Inside The Gazebo

My Photo
Location: Central Michigan, United States

Spent a long career making lots of money for other people. Now it's my turn. _____________________________ Email:

Monday, August 28, 2006

Soft Ending!

“I don’t have one.”
“I hate those things!”
“Well, we’re not doing it without one!”
“Well, we wouldn’t do it if I had one!”
“Why not?”
“Because I hate them. As soon as I start putting one on, I go soft.”
“Because they’re too tight?”
“No. Because I hate ‘em so much.”
“We’re not doing it without one. I mean that!”
“I don’t want to stop now.”
“Not without one.”
“Told you, I don’t have any.”
“Maybe I have some left. I’ll go look.”
“What, maybe you have some left?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I don’t. I’ll go look.”
“You keep your own supply, and you’re not sure if you have any left?”
“Yes. I’ll be right back.”
“Never mind.”
“I said never mind.”
“It just went soft.”

Monday, August 21, 2006


She leaned across the front of me to shuffle through the stack of papers on the desk. One shoulder brushed my arm, a firm hip connected with my thigh. My heart fluttered.
The back of her head hovered close to my face. I inhaled the sweet fragrance of her hair, brushed and clean.
The pressure of her hip increased against my leg. Blood began to fill my cock. I wondered if I should move a bit away.
Her task completed, she straightened, turned frontal to me and locked her eyes with mine. A smile of amusement formed her mouth.
Her breasts rested lightly against my chest, warm and soft. I imagined the nipples extended and hard.
She pressed her belly against the zipper of my jeans. I nudged my bulge forward in return. I wondered if she’d touch.
Her tongue flickered and coated her parted lips with a wet sheen. The heat of her panted breath pulsed against my neck. A shiver of pleasure washed across the surface of my flesh.
She flashed a full smile, stepped back, then turned and walked away. I wondered if she was so cruel to all animals.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Morning Reflections

Early, the sun still sleeps.
The moon meanders along its way.
Dark, but the day begins.
A book of hope, today’s words to read.
Coffee perks, only one cup to fill.
Gone are friends, none to share.
Good deeds faded, and not remembered.
A future belongs to other’s whims, though one passed me by.
Try to masturbate, but can’t ejaculate.
No fantasies left to get me there.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Bug Tails - "Bug Went Boating"

Several days following our camping adventure with Bug, I readied our fishing boat for summer enjoyment. Bug wasn’t as interested in participating in the boat’s summer preparations as he had been in the preparations of the camper. He didn’t even bother to pee on the boat’s trailer tires. He did growl and bark at it, though, when I brought it up to the garage from the back lot.

The next morning my neighbor and I launched the small boat. I sailed it home from the launch-site to our dock. My wife, old Libby and Bug were waiting for their first boat ride of the season with an attitude of excitement. Well, the wife and Libby were excited. Bug took a nap even though he was about to go for his first boat ride.

I eased the boat up to the dock, tied off, and waited for my passengers. Libby immediately jumped in to take her regular place on the seat located in the bow of the boat. The wife stepped in and took her place on the center seat. Several minutes were then spent urging Bug, however, to get in the boat. It took a lot of coaxing, but he eventually leaped in then jumped up on my lap. He was trembling. I soothed him with gentle words and petting. When I put him down on the deck, so I could push us away from the dock, he scurried under the middle bench-seat and under my wife.

It was a hot and very windy day, the water choppy. Our little boat bounced and banged across the waves. We cruised along at quarter-throttle. Libby played at fending off jet-ski riders with growls and barks. My wife pointed out the properties that had come up for sale during the spring. Bug continued to cower under the seat; he wasn’t a “happy camper.”

Approximately twenty minutes into the ride I shut off the motor, let the boat drift, and began attempts to coax Bug out from his hiding. I wanted him to become a “happy boater”. After awhile I succeeded. He came out from under the bench, shook, jumped up into my wife’s lap…then puked.

Shortly thereafter, we arrived back at our dock.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Thinking of Things

I lay without sleep, thinking of things.
A parade of storms marched by.

Lightening opened doors in black sky.
I saw visions of you, brief, vivid and clear.

Thunder rattled the walls and shook my heart.
I was lonely, I wanted you near.

Wind chorused a shrill song, its melody repeated.
I wished for your breath to mingle with mine.

Drum-rolls of rain echoed rhythms on the roof.
I longed for the feel of your fresh washed hair.

Smells of drenched earth wafted through open windows.
I yearned to disrobe you of the lace you wear.

I lay awake through last night, thinking of you.
A parade of storms marched by.