Friday Flashback – Working Late

“Are you going home soon?” Rebecca’s head appeared at the top of the partition that separated their work spaces.

“Soon, soon,” Jo didn’t look up from her screen. “I just want to get this finished tonight so Grumpy Arse doesn’t get on my case in the morning.”

“You work too damned hard,” Rebecca admonished her friend. “Grumpy Arse doesn’t appreciate you enough.”

“I know, I know.” Jo waved her hand absently. “I promise I will come out for drinks with you guys tomorrow night.” She looked up from her screen for a few moments to smile warmly at her friend. 

Rebecca looked unconvinced. “If you say so then.” She turned and picked up her handbag. “Make sure you aren’t here too late.”

“I won’t.”

As the lift door pinged and Rebecca left the building a hush descended. A feeling of relief came over Jo. She actually liked working in an empty office with no ringing phones or colleague’s conversations to distract her. In no time she was absorbed completely in her work. 

The first thing that alerted her to his presence was his scent. Her body registered the aroma before her mind registered his presence. The familiar smell filled her nostrils and sent a warm jolt straight to her groin.

“You always work so hard Jo,” his voice whispered against her neck as his lips brushed her hairline. Gooseflesh rose along Joe’s arms and her nipples hardened against the lace of her bra. In front of her the cursor blinked, demanding the next word in the report she had been writing. She couldn’t think of a single thing except the feeling of his hands sliding over her shoulders to cup her breasts.

She exhaled as she leaned back and let her legs fall open.

“I missed those breasts,” his breath was hot in her ear as his fingers pinched her nipple. He straightened up and turned her chair around so that she sat with her face centimetres from the fabric of his trousers that was straining to contain his throbbing cock.

For a few seconds he considered unzipping himself and freeing his cock. He knew that if he did she wouldn’t hesitate to open those beautiful lips and slide them down around his aching member. He ached to feel this lips on his shaft and twist his hands into her hair, pushing himself deeper into her. He knew that once he started down that road there would be no turning back. Tonight he wanted something else.

“Which office belongs to Mr Grumpy Arse may I ask?” He looked at her quizzically. 

“That one,” Jo pointed to the office in the corner. “Why?”

Marcus took her and and led her towards the open door. “Because I am going to fuck you over his desk,” he announced casually. 

Jo stopped in her tracks, resisting his gentle tug in the direction of her supervisor’s office.

“I can’t do that!” Her heart was racing and she could feel heat rising in her cheeks. 

Marcus grinned, “And why not? He will never know.”

Jo continued to resist, “He will find out.” 

Marcus stepped close to her. His scent was intoxicating. 

“If he does he will just be very jealous that another man was enjoying this delicious neck,” he trailed kisses down the side of her neck. “And watching these gorgeous breasts bounce while you were having the life fucked out of you.” His hands cupped her breasts as he kissed her deeply. Without a word he turned and led her through the open door. 

Inside the office he pulled the door closed and guided her towards the desk. Without speaking he sat her on the desk and hitched her skirt up around her hips. She watched as he kneeled between her legs and hooked his fingers into the leg of her panties. For a moment he studied her perfect wet pinkness before he slid his tongue into her wet musky folds. He lapped at her wetness greedily as her protests turned into sighs of pleasure. When he slid two fingers into her greedy cunt her sighs turned into little whimpers that crescendoed into deep moans as he continued to pleasure her. Only when her moans peaked as her hips bucked against his face did he stop his ministrations. 

He stood up and looked at her sprawled across her detested supervisor’s desk drunk with pleasure and lust. Only then did he reach down and open his trousers to ease out his aching cock. His hand wrapped around his shaft, “You want this?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” she didn’t hesitate.

He only paused long enough to rip open a condom wrapper before he plunged his cock into her hot hungry wetness.

“Joanne,” the familiar voice drifted through the open office door. Even though this morning he didn’t sound angry Jo still felt a stab of dread at the sound of his summons. 

“Yes Mr Newton,” she responded as brightly as she could.

“Would you come in here please?” This was a new thing. Normally he would return her work by email covered in highlighting and scathing comments. She hoped that he wasn’t about to berate her in person. 

Like a meerkat on watch Rebecca’s head popped over the partition to give her a quizzical look. Jo replied with a shrug as she stood and made her way to her supervisor’s office. Once inside the door Jo had a vibrant flashback to the previous night when Marcus had sat her on the desk in front of where Mr Newton now sat and knelt on the floor where Mr Newton’s chair now resided to lick her pussy. 

“I just wanted to tell you that the standard of the work you submitted this morning was excellent,” Mr Newton stood up to face Jo as she stood on the opposite side of his desk.

He was standing right were Marcus had stood as he slammed his cock into her while she sprawled across the jotter that she now found herself staring at. Her screams of pleasure rang in her ears as her boss continued to praise her. 

“Sit down,” Mr Newton settled back into his chair, the one Marcus had sat on last night before she impaled herself on his cock. “I think maybe it is time to talk about your future here,” 

Jo took a deep breath as she tried to clear the disturbing images of her debauchery from her mind. Her effort was wasted. As she turned to pull a chair up to the desk she saw, sitting there, right on the seat of the chair, was an opened condom wrapper!  

TMI Tuesday –

1. With whom would you love to sing a duet?

I have some songs I love to sing in the car. In my mind I sound fucking awesome. In reality? Something else altogether. No artist springs to mind. If I was ever to perform with someone this is who I would love to “Make Some Noise” with

He does give lessons. Maybe I should sign up.

2. Have you ever cried over a pet? What kind?

I grew up on a farm. Getting sentimental over animals was strongly discouraged. The first pet I owned that I chose and purchased myself as an adult is buried in our garden. I think I may have shed a tear or two over her.

3. Do you think your personality needs polishing? Why?

Probably. I use the word fuck far too much and have a habit of taking off my clothes. Especially when I have had too much wine.

4. What is the worst injury you’ve ever had?

I broke my toe in August doing a simple every day thing on the yacht. It fucking hurt and my toe has still not gone back to it’s previous size, shape or colour.

5. If you had a clone, what part or your life or tasks would you have it do on your behalf?

Make dinner and clean the bathroom.

Bonus: Gifting supermarket flowers–good or bad?

The Unicorn says that she doesn’t understand the practice of cutting off plant genitalia and giving them to people. Personally I will take any flowers anyone gives me.

Or chocolate. Chocolate is always good.

TMI Tuesday blog

Lest We Forget

Tattoos can be so very sexy. The way they kind of wind around on your skin and tell stories of your life. The Second Mate’s intrigued me. His were very, very personal. The first one I noticed was the one on his arm. It only took a few moments to realise it was symbolic of his service. There was a dog tag, and a flag and some other symbolic things I didn’t understand. But I never asked him about it. 

I was drawn to him when I first saw him. He told me 

“I will be the big guy standing there.”

And he was. Everything about him was big. His height, his shoulders, his hands…

Everything about him was sexy. His eyes, the way his hands pinched my nipples and left finger bruises on my breast. The way he would lay me down and hold my legs open so he could watch me play a vibe over my clit. The way he told me to spend an entire day wearing no underwear so that he could put his fingers into me every time I bent down to put away a rope or adjust some sailing gear. 

Apart from the tattoo there were other marks of service. His hyper vigilance. Trained to see every tiny movement and notice every little thing. He was acutely aware of his environment but also the moods and interactions of the people around him. He noticed when your mood was down and asked how you were going. And when his fingers were inside you he noticed every movement of your face. From the first time he touched me he could play me better than any musician. 

There were other scars. Ones that were harder to watch. Physical pain from old injuries. Mental pain from the things he had seen and done. The army is not easy on its infantry. It chews them up and spits out their injured bodies and souls like seeds from a fruit. 

Every November 11 we remember the fallen and pray for their souls. This year I will be remembering those who came home and praying that they can heal their souls.  

Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 17

I have been slowly working my way through a list of thirty dirty questions that I found on the blog of Brigit Delaney. Along the way I have been joined by Marie Rebelle at Rebel’s Notes and Mike from Marriage, Sex and More. If you want to catch up on other questions you can find the links on my Thirty Dirty Questions page.

What is your favourite way to be seduced?

Photo by Antonio Friedemann on Unsplash

While I was travelling I read the book “The Game” written by Neil Strauss. The book tells of his time spent first as a trainee and then as a guru of a secret society of self titled “Pick Up Artists” These were men who were typically shunned by girls as adolescents and grew up to be the awkward nerdy types who dreamed of having sex with beautiful women but always sat in the corner of the party feeling rejected and angry at the world. 

The book describes the multitude of techniques and routines that these men use to play on the insecurities of women with the end game of scoring a phone number and ultimately sex from unsuspecting women at clubs and parties in Hollywood. Their “game” was all about illusion and using mind tricks to snare unsuspecting victims. None of the connections these men made in this way were based on true human connection. Reading the book was like watching a car crash. You know you don’t really want to see what is happening but you can’t stop looking. It made me feel sick, angry, sad and a lot of negative thoughts about the push pull between the sexes. 

Safe to say my favourite way to be seduced is NOT by cheesy pick up lines or even charming conversation. In all honesty I really can’t do mind games of any sort. I frequently tell people that I suck at social cues. By that, I mean any kind of subtle communication is confusing to me. When people say something ambiguous and expect me to pick up on what you REALLY mean never works. If you want sex say so. If you want me to suck your dick, say so. Just asking won’t guarantee a yes but at least we both know where we stand. 

The same applies with internet dating. Often when exchanging messages I don’t know what to say. I know I am witty and interesting when I write here but that is because I have time to edit and think about what I have written. Often I write a piece and then put it aside for a few days, go back and edit. Conversation doesn’t work that way. You have to go with the first draft and hope it isn’t too offensive. I can’t explain what attracts me to some men (or women) and not others. It just is. 

So how do I like to be seduced?

By someone who is clean, well presented, and can string two words together. Honest and clear about the agenda. 

And if he smells good he is very much in with a chance. 

Interestingly I had a meeting with a man recently. We had been chatting for a little while. I was in two minds about the situation. I have been holding back to create a new connection. In a perfect world RSM, Mr Jones and I would make a great trio but I am not convinced that it is going to turn out. The Silver Fox was interesting (and very sexy looking). Our conversations were interesting and when there was a lull in my life I took the chance to meet with him. 

When I saw him in the flesh for the first time I was not dissapointed. He was sexy as fuck. There was no confusion. He smelled amazing and there was no confusion about the agenda. 

The agenda, for the record, is to meet again. 

Parking

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

“What is your favourite city?” It seemed a logical thing to ask as they sat on the bonnet of his car looking over the city lights. 

“One with no people in it,” she answered without even taking a moment to think.

He was taken aback, “You mean like all the people are dead, “I am Legend” style?”

The light of the moon cast weird shadows over his face as she looked at him. The distortion of his face made it hard to tell if he was taking the piss. 

“No, as in somewhere that there aren’t people bumping in to each other and cars honking and pollution and noise.” She replied after a pause

“Oh,” he laughed. “That makes more sense.”

“I hate it when there are too many people around.” She continued. 

“Yeh,” 

They sat for a moment looking out at the lights twinkling in neat rows. She placed her hand on his thigh. 

“I don’t mind individual people though,” 

Their eyes met, he reached across and slid his hand underneath her shirt.

“Is that so?”

She slid her hand up his thigh until she was cupping his hard cock through his pants.

“Two people can have a lot of fun together,” She grinned in the semi darkness. 

“I agree,” his hand slipped inside her top to cup her breast. He pinched her nipple gently. She gasped in pleasure and her hand twitched against his cock. They slid closer together until they were kissing, hard and hot and heavy. His belt buckle jingled and her hand slid into his pants. Long fingers wrapped around his cock as he yanked at her panties. 

There was a pause as he pushed her further up the bonnet of the car so that he could spread her legs. Cool night air caressed her throbbing clit before he pressed his face against her hungry cunt.  The night filled with the sound of her pleasure as his tongue stroked over her folds and he dipped his fingers into her. 

“I want to fuck you,” his breath was hot and heavy in her ear, his face smelled like her pussy.

“I want you to fuck me,” she replied.

He flipped her over and slid her down to meet his hard cock. She lay against the metal of the car with her legs spread and her arse naked before she felt his cock filling her. Groaning in pleasure she lifted her head. Standing beside the car was another couple they had met earlier in the night.

“This looks like the place to be.” The man smirked as his hand reached into the panties of his wife. “I hope we aren’t invading,” 

Lucy looked over her shoulder at Grant with his cock buried deep in her cunt. He shrugged. She turned back to the couple. The woman’s breast was exposed in her man’s hand. It looked delicious.

“Four people can have a lot of fun together,” Was all the she needed to say. 

Wicked Wednesday

Friday Flashback – Shittest Day Ever

Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

Thursday was the shittest day. Emma couldn’t remember a shittier day. On the last day of the financial year the accounting server crashed. No one could roll over the books, accounts couldn’t be closed off and reconciliations were impossible. The Business Manager walked around the office stressed out of his mind and biting everyone’s head off. When things finally got running again at three pm he told the entire accounts department they were not allowed to leave until reporting was finished. 

Emma’s best friend was holding birthday drinks at their favourite bar. All of the gang was there, except Emma. Around four the texts started coming,

Are you coming out, it is going to be a great night!

You should get down here we are going to have a blinder!

And so on. Eventually Emma turned her phone off. Not being able to go join the drunken party was just making her day worse. Sometime around five thirty she couldn’t take it anymore. Numbers were mashing into each other on the screen in front of her. The Business Manager had ordered pizza and retreated to his office. As if pizza was going to make everything better. Emma piled a couple of slices onto her palm and went outside for some air. Chewing on cheesy dough she climbed the fire escape stairs to the the rooftop balcony. For a few blissful moments she stood looking at the street below and the lights of the cars hurrying past on their way home. She focussed all her energy on salami and olives and breathing.

The sound of the door opening behind her shattered her moment of sanity. Footsteps crunched on the concrete behind her. Pushing the last piece of crust into her mouth, Emma braced for the onslaught of work related whining. She resisted the temptation to turn and see who it was until they were standing beside her. Only when she sensed a body beside her did she turn her head slightly. Relief washed over her as she recognised Tim, one of the sales managers. He wasn’t part of her team and was excused from her hellish day. So at least he wouldn’t start whining about having to stay back. His day had probably been all sunshine and lunches with clients. 

For a moment Emma was jealous but sneaking glances at his tall, lanky frame leaning casually against the railing the jealousy disappeared, to be replaced by an intense desire to relieve him of his pants. As she thought about him bending her over the railing and fucking the life out of her her cunt tingled with warmth.

“I heard you guys are having a shit day,” he commented quietly as he leaned against the balcony railing.

Reluctantly Emma roused herself from her fantasy. She felt a tinge of heat in her cheeks accompanied by a damp heat in her panties. “Yep it is a ripper,” she replied. They stood for a moment watching the traffic. Emma knew she should already be back at her desk but she dallied for a moment longer. Tim didn’t say any more to her, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.  Disappointed, took a deep breath, bracing herself to go back to her desk.

“I better get back,” she muttered from the corner of her mouth. She didn’t have the energy to flirt or even make conversation. Besides, being rejected would just make this day even more shit and she had more than enough of that.

As she took her first steps the heel of her shoe caught in a crack in the concrete and she found herself lying on the ground looking up at a startled Tim.

“Are you OK?” he asked as he bent over her. 

It was all too much, Emma burst into tears. Lying on the concrete howling Emma felt as if this day couldn’t possibly get any worse. Of all the people to fall over in front of, and her ankle felt like she had wrenched it good and proper.  Tim hovered around looking nervous and uncertain. His flapping irritated Emma enough to make her pull herself together.

“Are you OK?” he asked again. A deep furrow formed in the middle of his forehead.

Emma took a deep breath, “I think I will be OK. My ankle hurts like hell though.”

Tim reached down and carefully felt her ankle. “Yep that isn’t going to tickle tomorrow. You should get some ice on it straight away. Let me help you down the steps” Emma pushed away thoughts of her boss and the work waiting on her desk. This was too good an opportunity to pass up.  

“Can you stand?” Tim was entirely focussed on her ankle.

Emma stood up carefully but almost collapsed as her ankle gave way again. Tim caught her as she stumbled. Wrapped in his arms she looked up at him helplessly.

“I guess not,” she smiled wryly at him. 

Tim half carried her to the first aid room where he helped her onto the bed and then fussed around looking for bandages and ice packs. Emma forgot about her throbbing ankle as he bent in front her looking for bandages in the cupboard. The fabric of his trousers stretched tightly over his arse. Emma’s palm twitched as she thought about how his naked butt would feel. When he turned around in the tiny space he fell against her. Maybe she had stuck her good foot out in front of him.

“I am so sorry,” he looked a little awkward and made to move away. Emma moved her good leg around his calf and pressed her hand against his crotch.

“I am not sorry,” she looked into his eyes.

“Ummmmm what if someone walks in here?” Tim allowed himself to study Emma’s cleavage which had suddenly appeared between some opened buttons. Just to make sure he knew what she wanted Emma gave in to the temptation and gripped his ass firmly pushing him against her.

Emma looked up with a devilish twinkle in her eyes that showed no signs of her earlier tears. “I do believe there is a lock on the door.”

Perhaps Thursday would turn out to be not so shit after all. 

Other People’s Relationships

Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

We had lunch yesterday with Mr and Mrs Bubble. Both are long term swingers. Both are currently dating other people outside their primary relationship. Mr Bubble is very much a go with the flow person. Drama, ultimatums and other turbulence are not his style. His other is a perfectly lovely woman. Wise, kind, down to earth, honest and someone I would welcome into my marriage dynamic.

Mrs Bubble is a completely different kettle of fish. She loves to socialise and be the life of the party. She is also wise kind and a great person to be friends with. In the past she had a relationship with a man that was a spectacular failure. It almost cost her her marriage to Mr Bubble and it did cost her a lot of emotional turmoil. After a recovery period she has met and is very much enjoying another young man. Most of the initial honey moon phase happened while we were away. She told me about him via message and it all seemed peachy. As we re-inserted ourselves into blue pill world and re-connected with friends and acquaintances we heard mutterings and disquiet about this relationship. Many of Mrs Bubble’s friends were concerned about this relationship, how besotted Mrs Bubble was, how young he was and just where it was going. I met the new boy a couple of times. He has said about five words to me and we have had the most superficial of interactions. I can see how she finds him visually attractive. The jury is out on his personality.

Recent conversations with Mr and Mrs Bubble have revealed that the new boy is, in fact in a live in relationship with another woman who until about a week ago didn’t really understand the nature of her boyfriend’s relationship with Mrs Bubble. Both The Bubbles are quite critical of this relationship. In their opinion she acts in a completely unreasonable way. There are fits of yelling, isolation by the silent treatment and she isolates him when they do socialise together by speaking her native language with her friends. English is a language she is still learning and he definitely does not speak hers. Despite this The Bubbles admit they have only heard one version of events.

It would be easy to judge in this situation. Easy to judge the girlfriend for being a screaming, unreasonable, demanding woman. Her behaviour is definitely something most westerners would not tolerate; but we need to stop and  consider what we do know about her. She has been wronged. She is living in a country with a very different culture from the one she grew up in, trying to learn a different language and set of behaviours that must seem quite foreign. The relationship with The New Boy is key to her staying in Australia. Without it she goes home. Home to what? As I said to Mr Jones there must be a reason that so many women from SE Asia put themselves into bad relationships, rely on men who exploit them and behave in the only way they know to control a relationship to avoid going back. I don’t think white middle class Australians understand that.

We could judge Mrs Bubble for getting involved with him in the first place. I, personally, would have put the skids on the whole deal when I learned he was sneaking around behind his girlfriend’s back. My personal feelings on this kind of situation are a little unconventional and go like this. He is making the choices. Any wrongdoing is on him. But I am not up for getting abusive phone calls or messages from a jealous, outraged wife / girlfriend. But Mrs Bubble is not me. Her position is that she isn’t doing anything wrong. And she ISN’T. She ISN’T the reason that his relationship is failing. She is a symptom of that. She isn’t lying to anyone. She is also making sure that The New Boy does have a basic level of respect for his girlfriend and at least gives communication to reassure her about his safety. 

Finally, we could judge The New Boy. He is the one doing the cheating. He is the one with the power to walk away from the toxic relationship. But again there are mitigating circumstances. It is a big responsibility to know that if you end this the other person may have to go back to their country of origin, to a life that they clearly will go to great lengths to escape. In addition, this Covid affected world has created a housing issue in Australia. Many people have come back to Australia from overseas to ride out the pandemic in the relative safety of a country that has isolated itself from the rest of the world. Housing occupancy is ridiculously high. Meaning renters struggle to find, let alone afford, a place. The New Boy is young and works in hospitality, an industry that has suffered. He can’t afford to rent an apartment by himself.

All of these things make this situation one complicated mess. It is easy to take one or the other person’s side. It would be easy to judge one or two or all of the parties involved. Many people have aligned themselves with a particular person thinking that would make them a good friend. It may, to a certain extent. There have been times when this topic has come up in conversation that I have had to stop myself from spouting my opinion. From forcing my way of thinking into someone’s ideas. I have also had to be very aware of Mr Jones. He has less self control than me and says offensive stuff all the time. It comes from a place of love and honesty but someone who struggles to give correct names to stuff cannot express themselves accurately about something this complex and is guaranteed to say something he will regret. I have repeated the phrase, “Other people’s relationships are other people’s business” quite a few times. He knows what this means – “Don’t discuss this here, it isn’t your place to offer an opinion about someone behind their back. Besides you DON’T know everything about it.”

 I introduced a new term to him yesterday, “Loose lips sink ships,”. The Bubbles are influential in our little world. They know a lot of people which is why we find ourselves in conversations about this topic almost everywhere we go. Some of what we have been told by The Bubbles themselves I don’t think is common knowledge. Putting our knowledge into the common domain will only serve to muddy the waters further. Discussing this topic everywhere we go only creates more interest and judgement. Besides, gossiping will not solve anything. It won’t create an epiphany of realisation on one of the parties involved part. It will just create negativity, feelings of self righteousness and ultimately isolate some beautiful warm people.

Sitting at lunch listening to The Bubbles talk about their feelings and ideas I found myself wondering what is the right thing to do here. I didn’t think they wanted advice. I KNOW they probably are getting it in spades from other people. I don’t feel that my opinion would add any value. But I didn’t want to sit there looking empty headed and acting like a gossip sponge soaking up all the information to spread it around later. In the past I don’t think I would have been so self aware and I possibly WOULD have soaked up the gossip to repeat it at the earliest opportunity. but I believe that one has to act in the way one would like to be treated. In my professional world, gossip about my after dark activities could be disastrous. I go to great lengths to keep those two worlds apart but sometimes there is a little bleed over. Sometimes I say stuff that is completely unconscious that makes people wonder. Especially people who possibly also walk in this world. It would be amusing to find out how many people in my school actually do. I know of one for certain and have suspicions about a couple more. 

But I digress. I guess after all this rambling I don’t have a major world changing closing statement. What I do have are the two statements I have told Mr Jones. “Other people’s relationships are their own business”. We will never know all the ins and outs of a situation. We almost never get to hear both (?) sides of a story and we never see all the events unfold. The second is “Loose lips sink ships” Gossip never did anyone any good. In fact it usually ends up causing havoc. To that end one should never feed it. 

Wicked Wednesday

Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 16

Over the course of this year I have been working through this list of questions that originally came from the blog of Brigit Delaney. Along the way I have been joined in my journey by Marie at Rebel’s Notes and Mike at Marriage, Sex and More. You can find links to my other answers on the Thirty Dirty Questions Page.

How do you feel about being naked?

I sleep naked. I have ever since I lived in a house where I had my own bedroom and privacy was assured. I remember once at boarding school one of the older girls scandalising everyone because she slept naked. She argued that it was warmer than wearing pyjamas. I am not sure if that is the case but teenagers will come up with the weirdest reasons to justify their choices. 

Fast forward to today and how I feel about being naked changes with the number and identity of the people around me. 

In general I don’t feel entirely comfortable walking around the house (or the boat for that matter) completely naked. Even if there is no one around, except for Mr Jones of course, I am still not entirely comfortable being completely naked for extended periods. I feel better if I have at least a pair of knickers on. While we were sailing I frequently sunbathed naked and this helped me to feel more confident being naked. When you live in a tropical climate skin cancer is an issue so sunbathing has to be balanced with minimising sun damage. So I limited the amount of time I spent fully exposed. 

When I am at home I will walk around in minimal clothing a lot of the time and am not entirely concerned about being nude in front of my children. Their boyfriends / girlfriends are a different matter though, so if there are extra guests in the house I am careful to cover up. As I get older I care less of what other people think about me and this is helping a great deal. 

TMI Tuesday – The Breakfast Edition

Disclaimer: I may or may not be a little angry with the world and some of my answers may come across as a bit rant like.

1. What’s for breakfast?

Baked beans with cheese and bacon roll. If I had more time it would also include a poached egg. Sadly Mr Jones bought BBQ flavoured baked beans instead of tomato. I will forgive him… once.

2. Three words you don’t want to hear during sex.

What’s for dinner.

Especially if it isn’t the person you are fucking who is asking the question.

3. Stupid shit you shouldn’t do but do anyway. List two.

Put pins in my mouth while I am sewing.

Post pictures of my boobs on the internet. We try to discourage teenagers from this kind of behaviour and then go and do it ourselves (who am I kidding? Other teachers don’t do this stuff).

4. One thing you love to hate.

Pious, white, middle aged men.

For added fun I like to imagine tying them up and belting their pasty white arses!

5. Today is a great day for _____ .

Changing the world by inspiring a student. I have been assured by multiple people that some of my students are glad to have me back in their lives. I have yet to have a student tell me this though.

It doesn’t stop me from trying.

TMI Tuesday blog

Shut Up and Drive – part 3

We are either going to fight or make out because I am getting some real mixed signals here. Dean Winchester – Season 9

“Rise and shine baby bro,” Jared winced as blinding light pierced through the curtains onto his face. He groaned as he tried to shield his eyes with his hand.

“Is it groundhog day or something,” He pulled the blankets up over his head. 

“No dude. It is time to go and hunt some succubi!” 

Jared struggled out of bed and pulled on a shirt. “What has happened?”

“Well I just heard on the scanner that the cops have found a body in a house on the outskirts of town. The chatter was a bit confused but it seems like the body has that dried out look that the other two you were talking about had.”

Jared frowned, “You said the scanner was a piece of junk!” His voice was incredulous. 

“Well a guy’s gotta do something while you are having a lie in,” Jensen had that same manic look in his eyes that Jared had seen yesterday. Right before they had gone to the morgue and he had encountered that mysterious dark haired woman. Something about her seemed odd to Jared. Something about those perfect red lips and the eyes like dark pools. “Now get your coat on and lets GO.” Jensen held the door open as he tossed the car keys up and down impatiently. 

The brothers parked the Impala on the kerb in front of the suburban house. Two police cars were parked out the front and there was tape across the front door. 

“Who lives here?” Jensen asked as they stepped out of the car. 

Jared frowned, “You were the one snooping on the scanner,” he grumbled. 

“Whoah, keep your pants on bro,” Jensen held up his hands. “Anyone would think that you didn’t get much sleep last night.” 

Jared knew arguing was futile. He simply shrugged, “I don’t know but I guess we will find out soon enough. 

As the two brothers sat watching the activity a group of local police exited the house, got in the cars and left. 

“That’s our cue bro,” Jensen opened the car door and leapt into action. Jared was left to follow his manic brother up the driveway. 

Inside the house everything seemed incredibly normal, in a sad suburban single dad kind of way. Pizza boxes in front of the television, photos of kids stuck on the wall with blue tac, dishes piled in the sink. There was definitely no woman in this man’s life. 

“This is depressing man,” Jensen kicked at some discarded clothing on the floor. “This guy’s life really sucked ass.” 

In the corner beside the couch Jared bent down and picked up a small jar, “Check this out,” He held up his find. “He was either into some kinky shit or his life wasn’t as sad as we think.” 

Jensen walked over and took the jar from his brother’s hand. “Cherry lip gloss,” he mused. Something nagged at the back of his mind. 

“I believe that would be mine,” the voice startled both of them. Inexplicably the room was filled with the scent of fake cherry.

Jensen turned to look straight into those eyes. He felt his cock stir at the sight of her. Even in this sad room, in front of his brother he wanted her. She took a step forward and looked straight into Jensen’s eyes. His hard on throbbed almost painfully in his pants. For what seemed like an eternity her eyes bored into his. He could feel her breath on his lips. Her eyelids drooped and she pulled herself away. The spell was broken and Jensen came back to his senses. With an awkward cough he turned his body so that Jared couldn’t see his hard on. 

Jared frowned in confusion, “So how do you know this guy?”

“He was my boss,” the girl took the jar of lip gloss from Jensen, opened it and began applying the scented liquid. 

Jared seemed unaffected by her presence while Jensen was still struggling to control his cock. “Why were you in his house then?” 

She laughed at Jared’s naivety, “Why do you think? He may have been an ass but he still liked to fuck. “

Jensen remembered the first night he had seen her in the drive through of the burger joint. The middle aged man talking to her. He wondered if it was the same guy. Of course the police had taken the body so he couldn’t confirm. 

“So what are you guys doing here?” She interrupted his musing. 

“Oh just checking out a few things for a friend.” Jared jumped in before Jenson could even form a thought. “Actually I think we may have seen almost everything we need to.” His looked the woman straight in the eye. “What did you say your name was?” 

The woman looked from Jensen to Jared. Her demeanour hardened and her eyes glittered. Jensen felt confused. Why was Jared being so aggressive? Something in the far reaches of his mind made him feel uneasy. For the first time since he met her Jensen felt something other than lust. Suddenly he remembered that he didn’t know her name either. Somehow they had skipped over that part. 

“I didn’t,” the woman’s voice was like ice. Jensen felt a chill and an overwhelming need to placate her. The nagging, warning part of his senses faded away replaced by this desire to be pleasing for this woman. He stepped forward and touched her face. Their eyes met and he felt the same attraction as before. The scent of her lips and the deep pools of her eyes drew him in. The same pleasure began building in the base of his cock. She stepped closer, until he could feel her breath on his lips. Her hand reached down to cup his throbbing cock. Jensen felt his knees weaken and a wave of pleasure swept over him. 

“Names don’t matter,” she murmured. Her hand slid up to release Jensen’s belt buckle. 

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Wicked Wednesday