Chancy Chatter

These are the potentially dangerous words of an over fed, under appreciated, tattooed, formerly pierced and occasionally purple-haired, wife and mom.

Thursday, December 30, 2004

Trying to make a long story short

Look! It's really me, actually finding five free minutes to post at my blog! I miss posting everyday. Thoughts slip in and out of my mind between the to do lists and the constant when, where and how queries but I rarely have the time or the clarity to get them here. I thought I'd drop in and try to give a bit of an update on my situation.

First, I just want to say that my guest bloggers have done an awesome job. Every post has tugged at my heartstrings or panties or better yet, BOTH. You guys are amazing and I appreciate each of you for your unique brilliance. I'll be relieving you guys of duty by next week I think but don't get too cozy because I'll probably need help again as we make the final transition to the new place.

As for the joys of relocating, selling our house was a walk in the park. It was on the market 4 days. We got asking price and the home inspection went perfectly. The buyers bank has guaranteed the financing and we have to be out by the 31st of January. Trying to find a home down south, on the other hand, has been an absolute nightmare. The realtors there seem to be under the mistaken impression that we're a pair of backwoods, bumbling idiots who have never bought a home before. After a miserable house hunt arranged by the worst realtors in the state we finally found a home we we're interested in. When we tried to get more info on the home so we could make an educated offer the realtors handling the transaction were suspiciously tight lipped.

Upon making an offer the realtor who was supposed to be on our side insisted that the offer was too low and would never be accepted. "Just draw up the contract!" We told her. We figured the worst they could do was counter. She reluctantly drew it up to our specifications but marked through much of the contract that pertained to termite damage and termite inspections. When we inquired about this she tried to convince us that "This is how it's always done down here!" So we consulted with our realtor up here (who is the friggin GOD of real estate in our area) and he thought it was weird but said to go ahead with it because any problems with termite damage would be found in the home inspection. So the contract was signed and our offer accepted, despite being low and we all enjoyed Christmas believing we had a quaint little, brick, ranch home awaiting us.

Our down south realtor insisted that an official home inspection was unnecessary. Home inspections are apparently a new concept in the area. However, she said that she'd recommend one if we insisted. We did insist but hired our own so that we'd get an unbiased report. You can imagine our horror when the home inspector discovered that the floor joyces, wall studs, and much of the dry wall had been eaten away by termites. The house was just a brick shell with a few layers of paint and wall paper holding the sawdust remains together. After a little research that included a trip to the county tax assessors office, phone calls to a couple of pest control companies and gossip gathering we put together the unpleasant truth. The home had been sold over the summer to a couple of investors. The people who were selling it originally found the termite infestation and damage and realized they'd never be able to unload the damn thing. The investors took it off their hands for the value of the land and timber on the land, $30,000. They then killed the termites, did some cosmetic repairs to hide the severe structural damage and put it on the market for $80,000. (Keep in mind when looking at those prices that we're talking super low cost-of-living in this place.)

Those of you who know about my hot little temper can imagine the wrath these crooks faced when I confronted them, waiving my 22 page home inspection report which deemed the house not only in bad repair but unsafe to be inhabited. Yeah, I threatened legal action, you moronic, redneck assholes do know what the word fraud means, right? Needless to say the contract was dissolved, our earnest monies returned and we were once again facing homelessness.

After much debating we just gave up the idea of buying a house and went back to an early plan of purchasing a mobile home and putting it on the family farm. The idea of living in a trailer makes me shudder. (No offense to any of you living in a trailer.) However, after seeing several high-end mobile homes, I've got to admit I was impressed. Mobile homes are made at a much higher quality standard than they used to be. Finally, we walked into one that was over 2000 sq. ft. (we currently live in 1200 sq. ft.) had my dream kitchen and the walls were actually painted in gorgeous shades of gold and red. Very me. When I saw the walk in closet in the master bedroom I knew my anti-trailer resolve was crumbling. It's as big as my child's room now (we measured) for gods sake! I walked into the master bathroom and saw the deep soaking tub, the double shower stall, the sit down vanity and wall of linen cabinets and knew I could live there. So I looked at my husband with a silly grin and began singing a country song I remember from years ago, "Queen of my Double Wide Trailer" by Sammy Kershaw. We had a good laugh, told them we'd take it and I think we both shed a couple of tears of relief on the drive home.

Unfortunately, this is far from the end of our stressful journey. Now a site has to be chosen, a road cut in, well and septic installed, the post office will have to make an address for us and the electric and phone company will have to run lines to the home once it's set up. Then the rest of our stuff has to be packed and moved and of course unpacked again. My husband starts work on Tuesday and will be staying with his parents during the week. After that my little one and I will be mostly home all alone here while we wait for our home there to be ready. Quite frankly, I can not wait for next week. Our normal routine has been totally disrupted and while I love my husband and I am optimistic about the move, he is getting on my nerves. He and I are like oil and water in tense times. We just handle stress very differently.

Thanks for waiting patiently for my return. I hope you all had the happiest of holidays! Happy New Year!


Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Betrayal, times two...

Back in the heady days of my mis-spent youth, I had a certain group of friends that always hung together. J and I were kind of the ring-leaders, he being the good-looking guy with the nice car, me being the silver-tongued bastard who could charm the womenfolk. He hooked 'em, I reeled 'em into the boat, as it were...

We got along pretty well; hell, we'd been friends since Cub Scouts. We went our separate ways in high school, he went to a vocational school and I went to an all-boys prep school (the horror!). We wound up working in the same grocery store our Senior year of high school, and re-connected. Several summers were spent cruising the local meat market, crashing house parties, and other various and sundry bouts of debaucherie.

Until the summer he stole my girlfriend right out from under me... (Well, not literally, that'd be messy...) ;)

I'd been seeing C for a couple of months, and we were really connecting. We had done the couples things, walking on the beach together, holding hands in the movies, making out in my car... I'd even met her family, that's how serious it was... And then... Her cousin's family had gone on vacation and left her alone for the week. C invited J and I to the house to party with her cousin. Long story short, I came back in from having a smoke outside to find C sitting on J's lap, their lips locked together, eyes closed, hands roaming...

The pain, the exquisite searing burn of betrayal, hit me hard. I wound up sleeping in my car that night (since I'd had too much to drink to go home), then heading home in the early morning hours in a fog of anger, heartbreak, and emptiness.

This could not go unanswered. J and I were buds - one of the unspoken rules of men is that your friends' significant others are firmly off-limits. Even if she's buck naked and clawing your pants off, if she's your friend's girl she might as well be a nun... And since J had broken this rule, I felt honor-bound to return the slight...

B was J's girlfriend. She, like C, worked at the same store J and I did. B and I had flirted on occasion, so I knew that some spark was there, but when she started dating J I backed off... Until J went over the line... After that one night, I had one purpose in mind, to which I was keenly devoted: Scoring with B while she was still dating J.

It took a few months, with me in college and the rest of the gang back home, but over Christmas break I made my move. The incident above happened over the summer, and for all intents and purposes J and I had gotten over it and were back to being buddies. So we're all hanging out at my place eating some Christmas leftovers, me and J and B and a few others. J had to work early in the morning, so he left without B. That was a big mistake...

I made little pretense about getting the rest of the gang out ASAP. Then turned my attention to B. She was a sweet little number, a dark-haired beauty with a smile that could blind you and large, firm breasts. She had confided in me that she and J were having problems, that he didn't pay her enough attention, that he wasn't giving her the satisfaction she craved. I took this opening and RAN with it...

"You know," I whispered in my best bedroom voice, "what I don't have in looks, I make up for in other areas."

She looked at me with an expression of mock surprise, batting those big brown eyes in an overblown attempt to look innocent.

"Oh? And what areas might those be?" she answered, moving closer to me on the couch.

I caressed her shoulder, staring into her eyes with my best bedroom eyes, and simply replied, "Stamina. Well, that and a large cock".

She looked genuinely surprised, and not at all put off. "Oh, really?" she said, "and how come I haven't heard this through the grapevine at work?"

"I don't like to fish off the company pier as a rule" I lied. "But I'd make an exception for you."

At this point we were pressed together on the couch, turned to face each other. I leaned in and kissed her slowly, bringing my hands down her back, around the curves of her hips, and up to her breasts. She kissed me back harder, and moved her hands directly to my pants.

"Let's see the evidence" she murmured, quickly unzipping my pants and slipping her hand inside. Her eyes widened as she felt me growing stiff at her touch.

"You weren't kidding!" she whispered in my ear, and offered no resistance as I unhooked her bra. She removed her sweater and stood in front of me, her firm breasts inches from my face. I stood up as well, my pants falling to my ankles, my throbbing cock at attention.

"Shall we?" I asked, as I motioned towards the bed. She didn't say anything, but when she hastily removed her jeans I had her response. I removed my shirt as well, and joined her in the bed. Our hands roamed over each other's bodies as she climbed on top of me. Her hand guided my raging hardon towards her pussy, her body quivering in anticipation.

She lowered herself onto me slowly, teasing me by pausing, then allowing me into her further. When she had fully engulfed my throbbing cock, she tilted her head back and moaned loudly, obviously enjoying the ride. I watched, enthralled, as she rode me; her large breasts bounced with a hypnotic jiggle that commanded my attention. My fingers found her erect nipples and pinched gently, causing her to moan even more and ride harder.

She bounced up and down like she was in a rodeo, stopping to grind into me on each downward thrust. I met her pace and thrust upwards as she came down, my cock filling her completely and driving her wild. She cried out in pleasure as she came, her body shaking as she orgasmed. She leaned forward to kiss me, her lovely breasts pressing against my body, and as our lips touched I thrust up hard, catching her by surprise.

She moaned again, and kept her body pressed against me as my hips thrust my stiff dick in and out of her in a fevered pitch. I could feel my balls starting to tighten as I started to come, and was surprised to hear her moaning again. My cock trembled inside her, and one final thrust brought me to orgasm. As I exploded inside her, she came again, her body pressed against me as she gently quivered.

Later, she admitted that while J might be a better looking guy, I was definitely a better lay.

I figured J and I were even, now. Of course, that didn't stop B and I from screwing like rabbits every time we got the chance...



I met her at an office party. She was the wife of some guy in accounting. Her bright red dress was a stark contrast to his faded black suit and dingy white shirt. I immediate thought that such a vibrant person shouldn't be mired down with some stoic bean-counter.

I lied.

The first thing I thought was that this woman has the most amazing set of tits. The rings in her nipples pressed subtly against the materials covering them, noticeable only if you looked hard enough.

I looked hard enough.

She was smiling politely as she faked her way through banal conversation after banal conversation. I could see the boredom dripping from the corners of her mouth as she yawned slyly in my direction. As she turned her head, she saw me.

The invitation to the event said "black tie" optional. I took the option. Apart from the CEO, no one else did. I stood out. She stood out. She smiled. I smiled. She took over the duty of introducing herself after her husband's pathetic attempt left him stumbling to remember my name. He seemed to know it all too well when he called to complain that 5 minutes had elapsed since his request to have an entire client's database restored from backup tapes. Said restore was necessitated by his action earlier that day when he accidentally deleted it.

His wife, Erin, told me I must simply see the country club's back deck. The sculptures there were breathtaking. While outside I verbally noted that her body bathed in moonlight was far more beautiful than anything man had carved in stone. She bit her lower lip and told me she was not accustomed to such compliments. Her husband had lost interest in that some time ago, leaving her a shell of a woman. She went on to say he had become overly critical of her: The way she dressed was wrong, as was most of the other decisions she made. It seemed he was only happy when he was able to make her miserable.

I tried to imagine that nebbish turd being forceful at home: In the office, HE was the pissant of his department. In the office, HE was the one being berated. I understood him lashing out at his support staff, but not taking it all the way home; not to HER.

She worked her face into a smile, forcing her tears to stop before they started. She apologized for "venting", and asked about my life. I ran a curled finger under her chin so she could look right in my eyes, and with more courage than I had ever dreamt I could muster at that point, I open my mouth and spoke from my heart.

"My life? I thought I knew what my life was until now. Now I can see that most important part of my life I never knew I was missing is standing in front of me. I may be married to someone else just like you are, so while I cannot share my life with you, I know you will always share my soul."

In the grand scheme of things, these words would melt someone's heart and the two would fall into each other. Clothing would be hastily removed and bodies would be pressed against each other. In fantasy, I would have felt those rings in my mouth; tugging on them with my teeth while my hand guided my big, thick cock deep inside her. She would ride me up and down, moaning my name as her body sought the release it had been demanding for 5 years now. In a perfect world, our heads would be thrown back simultaneously as her body spasmed around the hard cock unloading it's essence deep inside her as the stars in the sky bore witness to the complete perfectness and illicity of our union.

But life is not the sum of these stories, and our union was not to be.

Her reaction was not one of acceptance, but sadness. She had her husband take her home, complaining of a weak stomach. I never saw her again. Her husband found a new job shortly thereafter, and they were selling their house at an abnormally low price. "Priced to Move" said the open house ad. I had to go. I had to see for myself where a goddess lived.

The house, like myself, seemed like a place that had lost it's soul. The whites on the walls were as dingy as his shirt had been, the empty room as full of personality as he had always been. In the master bedroom, a lone ray of light shone through the dirty window and onto the closet door, almost as if the sun itself had been searching for that one piece of brightness it could relate to. I opened the closet door and found one garment still hanging on a cold bare wire hanger.

Her red dress.

Perhaps she was Icarus and I the Sun: My proximity and intensity drove her away. If so, here were her wings of wax and feathers. So as the Sun felt, so do I...

I'm sorry Erin. I'm sorry for many reasons, including letting you know I ever existed, but mostly for driving you away.

A couple came in behind me. They too were unimpressed with the house. The wife (A girlfriend perhaps, or even a sister? It's the South, so anything is possible.) cried out in a shrill harpy voice, "It's so empty in here!"

"Yes," I thought to myself while holding a hand over my chest, "it's very empty in here."


Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Strap One On

By Jen

Last night I really got to thinking about her and what I was thinking was what if I stayed at her house overnight. Had dinner with she and her husband. There he is, eating his meal and talking to us and he doesn’t even notice the flirty looks his wife and I are exchanging. The way I coyly look at her over my wine glass while I finger the stem. The way our matching green eyes sparkle with mischief when they meet. She brushes my shoulder with her heavy breasts as she bends over me and takes my plate. I “accidentally” bump her ass with my hip as I help her with the dishes.

I keep staring at her lips.

I know I shouldn’t be having these thoughts, but I do. I am incredibly curious about her but her husband is watching us from the living room. I turn around and find her eyes studying my breasts. There is something here, between us.

The lights are out and the house is quiet and I am snuggled wide awake in the guest bed when I hear my door being gently opened and closed again. I turn to find her kneeling by my bed in her gauzy negligee and I can see the fullness of her breasts glowing in the moonlight through the gown. Her eyes are shining pools in the darkness. Her lips are dark and parted.

“I want to kiss you,” she says as she gets on her knees and moves her face inches from mine. Her breath is minty from her toothpaste. Her warm mouth finds mine and she kisses so tenderly and softly and her little pink tongue darts out and meets mine. I have never kissed another woman before and the sensations are all different. But good. Softer. Wetter. I get more aggressive and dip my tongue into her mouth. I suck on her, I bite her luscious plump lip.

Our fingers are roving all over the other’s body with a hunger of their own, exploring peaked nipples, matching breasts, soft skin, curved sides, pelvis and thighs and knees and derrieres and finally, our fingers mutually find the wet crevice of the other. We are on our knees on the bed now, our bodies pressed together panting, our nightgowns hiked up around our hips, our tongues playing a wild dance while our fingers dip into that sweet wetness. It’s a shock for me, feeling the soft folds of another woman, so like mine yet not. Feeling her little landing strip of crisp hair and then her slick, shaved, pussy. Sticking a finger in and up into her tight walls until she groans. She has an exquisite touch on me and in me and we grind into each other and moan ragged breaths into the other’s mouth. We practically rip off each other’s negligees in our haste to touch skin and nipples and to press large breasts against the other. Our bodies are so alike.

“I want to fuck you,” she tells me.

“What? What about your husband? Are you sure we should do this?”

“Shhhhh. He can’t know. If I don’t fuck you I will die.”

She reaches under the bed and pulls out a strap on with a huge cyber skin cock attached. My eyes get wide looking at it as she puts it on.

“You ever been fucked by a woman before?” she asks. I shake my head and catch my breath. My pussy is positively dripping with need.

She pushes me gently back against the bed and kneels between my legs and spreads them wide so she can see that hot pussy of mine. She sees my whole body from that vantage point, my curved waist and big tits and especially my face. As she aims the head of the cyber skin cock at my dripping hole, she looks into my eyes and watches them half close with the intensity of the penetration. She watches in delight as my mouth parts and a moan escapes me as she fills me with our toy. I can tell she is torn between watching the intensity of my face and watching the faux cock being surrounded by the dark curls and wetness of my pussy.

As I become used to the thickness of it and she grows accustomed to moving her hips rhythmically, she picks up the pace, fucking me with steady strokes. I hold my legs back against my chest, holding them open wide so she can get the entire length of the cock inside me while she reaches down to fondle my black bush and hard clit with her small smooth hand. I almost come just from watching that wicked smile on her face.

She keeps up her steady strokes, she keeps fucking me with this thing, her fingers working magic on my clit, my legs wrapped around her, our big tits pressed together nipples rubbing nipples, our breath mingling until I lose it. I throw back my head and groan and scrunch my face up and curl up my toes as the spasms of waves roll over me. I just came, being fucked by a woman wearing a cock.

And then I strap it on and mount her, my hair cascading around our faces. She begs me to stick it in, stick it in, and fuck her. So I do, I penetrate her with one hard move. Deep. And she groans and tilts her head back and grabs the sheets with her hands. I falter with my rhythm for a bit before I get the hang of it and then I am off, fucking her wildly, pumping the cock inside of her fast and furious. Feeling so in control. So dominant. Getting a feeling - just an inkling of a feeling - what it must be like for a man to prowl between a woman's spread thighs. To have her so opened up for him, so willing, so receptive, so wet. So soft. Pliant. The feeling of just...sinking in. That endless slick depth. Oh yes. I finger her ripe clit madly with my fingers and watch her shout out with her own orgasm.

When all is said and done we collapse together in a panting wet tangle of arms and legs and conjoined pussies. We hear a soft chuckle and both look up in surprise.

Her husband was in the doorway silently watching the whole time, his dick hard in his hand.

[I really miss Christine!!! I can’t do this like she can!!!]


Friday, December 24, 2004

I can't believe I did this....

this is an audio post - click to play


Thursday, December 23, 2004


Sexuality is one of the greatest gifts we have in this world. And one some are blessed with an innate ability to channel.

No wonder then that Christine has garnered so much attention. Her acumen is undeniable. Her fervor unmatched. No boundary is too taboo for her eloquent words.

But there is a darkness in all of us.

The dark, unseemly side of sex. The side that is interested in getting off. The side that compels us to shrug the mantle of propriety and revert to our base, animalistic nature. In a sense, we all have practiced bestiality when we are fucking as, or fucked by an animal on two legs: The human animal.

Have you ever grabbed anyone by the chin and smelled around their neck? A woman's scent there drives me insane: It's the pheromones, you know; they have that effect on me. So excuse me if I indulge in a little clothing ripping. As if the accompanying clitter-clatter sound of buttons striking the hardwood floor doesn't arouse the inner beast in you. Back up if you're afraid; it'll only assist me in pressing you against the wall. The cool surface on your back as your pants are pulled open just enough to get my big strong hand down. The force of my kisses leaving you dizzy as my hands manipulate your pussy: Pressing the outer lips together so as to rub your moist inner lips against each other as well as your hardening clit.

This is too fast, too much, too soon... but you are too weak, too aroused, too confused to protest.

A blur of fondling, groping and mouthing rushes past leaving you to find yourself nude except for the pair of panties around your waist; the crotch hopelessly torn asunder to allow my face access to your pussy... MY pussy... Claiming ownership of you as my face rolls across your pussy; your juices anointing me... Baptized by your cunt... MY cunt... Your center, your universe the place where every scent drives me wild with desire. No longer worrying about anything except the long, thick, hard need throbbing between my legs.

Pushing you down and kneeling between your legs, my cock leading the way to your piece of heaven. Hard cock impaling you as I pull your body down. Your arousal present and note, but not important to my need. I need to unload in you, evident by my rapid pace. This isn't the long, slow, sensuous sessions of love making...

This is a fuck. Raw, powerful, untamed.

My face contorted in a grimace of pleasure/pain as my orgasm hastily rips through me and into you. Steaming hot cunt filled with cum, as nature intended eons ago.

Retreating into the bathroom to get a washcloth for us, I whisper my thanks to you. When I return, the sight and smell make my nostrils flare. I see you on your hands and knees rubbing MY cunt feverishly.

My cock returns to life quickly.

You animal.


Wednesday, December 22, 2004


[By Jen. Sorry Christine to blast your blog...I've been thinking about this one all day!!!]

On a boulder in the warm sun, my lover stretched out before me and I am radiant. The sun warms my hair and my back and I close my eyes and turn my face up to the sky. He is shy and I am not this time and I unzip his shorts and pull them down his muscular thighs in one jerk so that he is caught by his ankles. I have him there.

With a naughty grin, I press my body into his, I run my hands up his chest, I grab his wrists and pin him with force against the rock. My lips inches from his. My breath mingling with his. His caramel eyes staring into mine through his lowered dusky lashes. I bite his lip. I melt my mouth into his. I swirl my tongue deep until he gets the taste of me. Honeyed summer. I suck out on his lower lip and let go. I study the smattering of freckles on his face like they are a language in code.

I step back and stare at him with my hands on my hips. I study his husky body, the furred hair of his chest, his bulky arms still pinned up above his head like I instructed. His corded legs. So strong. And then I stare at his raging hard on, the way his cock has swollen and sticks so stiffly out from his body. I see a few drops of precum sparkling like dew in the sunlight.

Now comes the body worship. I kneel before him, right before his huge cock, and I slowly, slowly, slowly, look up into his eyes. For just an instant. And I give him my poutiest look. His face is so intent as he is looking down at me that I almost laugh. But the ravenous look in those eyes beneath the cinnamon lashes holds me back.

So I tease. I rub my hands all around his pelvis anywhere BUT his cock. I moisten my lips and gently, so gently, run them along the shaft, up and back, up and back. The inside of my lips. So soft and so moist. I feel the texture of him, the veins and the skin and the hardness all under my lips. I do this until his dick is slick and gleaming with my saliva. I flick my tongue for just a taste of him.

I look up the length of his body into his eyes as I suck the velvety tip of his cock into my mouth with a swirl of my tongue. My hot, wet mouth is completely surrounding his cockhead, sucking slowly, tenderly, lavishing my tongue around and around. I trace little lines with my tongue along the length of him. His eyes watch me with burning intensity as I do this. He watches my lush, wet lips expanding over his dick. Taking him in. I give him butterfly flicks with my tongue on the most sensitive part of his cock and he bucks his hips and moans, trying to get the whole length of him into my mouth.

With one hand I play with his balls and with the other I grasp his upper thigh and feel his muscles tensing.

“You’re torturing me,” he moans in a panting whisper.

My lips make it to his cock again and starting at the very tip, I ease it into my mouth. He is throbbing by now. I feel the pulsing. He is so very hard and so very purple and so very ready to burst. My mouth is so incredibly wet and so incredibly hot around him and I suck, suck, suck on his throbbing need. He is trembling now. He wants more. He bucks his hips into me until his cock reaches my throat.

My eyes never leave his and I can tell he can’t take it anymore. I work my lips over and over the ridge of his head, sucking him in and out, swirling my tongue around him. I finally give him mercy and I slowly slide more of him into my hot mouth. I slide it in as far as it will go, as much of him as I can get in me, my mouth surrounding much of his hard shaft. I taste a squirt of precum and I suck harder, drawing my lips up and down along his cock. His body is trembling beneath my hands. He is straining. He is trying to keep his composure. He is trying not to come. His dick is throbbing and pulsing with such intensity I know he is near.

I am on my knees before him and he cups my face in his hands while I gaze into his eyes. Those eyes that are tensed up in agony and pleasure. I run a smooth hand up over his stomach and chest, feeling his heavy breathing, his sharp intake of breath, the perspiration glistening on his body. He is so beautiful. It is at that moment that he climaxes in heavy breaths and I feel the pulse pulse pulse of him in my mouth, his head thrown back to the deep blue sky.



First of all I just have to say that anyone who attempts to buy and sell a house at Christmastime is absolutely certifiable. For those of you who might have missed some of my recent posts, I am certifiable. I have spent the past 3 days jumping through flaming hoops for my husband and 4 sets of realtors. Apparently the position of homemaker now requires me to be a real estate broker and litigation lawyer, in addition to early childhood educator, live in housekeeper and head chef. God help me, I am beginning to think I am NOT cut out for the job! (Or should I say jobs?) I think I'm cracking up and I don't mean laughing. Oh, and did I mention that I have not had sex in WEEKS. Well I haven't and that is not helping my stress level. I have had so many "stupid" moments today that I feel like crawling into bed, pulling the covers up over my face and not coming out until next year! If any of you have received inappropriate e-mails or comments from me today, I plead insanity.

Despite my insanity I saw something freaky on the interstate today. I suppose it could have been a hallucination but I seriously doubt it. I pulled along side a mini-van on my left and saw a middle aged, middle-eastern looking couple inside. The wife was sound asleep, slack jawed and drooling, even. At first glance, the husband seemed agitated. He had a look of concentration on his face and seem to be rooting around in his lap with his right hand. After a second glance I realized he was masturbating, feverishly. I was shocked and before I looked away he actually leaned up and looked over at me. His eyes met mine unabashedly. I almost veered into the right lane! I adjusted the cruise control to put a little distance between us. I couldn't decide if it was funny or creepy. I should have honked the horn, waking his wife, so she could catch him in the act!

I am very grateful for my guest bloggers. Apparently chances of me posting anything coherent, let alone creative, are getting slimmer by the minute. To those of you holding down the fort: Keep up the good work! If you haven't posted yet, I'm patting you on the back in advance.


My best friend...

Thank you my best friend for asking me to guest write on your blog. Although I think my writing sucks, I will do my best to keep your readers entertained. For my first post I thought I would write about you, my best friend. You may know her as Well Fed Pheonix., Chunky Girl, or Christine.

Ler me start from the beginning. I work for a small office that handles collections and my office assistant had quit and left me high and dry. I ran an ad in the local paper for a part time office assistant and received LOTS of resumes. I waded through them all and picked the best ones to call for an interview. I had scheduled several interviews when I came across her resume. I called her to set up an interview and she sounded so professional on the phone. I was really impressed. Then when she arrived for the interview I knew she was to become my new assistant, although I had no clue that she would touch my life like she has. She was hired that day and started a week or so later. She was still going to college and had gotten married and was trying to start a family. We worked in basically the same office everyday and we talked and talked and realized that many things in our lives had been very similar. We just shared a connection, a closeness. We could always make each other laugh. We occasionally got in trouble from the boss for laughing too much or talking too much. We shared our life's history and I told her things that I would never tell anyone else, for fear that I would be judged, that was something that I did not have to worry about with her. I was there for her when she was trying to have a baby and I was the first one that she told when the doctors office called to tell her that she was pregnant. I jumped for joy with her. I went through her pregnancy until near the end when it was time for her to stay at home and prepare for mommyhood. When we had her farewell party/baby shower at the office I cried all afternoon after she left. I was heartbroken, I would not be seeing my best friend every day. We still saw each other a lot and talked on the phone and emailed each other almost everyday. When she had her baby, I rushed to the hospital after work and got there just in time to hear the baby's first little cry and I was standing in the hall with the rest of her family choking back tears when daddy walked out holding the precious new baby and said that mom and baby were fine. I just could not wait to see her and be sure that she was really okay. She was very tired, but elated over her new baby. She is such a strong person, I knew a little thing like childbirth would not get the best of her. She has been my rock through many ups and downs in my life. She has been my sounding board when I just need to vent. my shoulder to cry on when I need one. Sometimes she gets to be my reality check when life gets the best of me. Many of my favorite recipes came straight from her kitchen. She and her husband are the only ones that helped us pack and move from our old house into the new house last year. She hugged and comforted my mom and assured her that I would be fine in the city. She is the one person other than my husband and child that I wanted standing by me when I got married. She is the only person that I have told that my hubby and I are trying to get pregnant and she is there with encouraging words every month when I disappoiningly start my period. I know she will be happy for me when and if I ever do get pregnant, and if I don't I know she will be there helping me see the silver lining in the cloud. She truly defines what a best friend should be. I wish everyone could be as lucky in their life to have just one true friend like her. She is preparing to move an hour or so away and embark on a new chapter in her life, and with that I wish her all the luck in the world. No matter how far away from me you are, you will always be in my heart. My door is always open to you, and I will miss you terribly.



Monday, December 20, 2004


And the first "first" is a thank-you to Christine for losing her mind giving me the opportunity to guest-blog for her...

The second "first" is a story I've been working on about another (hypothetical) "first"... The first time two lovers meet.

"First time" (sexual content)

I parked well around the back of the motel, far out of sight of the road. While my nondescript truck wouldn't normally draw a second glance, I didn't want to leave anything to chance. I mean, after all, I'm meeting you for the first time, here at this motel... And I'm certain that various laws of man are about to be broken... Shattered in a paean to our first meeting, the first time we lay eyes on each other, aside from pictures e-mailed in secrecy, that is...

Every car that slows at the entrance to the motel has me nervous and excited, nearly giddy with anticipation. Each time a car's headlights illuminate the parking lot I am overcome with the urge to dive out of sight, as if the mere act of hiding could erase the longing I feel in my heart; the pulsating need I have to meet you and see you and touch you... I wait outside the office of the motel, waiting for you to arrive with my heart in my throat, my pulse pounding, my nerves tingling with the thought of actually being with you.

A car pulls into the lot; is this you? I fidget nervously under the dimly lit office entrance and try to look nonchalant and aloof. My heart is about to leap out of my chest it's pounding so hard as the car stops in the parking lot. Time slows to a crawl as the headlights shut off and the unknown occupant of the car makes their way out... And then...

It's you!!! I'd know that face instantly - I've been seeing it in my dreams... You look around, seemingly as nervous as I, until you spot me waiting for you... Your pace quickens, not breaking into a run or anything, but enough to let me know that you're as anxious to meet me as I am to meet you... I start out towards you in the same quickened pace... We meet in the parking lot, the sound of cars whizzing by on the interstate lost to us as we touch hands... I see you're wearing the T-shirt I sent you, drawn tight across your ample breasts.

"Wow..." I begin, but before I can mutter more than a monosyllabic greeting our lips meet... It's every bit as electrifying as I dreamed it would be, our bodies pressing together, straining against our clothes.. We explore each others' mouths with our tongues, kissing deeply and passionately; our hands roam across each other's bodies... We pull apart, briefly, to look into each others eyes. The same idea flashes across our faces: Let's get a room, quick!

Giggling as "Mr. and Mrs. Jones" check into room 107, we waste no time helping each other undress. My hands, shaking with anticipation, gently slide under your shirt, cupping your beautiful breasts in my hands as I caress you for a moment, then slide around to draw you into an embrace. You can feel my throbbing erection against you, a pulsating reminder of the heat between our bodies. A smile crosses your lips as you bring your hand down and give my cock a gentle caress...

"Mmmmm. I guess you are happy to see me", you whisper into my ear. I try to respond intelligibly, but the feeling of your hand on my manhood drains me of coherent thought... I moan softly as my hands cup your breasts again, pausing for a moment to free them of the restraining T-shirt and brassiere. My fingers glide gently over your taut nipples, feeling them stand at attention at my touch, much as my bulging penis is doing at your touch...

You undo my belt and unbutton my pants, pausing to kiss me again and let your breasts press against me. My pants fall to the floor, leaving me throbbing in my BVDs... We make our way to the bed, slipping off the last of our clothes as we lay on the king-sized bed together... Our hands are now busy exploring every inch of our naked bodies; getting to know each other in a way we'd only fantasized about until tonight... All the suggestive e-mails, the furtive late night phone calls, the pictures taken in secret and sent by anonymous e-mails... all of it has been to bring us to this moment...

Coming up for air after kissing each other deeply, we both know it's time... You lay on the bed, waiting for me, your pussy wet with anticipation and longing, my cock throbbing and hungrily seeking you. I kneel in front of you, trembling with anticipation, wanting to savor the moment but overcome with desire and lust... Your hand gently guides me to you, stroking me gently as you bring my throbbing penis closer and closer...

And then... we touch... you look up at me with desire and anticipation... I look down at you and return your gaze... we both moan slowly as I enter you and slide into you, filling you with my manhood.

"Oh baby" you coo as I start sliding in and out of you... This is better than we'd imagined, better than our most fevered phone sex... We settle into a gentle but frenzied rhythym, our bodies alternating between grinding together and reluctantly pulling apart... Each thrust is rewarded with a look of pleasure across your face; each slow and gentle withdrawal bringing a fleeting pout... Our hands seek each others' nipples; my fingers gently caressing you, yours softly tweaking mine... We continue exploring each other as we grind together, feeling the tension build as the rhythym increases...

Our forbidden sex has reaches a frenzied peak; my rigid cock thrusting deeper and harder as I draw closer... Your back arches and your moans become louder as you come closer as well... I can feel you tightening around me, in response, my hard-on only grows larger... You start to tip first as you feel me quivering inside you, grabbing my hips firmly as I thrust inside you... You hold me inside you as you orgasm, groaning with pleasure, and it pushes me over the brink as well... My restraint is gone, my defenses crumble, a single groan escapes my lips as my penis spasms wildly inside you. You moan loudly as you feel my juices flooding you, you pull me even closer as our bodies tremble with our climaxes...

We collapse together in a happy tangle of bodies, content and satisfied, until our lips find each other again...


Dream Team

Please watch the left hand side of the screen to see my "Dream Team" being assembled. I've invited 4 blog buddies to post on occasion while I am too busy to do much posting myself. It's bound to get interesting with that many contributors, so stay tuned! I'll be posting when I can, in the meantime my esteemed colleagues will keep you entertained!


Cinnamon Skin (sexual content)

This is for Jen, who wanted to know the whole story.

I should also mention that I am half asleep trying to get this post out so please forgive the typos, lousy grammar and poor quality story telling.

The summer before I met my husband I took a job as a leasing agent for some new dorm style apartments being built at my college. I was living as well as working in these private dorms, which quickly gained a reputation for debauchery. As you can imagine I was right at home. I was older than most of my fellow residents and got into all the best parties because I could buy the booze. It was in this setting that earned the title Blow Job Queen, in reverence to several incidents which probably deserve their own post at another time.

I had already been working there a few weeks when he moved into the apartments. I had handled his application and roommate matching profile via e-mail. I knew that he was a business student at the more expensive college in town, he was from Canada and that I could not pronounce his name. In fact I wondered several times if his name was a typo. (We'll call him A.) I never imagined him as the exotic and crushingly handsome guy that finally sat down across from me to sign his lease. I mustered every shred of professionalism I had in an effort to control my drooling and giggling. Still, professionalism can only hide so much.

His black eyes, black hair, pecan brown skin and a smile that would fluster even the most confident girl, seemed odd on a guy with a heavy Canadian accent. As I tried to appear only moderately interested, he smoothly and calmly told me about himself. He'd grown up in Canada but his family had immigrated from India. Along with his prefect Canadian English, he also spoke French, Spanish, Hindi and Gujarati. He was sarcastic and full of dry wit, smart, gorgeous and all too aware of his attractive qualities. He inquired about a part time job in the office. Even if we hadn't been hiring, I would have killed an employee with my bare hands to make room on the pay roll for him. Like every other girl in the office, I wanted him. I was handing him his new hire paperwork within 48 hours.

I quickly learned that A. was a bird of prey and that everyone he came in contact with (especially women) ranked as field mice in his version of the food chain. Within the first week of work he'd sexually harassed every female employee and most of the female residents. He had the uncanny ability to convince you that being harassed was nice. It took him just days to talk the receptionist out of her pantyhose. Even I enjoyed his lewd and lascivious behavior, although I pretended to be shocked, appalled or unimpressed. The first day we worked together he stared at my chest so long I became self conscious. "Is there something on my shirt?" I asked. "No." He replied, still staring, before asking " Tell me, Christine, are you a 38 or 40 DDD?" I blushed, despite my desire to act aloof. Later that day he asked me, very matter of factly, if I'd let him fondle my tits. Of course, I told him "Hell NO!" Knowing full well that I'd let him do that and more as soon as I could figure out a way to fuck him without anyone seeing me as one of his sad little victims.

A couple of weeks later I made my move. He had all but stopped hitting on me. He could tell that I saw through his games and I was doing a pretty good job of acting like I was disinterested. I was just waiting for the right moment. One slow, rainy day he and I were alone in the office. Our alcoholic manager had an appointment with her probation officer (DUI) and would be out the rest of the day. We were bored. We just stood around, watching the rain pound the windows of the small temporary building we operated out of while a fancy clubhouse and office space was being built. He had begun to confide in me and was telling me about one of his latest conquests who also happened to be one of my room mates. He was complaining that she had been quiet, passive and inexperienced, describing her as a frigid little bitch. I always felt too competitive to like her. I was secretly glad she was lousy in bed but remarked, off handedly, that maybe he just didn't know how to get a woman hot and bothered. Our eyes met and I smirked and raised an eyebrow. I had thrown down the gauntlet and he was up for the challenge.

I was sitting on a counter top in the tiny little workspace. My hair was a little longer then and I could tuck it behind my ears. I did so, nervously, as he crossed the space between us. I was wearing a cheap little denim dress that buttoned all the way down the front and black, chunky heeled, Mary Jane shoes. I crossed my legs at the ankles and swung my legs back in forth like little girl anticipating a special treat. He moved into my personal space and fingered the buttons on my dress. He smelled musky and his cologne was unusual, spicy and intoxicating. I leaned back, bracing myself with my hands, as if to suggest the first position I expected to be in soon. "I bet you're better than your room mate." He said, while intently staring at the open buttons which revealed a hint of my cleavage. I knew he was simply playing head games. We were like two kids playing truth or dare. He made that statement hoping I'd be flattered, whether he meant it or not. I was anxious to prove that I was indeed better than my room mate.

I leaned into him and kissed him hard. He kissed back, sloppy, sleazy kisses with no romantic purpose. We were not pretending to be tender. He reached behind him and locked the door. The rain still throbbed on the roof and thunder rolled in the distance. He unbuttoned my dress roughly and I worried, momentarily, that he'd pop the buttons off. I undid his fly and pulled his hard-on out of his boxers. I took a moment to notice his firm abs and the deep caramel color that extended beneath his clothes, even to his erect cock. He sucked my neck and we both panted as he pushed up my bra to grope my breasts. I looked down, watching excitedly, as his dark hands worked over my pale skin.

I stroked his dick, lubed by his own copious pre-cum as he tugged on my nipples and covered my soft, sweaty flesh in biting kisses. I was wet and ready. The thrill of fucking this hot, exotic and obnoxious boy, right in the office had me more turned on than I'd been in years. I moved one of his hands to my wet panties. He let his hand lay against me as I squirmed with need beneath him. Then, without warning, he grabbed the flimsy fabric of my "date night" underwear and yanked them hard, ripping them away from my sensitive cunt. I whimpered in appreciation. I couldn't wait to feel him fucking me with all his cocky aggression. I got my wish immediately.

He pushed my legs open wide and I leaned further back, giving him full access. He was in me with one hard thrust, pounding away. He moaned and swore as he fucked me and I watched his face intently. He kept his eyes open, looking at my body, at my tits bouncing, my belly and hips rocking to match his rhythm. He never looked at my face and I didn't really care. I concentrated on the sight and sound of it. The contrast of him against me, the obscene slapping noise of his balls against my ass, his loud grunting, all played their part in getting me off. When he came he pulled out and held his pulsing member against my well fucked cunt. His hot spunk made an opaque puddle just above my clit.

We cleaned up in the bathroom, with very little discussion. After that we started screwing in the office daily. We even did it in the supply room, knowing full well that other employees knew what we were up to. Oddly enough, when we tried to see each other outside of work the attraction was never really there. It went on for two months, maybe. When a new girl was hired and I saw him flirting with her I cut him off. He begged for more but I turned him down cold. "Look, " I told him "it was fun but I'm bored with you now, so let it go." My disinterest bothered him a lot. Truthfully, I just needed to dump him before he dumped me. He was a player and I while I wanted to play, I didn't want to get played.

I still have a picture of him. When I look at it I'm alternately amazed that I had sex with such a gorgeous creature and a little ashamed. I almost can't believe I let such a jerk have a piece of me. Still, in my defense, he was pretty and unique. He was irresistible.


Saturday, December 18, 2004

No, I have not dropped off the face of the earth...

I am just completely overwhelmed by the experience of relocating and all the complex and irritating problems relocating causes. Here's the worlds shortest update on our situation:

The house is immaculate. It has never been so clean. About a third of our belongings are packed and stacked in the garage. The idea is that a squeaky clean, uncluttered home looks better to potential buyers. Keeping the house this clean while my husband and child actually live here is very tiring. Add in the joys of packing and you'll understand why I'm falling into bed at night so exhausted I can't hold my eyes open.

The house has shown at least once every day since it went on the market less than a week ago. We got our first offer today. It was too low and we'll be countering tomorrow. Our realtor here is absolutely fantastic! I would never have expected to get an offer within the first week!

The house hunt down south is not going so smoothly. Dealing with the backwoods realtor there is giving me a permanent headache and an ulcer. We thought we'd found a house but when we went to make an offer we were told that some weird legal technicality was preventing it from being sold before March. We can not wait that long. The old farm house I mentioned previously was gorgeous but would require more remodeling than we could handle. The biggest problem is that there just aren't a lot of homes for sale in the tiny, rural area we are moving to. We have several options, buy a home, rent something, put a manufactured home on my in-laws farm... Unfortunately, all of the options have some serious draw backs. There just is no perfect solution.

I am seriously considering talking some other bloggers into doing a bit of guest blogging for me over the next few weeks so that this space isn't so neglected. I have a few bloggers in mind but if you have suggestions or would like to help out, e-mail me or leave me a comment.


Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Leave a message

You have reached Chancy Chatter, the blog of Christine aka Well Fed Phoenix, and I'm away from my blog right now....

Ok. I'm once again in the car headed down south to pick up my daughter from the farm and attempt to find a place for my family to live. The realtor came yesterday to put out the sign and tell us to pack up our ridiculous amount of clutter and furniture as soon as possible. He plans on showing it today! Damn, that's a good realtor.

One of the houses I'm seeing today is a 1930's farm house on a couple of acres. It used to be a dairy farm. It is very charming in the pictures but who knows what it will look like inside. I hope it isn't falling down!

Hopefully I'll have a chance for better blogging soon!


Tuesday, December 14, 2004

My name is Christine and I am an addict....

Ok. I apparently over estimated the amount of things I could get done in two days. Despite all the cleaning, packing, and errand running I've done since Sunday I still have several things to do before we meet with the realtor at 4pm today. In fact I have so many things to do that I seriously doubt I can get them all done. Especially since I have somewhere to be at 10am and a lunch date at 12pm. With that said I must apologize for the lack of real content in this post. I just do not have time for something long, well written, or erotic.

I firmly believe that one can be addicted to anything, drugs, booze, food, sex, even individual people. I have often thought that I am probably a raging sex addict but I seem to be capable of keeping it under limited control, so I've never sought out the 12 step program. More likely I'm a addicted to certain people. I used to think it must be chemical and have something to do with phermones. Now I realize it's more about the way they talk to me, the world they create around me with their words. It is those two or three people, the ones who knew what to say to get past the protective barriers in my mind. They are the people I could never get enough of, that I only let go of when I had no other choice.

Now that I think of it, listening to some one with a silver tongue has lead me astray many times. Here's one example, when I worked the front desk at a hotel a guy who walked in off the street and rented with cash spent all night flirting with me. At first, I had no intention of accepting his advances. He wasn't my type and I didn't trust people who had no reservations and paid cash. It usually meant they were local and needed a room because they had plans too deviant to be carried out at home. Despite my rationale I was an easy mark. He looked into my eyes after he'd been talking to me half the night and said "I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from your work, it's just that your so damned captivating... I can't take my eyes off of you." Captivating. That is quite a compliment. The sad thing is, I knew it was just charm. I knew he likely didn't mean it and even if he did that I probably shouldn't trust him. Still, I wound up in his hotel room later on and we ended up having a torrid fling. It lasted about three months and ended badly.


Monday, December 13, 2004

Announcements, Apologies and Adventure

In case any of you are anxiously awaiting the announcement: My husband chose happiness over money. The past 3 days have been a blur. After I posted on Friday we began the process of trying to figure out if a move could even be possible and the world hasn't stopped spinning since then. At this point my daughter is at the farm with her grandparents so that I can clean the house, start packing, meet with the realtor, and begin a serious hunt for housing in the new place. Because my husband is taking a pay cut to accept the position at the college we will not be able to take our time moving. We have to be out of our current mortgage and into something cheaper by the end of January. The idea of getting the house sold, packed and us moved into a new home within month is overwhelming. Prepare to hear lots of whining about the move in the weeks to come.

On Friday morning when I wrote about Money vs Happiness I had the phone sitting next to me so that I could call my best friend in the whole world and catch her up before I posted the news to the masses. Possibly the worst thing about this move is that I will no longer be 10 minutes away from her house, 30 minutes away from where she works, and a local phone call from her voice anytime day or night. I knew she'd feel the same way and I knew I needed to tell her as soon as possible. However, with the phone ringing off the hook on Friday and trying to get packed to leave for the farm and a million other things I forgot to call her. Today, I made sure she was the first outside of my immediate family to know our final decision but I'm still kicking myself that I didn't talk to her Friday morning before I posted. sunShine, I'm sorry, I love you dearly, I never meant to leave you out, a few dirt roads and a stretch of interstate can not keep me from you.

Despite the extremely rapid pace of the weekend I actually had a nice time. I haven't seen my husband this happy in so long that I'd forgotten what he's really like. I know that our problems are still here, under the excitement and distraction of this new plan. Still, seeing him the way he used to be, smiling, laughing, touching me, wanting me, gives me hope. Maybe this move will help him feel better about himself, removing a major obstacle to our reconciliation. Despite my hopeful out look I can't help but wonder if I'll like this new situation in the long run. I've never lived in a rural community. I've never lived close to my husband's family. I've never lived so far away from sunShine. So many unknowns loom ahead. I am trying to look at it as an adventure, scary, thrilling but full of opportunity.


Sunday, December 12, 2004

A Word on Banning

I'm all for free speech. However, the fact is that I'm lord and master of this blog. While I love comments and find other points of view interesting, I do not have to put up with insults, attacks against my character, or people who I deem stupid. If you want to leave a comment that is negative or in disagreement with something I've posted, find an intelligent and diplomatic way to do it. If you do that, I assure you, I will not find it necessary to ban you. In fact, realizing that we all have bad days and sometimes type without thinking, I'll probably let you leave one or two stupid or insulting comments. BUT if you make irritating me a habit, I'm likely to decide your comments aren't worth the time it takes me to read them.


Friday, December 10, 2004

Money vs Happiness

Last night my husband had a job interview out of town and didn't come home until after our daughter was in bed. This was his second interview with a college located near his families farm. He got the job. He now has two job offers on the table, one here, that offers slightly more money than he makes now and one "back home" that offers slightly less money. If money were the only consideration the choice would be easy.

Unfortunately, money isn't the only issue. My husband has been unhappy in his current job for over a year and longs to move back to the rural area where he grew up. He currently works for a technology company that holds a contract with the government. Working in a building that is heavily guarded, in a locked room with no windows and a heavily monitored phone line and net connection, drives him nuts. Now his company has been outbid for the contract and he is at the mercy of the company taking over. This is the second time in two years he's dealt with a this sort of take over. As you can imagine, there isn't a lot demand for software developers in the rural south. That little fact has kept us in the overgrown suburb and military town we live in now. With these two offers on the table we finally have the option of moving to the country.

When I look at these two options; stay here and have more money, move to the middle of no where and have less money, logic says to take the money. However, seeing how happy and full of hope my husband was last night after getting an offer from the college, made me realize that money isn't everything. I want to believe that my husbands distance, his constantly brewing anger, his seething frustration, is caused by his job dissatisfaction and disdain for this town, and not me. I told him last night if we could survive on the money the college offered him I was willing to move. We spend the night, cuddling and talking. He was warm. He was sweet. He was communicative. I think I could live anywhere with him if he could be like that on a regular basis. The question is, was this a rare moment? Will his happiness and loving behavior last? What if I move to this isolated area to live in an even smaller home on a tighter budget and he returns to his cold, angry, silent self? Time well tell.

We are leaving for the farm today. We're going to check out our options for housing and talk to his parents about the situation. I doubt I'll be posting again until Sunday night. By then I should know for sure if we are moving or not. I am crossing my fingers for a fun and pleasant weekend. (I haven't had one of those in a long time!) I am especially hopeful that at some point during the weekend my husband will be in such a good mood that he'll be willing to sneak off to the woods (or anywhere for that matter) and offer me some sexual gratification. I haven't had that in a long time either! Unless self gratification counts. Wish me luck!


Thursday, December 09, 2004

Pretty Sure (sexual content)

Disclaimer: This is awfully long and sickeningly cheap, paper back, romance novel-ish. If your looking for the sexual content it's toward the bottom. Feel free to skip to the good stuff if that's what you're after. Yeah, I know, it's not hard core but cut me some slack people! This is my first attempt at pulling myself out of the emotional tar pit in several days. The song referrenced here is "(Pretty Sure) I'm Over You" by Will Hoge.

Amanda's new favorite song came crooning from the speakers of her car stereo and was nearly drowned out by the sound of her own voice as she sang along. She'd been listening to this song over and over, letting it bolster her mood and work it's catchy magic on her sullen thoughts.

I don't feel the same as I did when you walked out my door
and I don't see things the same as I did from down there on your floor
so you can take back all of those things that you told me were true because I'm pretty sure that I'm over you

She pounded the steering wheel in time with the tune and threw her head around for emphasis as she belted out her new anthem. She was putting on quite a show as the traffic crept along but she couldn't care less what the other drivers were thinking. She figured if she could sing the words with enough passion she might somehow believe them.

but don't you worry because my lonely night will soon be through
because I'm pretty sure that I'm over you
oh yes I'm pretty sure that I'm over you

As she turned the corner off the main road and headed for her place she was feeling pretty sure of herself. Her ex had the kids, it was her day off from work and she'd just indulged in a pedicure and a shoe shopping spree. "Life is good!" She told herself, with or without him.

He was a writer she'd met during an open mic night at some silly, artsy, coffee house in the city. At least, Amanda liked to think of him that way. His day job was a geeky gig, providing technical support to some government laboratory. Will was an unusual character, full of contradictions and wild ideas. From the first time she'd heard him at the coffee house, reading his own words, she was fascinated. He was incredibly flirtatious and had charmed his way into her pants and then her heart, in that order. The fact that Will was also involved in a long term relationship with someone else had barely deterred her. She simply couldn't resist him despite the obvious entanglements. The sex was phenomenal. He also had an uncanny ability to know what she was thinking. He would often tell her what was on her grocery list without looking in her pantry or guess what she was wearing while they talked on the phone. Still, their moments together were stolen and fleeting. Amanda was, after all, the other woman in his life.

So it had been five weeks now. She hadn't heard from Will in five weeks. Not that he'd called it off exactly. He just didn't call. He told her he needed some space, nothing more, nothing less. She'd assumed he just needed a few days and wasn't concerned when the first week slipped away without him showing up on her doorstep or at the other end of her phone line. The first week became the second and after that she resolved herself to the idea that he wasn't going to reappear. She could have found him. She knew the phone number at his apartment, where he lived with his girlfriend. Still, she cared enough to respect his boundaries. Besides, it was pointless to chase him. She'd learned that lesson when she was a younger, more foolish, Amanda. She wasn't going to let a little infatuation, or even a little love for that matter, strip her of her dignity.

So you can take back all of those things that you told me were true because I'm pretty sure that I'm over you

She was in a better frame of mind as she pulled into her drive way. She grabbed up the bags, heavy with her shoe sale finds and made her way to the front door. As she struggled with the keys and her purchases she thought she saw a flicker of movement inside the house. She shook her head and chided herself for having that extra large iced cappuccino with flavored syrup and whipped cream. The caffeine and sugar were messing with her head. As she slipped her key in the door it suddenly swung open from the inside startling her into dropping her packages, nearly causing her to empty her coffee burdened bladder. Her heart pounded hard and the blood rushed in her ears. The flight or fight response almost took hold before she remembered giving Will a key to the backdoor. He was standing, calmly, in the doorway, a mischievous smirk playing on his face. "Did you miss me?" He asked. "Fuck you!" she replied with a trembling mix of incredulous rage and lusty longing as she practically leapt into his arms.

I'm pretty sure that I'm over you

One of them slammed the door shut as they kissed and kissed. Their tongues slipping in and out of one another's mouth as Amanda's hands held his handsome face and he wrapped his arms completely around her. As they backed up, nibbling at each others mouths and necks Amanda tried to ask where he'd been. She knew this fact should matter. He really ought to explain himself but Will continued to shush her with kisses and whispered soft in her ear that she "smelled so fucking good..." Hearing his voice so close to her, hearing him say that word... fucking, made her dizzy with anticipation and she couldn't think of anything but getting him out of his slacks and into her.

The bedroom was too far away. They barely made it to the over stuffed chair sitting a few feet from the door they had come from. She unzipped his pants and reached inside to feel his hot, stiff, dick, which pulsed at her touch. Will fell backward into the chair with a comfortable flop. He looked into her eyes, his intense need burning into her thoughts mingling with her own longing. He reached beneath the flowy skirt she was wearing and pressed his big hand into her hot mound. The silky fabric of her panties was soggy and she whimpered and wriggled against his touch. With her back arched, her erect nipples now visible through her blouse, she was an alluring sight. Will sat up and caressed her pebble tipped breasts through her thin blouse. He pushed up her flimsy shirt and found a sheer bra cupping her heavy tits. Reaching behind her, kissing her neck as he worked, he undid the bra so he could easily reach his hands inside to feel the firm but substantial flesh.

Amanda, was overwhelmed by her need for release. In the five weeks since she'd seen him she'd been on a few dates but taken no one home. She had plans for him and questions as well but first she wanted to come. Climbing on top of him, she let her weight rest on his lap, feeling the hard poke of his erection against her sensitive pussy. She didn't linger long before maneuvering herself onto the arms of the big soft chair, presenting him with a feast covered by little more than a moist slip of satin panties. Will inhaled deeply, drinking in her scent, the smell of her desire, before moving aside her panties and tasting her sweetness. She balanced herself easily in front of him, wrapping her fingers in his hair as he lapped and sucked at her clit. She pushed his face hard into her crotch, riding his mouth, roughly. Her juice continued to soak her panties as it dripped down his chin, filling his mouth as she approached the pinnacle of pleasure. She called out his name as she came. He barely heard her cries of release through the meat of her thighs which were clasped firmly about his head.

Momentarily spent and feeling woozy, she scooted down and sat in his lap. Will pulled her in against his chest and kissed the top of her head, unconcerned about the wet, musky remains of her orgasm drying on his face. Amanda could feel the heat and hardness of his eager cock against her backside. His hands roamed over her body as she recovered. Her knees were still shaking, her breath was ragged and her head was spinning. Will gently turned her chin up so she could see his face. "You forgive me, don't you?" he asked with an impish tone. "For staying away so long?"

She thought for a moment, trying to clear the haze of after glow out of her mind before responding. She grinned and said with a wink, "I'm pretty sure."


Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Beyond the Breaking Point

Every time I think I can't take another complicated, difficult or heartbreaking incident, another one occurs. Over a month ago, on the morning that I went looking for a marriage counselor I was honestly crushed. I felt like I had reached the bottom. I had cried until I was sick from swallowing snot, till my head hurt, till my eyes burned. Surely I thought, it could only get better after that. I was wrong. I am to the point where I have developed a certain level of numbness, a deep fatigue. I am too weary too keep my emotional sensitivity turned up full blast. Yes, I'm still thinking about the problems swirling about me. Yes, I could still write volumes on all the things that are tightening my neck muscles and making my head ache. Yes, I am still crying, quietly, when my thoughts turn to trouble.

If misery loved company, then I would be very loved indeed. I have dear friends who are suffering through similar trials. My heart goes out to each of them in part because I care for them and in part because I understand all too well. One of my closest friends has become so despondent that he's decided solitude is necessary for licking his wounds and thinking through his complicated circumstances. I know that sulking is a private thing. I've done my fair share of sulking lately. I certainly hope he finds within himself some answers or at least the stamina to keep trudging through life in all it's messy, uncertain, and dangerous glory. As for me, I just keep stumbling, crawling, dragging myself through the wreckage of one disaster after another. I have been here before and know that night eventually surrenders to the dawn no matter how dark it seems. Broken spirits are rarely beyond repair.

*After writing this I have to laugh at myself. What a pathetic attempt at giving words to the mundane burdens of everyday life. There is nothing unique about relationship struggles, about depression, about loneliness... Others have written about this before me and done it better.


Tuesday, December 07, 2004

A possible revelation?

While having discussion via e-mail with a very good friend today I wrote this:

(Excuse any typos and bad grammar in this quote. I see no need for formality when talking with a friend.)

"I realized last night that there isn't a lot of balance at the blog. It's not that I intended for it to get that way... it simply reflects how bad things have been at home for the last few months.... it certainly doesn't hurt to talk about the things I love about him. Ok. Actually it's a whole lot harder to do that (I just had an epiphany) because it makes me sad to admit to loving him and at the same time know the extent of the disconnection between us. It is far less painful to focus on his faults... then his rejection of me hurts less. Holy Shit. I think I had a breakthrough! (What the hell am I paying a therapist for?)"

Does this mean my blog will suddenly become more balanced? Probably not. Still it's good to recognize my own short comings.


Why the hell am I posting in the wee hours of the morning?

Upon re-reading my last post I'm wishing I'd never posted it. I don't know why. The whole thing just smacks of narcissism. I could delete it but that would be cowardly. So I'll just leave it and face up to my own unhealthy level of self importance.

If I seem cranky or unbalanced it's because I can't seem to get any sleep tonight. My husband is restless, my daughter is restless and I am unable to rest with everyone I love shuffling nervously around me. I just wrote my husband a long letter. A love letter, even. A letter of apology for my part in our current disagreements. I do a lot of venting here, which means that most of the stuff I post about my spouse is honest but has a decidedly negative vibe. Let's face it, I'm only giving one side of the story here. Mine. Think about it, how easy can I be to live with? Seriously... I have a quick temper, I'm sarcastic at inappropriate times and when I want sex and don't get it, I pout and whine. Furthermore, I talk constantly about anything, everything and nothing, I am nostalgic even when I shouldn't be and I am head strong to the point of being foolish. I am easily distracted, disorganized, scatter brained and day dreamy.

In the interest of fair coverage I'll share this story:

On Sunday my husband decided, all on his own, to make Popcorn Balls with our little one. She loves to help cook and spends a lot of time in the kitchen with me but Daddy usually stays out of the way. This time, I stayed out of the way and watched him show her how to mix, measure and stir. They both got sticky from head to toe. The kitchen table, counters and floors were a terrible mess but I did not mind. I was so filled with love for him as he did this simple thing with her. My own father would never have done something like that. They laughed and played and despite all our recent troubles my heart felt light while I watched them together. When they were finished he whisked her off to the tub. She was covered in melted marshmallow and green sprinkles, no amount of paper towels and parental spit was going to clean her up. I got out the mop and broom and happily scrubbed away the goop. That's the sort of thing that keeps me going even though we struggle.


Monday, December 06, 2004

A Good Wife

If this is your first time visiting Chancy Chatter please see the previous entry. I am still responding to requests for this URL from the old site and I'm sure I'll have some stragglers coming over as the week wears on. Thanks again to all my loyal readers for putting up with the melodrama involved in moving the site. I'll do my best to make it worth your while.

What makes a good wife? I suppose everyone would define it differently. I like to think that I am a good wife but I'm pretty sure my husband and quite a few others would disagree. I think that a good wife would be able to take on the mostly mundane role of home maker, help mate, mother and still retain the unique personality that attracted a man to her in the first place. In my case, that means an overtly sexual nature, a level of self confidence that borders on irrationality, a burning sarcastic wit and a wildness that does not want to be tamed. Of course, I also come with a tender core, a need to be loved unconditionally, a desire to be protected despite my outward independence and a series of scars that need to be soothed instead of hidden. It has recently been suggested to me that when I became a mother, several aspects of my personality should have been discarded like garments that no longer fit. I simply can not do that. I evolve, I grow, my perspective changes, but the essence of who I am does not. I suppose I could try to hide those outlandish outfits, the ones that seem inappropriate by some standards. However, my sexuality is not something I can pack away in a box until I need it for a weekend away from home. Maybe my outgoing, exhibitionistic, personality could be reigned in but at what cost? Who would I be if I hid away all the characteristics that make me, me?

I was told, over the weekend that my blog is nothing more than pornography. That could be true if it weren't for the many non-sexual posts in between the erotica. I was told my writing is worthless, that a serious critic or publisher would laugh in my face. Looking at my hundreds of posts, trying to decide which ones were worth moving to the new site, I certainly found some worthless stuff. Still, I think I have moments of brilliance on rare occasion. If I learned nothing else while moving this blog, it's that many people read it and find it worthy of attention. I have been surprised and overwhelmed by the support of my readers and the sheer number of requests for this URL. Maybe I'll never be published. Maybe it isn't appropriate for a wife and mom to write erotic stories or confess the ugly details of her past or current life. Maybe writing this blog prevents me from being a good wife. It really doesn't matter. I'm hooked. I couldn't stop doing this now if my life depended on it. This is possibly one of the most sincere and pleasurable things I've ever done. So, for better or worse, I will continue to write things that expose me, every wild and wounded bit of me.


Sunday, December 05, 2004

So, How do you like the new place?

Yeah, I know, it's almost exactly the same as the old place! I even spent hours copy/pasting and recreating some of my more popular old posts. Although, in doing so I seem to have stripped away everything but the sex stuff and the emotional blather. I guess I'll have to work on diversifying the content around here. I love writing the erotic stuff and I do want to use this space as an emotional outlet but I hadn't intended my blog to be a porno sight or a heartbreak journal. Oh hell, who am I kidding? I'll write whatever I please and right now sex and heartbreak are dominating my thoughts.

I am honestly a bit depressed about losing the old site. I will undoubtedly loose some readers doing this but hopefully my faithful blog friends will stick around and I'll make some new ones too. I realize I haven't fully explained what happened that caused me to have to start over at a new URL. It's not an exciting a story, really. Let's just say that in order to keep the peace in my household I had to do it. Speaking of my household, stress levels here are at an all time high. Last week was bad to the point of being bizarre. I'm hoping the tension breaks soon because I am all but paralyzed creatively under the weight of my current situation. I am actually looking forward to Monday when the weekday routine will take over, offering some soothing structure.

Anyway, let's just continue on as if the switch never took place! I'll keep writing, you guys keep reading. Thanks for following me here!


Thursday, December 02, 2004

Therapy Thursday

Well today is round two with the marriage counselor. I am not thrilled. We had a very serious argument last week and I do not want to re-live it for the benefit of the therapist. Not to mention we did not read the book she recommended. We didn't even buy it. I feel like I'm going to class without my homework.

I was so tired last night that I fell asleep on the couch about an hour after I put my little one to bed. I slept restlessly last night and had bad dreams. I don't remember most of them. The one I recall was a horrible dream where I left my daughter alone in the house and went off for a walk. (I would never do this in real life, of course) While I was walking I got distracted by a man I saw in the distance who looked familiar. I kept walking trying to catch up to the guy and before I knew it I had walked miles away from the house. I turned around and headed home but soon realized I was lost. I knew I should never have left my little girl alone and I couldn't find my way home to her. I woke up with my heart pounding out of my chest. I had to get up and go into my daughters room and look at her for a few minutes to convince myself that she was OK and I had not neglected her.

My husband went off to work this morning looking very sexy. He was wearing the new jeans I made him buy with the fashionable fading down the front and a mossy green button down shirt. I told him how great he looked and tried to be extra flirty. He's not a morning person and is annoyed with having to go to therapy today, so he wasn't too receptive. Oh well. I tried.

In honor of Therapy Thursday, I think I'll post some bad poetry. Here's a little ranting poem I wrote about my husband a while back:

Prediction and Explanation

Five years from now you'll hate me
You'll sit across from some woman
A mere simile of me
Telling how I drowned you
In the torrent of our life
You'll recount the nostalgia of your bachelor-hood
Spent pouring over your interests
Pursuing your every whim
Before your freedom was clipped at the wing
By the hands of our union

I don’t want to own you. I only want to know you.
I want to open your chest and soak into your guts
Crawl into your mouth and slide down your gullet
To be savored and digested by who you are
I want to wrap around you and engulf you
Squeeze the knowledge from you and then
Lap up the richness, which would undoubtedly ooze.


Wednesday, December 01, 2004

Mind Fucking (Sexual Content)

My bedroom is gloomy even on the sunniest of days. The one small window is shrouded in layers of dust covered fabric to keep out even the suggestion of light. The furniture is heavy, dark, out dated, and scattered with books, figures and collections. The books are the only things in this room that really belong me. Several are stacked at my bedside, obscuring the alarm clock. There's The Good Mother by Sue Miller, which I was unable to put down last week. A Dean Koontz novel I haven't read yet, titled Odd Thomas. I picked it up on a whim at the grocery store. My favorite new Sci-Fi paperback lays next to collections of poems by Sylvia Plath and Billy Collins. My journal tops them all, tied up securely with it's little leather strap, keeping my secrets.

I am right where you want me. Stretched out across the king sized bed in the dim light. My Jeans are crumpled up on the floor, my stretchy, red lace bra tossed in the same general direction. My hand works inside my all cotton, white, hip-hugger panties. I can see myself in the dresser mirror and note the contrast of the bright white undies against my flushed, sweaty, skin. You can see a little patch of dampness forming at the crotch. I've started without you but I knew you wouldn't mind. I'm grinning mischievously. It makes me so fucking hot, knowing you see me like this, brazenly fondling myself, my nipples hard and visible through this thinly worn t-shirt.

You begin to talk to me. Your voice so slow, each word seems deliberate, as if you already know the impact it will have. You are so much better at this than I am. My mouth is dry and I mostly whimper. I respond to your story telling with sighs and tremblings more often than words. It's your voice that renders me senseless. I am such a sucker for words and you damn well know it. That's why it's so easy for you to slip around in my head and make a mess there. It just makes me wetter, makes my finger tips move faster. I know this is part of the game. I know you'll continue to raise the stakes. I expect you to push every boundary. You get through my defenses by knowing what makes me come. You convince me that I am a mouth, a pussy, an ass for you to pleasure and abuse.

Then, just when I am weak like a new kitten and can barely think of anything but my new purpose, you send my mind spinning in the other direction. You speak softly, trembling like me, whispering proverbial sweet nothings. I find myself panting and quietly crying. Tears of joy and torture simultaneously drip down my cheeks. I cuddle up to my pillows and allow your words to caress and cradle me, soothing my penetrated mind.

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