International Women’s Day…no matter our circumstance, our stories, the journey’s we are all on, we are indeed all women and moving forward. One step at a time.
real life
Ok, ok. So it’s not a real word, yet, at least not according to Merriam-Webster or the folks at the Oxford dictionary, but it should be. Or at the very least, added to the “meeting b-i-n-g-o” cards that circulate around the office now and again.
We all have that one person in our lives, personally or professionally. Come on, admit it you do. I am currently dealing with two such people on my new work team. They literally send mail to the larger team of 32 and ask for advice over every little aspect of the project they are responsible for. And when they don’t take our advice and something goes wrong, they can’t understand how that happens.
I was out on mandatory sick leave for the last little bit and I’m catching up on work, trying to clean out my inbox ahead of the work week beginning tomorrow, and there it is. A woe is me soliloquy from the team member, sent to a distribution list of over 100 people including 4 VP’s and several other executives asking for advice. Forget the email etiquette: 1) think before you hit send 2) limit distribution and 3) check for spelling & grammatical errors…it was the ps: that got me. As in PS: I promise folks, this time I will listen to any advice given.
OOF.
Amen!
immediately thought of many but especially @thewomaninvisible for her courage this weekend. no matter.
Butterflies. I can’t explain it but even after all this time I still get butterflies just before I see him in real life, again. Of course, then there’s also the anxiety and nervousness that takes over my consciousness: “what if he doesn’t desire me anymore?” “will he be happy to see me?” “what if…?” “Or, what if…?”
I hear the familiar click of a keycard in the door and before I can shut my laptop and look towards the door, there he is. There. He. Is. All 6’4″ of him.
His hair is a bit mussed up, he’s wearing a hoody topped by my favorite coat of his. His cheeks are red from the cold and that sexy, shy smile spreads from his cheeks to his cerulean blue eyes that sends fissures of lust straight to my core. I know I gasped out loud as I said “Hey!” and blushed thoroughly as I leapt from the desk and on to my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close for a kiss. Suddenly self-conscious that I probably look more bookish and geeky in my NFL fan jersey and glasses instead of sexy. But then there’s his kiss. The kind of kiss that renders me speechless and leaves me weak in the knees. I take a deep breath, in order to inhale his scent. Have I mentioned how much I love his scent? It’s fresh and clean and uniquely him. Tears of happiness threaten to spill from eyes as the kiss deepens and his embrace engulfs me completely.
Just as I think I can’t get any closer to him, he growls in that low, husky way that soaks my panties and I find myself pushed against the wall, my arms up above my head, held firmly with one of his large hands as the other runs down my body to the edge of the jersey before dipping lower and touching my sex “Mmm just as wet as I know you’d be hun” he says as he’s devouring my mouth. I can only whimper as his hand then grabs the hem of my jersey and easily pulls it up and off me. Unf.
From there it’s a blur of my mewling in pleasure as his hands and mouth are focused on bringing me to the edge yet again, only to push me into the abyss with a nip then a bite and a soothing tongue on a nipple. I feel his cock, hard and twitching underneath his jeans, begging for release. Who is to say that I can’t reciprocate, especially as I collapse to my knees after the first orgasm, I eagerly undo his belt and work his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his straining cock right into my mouth. I was wet everywhere. My pussy wet and my mouth salivating in anticipation of all of his deliciousness. When I’m on my knees I can deep throat him and free my hands to tease and tickle the boys and the soft skin underneath. I bob my head and swirl my tongue around his thick shaft and silky smooth head, gagging in my eagerness. His hands in my hair and his head thrown back when I look up, I increase the pressure with my hands, wanting to taste more than the pre-cum that coats my mouth.
Sadly that’s not to be as he pulls be back up and while I expect to be led to the bed he bends me over and enters me from behind. Fast. Hard. And my eyes roll to the back of my head as my body gives way to the pleasure. Oh good lord not again, is all I can think as I soak his cock and my inner thighs.
At some point we manage to say “hello” “I’ve missed you” before falling on the bed. Needing to taste me he easily flips me over and my legs fall to the side as his beard tickles my legs as he kisses, nips and licks his way up to my twitching pussy. this is a man that knows his way around women and he knows me better than I know myself. Always self-conscious about the size of my clit, small and tucked under her hood, he’s the only one that’s taken the time to figure her out, tease her, bite her and seduce her until she has me writhing in pleasure and signaling the release of energy and endorphins as if he had direct access to the pleasure centers of my brain.
After the third wet and wild orgasm that leaves my thighs shuddering and me incapable of speech he doesn’t stop. I don’t want him to stop. Ever. “Flip over, ass in the air”…is what I hear as I scramble in anticipation, ass up, hands gripping the sheets as he continues his thorough and complete reclaiming of me.
A fellow blogger friend had an anniversary yesterday and his words, both in his post and an email exchange today, reminded me of this song. His own situation and memories are not too far off.
Feels like Home sung by Chantal Kreviazuk is a favorite, which, whenever I hear it, evokes strong memories. Memories of a loneliness that I’ve lived with since childhood and memories of when that changed. It may seem overwhelmingly sentimental but I’m betting many of you can relate to that moment. Yes. That moment.
There’s something about this song that makes me think of a happy childhood and makes me smile and giggle even. I wish I had found it years ago as it would have been lovely to play for the kidlet’s when they were still toddlers.
A favorite quote. Anais was well before her time, while Delta of Venus was published in 1977, she wrote it in the mid-40’s. I literally *squished* when this popped into my email recently.
DH and I were talking about plans for Easter weekend when he asked if my brother and sis-in-law would be here this year. I laughed and said nope, the beauty of being d.i.n.k.’s is they can travel whenever they want. DH then started to wax philosophical about life before kids, which led to a conversation about what our life might have been like without kids at all. I pulled up the picture of this decal and smirked when I showed him 😉
is me is really me 