New Year Office Party

She wanted sex. She didn’t want commitments, promises or romance, but she did want sex included in their friendship. Alice knew him well, although not intimately.

They worked in the same building and visited with each other almost every day. The physical chemistry between them was like static electricity…just a touch… but never openly acknowledged by either of them. They talked instead of politics, economic conditions, sports, current events, their respective families and other ordinary subjects. The occasional innocent bantering between them, though, about sneaking off to "do-it", were the conversations they secretly enjoyed the most. In reality, they had shared no more physical contact than a few quick hugs. She craved more than a hug with him and was convinced his cravings were the same.

During the past couple of months, Alice had imagined them making love in large, canopied, silk sheeted beds adorned with elaborate pillows and comforters. She had envisioned them naked on big fluffy towels on the beach; the rhythm of their coupling tuned with the waves slapping against the shore. She had seen them on beds of pine needles deep in a forest, squirrels and birds as witness to their passion. In her mind they had entwined on the seat of his truck; on a park bench under star filled warm summer skies; in the deep grass of orchards of cherry blossoms. Just last week, he’d added another to her fantasy list when he laughed and teased her to come by his office some afternoon...they’d do-it there.

On Friday afternoon of the New Year weekend, the building all but vacant, the staccato of Alice’s footsteps echoed through the corridor. She went into his office determined that her fantasy become a reality. Within moments of her arrival, they shared their first orgasms together, on the top of his desk.

Happy New Year Folks!

Erik

Christmas Turkey

“Good morning, Tonya!”

No answer.

“Um…you’re in a bad mood?”

“Yup!”

“Pissed at me?”

“Nope!”

“Who?”

“Asshole husband!”

“Okaaaay, what did he do?”

“Didn’t do!”

“Okaaaay, what didn’t he do?”

“Fucker didn’t take the Christmas turkey out of the freezer to thaw like I told him to!”

“Oh.”

“I had a house full of guests and hot dogs for Christmas dinner!”

“Oh. Guess I won’t ask if you had a good Christmas then?”

“Not if you value your balls!”

“Yeah.”

“So, what do you want for breakfast…asshole?”

“Thought you weren’t pissed at me?”

“You’re a man, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah, last time I looked.”

“Well then, what do you want for breakfast…asshole?

Hmmm….maybe it’s in my best interests to talk with Tonya’s husband about his New Year’s resolutions.

A Christmas Card

I celebrate the day of Christmas for the birth of Christ. I savor the day also as a day of personal peace...counting and appreciating the many blessings I have been given.

Among my blessings is the knowing you---the talented writers who faithfully give of your skills, knowledge, and passion for the art-form, here in front of God and the world. You are special people.

Whether you are published yet or not, you each have the rare gifts that may be claimed by only a few. You have the gifts of a writer. They are precious gifts to be shared.

May God continue to bless you, and may I continue to appreciate you.

Merry Christmas.

Erik

Bug Tails - "Bug's Cookies"

Bug: active, adorable, affectionate…asshole.

And a pack-rat. Many, if not most dogs will bury at least some of their treasures. Bug buries everything; his toys, chewy bones, treats, leash, and now and then his food. I suspect his propensity to do so is influenced by the amount of time he spent as a stray. At least several weeks, I think.

Since Bug still dangles his balls, I don’t let him run loose unless I am close-to-hand. Our living vicinity contains several female dogs and…well…Bug is adorable. I don’t want the neighborhood pissed at me because of unplanned litters of pups.

When Bug is out-of-doors, unsupervised, he is in a spacious and clean kennel. In their kennel, he and Old Libby have the best view of the lake in the neighborhood. This is where he buries stuff.

In previous Bug Tails episodes, I’ve told of Bug’s manners in the bedroom. They suck! My sleep deprivation seems one of his goals. Lying atop the pages of my reading material and eating his bedtime dog-cookie is a nightly ritual. Several times during a night he will also wake me…um…to check on me?

Two nights ago, when I brought Bug and Libby in from the kennel just prior to going to bed, Bug immediately ran between one of the sofas and a wall. Something new for him, but I didn’t pay much attention to the action because he returned quickly. I gave him and Libby their hand-full of evening treats, went into the bathroom to pee, and then went to bed.

In bed, I wriggled into a comfortable position on my belly, unwrapped a no-sugar-added Popsicle, opened my book and waited for Bug to bring his cookie. He didn’t come.

Several minutes passed, I read a few pages and unwrapped another Popsicle. Hmmm…I began to wonder, what in hell is Bug doing? I’ll finish this Popsicle, I thought, and then go check on him. More time passed. I read several more pages, finished the second Popsicle and still no Bug.

Aw, shit, I thought, I better go see what he’s doing. I crawled out of bed, gathered up the Popsicle sticks and wrappers, and then went looking for Bug.

Crap! A wasted trip! Bug and Libby were munching dog biscuits on the living room rug. Both watched me walk by without making any effort toward me. I tossed the Popsicle sticks and wrappers in the garbage, went into the bathroom to pee again, and then went back to bed and my book.

SPLAT! No, not thunk, thud, plunk or boink, it was splat. The thing Bug dropped onto the pages of my book was black, wet, slimy, and smelled like the inside of my boots after a long hike in the woods on a hot day. “Jesus H. Christ!” I said to Bug. “What is that?” Bug didn’t answer, of course. He licked my face instead. His breath smelled like that glob lying on my book.

I slid out of the warm bed…again, picked up the book and made my way back out to the garbage can. I had to scrape the wad of black, smelly goop off the book. It was stuck on the pages. With a dry paper towel, I dabbed up the remains as best I could without ruining the book entirely. Pissed-off at Bug, I went back to bed. He wasn’t still there waiting for me. Smart dog.

Once again, snuggled under the covers on my belly and with my book open to clean pages, I began to doze instead of read. I just couldn’t stay awake.

My eyes snapped open! I’d been startled awake! Bug! He was on his belly too, across the pages of my book. His cold, wet nose was pressed against mine. We looked into each other’s eyes with me thinking evil thoughts. Just as I was about to bite him on his nose, he lowered his head into the crook of my neck and shoulder. He wiggled his body in a little closer to me and sighed with a little moan thrown-in. Bug: active, adorable, affectionate…asshole!

Next, it was morning.

May I Ejaculate?

In our sex scenes, we give our characters gushing wet pussies and hard throbbing cocks. We make her thrash, tremble and scream with her orgasm. He thrusts, jets and grunts with his. He goes soft, she squeezes him out. They sigh. They snuggle, share a smoke and make false promises to each other during pillow-talk. We move them on to the next scene.

Ah…but what would we do with them if he couldn’t ejaculate? That’s apparently coming soon, so to speak.

Several years ago---high over EA’s Oklahoma in the first-class cabin of a Delta jet---another suit said to me, “Buy Pfizer”. He claimed to be a Wall Street mucky-muck. Of course I didn’t buy Pfizer. Not long after, Viagra deeply penetrated the…um…market.

Another time, a very beautiful but married woman said to me, “Stop by early this afternoon for coffee…or...uh...tea. Call first!”. I didn’t jump on that opportunity either. Regrets-regrets.

More recently---a couple of days ago---while driving to work in my Built Tough but now beat-to-shit Ford truck, one of the drive-time radio Doc’s started his daily commentary with a history of the aforementioned Viagra. Then, he went on to talk about the current research being conducted on a male birth-control drug which would prevent ejaculation!

Jesus H., I thought. Get it up, and stay in all day. Wow.

Sound good? I wonder.

From a male POV, I can in truth say that after the second or third Bernita researched 18 minute rest periods, it starts to become a bit more like…well…work. Showing off encounters physical limitations too. The shoulders begin to ache like hell, the legs begin to cramp painfully, the mind wanders off and the’ole pecker gets sore. When you start to think the Vaseline Intensive Care will feel better than the pussy does now, it’s time to get dressed.

Me? I think I’ll just go see my own Doc about a sample of Viagra…and enjoy the ejaculation.

Ladies POV?

Morning Farewell

During the past several years I have arrived early each morning at a small local diner---hungry and looking forward to the beginning of a good day. Those days always started with a warm “Good morning, Erik” from the wait-staff.

This morning I ate the last breakfast at the little diner. The owner has made the decision to open later, close earlier. His decision does not accommodate the needs of my schedule.

I shall deeply miss the good people of that diner…especially Tonya.

“With a stone on his heart he walked away. She had become the bright beginning to each new day. She had become special.”