breathing it in like water vapour in the desert. Ooh, careful – maybe I’m in the way. I’ll just kneel on the floor and lean my head on the edge of the bed – I’m closer to the business end there, and that’s what I want to see. Oh, ride’m girl! That’s my favourite position – on top and in control. Her thigh is only an inch or two from my cheek, pulsing, throbbing. He’s ready – I can tell – his feet are tensing … That’s right! Let it out. I’m not into pain, but noisy is fine, “Yes, yes, yes!” YES! Let the neighbours hear it. Oh my, now I’m sweating, too. Language, dears! OK, you can shout as many expletives as you wish. Getting closer – me, too – hmm, never heard that one before. Three backs arch in unison – and, and …. (pregnant pause) …. YES! blessed release …. oops, he popped out, careful! Oh! He got me right in the face. Warm and slimey. It’s OK; I just wasn’t expecting it. I’ll just wipe it somewhere out of the way. There, he’s back in now, where he belongs.
I’ll just lean here against the side of the bed while you finish up, and savour the post-coital aroma of your bedroom. Yes, of course you may do it again, but I have what I’ve come for. (Hehe!) I might just listen, however.
Ah, I’m back at my desk, sitting on a wet towel. I’m still warm, though, thanks to you.