Mama Told Me Not To…

It almost seems like a cliche to me when people talk about that special teacher that changed their lives.  Maybe it’s because I was never on a bad path.  Hell, I was never on much of a path at all, to be honest.  I never knew what I wanted to do with my life because every time I suggested something it was shot down by Scornful Mother.  She always said I couldn’t do whatever that idea was and remain a solid, faithful Christian.  I don’t know if she was trying to get me to follow a particular path (ministry, maybe?) or if she just didn’t like the one, she felt I was on, but nothing ever measured up to her expectations, which is funny because she was an undereducated secretary my whole life.  Dead Beat Dad on the other hand was– Well, the moniker pretty well speaks for itself.

It wasn’t until I was in my late teens that he really made a showing of a home based business, and that was in the business of tree removal.  Let’s see, sun, bad weather, grass, leaves, saw dust, falling trees, debris to be picked up, not to mention power tools like chain saws, stump grinders and wood chippers.  Not a thing about that is appealing to this mid-western, mama’s boy, homo, who suffers from allergies year round and is so pale when you off the lights you can still see where I am for about 8 minutes.  I didn’t exactly have much in the way of an example to follow or a legacy to inherit.  No, I had to figure out what I was going to do with my life on my own.  (Sadly, I’m still trying to figure it out.)

So, I wasn’t on any path.  I wasn’t on course for a life of crime.  I wasn’t trying to make myself fit into an accounting mold, when I can’t balance my own checkbook.  On the other hand, I didn’t show any natural ability or throw myself whole heartedly into any particular program or task.  I was about to say that no intervention was ever needed for me, but the truth is, I really could have stood to have an intervention of a completely different variety.  I could really stood for someone to take a special interest in me and help me find my way in life.  Help to find the resources I needed to figure out what I wanted to do and to follow that path.

No I never felt like I had a particular teacher that made that sort of an impact in my life and so while there was always one teacher in particular who stood out for me as my favorite, I never thought of her as that teacher and in fact, I haven’t thought of her at all in quite some time.  So, it was quite surprising to me when I awoke the other morning and remembered my dream from the night before… Well, maybe not remembered the dream, I rarely do, but I remembered the subject.  I dreamed about this special teacher.

In 1987, Scornful Mother decided that she wished to attend Rhema Bible Training Center, in The Town Named for Damaged Naive American Weaponry, a smallish town just outside of Tulsa, Oklahoma.  I call TTNFDNAW “smallish”, because it had all the hallmarks of a small town (no highways, more stop signs than traffic signals, no malls, no public transportation, no noticeable government to speak of), and yet I graduated in a class of 868 people and it was the smallest class we’d had in five years.  We had been living in Edmond, a smallish town outside Oklahoma City for three years when she decided this.  While CPA Sis and I went to spend the summer with Dead Beat Dad in Ohio, Scornful Mother applied to and was accepted at Rhema Bible Training Center, or Rhema, for short, but had no idea how she was going to pay for it, or for the move.  She was trusting God that this was what she was supposed to do but she had no plan.

At the end of the summer, Dead Beat Dad brought CPA Sis and me back to Oklahoma so that we could start school.  The school year started in Edmond a week earlier than it did in The Town Named for Damaged Native American Weaponry and Scornful Mother allowed us to not attend that one week of school in Edmond.  I remember feeling so special because I didn’t have to go off to school when my best friend across the street did.  We made the move and got enrolled in schools three days after the year started in TTNFDNAW, but not with enough time to get class schedules or tours of the schools.  I was in the seventh grade and had never been “the new kid in school” before in my life.

It didn’t happen the way it does in the movies and on TV.  I showed up at the school twenty minutes before classes started.  I went into the school office and got my schedule, but there was no cool kid, no trouble maker, no first period office aid to be selected by the principle to show me around and keep me from feeling like a complete outsider.  They handed me my class schedule pointed in the general direction of the first room and sent me on my way.  No one even told me where the library or cafeteria were.

Somehow I made it through the first half of my first day OK, but I was late to almost every class.  Then, lunchtime came and I was lost.  I sort of followed the general crowd but wasn’t sure where I was going and at some point the crowd split and I didn’t know what to do.  It must have shown on my face because suddenly I heard a soft voice.

“Are you lost?  Do you need some help?”  It was an “older” woman, not much taller than my 12 year old self and quite rotund.  She had on large, square framed glasses and had wild curly hair and she had the most comforting, welcoming smile.

“Yes, please.  This is my first day and I don’t know where the cafeteria is,” I said, rather shyly.

She smiled, placed a reassuring hand on my back and pointed toward a single door just across and slightly down the hall from me.  “Well, there’re two choices.  We have what they call the slow food cafeteria which is right here.  That’s the side door for it.  There’s also the fast food cafeteria down there.”  With that she pointed down the hall.  I thanked her and walked into the door she’d pointed at.  I was on the “free lunch” (there really is such a thing as a free lunch) program and didn’t know if it applied to the fast food cafeteria.

I finished eating my lunch and put my tray away and pulled out my class schedule to find my next class, music.  I walked out the same door I had walked in and looked up at the first door I saw, just across and down the hall from where I was standing.  Lo and behold, it happened to be the same room I was looking for.  I walked into the room to find the teacher and show her my schedule so she could tell me where to sit and wouldn’t you know, it was the same kindly “older” lady who had helped me find my way to lunch.  Her name was Betty Griffith and she felt like my lifesaver.  She was so kind and inviting and made me feel like I was welcome and normal and had nothing to worry about.

Mrs. Griffith was, in a lot of ways, my best friend that year.  She helped me find my way around the school, quelled any fears and embarrassment I was feeling for being lost and feeling like a spectacle.  She welcomed me into the choir and made me feel like an important part of the group.

We had our ups and downs for sure.  Shortly after school started I asked if I could come to her classroom after school each day and help her clean up or whatever she needed.  (I don’t think I ever told her it was because Ex Con Older Brother was abusive and I didn’t want to go home and be around him)  After that I spent nearly every day after school for 45 minutes or so, straightening chairs, collecting music, cleaning the chalkboard, straightening papers and talking to Mrs. Griffith.  When it came time for the school play, she directed because the drama teacher was out on maternity leave.  androcles_logoI auditioned for the play, Androcles and the Lion, (deliberately showing up at the very end so no one else would be around to hear me) and then told her I’d rather be behind the scenes.  The first of many mistakes on my part regarding my interest in the theater.  I was the curtain puller and an unofficial part of the chorus, so I was always there for rehearsal.  She asked her husband who was an amateur thespian to come and help us.  He was always very serious and direct, coming across as mean and grumpy, I thought,  and I found it uncomfortable.  Somewhere in my adolescent 12 year old mind I thought it was a good idea to tell her this.  Not only did I tell her this but I told her at a  highly stressful time for her.

I was at my post, ready and waiting to pull the curtain (hand over hand so it’s not jerky) and she came bursting through looking for someone who was supposed to be on stage but wasn’t, when I stopped her and said, just as pleasantly as could be, “Mrs. Griffith, no offense, but, I really hate it when your husband is here.”  I think I was even smiling.  I’d heard “no offense” many times and knew it took all the sting out.

She, on the other hand was not smiling, “Well, you know,” she said rather tersely, “I really do take offense to that.”  And with that she stomped off in search of the missing cast member.

I felt like a shit and couldn’t believe that “no offense” hadn’t worked.  She taught me a valuable lesson that day.  You can’t just say whatever you want to a person and expect there to be no consequences.  The next day before class, I apologized to her and all was forgiven.

Once she needed help posting something to a district owned marquee at a very busy intersection.  I of course volunteered to assist and to repay my efforts she took me to the local 7-11 and bought me a 1/2 pound bag of M&M’s.  The bag was still open and partially full, in my coat pocket the next day when I arrived at class and at some point I had gone to the front of the room and then dropped something on the floor.  I bent over to pick it up and M&M’s went flying all over the floor.  I knew I wasn’t supposed to have them in class and she was angry at me for making the mess and having them there.  I was all the more embarrassed because she had bought them for me.

When the year was drawing to a close and we had to select the classes we wanted to take the following year I had decided to take Drama.  The only problem was, you had to audition for the class.  I signed up to audition but I wimped out and did not go. When Mrs. Griffith found out about this she told me I had to audition and she would talk to the Drama teacher about giving me another shot.  For one reason or another, the boy who was playing Androcles in the play also had missed the audition and so he and I went before school one day to audition for the teacher.  We did a scene from the play where he played Androcles and I played his wife, Hermione.  (Go figure!)  I made the class and he did not.

In the 8th grade, I opted to be her student aide, instead of taking choir.  I wanted to have the best of both worlds.  I wanted to be in choir but I wanted to be special and she tried to accommodate me.  I was her first period student aide and I was late almost every day.  (Not unlike now!)  One day, I noticed that in her attendance book she had me marked as being tardy every day.  After eight tardies I was supposed to get detention.  When I mentioned to her how much I appreciated that she hadn’t given me detention, she said that she had to, and she would, she just hadn’t gotten around to it.  She never did and I don’t know if she just honestly didn’t get around to it, or if she only said that to “scare me straight” but after that I tried much harder to get to school on time.

When I moved on to the 9th grade and a new school, I tried to come back and visit her periodically but it was difficult to do and then she moved to another school.

I exchanged a few letters with her after I got engaged, and moved to live with Dead Beat Dad temporarily.  I told her of my engagement and of the young child I would to step-father.  She told me in a return letter that married men were adults and as an adult I was entitled to call her by her first name.  I don’t know if I ever did.  After six years of calling her Mrs. Griffith, I just couldn’t wrap my tongue around “Betty”.   Not long after that, we lost touch.  I think I was embarrassed to tell her that, what I suspected she thought all along, was true, that I was too young and immature to get married and it was obvious by the fact that my fiance had cheated on and dumped me.

I miss Mrs. Griff–  Betty.  She is a wonderful, sweet woman.  She may not have shaped me into the man I am today.  She may not have affected the path I would follow in my life, but she helped me, and she made me feel special and important and for that, I will always be grateful…

And I’m so excited because in the course of writing this post, and trying to find out if she’s even still a teacher, I found an e-mail address for her and tomorrow I’m going to send her my first correspondence in 15 years.  I hope she remembers me.

Batman’s Return, Part 3

In my dreams.

In my dreams.

After it was over, he continued to hold me close to his body.  He made no effort to remove his shrinking member from my ass, and as we lay there quietly listening to each other as our breathing began to synchronize, I knew I’d have sweet dreams that night.  And then we drifted off to sleep.

When the morning came, the sun was streaming in through the open windows over my bed, bathing the room in the early morning light.  Despite my remarkably restful nights sleep, I had moved in the night and was now facing Batman, with our heads mere inches apart, sharing the same pillow.  As I stretched myself awake I slowly opened my eyes to see my new lover, looking sweetly back at me, just watching me sleep.  “Mmmmm,” I cooed.  It was an automatic reaction as I stretched.

“Good Morning,” Batman softly spoke to me.  “How’re you feeling?”

“Mmmm,” I repeated, as I opened my eyes and smiled.  “Good.  How about you?”

He smiled back at me.  “Really good.  I’m so happy to be here with you,” he said as he brought his right hand up to stroke my cheek.  For a brief moment we were silent as I closed my eyes and enjoyed the loving caresses of his hand on my face.

As he moved his hand down and placed it on the back of my shoulder, as if to hold me close, but still maintain a safe distance, I looked up into his eyes, again, and asked, “What happened between you and Mrs. Batman?”  It was time for the talk we hadn’t had the night before.

For a moment his face hardened, as if encountering a painful memory, and then just as quickly his countenance returned to the softness I was used to.  “After you moved out, I tried to get back to my old life.  I missed you and I was really sad that our friendship hadn’t survived the experience.  But I understood why it hadn’t.  I thought I had done the right thing, standing by my wife and against Bat-Mother-in-law-”

“You did,” I interrupted.  “She was wrong to try and come between the two of you.”

“I know,” he replied, “But I’m really sorry she used you to try to do it.  That wasn’t fair to anyone.”  He paused for a moment, as if lost in some memory.  “But what I didn’t realize at the time was that you meant a lot more to me than just a friend and I realized, after you were gone that I had really lost a lot.  I loved my kids and I truly cared about my wife but I realized, when it was too late, that I really cared for you too.”  His face was now very somber and I could feel the pain in his words.   I reached out to him, placing my left hand on his bicep.  He was still holding on to me, and I stroked his arm lightly.  He looked into my eyes and smiled faintly again.  “After that, something changed with Mrs. B and me.  I wasn’t exactly angry, but I couldn’t really stand for her to touch me either.  Before you moved out, she and I discussed having another child.  After you were gone it was clear, she really wanted one, but I wasn’t so sure.  Things had definitely changed between us.  Mrs. B would make advances and I continually made excuses not to be with her.”

“But you did have another child,” I stated, confused.

“Yes we did.  You have to realize this process went on for almost seven years.  I had to have sex with my wife if I wanted to keep my marriage intact.  Every once in a while, I even wanted to.  I started drinking more and before long I was drinking too much most days.  Over the course of a few years, I went from believing I was straight and that drinking made me feel open to more possibilities with men, to feeling like I only wanted to be with a man and drinking made it possible for me to have sex with my wife.  Eventually, there was so much distance between us that we had no choice but to discuss it.

“She turned to me one morning while we were getting ready for work, I was in the shower and she was brushing her teeth, and she asked me, ‘why don’t you ever want to be with me anymore?’  I was totally caught by surprise and I tried to sidestep the question at first but she wouldn’t let me.  She said that for years now, I’d been very evasive and that most of the time when she was feeling amorous I had some excuse as to why it wasn’t a good time.

“I wanted to tell her that she was wrong and everything was fine but it was clear she wasn’t going to accept that…  And you’d be surprised just how truly vulnerable you feel  when you’re completely naked and the only route of escape is blocked by an angry woman.”  He smiled now as we both laughed lightly.  In spite of the somberness of the moment, I was beginning to sprout a little wood at the mental image of him naked in the shower, all soaped up, with his Army issue dog tags hanging between his mocha colored erect nipples, jingling quietly as he scrubbed his body clean, and for the first time since arriving at my apartment the night before, I was glad we had some space between us and he couldn’t feel my inappropriately timed hard-on.  “I hesitated for a moment, turned the water off, opened the shower door and looked at her.  I could see in her eyes, that no matter what, she wanted the truth.  So I took a deep breath and before I could think better of it and stop myself I told her, ‘It’s because I’m gay!'”

I felt like I was living in that moment as I felt his body tremble with the memory of the fear he felt that day.  I remembered how I felt the first time I told someone I was gay and how hard it was to hold my hands steady, let alone my voice.  I resisted the urge to reach out and pull him closer to myself as I sensed that if we didn’t finish this conversation now, we might never finish it.  With wide eyes, I asked, “What–  How — I can’t even imagine what her reaction was to that!”  I had learned enough about Mrs. B to know that she wasn’t very tolerant of behaviors that didn’t satisfy her.

“No you can’t.  She threatened to kill me.  She threatened to Bobbitize me.  And then she threw my towel at me and told me to get out.  I packed a bag before I left for work, not knowing what to expect when I came home.  I ended up spending a couple nights in a hotel and then I got an apartment with a six month lease.  I wasn’t ready to accept that my marriage was over, and yet at the same time I felt so much better having come forward and finally told her the truth of my feelings.”

“Did you tell her you had feelings for me?”  I didn’t mean to be insensitive but given how the story had gone I couldn’t help but feel somehow responsible for what had happened.

“No!” he said.  “By this time I’d assumed I’d never see you again and this was about me and my feelings.  I had slowly but surely grown to be attracted to men and was constantly checking out hot guys, everywhere I went.  Turned out she’d noticed and had her suspicions for a while.  I guess she just wanted to hear me say it.  Anyway, it took a little while and things got really ugly for a time but we finally sat down together, just the two of us, without our lawyers, and discussed the whole thing.  I explained to her that when I married her, I honestly didn’t think I was gay, and that I loved our children no matter what.  I even care about her.  I just had learned this new thing about myself that couldn’t be ignored any longer.  That’s when we agreed, that I’d move back into the house with my own room.  Thanks to the VA, we had gotten a grate mortgage on a nice big house and it has two master suites on either end.  We agreed that I’d move back in and we’d raise our children together as one unit and that we’d have our individual love lives, too.”

“Wow.  That’s really amazing…”  I paused, looking into his eyes and trying to decide what to ask next and how to ask it.  “So…  Last night…  You were meeting…  a… date?”

Batman pulled his hand away from my shoulder, as if it had been on fire and he was suddenly feeling the heat and I could see his body tense up.  Without thinking I reached out and took hold of his hand, placing it on my chest and holding it in place.  “It’s OK,” I told him, reassuringly.  “Nothing you tell me is going to change what’s happening here.”

He took a deep breath.  “After Mrs. B and I split up, I began to explore this other side of my self.  At first I just really needed to know what it was all about.  To be honest, I did some things that, looking back on it, I’m not really very proud of.  But once I knew what I’d been missing all those years I couldn’t get enough.  I have profiles on several of the top gay dating sites.  Last night was a semi-random hook-up that was set up on one of those sites.  I’m thinking now, though, that it’s time to shut that down.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, smiling, “we might get some mileage out of those sites yet!”  I grinned at him, deviously.  “So you’re not exactly new to all this, then.” I said, more than asked.

“No,” he answered, “I’m not.  I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“Are you kidding!  Last night probably wouldn’t have been nearly as hot as it was if we were both novices.  I’m glad you knew what you were doing.  God knows, I wouldn’t have.”

He smiled, “So you’re not mad?”  I smiled and shook my head as I gazed into his eyes.  “When I first saw you last night, I knew this was what I wanted.  I just didn’t want you to be mad that I was… experienced.”  I raised my left hand and rubbed his hair back away from his face and caressed the back of his head.  With that, he reached out and pulled me close, wanting to hold me tightly again, like he had the night before.  And then he pulled his head back to look at me with pleasant surprise on his face.  “Well, hello!” he said, as he looked toward the middle of my body.  Hidden under the sheets, my semi-hard cock had poked him in the crotch.  I pulled him close and kissed him deeply and passionately on the lips.

Batman,” I said, “I’m happy to have you back in my life, and even happier to have you in my bed.  I can only be grateful for whatever lead us to this moment!”  As I leaned in for another kiss, he took control again and rolled over on top of me, lying between my legs, our erections building as they were pressed between our bodies, side by side like two baguettes in an oven.  He was kissing and licking my chest and neck, nibbling on my ear lobes when I said, “You are so good at this!  I’m so impressed!

“This is the easy part,” he pointed out, “What I did last night is the part that should impress you.  I don’t do that very often.”

I placed my hands on his muscular shoulders and pushed him up, looking incredulously into his eyes.  “What do you mean you don’t do that very often?” I asked, shocked.  “You sure seemed like you knew what you were doing to me!”

He smiled back at me and said, “I have done it, and I do know what I’m doing, but I kind of prefer to be on the receiving end of a good ass fucking, if you know what I mean.”

Indeed I did.  “So you’re more of a catcher than a pitcher?” I said.

“That’s not really the commonly used terminology, but, yeah, I guess you could say that.  I’m versatile, but I do enjoy being the one to get fucked.”

I just looked at him for a moment, shocked by what I was hearing.  Finally, I spoke up.  “Why did you–  I mean, if you prefer to–  Wh– huh?  What happened last night?”

“Well,” he started with a laugh, “I wanted to give you pleasure last night.  I wanted to give you as much of myself as I could and I hoped I could do that by showing you what is, to me, one of the most pleasurable parts of being gay.  I hope I was right.”

“Well, yeah.  I mean, it was really incredible, but, well, I think it should go both ways, don’t you?”

“Sure,” he answered exuberantly.

“I want to–  I mean.  Can I–  I think I’d like to try it.”

“Try it?” he asked.

“Yeah.  I mean, if you think it’ll be good, I want to… to…  be the top?”  I asked, feeling foolish for not knowing the terminology.

His grin grew exponentially as he said, “OK.  If you think you’re up to it,” and as he said the word “up” he grasped my cock which was already quite hard.  “You need to be good and hard, or it won’t really work for you.  Maybe I can help ensure that!” he said as he began to stroke and kiss my growing hardness.

I stretched my body out flat to enjoy my lover’s ministrations.  As my cock grew harder and the sensations more intense I lifted my arms above my head, reaching for the headboard of my bed where I grabbed hold of the rods, thinking how perfect this bed was for a little bondage action.  Perhaps next time (if there would be a next time – God I hoped for a next time) we could explore more deeply, the sexual options available to us.  As Batman worked on my cock I remembered the escapades of the night before and felt the familiar sensations of my cock in his throat.  When he felt that my cock was sufficiently solid, he reached for one of the condoms that I had brought from my goody drawer the night before, opened the package and began to seductively roll it down my solid, throbbing cock.  The he reached for the bottle of lubricant I had provided and turned it over above my dick squeezing a generous amount out onto the tip of my shrouded dick.  He smiled at me and said, “Are you ready?”

“I sure hope so,” I said, as he climbed up onto his knees and straddled my body.  He reached down and took hold of my throbbing member at the base, holding it upright and placing the tip at the opening of his waiting hole.  I felt a little pressure on my otherwise stiff pole and then I saw him sink down the full inches of my dick as I felt the tight pressure of his guts holding tightly onto me.

“You are officially fucking me,” he said joyfully as he grinned broadly at me.  “How does it feel?”

“It’s incredible,” I said, “How does it feel for you?”

“You are awesome,” he said.  “Your dick is hitting all the right spots.”  I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but I knew, from what had happened while he was fucking me the night before that there were great sensations to be felt while riding a stallion and I was happy to oblige him.  He sat down hard, on my balls that hung just below his ass hole at this point and pulled his feet up underneath him and then he reached back and put his hands down on my thighs.  He began raising and lowering his body on my solid rod and the sensations were amazing.  Up and down, up and down, he continued to impale himself on my healthy member.  I could tell by the look on his face, the way his eyes were closed and he was biting his lower lip, that he was enjoying what he was experiencing.  He repeatedly looked down into my eyes and then closed his eyes and threw his head back.  As he was controlling the rhythm and depth of my penetration I reached down and lightly took hold of his cock that had been sticking out in front of him bouncing to his movement and slapping my abdomen with each inward penetration.  It felt so soft and smooth.  As I gently pulled on it to the beat of his own movements, I again felt the pre-cum oozing little by little out of the slit at the end of his cock.

As it became clear that he was tiring from his exertions I reached out for him and he collapsed forward onto my chest, still riding me and squeezing my dick with his sphincter and Kegle muscles, milking me for all I was worth.  He kissed me deeply and I wrapped my arms around his back.  Now I was in control and I rolled to my right ending up on top of him with his legs on either side of me.  I took hold of his ankles and pressed his legs toward his head, slightly raising and spreading his ass cheeks for a better angle of approach.  Now Batman was lying on his back and I was kneeling at his tunnel of love.  I took hold of my cock which had begun to shrink slightly and stroked it a few times, through the condom to return it to full mast.  After a few masturbatory strokes I was ready to enter him again.  I placed the tip of my cock at the pucker of his anus.  I looked down at him and he nodded.  I leaned forward slightly, placing some extra weight on his sphincter.  It was clear he was used to this because my cock head slipped right past the outer ring of his ass.  Once the initial pop of that that barrier was complete, I slid right in to the hilt.  I could feel my balls, hanging below and resting against the his Bat-cheeks and for a moment I was reminded of the hard pounding I’d received the night before as his hips slammed into my ass cheeks.

I started out slow, this was all new to me, after all.  Once I got the hang of it though I began to really get into it.  Thwap, thwap, thwap.  My thrusts were hitting home and his bat-cheeks were beginning to redden, just as I had imagined mine had done the night before.  As I was holding his legs up and apart, Batman reached down with his right hand and began to slowly stroke his cock as he used his left hand to twist and tug on his nipples.  I watched him jerking it and I looked at his face and saw how he was truly enjoying this fucking I was giving him.  Thwap, thwap, thwap.  This was such an incredible experience and I didn’t want it to end but I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer.

Suddenly I knew.  If it had to end, I knew how I wanted it to happen.  I let go of his ankles, reached down and took hold of his wrists, taking them away from his dick and nipples and I collapsed on top of him, pinning his arms down above his head and licking and kissing every bit of his torso as I continued to, Thwap, thwap, thwap.  It wouldn’t be long now.  And then he took a cue from my moans and began actively milking my full cock with his sphincter muscles.  Within just a few moments I began convulsing as I was filling my the condom with my own fluids just as he’d done to me the night before.  As the last few pumps were shoving the last of my cum from my cock, I kissed him passionately, so grateful for the opportunity to return the favor that he’d done for me the night before.

As I pushed myself back up onto my knees to remove my waning erection from his tender ass and removed the condom I looked down and realized that his erection was still hard as a rock.  “Let me help you out with that,” I said, as I lay down next to him for a closer vantage point.  “Mmmmm” was all he could manage as I took his nine inch dick into my hands and began running my tongue up and down it like a candy cane at Christmas.  While fondling his dick with my mouth I used my left hand to rub and tug on his balls, while simultaneously pressing a finger into his taint.  I’ve always been a quick study and I wanted to show my appreciation by giving him every bit as much pleasure as he had given me.  From the involuntary movements of his body I could see I was on the right track. I continued to manipulate his balls and put pressure on his perineum as I opened up and took the top of his penis into my mouth for the first time.  It tasted salty but good and I lightly sucked on it, drawing some of the fluids out of the slit at the tip.  His dick was rock solid by now and I was leery at first but I was determined to return the favor he’d done for me, so I began to press my mouth down on his shaft.  It felt so good to have so much of him inside my mouth, but I knew I was about to get into trouble.

Suddenly, I began to choke and sputter as I pushed his leaking member too far into my mouth and had to back off before I gagged myself.  “Are you alright?” He asked me.

“Yeah.  I guess so,” I said.  I just don’t know how you did it!”

“Just relax,” he told me.  “If you’re tense about it your throat will never open enough to let it in.  Just take it slow and easy.  And if you can’t take it all the way, it’s ok.”

I took a deep breath ready to give it another shot.  I leaned down again, ready to give it my best.  I was working the shaft and squeezing his balls and breathing deeply to relax myself and give it another shot.  Suddenly I felt him moving and as he turned toward me, he leaned forward to take my own growing cock into his mouth.  I couldn’t believe I was actually ready to go again after such a short time, but more importantly I couldn’t believe I was actually engaged in my first 69 position with another guy.  My cock was quickly returning to a fully erect position and as I worked on his dick I suddenly slid down to the hilt and found myself sniffing his balls as they were pulling up close to his body preparing to loose their load, and his dick was in my throat.  I was feeling really close myself and I was completely amazed as we both shot another simultaneous load deep into each other’s throats.  Beep, beep, beep.  I felt like I’d shoot into his throat, forever.  “What is that sound?” I heard him ask.  Strange that he could speak so clearly while my cock was still shooting into his gut.

Beep, Beep, Beep.  Pulse after pulse after pulse of cum shooting into my throat.  “That’s just my alarm clock,” I said.  Wait!  His cock is still in my throat!

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.  “Oh shit,” I sighed.

As I opened my eyes, I realized that my alarm had been screaming at it’s top volume for several minutes, working at it’s maximum effort to wake me from this glorious dream.  As I moved forward on the mattress to turn off the offending device atop my night stand, I felt the familiar, wet and sticky sensation of my cum on the sheets.

The entire thing, may have only been a dream, and I’d mourn the loss of that relationship, all over again, but at least I’d gotten a good orgasm out of the deal, and how could I possibly complain about that.  Where ever you are, out there, Batman, I do still miss you.  And I do still love you and I only wish that my dream would somehow come true!

Batman’s Return

About a year ago, I had a dream about Batman and the Mrs.

I was sitting in the corner of a dark, noisy and crowded Cantina reading a book and eating a burrito.  There were neon signs all around advertising Coronas, Pacificoes and Tacates, and there were fluorescent representations of donkey shaped piñatas and sombreros and cactuses (cacti?) on the walls.  Suddenly what little light there was for me to read my book was blocked by a figure.  I looked up and there he was.  He was gorgeous.  Much the way I remember him, and yet, somehow different.  I couldn’t put my finger on it at first.

There was a difference in his presence.  A maturity that wasn’t there before.  An intensity in his gaze at me.  He greeted me with an exuberant handshake and before anything else happened Mrs. Batman approached.  My heart sank a bit.  I was happy to see him and I didn’t want to be holding a grudge against her but it was hard not to experience those negative feelings and emotions from so long ago.  Mrs. Batman said hello, and I offered them both the seats across my table from me.

I realized, there wasn’t just a difference in him.  There was a difference in both of them, in the way they were together.  They didn’t touch.  Batman didn’t put his arm around Mrs. Batman.  He didn’t put his arm on the back of her chair, or over a shoulder.  He leaned forward on the table and focused his attention directly on me.  Mrs. Batman, didn’t lean toward him.  She didn’t put a hand on his leg.  She didn’t glance lovingly in his direction.  All the tell tale signs of a couple in love were absent.

They didn’t look unhappy, in fact they looked very much the opposite.  Like they were content with their lives and the directions they had gone in.  As I looked at them and noticed these changes, I also noticed that there had been some definite physical changes in Batman.  He was leaner.  Not thinner; God knows there was no room for that.  Just fitter.  The gut was completely gone, replaced by a complete absence of shirt pucker.  His clothes weren’t skin tight but they left little question as to his condition.  Where once there had been a gut, and then, in Stockton, a slight lump, now there was nothing but a flush, smooth line from puffed up chest to his belt.  His hair was shorter with more of a spiky look, and he had bleached highlights I hadn’t noticed until he sat down and the light was above his head and not behind.  The glasses were gone and in their place his beautiful, intensely blue eyes as blue as the Caribbean sea on a perfect day, and they were focused directly on me, looking into my eyes.  And then I saw the most notable physical changes.  His ears were pierced.  One small, simple hoop in his left ear, but in his right, he had the matching hoop, with a stud next to it.  He also had a bar running through the top of his ear lobe, and a small hoop through the cartilage just in front of his ear canal.  In addition, there was a hint of a tattoo, showing beneath the bottom of his short sleeve on his right arm.

“What happened to you?” I asked aghast.

“What do you mean?” was his response.

“Your ears.  The Tattoo.  Mrs. B was always opposed to those things.”  I couldn’t contain my complete surprise.

“I still don’t like it,” was her simple reply.

“What I do with my body, stopped being up to her a few years ago,” he said matter of factly.  “We’re divorced.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather.  There’s was never, by any means, a rock solid marriage, but they’d had a mutual determination to stay together forever.  The two of them just looked at me as though he had just informed me of the time and not that their marriage had ended.  And then he continued.  “We split up about three years ago,” he said.  “It was a difficult time for us but we worked through it and for the sake of the kids (they had two the last I knew) we’ve worked out a deal.  We still live together in the same house, just separate bedrooms, and we are friends.”

“Wow.  Well, that’s really great that you could do that, but uh, wh-what’s happening tonight?  You’re out together?  Without the kids?”

“Oh,” piped up Mrs. Batman, “I was actually just dropping him off here, and thought I’d come in and get some dinner to take back with me.”

“My car is in the shop right now, and I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.  Mrs. B was nice enough to give me a ride.”

“Oh,” I said, some what deflated.  “Well, it was good to see you.  I don’t want to keep you from your…  Date?  Meeting?  Friends?”  I had become quite engaged in the conversation and was really enjoying the time with and attention from my long lost friend, and so I was quite disappointed to realize it would be cut short.

“Anyway, I need to get going,” Said Mrs. B, as she was standing up from the table.  “It’s nice to see you again, Kevin.  Maybe I’ll be seeing more of you,” she said.  It came out laced with hidden meaning I did not yet know.  Why would she be seeing more of me?  Batman and I were no longer friends and I didn’t really think their divorce was going to change that.  Especially not if they still lived in the same house.  Before I could say anything, she turned toward Batman, shot him a knowing glance and walked away.

I heard a chuckle from his direction and as I turned to look at him, I realized my mouth was hanging wide open betraying my shock and amazement at the whole thing.  As he moved over to the seat in front of me I asked, “What are you laughing at?”

“Just you.” he replied, smiling.  “Obviously, this all catches you very much by surprise.”

“Uh yeah, you could say that!  I’d love to hear the rest of the story, but I guess you better go find your party.”  I answered, disappointed.

“Eh.  He doesn’t know what I look like.  Never seen him before in my life.  I think I’d rather stay here and catch up with you, if that’s OK?”

“Um–  OK.  Yeah.  I’d love that but what am I missing here?  You’re meeting a guy here you’ve never met before and who wouldn’t know you if he saw you, and whatever the reason it’s unimportant enough to ditch him and hang out with me?”

Batman just laughed and smiled and stared into my eyes.  “That about sums it up,” he said.  “Look, Kevin, the reason why Mrs. B and I split up is because after you were gone from my life, I realized something I never knew before.  Our friendship meant a lot more to me than I ever realized, and in ways I never realized.”  His perpetual grin slowly drained from his face and where just a few minutes prior he had been up-beat and joyful, suddenly he was somber, his eyes were moistening and welling up and there was a quiver in his voice.  “After we stopped being friends and I realized what I’d lost and the part I played in it, I also realized that there was a hole in my heart because of it.  Over time, I realized that what I was missing, wasn’t just your friendship.  I had been in love with you, and I didn’t even realize it.”

With that he reached across the table and gingerly placed his hand on top of mine and looked deeply into my eyes for my reaction.  I was frozen in place.  I could barely feel his warm, soft hand on top of mine.  I couldn’t form any words with my mouth and for a moment it seemed as if we were the only two people in the room.  The music was gone.  The voices that had been straining to be heard over the din were gone.  There was nothing but the sound of my own heart beating in my ears as I struggled to process what had just happened.

And then just like that, it all came rushing back.  The noise, the vibrations, the physical sense of all the people around us.  I blinked, and a single tear fell from my eye and ran down my face.

“Please say something,” he spoke.  “Whatever you have to say, I can take it.  I just need to hear your reaction.”

“I- I never thought–  I mean- I…  I was in love with you too.  It’s part of why the situation was so difficult for me living with you and your family.  I wanted to be friends and I wanted to be accepted by your family so that we could continue to be together in the only way I ever thought we would, but I secretly loved you and was so jealous of all that they had of you, that I could not have.”

There was a long pause as we both just stared into each other’s eyes, not knowing what would come next.  And then I spoke, but the words seemed like they were someone else’s.  I had never imagined this moment could be possible so I certainly had no idea how I could or would react.  “Would you like to go back to my apartment to talk?  I think the peace and quiet would do us both some good.”

I opened the front door of my apartment and looked around, glad that the cleaning lady had been in.  Stepping aside, I held the door as Batman walked past me to explore.  I closed the door behind him and when I turned around, he was right there, looking me in the eyes, and he put his hands on my shoulders.  “I don’t think I want to talk,” he said, as he pushed me against the door and tenderly kissed my lips.   He was so unashamed, uninhibited it took me by surprise.

I’d never done this before.  I’d never brought a man who, for these intents and purposes, was a stranger back to my home.  I’d never immediately launched into a physical encounter barely after the door was locked.  I’d never locked lips (or anything else) with a friend.  In fact, I’d never locked lips (or anything else) with any man, ever, before in my life.  Of course, I had fantasized about it many times before.  I had known for some time that it was something that appealed to me, but it had only been a year or two since I’d finally accepted and stopped denying my sexuality, and thus far, I had never physically acted on those desires.

Batman on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what he was doing.  He started out tenderly, gently, almost like he knew this was a first for me.  And then his kisses became more intense, more emphatic, and before I knew it, I was responding in kind.  I reached out for him and wrapped my arms around his back.  My right hand was on the back of his neck and my left hand was around his waist as I held on to him almost for dear life, afraid this moment wasn’t real, that it would end suddenly.  I tilted my head into his kiss and as I parted my lips to kiss him harder I felt his soft, warm tongue slide between them and press against mine.

I felt his hands pressing my shoulders against the door as he dove into my mouth and then I felt him press away from me just a few inches as his hands slid down to the center of my chest and grab the placket of my button down shirt.  In one swift moment he ripped his hands outward, popping every button off my shirt exposing my chest and abdomen to him.  It was every bit as erotic as I dreamed it would be.

As I heard the buttons bouncing off the walls and along the floor, I felt his strong arms wrap around my waist under my shirt and then, while continuing to kiss me passionately, I felt him lift me off my feet and carry me over to the end of the couch where he put me down and shoved me over the arm and down on to the cushions.  And then, with one swift motion he crossed his arms in front of him, grabbed hold of the hem of his pull-over shirt and slipped it right off and over his head, revealing the rock hard abs and perfectly toned, smooth chest that I knew were under there just waiting to come out.  He still wore his military dog tags which nestled nicely between his hard, brown nipples.  And as he looked down at me and grinned, I inhaled sharply, taking in this beautiful specimen of a man that stood before me.

And then he pounced!  He climbed on top of the couch, on top of me and began running his tongue all over my upper body.  My smooth, pale chest and abs were his for the taking, and take them he did.  As he was licking, kissing, nibbling and stroking my body, I could feel my erection beginning.  Just a slight heat at first, but soon, it was pressing against my Calvin Klein’s and my jeans and he could feel it pressing against his chest.  As he was kissing my six pack and sticking his tongue in my belly button, he looked up at me, made eye contact and smiled.  He opened his mouth wide and bared his teeth.  I was excited and nervous all at the same time, not knowing where this was going.  But it was perfectly clear, very quickly, what my friend had in mind.  He tilted his head down and grabbed hold of my belt, the part, in front of the buckle, with his teeth and began to wrestle it free.  He pulled the strap a few inches out of the buckle until it formed a small bump on my waist and then he grabbed it with his left hand, pulling the strap the rest of the way free.

My cock was rigid by now and was pressing uncomfortably against the soft fabric of my briefs and I couldn’t wait for it to be freed.  Batman feverishly worked and within a few seconds he’d unfastened my belt and the button on my pants waist and pulled the zipper down.  Then he reached up and put his fingers inside the waist band of my underwear at the corner of either hipbone and cocked his head slightly.  Without saying a word he conveyed his intent and just as he tugged on my clothes I used the slight leverage of my feet on arm of the couch to raise my ass off the couch cushions making it possible for him to pull them down and away from my now fully engorged penis.  Thwack!  As he was standing up and pulling my lower body attire the rest of the way down to my feet, my erection snapped out of the restraints of my underwear and slapped into my quivering abdomen.  Batman began to laugh as he was struggling to pull my pants all the way off, not remembering I still had my shoes on.

Laughing as well, I sat up and grabbed his wrists.  As I slammed my body back against the cushions I pulled him back over the arm of the couch and down on top of me.  I doubled over slightly as he came down on top of my solid member laying out on my stomach, but I didn’t care about the pain.  I wanted to be in contact with his hot flesh!  Again, I placed my hand on the back of his head and pulled his mouth down onto mine.  This time there was no time for tenderness.  I needed to feel his skin against mine.  I needed to touch his warm lips and probing tongue and for a few minutes I explored every part of his mouth, his chin and his neck and shoulders.  And then I became the forgetful one as I found some leverage and pushed to roll over on top of him, not remembering that we were on the couch and there was no where to roll to.

My downstairs neighbors probably had a start when they heard the thud on their ceiling, and for a moment I had to stop and laugh at the idea that they had no knowledge of what was happening right above their heads.  And then, there we were, Batman splayed out on the floor, pinned beneath my body.  My pants were still around my ankles and the restriction that provided had me straddling my friend, with my feet between his knees and my knees on either side of his hips.  Then I felt his own erection pressed against the inside of my naked left thigh.  He resisted slightly and I gently took hold of his wrists and pinned them above his head on the floor.  I leaned down to kiss his face and made eye contact with this beautiful creature beneath me.  I stopped abruptly and just stared into his eyes.

“What?” he asked, slightly out of breath but sounding worried.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.  I just–  I guess, I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long and now that it’s here…  I just don’t want to ruin it.  I want it to be special.  Meaningful.  You know?”

He smiled so tenderly at me.  “I know,” he said.  “Here.  Get up,” he told me as he began to sit up on his own.  I climbed awkwardly off of him and sat, bare-assed, on the couch.  Batman sat up on the floor and tuned to face me.  He placed his hands on my exposed thighs and looked into my eyes.  He just looked, tenderly at me for several seconds before he said, “If you don’t want to do this, I understand.  I think it would be really beautiful though.”  I smiled slightly.  “Besides,” he said as he ran the back of his hand along my waning erection, which jumped lightly at his touch, “You do seem like you want to do this.”

I smiled.  “I do.  I really do.  Let’s just…  Let’s just make it count. OK?”

He didn’t answer.  He just smiled sweetly and then looked down at the floor.  Slowly he reached down and lifted my piled up pants from the top of my left shoe and pulled the end of the lace.  The laces came untied and he loosened them before he pulled my shoe off.  Then he gathered the material of my pants in his right hand while gently lifting my leg out of the pants leg with his left.  When my leg was free of the fabric, he used his right hand to remove my sock.  After doing the same with my right leg he uncrossed his legs and effortlessly stood up from the floor in one muscular, fluid motion.  Standing in front of me naked from the waist up, he tugged his own shoes and socks off and kicked them to the side before extending his hand to me, palm up.

I reached out and placed my hand in his and he lightly supported my weight as I stood up from the couch now completely naked and with my half mast sicking straight out in front of me and rubbing slightly on his still shrouded crotch.  “Which way is the bedroom?” he asked.  I turned to the side, took his hand in mine and led him, silently, to the bedroom door.  The sheets were fresh and the bed beautifully made, thanks, again, to the cleaning lady.  After I opened the door, Batman silently walked past me and led me to the bed.  He delicately pulled back the linens and then guided me to the edge of the bed to sit.  As I sat facing him I watched as he began to loosen the belt on his own jeans.  He unfastened his belt and his pants and slowly began to push them to the floor.

As his own solid cock sprung from his clothes I again took a sharp breath.  I’d never been in this situation before.  I’d never been in the same room with a real live hard erection that wasn’t my own, and never been about to do what I now knew was going to happen, and was certain it was what I wanted.  He stepped out of his jeans and took a step toward me, motioning with his hands for me to climb into the bed and lay back.

I carefully slid to the far side of the bed and lay my head on the pillows.  My breath was shallow and quick and I could feel the nerves rising in my stomach.  This was really happening and I was ready!  As I felt the mattress sink at the weight of Batman climbing on, I closed my eyes and waited for what was to come.  I sensed, more than felt him hovering over my hard-on and then I felt the light, moist touch of his tongue starting at the base of my cock where it meets with my balls and working it’s way slowly up to the tip where he licked the opening that was already releasing pre-cum.  And then I felt him take my cock in his hand and lift it up to his lips, while the other hand began to lightly fondle and squeeze my nuts.  Suddenly, I felt a wet warmth as my dick was engulfed in his mouth.  Slowly at first he ran his mouth, up and down, up and down running his tongue over the sensitive under-side of my engorged tip.  I couldn’t believe how incredible it felt.  Just as I knew it would, it felt like the most perfect, natural thing in the world.  Not even coming close to the sensations I’d experienced in my few previous encounters with the opposite sex.  This was as God had intended for me.

My friend continued his ministrations and I could feel my ball sack tightening as he continued to take all of my eight inches into his mouth and throat.  He was clearly quite skilled in this area, so to speak, and as my body began to stiffen and quiver, he stopped his motion, with my erection deep in his throat and began a light sucking motion that I had never experienced the likes of before!  “I’m gonna cum!” I whispered, as that was the most sound I could produce.  I expected he would pull my cock from his mouth and let me shoot my load, but instead he kept my dick deep in the back of his throat and increased the intensity of his suction.

“Unh-  uh, Ahh.  Ahhhh! AHHHHHHHH!!!” I cried out as I felt the cum leaving my body and shooting deep into his throat, nine, ten, eleven, twelve times I felt my entire body convulse as I shot load after load into his belly.  When it was done, and I was completely still, he slowly began to extract my now softening penis from his mouth, keeping his lips tight while sucking, licking and pulling every drop of cum from my spent member.    When he was done, he looked up at me and smiled.

“How was that?” he asked, knowing what the obvious response would be.

My chest and abdomen heaved as I struggled to stabilize my breathing.  “Hmmm,” was all I could muster at first.  “Tha-  That was incredible.”  A few more breaths, “Best I’ve ever experienced, for sure.”

“Well, hold on to your hat, sweet cheeks,” he told me, “‘Cause the fun has only just begun!”

I had no idea I had so much story to tell.  Stay tuned for Batman’s Return, Pt. 2, coming soon!

Life, Lunacy and the Pursuit of Financial Happiness; or The General State of Affairs

There’s a tickle at the back of my brain. A wee, small voice is calling out for freedom. There is a compulsion making its way to the surface. I feel like I have something to write. I’m just not sure yet what it is.

Saturday was Vengeful Mother’s 64th birthday. I played the dutiful son and called to wish her Happy Birthday and to inform her that a gift was not to follow. Things have been really tight for me lately. True to form, she took advantage of a moment of vulnerability on my part in which I told her of the financial difficulty I’ve been experiencing, to tell me that I wouldn’t be in this situation if I would just pay my tithes. Because after all, when I’m having trouble making ends meet to begin with the smartest thing I could do is write a $250.00 check, twice a month, for which I’ll receive no goods or services in return. Why wouldn’t I want to be $250.00 shorter per paycheck than I am now?

She tells me things would have been worse if she hadn’t done it, but I remember watching her write her tithe checks regularly, spending her last $50.00, and then having to scrape the cupboards to try to find something to feed her three hungry children. I guess she was “leading by example” by writing the checks, but what she was trying to instill in her children, that God will bless your finances if you tithe, didn’t come through. As far as I can tell, she’s still waiting for the blessing.

I suppose I was meant to accept not suffering homelessness, not having to go to school in rags and not starving to be a blessing. Now, I know I’m a bitter old dolt who has a fucked up sense of obligation but as far as I’m concerned, if Vengeful Mother and Dead Beat Dad weren’t prepared to guarantee those minimums, they should never have procreated in the first place. They probably shouldn’t have anyway. No, to me, being blessed is having all your needs met and having ample opportunities to make the most of your life. Those are the things I most certainly did not see happening when Vengeful Mother put her last few tuppence in the offering plates. Those are the things I didn’t have, period.

Tithes are supposed to be the “first fruits” of your “harvest” or the first 10% of your income. In other words, pre-tax. So my take home pay may be $1500.00 every two weeks, but I earn closer to $2500.00. Uncle SAM (as in Stole All my Money) takes the first nearly $1000.00 and then I’m supposed to hand over $250.00 more than that, before I do anything else? It’s impossible!

We had a luncheon at work today. I work in a small office of about five people. If you’ve read my blog, you’ve already been “introduced” to that group. We have a counter part group who works in another building. We don’t like them. They don’t like us. We have a mutual don’t like for each other and it’s a permanent condition.

Since my manager, Douche bag, is on vacation, the diminutive manager for the other group has been in charge. He decided to buy lunch for everyone today. So we gathered for sandwiches in a conference room. Midway through the lunch, he decided to announce that he was going to make this a monthly thing and that we’d meet for lunch monthly.

Every couple of months this comes up. Douche bag and his fun sized counterpart talk about how we should work together and have team building orgie— er, exercises and be BFFs, like that’s all it takes. Personalities and hard feelings be damned. I’m not sure why they can’t get it through their impenetrable skulls that we do not enjoy each others company and no amount of forcing the issue will change that. In fact forcing it on us will just make it harder to change things.

I had a couple of very peculiar dreams the other night. The first had to do with a forced entry situation at Vengeful Mother’s house. CPA sister and I were both there and it was bed time. CPA Sis was getting into bed in the living room, and Vengeful Mother was in bed in her room. CPA sis came across some papers in the living room that had some significance to a former boyfriend of hers; we’ll call him Breastplate (Explanation to follow). Vengeful Mother and I were reviewing the papers and realized that they were incriminating for Breastplate and some other guys. Suddenly, we heard loud noises as the front door was being broken down. I grabbed the papers and stuffed them under Vengeful Mother’s headboard.

I don’t really remember what happened after that except that the guys were tearing the house apart trying to find the papers and there was threatening and violence going on.

The second dream had a similar theme. I dreamed that Vengeful Mother and I were in a drug/grocery store and we had separated. The store was taken hostage by a group of ne’er-do-wells. I do not remember what their motivations were, but I remember that they were very rough. They were armed, but they had some sort of poison darts that they used to kill some of the hostages.

Once again, I do not remember the details of the dream but I remember that Vengeful Mother was killed with one of those darts. The dream ended when the police broke into the store and took out the bad dudes. I had managed to kill one of them in the course of my dream so when it was clear that the evil doers were going to die, their leader shot me with one of the darts, a moment before a policeman shot and killed him. Then just as everything was going dark I felt a sharp prick and shortly after I recovered. The police had the antidote for the poison and were able to save me, but not Vengeful Mother.

My therapist had the audacity to go on vacation last week and so it’ll have been two weeks since I’ve seen her, when I get to my appointment tomorrow evening. It seems as though I may have a lot to talk about. I do not wish for Vengeful Mother’s demise, but I do know that many things would be a lot easier on me if she was no longer part of my life. As I mentioned, she just turned 64 and some of you might be saying I don’t have that much longer with her, but you’d be wrong. People in my family, on both sides actually, live very long lives. My Paternal Grandfather who just died was almost 92. My Paternal Grandmother was in her early 80s when she died of cancer. My Maternal Grandmother was 84 when she died. The only enigma, if you will, is my Maternal Grandfather. He was killed when a psychotic divorceé boarded his plane wearing a dynamite vest in 1962. Grandfather was in his late 30s. Who knows how old he would have lived to be?

I take comfort in the fact that I won’t have to face the death of my parents for many years, and yet, there would be some comfort to be taken if I didn’t have to deal with those troubled relationships any further.

After nearly a year of negotiation, my regrettably pink bathroom is finally going to be remodeled starting on Monday, August 25, 2008. I’m dreading it. It’s going to be a major hassle for me. Their will be detritus everywhere while the work is happening. For a few days, my shower will be unavailable to me. Scared kitty will have to be closed up in the kitchen for his own safety and sanity, and the house will have to be thoroughly cleaned this week before my landlord sets foot in the place to meet with the contractor. I’ll be thrilled when the work is done.

My house was built in the 1920s. And the bathroom may well be the original bathroom, save for a new-ish toilet that was put in fewer than 5 years ago. The floor, sink counter and backsplash, and two sided shower surround are all covered in 4″ x 4″ pastel pink tile. The counter has a beveled, raised, pastel pink tile boarder that is hard to keep clean, and the counter is only 22 inches deep while the sink is 26 inches deep, so there is an angled protrusion from the counter where the sink is. The tile is dirty with the kind of dirt that doesn’t come out. Decade upon decade of use has resulted in a hue of grey that covers the pink such that only a power sand scrub or perhaps a dose of hydrochloric acid would make it come off, and then the tile would come up too. There are also what my landlady calls spider vein cracks in the tile. But most importantly, IT’S PINK!

Apparently, in the 1920s people were a good foot and a half shorter than they are now. The shower head, were it not to have an aftermarket handheld shower wand added to it, would hit me mid tattoo

 

and require me to bend down significantly to use it, and the top of the tile shower surround hits my shoulder level. Here in Oakland, we have a lot of mold issues to deal with, and it’s been my concern all along that this is going to be an issue if left unchecked.  (By the way, no comments about my ogre head!)

When completed, my bathroom is going to have new shower head that is up about two feet from it’s current location, the shower surround will be two single slabs of granite that will go up to 18″ from the ceiling, their will be an entirely new sink console with a new sink with polished nickel fixtures including a goose neck faucet. A new wall mounted mirror will hang over the counter and the counter will be single slab marble. Their will be fresh paint, new light fixtures, new towel hooks and rods and a brand new pergo floor. When finished the bathroom will be modern and lovely and will match the rest of the renovated house. I can’t wait!

And then theirs work. Douche Bag returns from his three and a half week tour of China tomorrow. When that happens, the respite I have had from all the shit that comes with his presence will be over. I do not look forward to that. I so desperately want to change jobs. I want to find something to do that is fulfilling and gratifying. I want to make a living being creative and inspiring to people. I would like to be a writer, but I don’t know how to make a living that way.

What I need is a sugar daddy! I’m now taking applications! Serious inquiries only, please!