“What is this?” Adam pulled a large cardboard box down from a shelf. The words “Lost and Found” were scrawled across the side of the box. Liz looked over her shoulder and grinned.
“I wouldn’t look in there.”
Adam placed the box on the table, “Why not?” His fingers pulled open the flaps.
“It is stuff I used to find on the floor after I had parties.”
He looked at her with one eyebrow raised, “Those parties?” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.
Her brown eyes met with his across the room, “Yes, THOSE parties.”
He looked back at the box. Curiosity crowded his mind but on the other hand did he REALLY want to look in there? “Why did you keep this stuff?” He tried to sound casual. He told Liz a lot of things he thought about, but not everything.
“I honestly don’t know. I thought that people might ask about something they left behind and I didn’t want to tell them I threw their precious item in the trash.” She laughed. “But I doubt they are going to call up NOW to ask about some random thing they left at a sex party six months ago. Can you just chuck it in the bin?”
“OK.” Adam carried the box out of the room and down the stairs. Liz watched him go. For a moment she wondered. Adam thought he was subtle. But he was a man for heavens sakes.
Next to the dumpster Adam allowed himself a peek inside the box. There they were, red and satiny with lace trim. Somehow they found their way into his pocket. Two days later he found them, peeking out of his pocket as he threw clothes into the washing machine. He held them up for a few moments. Who had worn them? What had they done? Why had they forgotten to pick them up as they left? Somehow they went into the washer.
Later that afternoon he found them in the dryer, tucked between his trousers and his socks. He picked them up and ran them through his fingers. Nicely washed they smelled fresh when he touched the silky fabric to his face. The next morning the red satin gleamed at him from his underwear drawer. Without thinking he slid them over his arse. The smooth coolness of the satin stretched across his cock. Pleasantly squashing his balls against his body and bunching up his cock.
At work in the bathroom stalls he allowed himself to stroke his cock through the satin. A feeling of daring surged through him and he found himself snapping a picture of red shiny satin peeking through his trouser zip. The panties restricted him nicely as his cock leaked pre-cum.
It was time to show her.
Liz’s phone pinged. Her eyes widened as she looked at the image.
Under her desk, between her thighs her own red satin panties became a little damp.
I started 2021 with a flu like illness that lasted a couple of days. It may have been Covid. Getting tested and receiving timely results is an issue in Queensland this week. In any case I was fortunate to not be seriously ill. Despite Covid being the most dominant feature of 2022 so far for me, for most of 2021 it was a non-event.
For me, personally, 2021 was a year of travelling the ocean, and making changes to my employment objectives. From April to September I lived on board a catamaran and travelled from Brisbane to Port Douglas with many stops in between. During that time I saw many places and walked on beaches that most Australians will never see. I did not work, or think about looking for work. Life was simple. Daily chores were minimal and even things like preparing dinner was more basic than regular life. My mind was opened to a completely new way of life and I met a lot of people who made choices and saw life very differently from the majority of the world.
Freedom is a strange concept. Part of the Human condition is being part of a community. Wether we want to or not all of us are part of some form of group. Being part of these groups, wether they be families, clubs, communities or tribes leaves us with some responsibilities to act in the best interests of the group as a whole. We are not able to do exactly as we please all of the time because some of our choices impact on the lives of others. So it could be argued that to be a responsible member of society we all have obligations and therefore are never truly free.
But where do these obligations end? How many of the choices we make in our lives are as a result of a feeling of obligation. Or a feeling that it is the expected thing. Many people make financial commitments because of social pressures or expectations of their families. People feel that they are trapped in jobs they don’t like because they have to meet these financial commitments. Once we are caught in this spiral it is easy to feel that freedom is out of reach.
Making the choice to step away from the spiral is difficult. It requires people to let go of things that we are conditioned to think are important. It requires us to go against the grain. It requires us to be different from most of the people that we know. Towards the end of my journey I was asked to provide a prompt for Wicked Wednesday. In it I asked the question; “What is the real world?” This idea that I was living in an alternate universe is tied to the way I was experiencing freedom. It felt as if I needed to step into an alternative universe to be free.
Adjusting to the real world took some time. I didn’t have too many problems resulting in the physical aspects of “real life”. I got to work on time and didn’t miss any meetings. Nor did I get caught daydreaming in meetings. What I did find myself wondering was where I was heading with my job. I knew I didn’t want to stop working but where I was working and how I was being directed to do my job wasn’t what I or my students really needed. On a whim I applied for a new job at an alternative type of school.
In what seemed like the blink of an eye I had a new employer. And so, despite an interruption from Covid 2022 seems like it is a case of out with the old and in with the new.
This week is number 500 of Wicked Wednesday. I have a memory of a conversation with Marie way back in 2012 when the moderator of Wank Wednesday announced that she was ending her meme and Marie was building a new place for weekly stories and erotic images. Back then I was deeply committed to writing and the routine of writing a piece every week for a prompt helped me to become a better writer. I felt like I was going somewhere with writing and I was excited to be part of the new era. You can read part of my first post here.
Fast forward to 2021. My life has taken many twists and turns since then and my blogging and writing has ebbed and flowed. I moved my blog from Blogger to WordPress in 2014 and for a long time didn’t really post anything regular as I worked to establish my new career as a teacher. At the end of 2019 I “put a rocket up my arse” and started to pay attention to Corrupting Mrs Jones. Slowly the views and traffic increased. I kept up the commitment through 2020 and when I started my life changing voyage with Mr Jones in April of 2021 I looked forward to having the time to craft stories instead of spitting them out just in time to meet the deadlines of memes.
2021 has indeed been my biggest year and included one month where I topped over 4000 views. When I reviewed my statistics for this posts I could see that the most popular posts have been those that I included in Sinful Sunday. The top 10 posts for this year are below. Only one “Stretching Greedy Lucy” was a story. The rest are Sinful Sunday posts.
I am not sure how I feel about this. I have never listed erotic photography as an interest. I started posting in Sinful Sunday as Mr Jones and I were travelling and had endless opportunities to take nude photos in great locations. I had some vague notion that it might become a hobby of his. It didn’t really work out that way. Since we have been back living in our landlubbing house obvious opportunities have become harder to find and his interest is small. I don’t feel as technically competent as a photographer as someone like Molly. But it seems that the general public are more inclined to click on a set of boobs than they are on a story that will take five minutes to read. Does this mean my writing is not worthy? I don’t know.
Over the years of blogging I have enjoyed the therapeutic aspect of putting my thoughts somewhere that I don’t feel judged or compelled to perform. Wicked Wednesday has been one such space where I can post and get some good feedback. I also like to spend some time browsing while I enjoy my morning cup of tea, reading what other people are posting for that particular week. The feeling of “anything goes” has really helped me to relax and share my thoughts in a way that I hope is positive. I periodically think about putting a more concerted effort into writing fiction and making something of the million or so starts I have made to stories. Recently I had a coffee with a Twitter friend and he did encourage me to take some steps in that direction. But, news flash, writing a long piece that involves more than two or three fucks is hard. And it seems I have the attention span of a gold fish.
But I am not ready to give up yet. I admire Marie for her consistent, thoughtful posts. The way she seems to find time to post and run two memes, Wicked Wednesday and Menopause Diaries, as well as Blogable. Does she ever sleep? She certainly is much more productive in front of a screen than me. I admire her and the other people in the world who have beautiful websites, amazing content and consistently work to support plebs like me who struggle to put out three posts per week consistently.
I learned long ago that making statements like, “I am going to wow the world with my writing by writing 50, 000 words next week” are doomed to failure. I have also learned that talent is a small portion of any success story. So I will keep on keeping on. I know there are people out there who read my pages and enjoy them. And that is enough for me.
As I was preparing to write this I read through some of my old posts about Christmas. I was interested to read this one and to compare my thoughts about Christmas in 2021 with my thoughts about Christmas in 2022. I was actually really surprised about how different they were. Somewhere, somehow I have had a complete change of thinking.
For many years I allowed my mother to dictate the location and the way that Christmas would play out. She called the shots by guilting her children into attending a family gathering that most people didn’t really enjoy. Since my children were very small travelling ridiculous distances and spending Christmas sleeping in a strange bed, in a strange house feeling awkward and not at home has been a big part of the landscape. They tolerated it but since leaving school and becoming more adult they have become more vocal about out it.
My niece and nephews were a little ahead of the field informing their parents that they were not up for travelling anywhere this Christmas and they just wanted to stay home. And so for the first time in a long time we are Christmassing like a lot of people. Visiting for lunch and then leaving to go home to our own house where we will host a small evening meal. For the first time we will see most of both sides of our family on Christmas Day and there will be no sleeping in weird beds or having unwelcome and demanding house guests!
I am excited! Yes it isn’t what my parents want but honestly they can go jump off a cliff. Last year I posted about them being elderly and isolated and I had a feeling of responsibility to them. Last year I did the journey and survived the three or so days of Christmas Hell. And after Christmas Day there was an altercation with my mother that drove home to me that I had given her far too much power in our relationship. It doesn’t matter that she is older and living in a place where she has limited support from able bodied people and very limited health care. She chose that life. She is an adult and she still has all of her mental capacity. She can make changes if she chooses. Throughout the year I have quietly pointed this out to her.
From now on Christmas is about me, Mr Jones, #1Son and The Unicorn; along with their partners. Where and how we celebrate Christmas is dictated by their work commitments. In line with most things in our family it is fairly low key. We have a tree in the corner and have been busily making things as gifts for family members. There are not a lot of other decorations around the house but that is OK. There is ham in the fridge and prawns in the freezer. Things that are essential for Christmas in our house. We are all happy.
I am surprised by the number of parcels under our tree but it is a good thing. I am looking forward to opening them and watching others open theirs. For the first time in a long time I am excited by Christmas. I am hoping that this is a sign of things to come. Low key, relaxed Christmas with people I actually want to see.
This story is an alternate perspective of last weeks entry “In the Dark”
His ears strained listening for sounds that would tell him what was happening down the hallway. Since she had left their bed time had seemed to stop. The house was quiet in the early morning. In other rooms other people slept. Oblivious to what was unfolding. A faint sound of pleasure came from the room at the other end of the house. Jake’s ears pricked. His cock twinged in response.
In response to the sounds from the other end of the house he reached down and wrapped his hand around his cock squeezing gently. He imagined her sliding into the bed next to the other man. Her hands moving over his body as she roused him from sleep. The unmistakable sound of her pleasure came softly to his ears. He knew that she had woken him and he was pleasuring her. Was his hand sliding between those silky thighs he knew so well? Did she gush juice over his hand as he fingered her folds.
Sounds of their pleasure increased. He could hear heavy breathing as they pleasured each other. A rhythmic squeak told him they had started to fuck. In his mind Jake could see her sitting proudly astride him her magnificent breasts bouncing in time with her movements as his cock was buried deep in her cunt. A deep guttural moan excited his hard cock even more. His hand shuffled up and down as he listened to them fucking in the other room. The squeaking of the bed became more frantic before he heard the sound of his climax. Alone in his bed Jake’s body arched as he imagined him pumping his seed into her.
The sounds of pleasure ebbed away and silence descended into the cool early morning air. Once more Jake found himself pricking his ears, straining for a sound to inform him of what was happening. The soft patter of feet on the wooden floor warned him of her return. What gift would she bring him?
Without a word she slid back into the warmth of his bed. They kissed briefly but his mind was focussed completely on something else. Urgently, more forcefully than normal he pushed her down on the bed and spread her legs. He dipped his fingers into her cunt feeling the different texture of her wetness. The smell of semen filled his nostrils and his desire was overpowering.
“Sit on my face.” He whispered into the darkness.
Without question she obliged spreading her thighs and smothering him in the glorious smell and taste that she had carried back to him. He tried to hold back, to savour his gift but he was incapable. His fingers gripped her hips as he pulled her down to bury his face in her cunt. Another man’s semen and his own wife’s juice covered his face. His desire for her had never been so overwhelming. He needed to fuck her. To cover his cock with cum and pussy juice. To fully enjoy her gift.
Sleep receded slowly as his body became aware of her sliding into the bed beside him. His cock stirred as she snuggled beside him, In the midnight darkness of his room their lips met, his hands caressed her soft curves, cupping her breast and tasing her nipples before sliding downwards to the space between her thighs. Her hand closed around his stiffening cock stroking gently. As his arousal grew his breathing became quicker. Fo so long he had waited for this. Many evenings they had flirted. Once or twice they had caressed and fondled but somehow she had never been in his bed. It was almost like the dream that he had been enjoying.
His fingers slid into her slit. She was slick and wet with arousal and her body arched towards him. Her legs fell open inviting his fingers deeper towards the centre of her arousal. He responded to her invitation, sliding deeper into her folds until he found her swollen nub. He circled the little node with wide gentle circles as she writhed and gasped against him. Her hand covered his pressing his fingers harder against her groin. The sound of her voice increased sending echoes of her pleasure down the darkened hallway to the ears of other people listening in other rooms. He slid his fingers inside her and was rewarded with a jet of warm liquid covering his hand and making a damp patch on the sheets beneath them.
He leaned down and kissed her, he could feel her smiling in the darkness. Pleased with herself at surprising him. She pushed herself upright and straddled his hips so that his cock was resting against her wet opening. She moved her hips so that his cock was rubbing against her clit causing her to shudder in pleasure. Warm juice spurted over his belly dribbling down onto the sheets. The sound of her pleasure filled the room. He reached up and cupped her breasts, delighting in their fullness as she pleasured herself against his cock. In the movement and the wetness his cock slipped inside her. She ground down onto him, pushing his cock deep into herself. A small sliver of dawn light pierced the darkness and he could see her watching him intently as she rocked her hips over his cock. Her cunt was so wet and so hungry that he knew he wouldn’t last long.
Somehow it didn’t matter. She was intent on milking his climax from him. He allowed himself to ride the waves of pleasure she was giving him. He gripped her hips firmly moving her faster, in time with the rising tension in his body. The orgasm ripped through him making him cry out in pleasure. She held his cock inside her until the orgasm ebbed away and he was lying quietly, basking in the afterglow. Without a word she slipped out of his bed and padded quietly down the hallway taking the memory of his orgasm pleasure back to her waiting husband.
I had my first pole dance lesson in 2009. It was on the balcony of an inner city apartment of a woman who went on to open one of the first studios dedicated to this sport in Brisbane. At that time the industry was in it’s infancy and this particular studio was very closely linked to the stripper industry. Many of the instructors worked in nearby strip clubs and the studio frequently did promos in these clubs.
Almost twelve years later I am still on a pole. In all honesty I should be an instructor myself. I should really be amazing but I am still rated as a beginner. Why?
So many reasons. Many of them linked to choices I made. Not practicing enough because I didn’t know exactly WHAT to practice. Getting frustrated because I couldn’t do several key moves that most people master relatively early in their journey. Being loyal to studios and teachers that I had outgrown or who were simply not teaching in a way that worked for me. I can honestly say that I have regressed a lot in the last five years. Or at the least stayed stagnant. Two years ago I was safely cocooned in a studio that made me feel good about my body and taught me a lot about dance and flaunting myself. Sadly it closed and I was left at a loose end. I contemplated many things and wondered if this was time to kiss my pole goodbye.
But I couldn’t kick the habit. I found a studio close to my house and I enrolled. I deliberately didn’t tell them my entire history. Every now and then they can see I have done something and I guess they know I am on a journey. I have deliberately started at the beginning so that I can get rid of some bad habits. It has been productive although sometimes a little frustrating. What is really refreshing is being supported but also given challenges. The difference between this studio and my previous studios is amazing. I love the structure and the way moves are broken down. I love the way success is celebrated. I also love that for the first time I am being forced to do drills and train muscles. Instead of being given vague instructions like “make sure your core is turned on” For the first time I actually know where my core is and how to turn it on properly. I can feel when I am using it.
I don’t consider myself to be completely crazy about pole dance. For me it is more of a slow burn. I think if I had found this space when I started this journey I would be in a very different place right now. But that is OK. My journey is my journey. One of my greatest failings is that I constantly compare myself to others in many different ways and aspects of my life. As a teacher, as a mother, as a blogger, as a wife and as a pole dancer. As a pole dancer I have had to really change my mindset and stop comparing myself to other women around me. We are on a journey but it is OUR journey. It is OUR path that we follow. Some of us walk along a highway that leads us straight to excellence at high speed. Some, like me, get distracted by little side roads and twisting paths. Neither path is better than the other it is just our path.
This lesson is something that can be transferred to other parts of my life. Teachers are encouraged to engage in “reflective practice” What this means is to reflect on lessons we deliver and assess how we could improve things. Especially when the shit hits the fan. Which happens, even to the best of us. This concept is great but it can be a slippery slope. It can easily go from objective thoughts to beating yourself up. Watching other teachers work is a great way to learn. But it is easy to fall into the trap of feeling inferior and as if you will never be good enough. The lesson I learned at my pole, that my journey is MINE, serves me well here. I am a good teacher. My students do appreciate me. I am valued.
Likewise remembering that my journey is valid and not to be compared to others can be applied to my writing. I came back from our voyage thinking I would be all over this writing gig. Then I got put in Twitter jail and my traffic faltered. Getting back to mainstream life has taken a lot more adjustment than I expected. It would be easy to throw my hands in the air and give up because my blog isn’t as professional looking as others and I am not getting the feedback that I was. But again this is MY writing. My journey is not the same as everyone else’s. I am very unique and that is not a bad thing.
So here I am on my journey. Not doing it the same as a lot of people. But it is mine and I have had a lot of experiences that others have not. So I am happy with my twisting, turning paths. They have led me to some very interesting people and some amazing memories.
“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.
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.
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.
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.