Hurrah Hurray! My MOO Cards came TODAY! For those not in the know, SG was gracious enough to get us photogs so me business cards. We got to choose the images we wanted to put on our cards, of course our own original images only, and here's my selection:
Left to right, my cards feature: KatieRose, Twinkie, Reina, Wallace, Nicca, Reina, and KatieRose.
I have another installment of the chronicles of my life to share with ya'll. This encounter revolves around, What, more sexual escapades, you say? touch!
I could have said anything in that moment and he wouldn't have cared. "I can't decide whether to commit suicide or go bowling," perhaps, would have had a breezy ring I could tell by the look in his eye. "What does your t-shirt say?" He asked. I parted my hair for him to read my breasts across. "Nothing... it's a stupid t-shirt. I don't have many anymore." What did that mean? I wondered if he had wondered what I meant by that. From his picture he sent us he looked relatively homely. In fact I agreed to this meeting with some hesitation. The dark glasses and baseball cap he wore in his small online photo completely obscured his face. He appeared Latino, with unimpressive bone structure. All was different when I met his eye-contact for the first moment after emerging from the bathroom, freshly showered (of course!) and there they were, obligingly entertained by my kind Monsieur Cox in our living room. At first it was just a nonchalant glance around to greet the newcomers, but when our eyes locked my body surged with the realization that he had intensely attractive eyes, hypnotic, large blue eyes, which I soon realized had me transfixed. I almost could not pull myself away, but for the sake of polite interaction I forced myself. It was clear he had the same reaction, both of us knowing we would soon be fucking on the bed 5 feet away. Well, it turned out he wasn't Latino, he was Caucasian, with olive skin and bright blue eyes (and, indeed, a very large cock).
His girlfriend was blonde and sweet and giggly. They were both charming enough, with a detectable note of the offbeat. She was a little chubby with smallish breasts. She revealed a predisposition for jealousy and insecurity during our chitchat. I suppose it was a point of considerable offense when Monsieur Cox stripped off my shirt and my breasts dropped down, larger than hers, and then slipped off my pants while we were making out and her boyfriend grabbed my ass within 2 seconds. Cox asked me to go down on her boyfriend, so I slid over to them and began.... ........I suppose any further details might be a little strong for the casual, public reader (not that I have shame), so I'll end the story here, suffice it to provide one further detail, the point of this entire hoooo-ra (I made that word up...or did i??), and that is that on this evening, I was paid one of the greatest compliments of my physically mature life. By now, blonde baby had excused herself to the restroom, but none of us had noticed, and there it was just barely audible over our vocal theatrics, a whimper. It concerned me, somewhere in the back of my mind, except not really at all. It was hard to find reason to care about much beyond present occupation. It was her, crying in the bathroom. Finally, the realization that she needed attention crept up and I called for a water break. He consoled her to no avail. He came back and said with personal blame and embarrassment, "I'm sorry," then kind of leveling with me, "she thinks you're too hot and she's not getting any attention--which is not true!" Wow... double whammy. I kept my concerned face while my snobby little ego swelled. "Can you go talk to her?" he implored. I didn't know what to say... I realized I was the cause of her anxiety so how could I calm her? I walked into the bathroom and fumbled my way through "can we talk?" She wouldn't look up and brushed past me. Now Cox was finally coming to and taking notice of the "issue" ... "Did you have an asthma attack or something?" He asked her, genuinely concerned. She maintained she wasn't feeling well but he kept pushing, "What's wrong?" I tried to shush him but he said later he wanted to make sure we didn't need to call an ambulance. Good man. Well, that was the beginning of the end of our night (especially to her boyfriend's consternation who profusely apologized and pulled me aside to say he really wanted to stay but she just wants to leave, what could he do about it? ...I could read him miles away and I already knew all of this. His frustration and anguish so apparent, her low self esteem and reluctant acquiescence to tonight, their co-dependency...)
Do I feel bad? Fuck no. I feel great! That's rock and roll.
Left to right, my cards feature: KatieRose, Twinkie, Reina, Wallace, Nicca, Reina, and KatieRose.
I have another installment of the chronicles of my life to share with ya'll. This encounter revolves around, What, more sexual escapades, you say? touch!
I could have said anything in that moment and he wouldn't have cared. "I can't decide whether to commit suicide or go bowling," perhaps, would have had a breezy ring I could tell by the look in his eye. "What does your t-shirt say?" He asked. I parted my hair for him to read my breasts across. "Nothing... it's a stupid t-shirt. I don't have many anymore." What did that mean? I wondered if he had wondered what I meant by that. From his picture he sent us he looked relatively homely. In fact I agreed to this meeting with some hesitation. The dark glasses and baseball cap he wore in his small online photo completely obscured his face. He appeared Latino, with unimpressive bone structure. All was different when I met his eye-contact for the first moment after emerging from the bathroom, freshly showered (of course!) and there they were, obligingly entertained by my kind Monsieur Cox in our living room. At first it was just a nonchalant glance around to greet the newcomers, but when our eyes locked my body surged with the realization that he had intensely attractive eyes, hypnotic, large blue eyes, which I soon realized had me transfixed. I almost could not pull myself away, but for the sake of polite interaction I forced myself. It was clear he had the same reaction, both of us knowing we would soon be fucking on the bed 5 feet away. Well, it turned out he wasn't Latino, he was Caucasian, with olive skin and bright blue eyes (and, indeed, a very large cock).
His girlfriend was blonde and sweet and giggly. They were both charming enough, with a detectable note of the offbeat. She was a little chubby with smallish breasts. She revealed a predisposition for jealousy and insecurity during our chitchat. I suppose it was a point of considerable offense when Monsieur Cox stripped off my shirt and my breasts dropped down, larger than hers, and then slipped off my pants while we were making out and her boyfriend grabbed my ass within 2 seconds. Cox asked me to go down on her boyfriend, so I slid over to them and began.... ........I suppose any further details might be a little strong for the casual, public reader (not that I have shame), so I'll end the story here, suffice it to provide one further detail, the point of this entire hoooo-ra (I made that word up...or did i??), and that is that on this evening, I was paid one of the greatest compliments of my physically mature life. By now, blonde baby had excused herself to the restroom, but none of us had noticed, and there it was just barely audible over our vocal theatrics, a whimper. It concerned me, somewhere in the back of my mind, except not really at all. It was hard to find reason to care about much beyond present occupation. It was her, crying in the bathroom. Finally, the realization that she needed attention crept up and I called for a water break. He consoled her to no avail. He came back and said with personal blame and embarrassment, "I'm sorry," then kind of leveling with me, "she thinks you're too hot and she's not getting any attention--which is not true!" Wow... double whammy. I kept my concerned face while my snobby little ego swelled. "Can you go talk to her?" he implored. I didn't know what to say... I realized I was the cause of her anxiety so how could I calm her? I walked into the bathroom and fumbled my way through "can we talk?" She wouldn't look up and brushed past me. Now Cox was finally coming to and taking notice of the "issue" ... "Did you have an asthma attack or something?" He asked her, genuinely concerned. She maintained she wasn't feeling well but he kept pushing, "What's wrong?" I tried to shush him but he said later he wanted to make sure we didn't need to call an ambulance. Good man. Well, that was the beginning of the end of our night (especially to her boyfriend's consternation who profusely apologized and pulled me aside to say he really wanted to stay but she just wants to leave, what could he do about it? ...I could read him miles away and I already knew all of this. His frustration and anguish so apparent, her low self esteem and reluctant acquiescence to tonight, their co-dependency...)
Do I feel bad? Fuck no. I feel great! That's rock and roll.
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
twinkie:
Sassy cards!
rootsdub:
where was your man in all that?! 