She Liked To Ride On Top

What feels good for one person might not for another, but bouncing up and down, and grinding her hips was her thing and who was I to complain, as I always enjoyed the view.  She knew just how to kneel on the sheets with her legs spread wide (OK sorry for crossing the line, being way too graphic) and combine these different sensations to drive me wild.  I wrote about this girl before in an earlier post ‘To Die For’, just in case anyone wants to read about that night when we first met.  We were dating, she told me all about her sexual past experiences and although she once spent a week in the back of a van with five guys, it didn’t bother me as now she was mine.  It is not every man that is willing to date a girl who has been ridden hard and been around the block more than a few times, but her promiscuous past didn’t really bother me, and I was not one to pass up a sure thing.

Most of the other guys that she was with considered her sexual past to be an atrocity and they used her for a one night stand or a hook up and then they always ditched her after they had their way with her.  I knew that Jenny was loose, but that is what I liked about her and I was not a virgin either, as I had some experiences of my own.  Jenny took the initiative and she willingly told me about her sexual history, this meant that she trusted me and I felt like Jenny saw something special in me.  Jenny had regrets about her past and there was no reason for me to punish her.  The absence of a sexually fulfilling life is one of the most abiding impressions that a young man can have and many times this is how I felt before I met Jenny.  I felt this comfort being around her and I liked her being my girlfriend, but I wasn’t exactly in love with her.  We did things together and we had fun all the time.

One day I took Jenny to meet my Dad who was out in the backyard and although he was calescent with her, I could tell that he was not impressed with her.  My Dad asked Jenny if she would like a drink and she said, “Do you have bourbon?”  My Dad said, “It is only 10 in the morning and you have the rest of the day for that partying stuff that you and my son do, right now I am on one of my coffee curfews, but I could have my wife put the tea kettle on if you drink that.”  Jenny said, “The temperature is rather warm today, so I would prefer a cold soda.”  My Dad said that it was warm and that we should go on the back porch to relax where he would open up the window, so we could all catch a breeze and then he told me to go and grab some sodas.  We were having a casual conversation when my Dad made a remark about Jenny wearing jeans that looked to be too tight, which she took as a criticism and she made a loud paroxysm in response and then we left.  She said that she never wanted to see my Dad again, as she thought he was cruel, but I figured that things might heal over time.

One day she said that she wanted us to go visit her friends and that we could sleep over their house.  I told her that I was fine with that and said it sounded like a real thrill, as I would not have to pay for a motel room.  I had never met any of her friends before and I was going to do this with excitement, anticipation, energy and zest.  They seemed to be an OK couple, but when the evening was over, Jenny and I retired to the bedroom they said was for us, she said that her girlfriend Donna wanted her to join her and her husband Bob in their bedroom for a threesome.  I did a WTF and slapped my hand on my forehead, as I didn’t want to have any part of these sexcapades.  Jenny told me that after Bob was satisfied, that both her and Donna would come back and take care of me.  I became dizzy and I started to sweat, the sheets were damp and I got up and got dressed and told her that she could stay here with Donna and Bob, or else she could go with me.

Written for Daily Addictions prompt Week #32 – Atrocity, for FOWC with Fandango – Love, for August Writing Prompts – Coffee curfews, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Porch, for Ragtag Community – Zest, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Initiative, for the secret keeper Weekly Writing Prompt #154 (5) word prompt – Night Line Heal Thrill Time, for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Abiding and for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Bonus Wordle Sick day – Calescent Sheets Paroxysm Temperature Tea Kettle Window Breeze Kneel Forehead Dizzy Damp Comfort.


Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll

My last few posts have been about a celebration of excess or debauchery and although I thought it was some of my best stuff, it was not received very well by most.  In my eyes, Rock & Roll taught me to ‘Not to give a fuck’ and to be myself and that means being original, but it seems that rock and roll has hit a dead end and although it might never actually die out totally, it will probably never blossom again.  Nothing brings out my indignation more than hearing someone remark that Rock is getting by on a wing and a prayer now, since the only people who enjoy it are those who are old enough to have seen the Beatles or gone to Woodstock.  I will always retain my fond memories of the 1973 concert that I went to at Watkins Glen, featuring the Band, the Grateful Dead and the Allman Brothers.  This concert was a real treat for me and I saw plenty of love, peace, nudity, and drugs there.

I was one of the 600,000 people who made the trip there for the festival that was known as the Summer Jam.  I drove there with 8 other dead heads in my station wagon and we drove in with an once of weed sitting on the dashboard, which did annoy me at first, but the concert was sold out, the gates were left open and we rolled by the parking lot attendants who just waved us through.  We got there the day before, which was called the sound test and all three groups performed.  I got the best recording ever of Tennessee Jed, as it seemed like Garcia was singing directly into my tape deck.  We camped out and went back the next day.

The stage was elevated so people in the back could see the groups, but this made it difficult for the people who were right in front of it.  Some of them tried to make human pyramid chains so they could climb up higher to see what was going on.  The stage crew responded by hosing everyone down that was in front of the stage.  It was a real mess up front and the people who were covered in mud began to strip their clothes off.

We (Danny, Patty, Irene and myself) were far enough back, to be out of the mud and have a good look at the stage.  The Grateful Dead kicked off with a jumping tune called ‘Bertha’.  They played two sets and some of the songs that I still remember after 45 years are ‘Truckin’, ‘Sugar Magnolia’, ‘China Cat Sunflower’, ‘Eyes of the World’, and they closed with Merle Haggard’s ‘Sing Me Back Home’.  One of the naked mud people wondered by us and Danny nudged me as said that we had to protect our girls from this a-hole.  This guy was a real piece of work, not only was he naked and covered in mud, but he had a snake wrapped around his neck which was definitely creeping Danny out.  This may have not even been the worst part as you could tell that this dude was tripping on something as his face was all contorted and he kept on drooling.  I considered the mud dude to be totally fungible, so I grabbed him by his arm and slung him back to the front of the stage where he belonged.  Danny and the girls all smiled at me and everything was blue skies and blossoms for us, now that this laboratory experiment of a person gone wrong disappeared into the crowd.  The Band followed the Dead, but a huge thunderstorm forced them off stage and that is when we went back to our campsite.

Written Daily Addictions prompt Week #32 – Remark, for FOWC with Fandango – Treat, for August Writing Prompts – Blue skies and blossoms, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Laboratory, for Ragtag Community – Fungible, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Prayer, for Swimmers the New Community Pool prompt – Eyes and for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – blossom.

Kiss and Tell

I learned to never reveal intimate secrets about any sexual relationships only after I lost someone by doing just that.  They say that a gentleman never tells, that he should be classy displaying integrity even when he is ‘getting some strange’, but guys do talk, although maybe not as much as women do.  Many guys like to show off after they just nailed some chick and this probably stems from the fact that most single guys have a hard time getting laid, so this makes them announce that they sealed the deal and got to home base.  Sharing your romantic exploits, revealing intimate, personal, private or confidential details, after recounting in your head and then giving your friends a firsthand description about a sexual encounter often crosses the line, as certain things are best kept between you and the person that you slept with.

I split up with my wife and got divorced and had my own apartment where I lived with my dog.  Anyway I went online to try and meet some women and I often chatted on Yahoo Messenger which was sort of working, but the problem was that the ones that I met were distant, usually living in Nigeria or Ghana.  I was single, but I was not savvy, but after a while I developed an aptitude for meeting girls and I became good at chatting.  One day I met this lady whose screen name was Peachy kisses Delicate and she said that she lived in my town and we hit it off right away.  She told me that her name was Eleanor and the communication that we shared was always on the intimate side.  She said that she had a cat and things would never work out for us because I was a dog person and then she mentioned that was married and that she just caught her husband cheating on her and she wanted to have an affair to get even, so this was never going to be about love and I was OK with that.

We made arrangements to meet at Walmart and see how it goes and take it from there, but the day before we were supposed to meet, she contacted me and told me that she had second thoughts and that she was trying to make things up with her husband.  I told her that I understood and I wished her the best of luck resolving things.  She said that she felt bad for me and she mentioned that she had this girlfriend named Susan, who was divorced and who said that she had not been with a man in the two years since and she said that she would talk to her about me.  I told her that was fine, and I actually felt that I would have a better time being with a divorced woman instead of a married one that was seeking revenge.

I heard back from Eleanor and she said that she told Susan about me and that she was interested in meeting me.  She sent me a picture of Susan and she was a real babe and I began to think that there was harmony in the universe.  Eleanor said, “I bet that you will have a great time, because I heard that she swallows.”  This seemed a bit strange, but I had no idea what girls talked about with each other and how graphic they got with certain details.  I told Eleanor that would be great as my ex wife never did that.  She gave me Susan’s email address and her phone number and I called her and asked her if she would like to go out to dinner with me.

I picked her up on Saturday night and we had a nice dinner and then we went back to my place to watch some TV.  Things got romantic and when we were both heated up we went into my bedroom where I gave her a back rub.  Things progressed and I had a fantastic evening and then I took Susan back to her place and I told her that I would call her so we could do it again, as she seemed to have as good a time as I had.  The next day after our date I saw Eleanor online and she asked me how things went with Susan.  I told her it was great and I thanked her for setting us up on the date and then I opened my big mouth and told her that she was right that Susan does swallow, I guess because I felt like I owed her something.

I called Susan the next day and she never answered her phone as I guess Eleanor must have told her what I said about her.  I realized that it was wrong and I accepted that I had ruined a good thing and that we would never be together again.  The lesson to be learned here is that if you had a good time with a girl, then keep your mouth shut and there is a good possibility that there will be more good times ahead.  You can get a dinner date even if you are not a gentleman, but if after it is over, you kiss and tell, that could ruin your chances at getting another date and you will end up having to eat your lunch all by yourself.

Written for FOWC with Fandango – Aptitude, for August Writing Prompts – Peachy kisses Delicate, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Communication, for Ragtag Community – Cat, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Distant, for Swimmers the New Community Pool prompt – Love and for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Harmony.

I Used To Drink

I was more than a social drinker, but I was not a problem drinker, so I would probably be best described as a habitual drinker.  I never considered myself to be an alcoholic, as I only drank heavy on weekends, but I did not refrain completely during the week.  I drank beer and I did not suffer many hangovers, but I did have some mornings where I did not want to get out of bed after a prolonged night of drinking.  I ran a tab at a local bar, which made it easy for me to get drinks and since at this time in my life, I did not have a checking account, I went to the bar to cash my paycheck and pay off my tab.  I was a regular and I knew all the bartenders and most of the patrons.

There’s nothing like drinking a cold, frosty beer after a day of work.  Although beer can taste incredibly refreshing, technically it dehydrates you, forcing your kidneys to expel much more water than they would normally do without alcohol in your system.  All of my friends drank and I was actually good at drinking.  There are all kinds of drunks, some are loud and boisterous, some are argumentative, sometimes they can be quiet and contemplative, sometimes sad and depressed, along with almost every shade and combination in between these and other emotions.  Drinking always gave me an ego boost, making me feel better about myself.

I drank to excess indulging to the point of intoxication, never really passing out, but I do remember feeling shame for falling down a few times, as that was awkward.  We were not allowed to drink till we were 21 in my State, so we drove to the next State where they served you at the age of 18.  The tavern that we went to did not actually abide by the rules, as they never checked anyone’s ID, as I guess that they were just happy to get business.  We usually went to this tavern in two different carloads of guys (six guys in each car) and we sat at different tables, challenging ourselves to see which table could drink more beer than the other table and the losing table would have to pay for all of the beer.

We paired off and each group had to stay within one pitcher of beer with the other group and once a table got a whole pitcher ahead, that ended the contest, so there was a lot of chugging going on to stay in contention.  This Irish guy named Munley could drink a lot and I was always trying to keep up with him and hoping that the others at my table would hold their weight.  I guess that I developed a reputation because we won more times than we lost, but either way this always made for an interesting ride back home, especially when someone started passing around the bones.  Most of the time I was the driver, as I had a station wagon which made it easier to fit everyone in.  One night I had trouble navigating this bend and I ended up running down a stop sign.

Eventually my State changed the drinking age law and we did not have to drive a long distance to get our beer.  From my drinking escapades in the other State I had build an identity as someone who could hold my liquor, a skein of persuasion that let people know that I was able to drink others under the table.  One night my friends challenged me that I would not be able to drink a four ounce glass of beer every minute for a whole hour.  I felt pretty good about drinking large amounts of alcohol, and I had no problem with it having to be consumed rapidly.  They told all the other people in the bar what I was going to do, and they came up with a $30 pot as encouragement me to drink.  I accepted the dare to drink all the beer which had to be done within the first 15 seconds of each minute.  This meant a lot of chugging, but it also gave me 45 seconds of rest between each glass.  The beer was ordered in pitchers and my friends paid for all of it.

A 4-ounce glass of beer was nothing to me, but 60 of them adds up to 240 ounces or 1.875 gallons of beer.  Putting this in another perspective, this is like drinking 20 12-ounce bottles of beer in an hour.  With the time restriction, there was no chance for me to make a trip to the bathroom and that is a lot of fluid to have to hold in.  I drank all 60 glasses of beer and rushed to the bathroom to relieve myself, feeling proud of my consumption.  I don’t remember much after that and I hoped that any damage that I did to my kidneys and liver would be reversible, but sadly this was not the end of my drinking.

I went out to a club in Brazil one night where they had this great group that was playing some real old rock and roll like Steppenwolf ‘Born To Be Wild’, Frankie Ford ‘Sea Cruise’ and other goodies like the Rolling Stones.  The beer in Brazil comes in these gigantic bottles, which I shared with my friends and we drank out of small glasses.  The waitress would mark your ticket everytime you purchased a round of drinks and the odd thing was that you kept the ticket in your pocket.  The part of Brazil that I was in was called gaucho country, which is like a North American cowboy, but they dressed more like Pancho Villa.  The Brazilian girls all wore skin tight leather pants, that were so thin that it allowed your mind to detect everything.  Many of these girls had red hair, but most of them were probably wearing a wig.  I am not much of a dancer, but my table was very close to the stage and all the girls were rocking it out next to the band, so I got a real good look at what was shaking.  Watching them dance made me feel like my heartstrings were made out of a ball of twine.  I drank a lot of beer that night as my tab said that I owed for 18 bottles and when I left I was plastered and there was no way that I would have been able to say any kind of tongue twister about anyone selling shells at the seashore.  Eventually I toned down my drinking.

Written for Daily Addictions prompt Week #31 – Detect, for FOWC with Fandango – Ego, for August Writing Prompts – Pancho Villa, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Reversible, for Ragtag Community – Abide, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Thin, for the Sunday Whirl Wordle 363 prompts – Skein Bones Refrain Twine Shade Weight Wig Sea Shells Bend Shame Stones and for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Awkward.

A Popular and Influential Comedy Institution

Commotion on the Ocean is the 174th short film released by Columbia Pictures in 1956 starring American slapstick comedy team The Three Stooges (Moe Howard, Larry Fine and Shemp Howard, in his final starring role).  The comedians released 190 short films for the studio between 1934 and 1959.  The idea behind hiding microfilm in watermelons stems from an actual event that occurred in 1948.  Time Magazine’s managing editor Whittaker Chambers, a former Communist spy-turned government informer, accused Alger Hiss of being a member of the Communist Party and a spy for the Soviet Union.  In presenting evidence against Hiss, Chambers produced the Pumpkin Papers: four rolls of microfilm of State Department documents, which Chambers had concealed in a hollowed-out pumpkin on his Maryland farm.

The Stooges are janitors working at a newspaper office, and they ask to be given a chance to become reporters.  The managing editor promises to think about it, but he needs to have his dinner first.  The phone rings while he is out and Moe answers.  The person on the other end is one of the boss’s reporters, Smitty, who tells Moe that some important documents have been stolen by foreign spies.  Coincidentally, the spy with the microfilmed documents, Mr. Borscht lives next door to the Stooges and they go to him for help with learning a foreign language, so they could pass as spies.  He asks them to help him carry these watermelons and they all wind up as stowaways on an ocean liner, stranded on a freighter on the high seas.  The Stooges eventually subdue Borscht and recover the microfilm, and they finally reach land.

Written for FOWC with Fandango – Commotion and for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Ocean.

What Does That Even Mean?

Henry said, “Why would the pot call the kettle black, as that makes no sense to me and where else would you hit a nail, if not on the head?  First tell me how the cat got into the bag and how would anyone know that dog is barking up the wrong tree?”  Alan said, “These are just things that people say, they are idioms and they are not meant to be used literally or taken for granted.  These are expressions that convey something different from their literal meaning, and that cannot be guessed from the meanings of their individual words.  It is simular to a figure of speech, which is a phrase or an expression that expresses an idea by using words in a non-literal and imaginative way.  However unlike an idiom, it is possible to understand a figure of speech even if you have never heard it before.  Figurative and literal are terms that signify whether language complies with its accepted, dictionary definition (literal) or whether it diverges from its generally accepted meaning by the use of symbolism, exaggeration, or other device (figurative).  Metaphors and similes are figures of speech and a hyperbole is really just a fancy word for exaggeration.  You should not have to beat your brains out in order to understand idioms, you just need to be on the ball and come to your senses.”

Henry said, “OK I get it, but what in the heck does Men are from Mars, women are from Venus mean?”  Alan said, “The way I see it is that women use sex to have relationships, while men use relationships to have sex.  Women want partners, and all men want is to get into their pants.”  Henry said, “In The Fellowship of the Ring when J.R.R. Tolkien wrote, “All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost”, what does that mean?  Alan said, “Aragorn is running from his destiny to be the King of Gondor and this poem encouraged him to explore the world.  It seems that he is on a wanderlust, meandering down a path less traveled, roaming aimlessly in the wilderness, while truthfully he is waiting for his inner calling. Aragorn eventually realizes that he needs to fight evil and darkness and that wondering around served as a necessary acclimatization for him to face his next challenge.”

Written for FOWC with Fandango – Expression, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Acclimatization, for Ragtag Community – Challenge, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Venus and for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Wanderlust.

Monday, Best Day for Challenging the Epic Writer

Death dangled in the air for me today as I saw two prompts that I just could not pass up.  I wrote about a Procol Harum song and then I wrote a story about a cat and now I have 29 (wait since I started out with a prompt) I only have 28 prompts left to try and tackle.  This happens a lot on Mondays, as the MM Wordle challenge contains 12 prompt words and Tyler Deal and the secret keeper each have 5 word prompts and you would think that 22 prompts would be enough for anybody, but today I wanted the whole ball of wax, the whole enchilada, the whole kit-and-caboodle, the whole nine yards, the whole shebang, everything but the kitchen sink, the full monty, hook, line and sinker and lock, stock, and barrel.  I got some help with the whole ball of wax from my friend Fandango who I actually mentioned in my first post today My Blind Date, the Procol Harum post where I said something about getting the title being the part that allows all the other pieces of the puzzle to fit together in writing.  I also got some help from RayNotBradburry, as she gave me the title of this post and then I wrote the story about my cat in a post called The Chinese Rabbit.

I am comfortable working with multi-prompts and I look forward to handling this post with eloquence and style, by not forcing any of the prompts into this story, which at the moment I have no idea what it is going to be about.  As I browse over the prompts, I sort them out in my mind figuring which ones won’t clash with the others.  Most of the words seem simple enough today, but there are a few that I need to review to see if I have to perform a Google search to check their exact meaning.  I am kind of on a streak right now and it seems to me that my posts just keep on getting better, but things could turn against me and I might never be able to write a sentence that uses the word scrimshank, thus shirking what I perceive to be my duty and avoiding an obligation that I have to my readers.

So far so good 8 prompts bit the dust and only 20 are left for me to cover.  I am pretty sure that I will figure out what this post is about before I finish writing it.  It is not going to be a poem, although I am pretty sure that larder does rhyme with martyr, but so do a lot of other words like charter, garter, starter, tarter and maybe even farter, if there is such a word, and conducting myself with candor, I imagine that would depict the one who just did blast a fart, after all it would be ridiculous to blame the fish.  Rotten potatoes are known to smell foul, but I don’t think that the smell would ever produce torporific results, however I would avoid smelling them.

7 more prompts taken care of, leaving me still with 13 and none of them are negligible.  Maybe this post should be about counting, nah that sucks, but it would really be great if quarry rhymed with trolley, as that would be a real feather in my cap.  I enjoy writing, but sometimes I wonder why I write posts at all.  I don’t want to malign anyone, but sometimes I get these stalker bot bloggers (a word coined by Jina S. Bazzar) who will LIKE 5 of my posts in a one minute time period, thus since nobody is capable of reading at such a speed, I know that they did not read any of them.  If people don’t want to read my posts, then they have no business liking them.  These bloggers are merely a farce with no original thoughts of their own and I hope that I never have one of them as a cellmate as they will rue the day.

Just four prompts left, which I have no idea what to do with.  Creative writing prompts are made to inspire writers to be resourceful, but as I look at these four remaining words, I have absolutely nothing and I don’t think that if I start panting that would help.  The history of literature is filled with authors who understand that writing a story is an operation where procedures must be followed in order to get results that will attract readers.  Telling a story is a lot like painting a picture, as it must be finished and I love the way that Edgar Allen Poe story about the raven ends with the bird still sitting above his chamber door.  It is probably time for me to stop writing now and go check to see if I got any mail today.

Written for Tyler M Deal 5 Words Prompt – Cap Speed Fish Blast Farce, for Daily Addictions prompt Week #30 – Rue, for FOWC with Fandango – Comfortable, for July Writing Prompts – Death dangled, for Sheryl’s A New Daily Post Word Prompt – Eloquence, for Ragtag Community – Quarry, for Scotts Daily Prompt – Trolley, for the secret keeper Weekly Writing Prompt #152 (5) word prompt – Streak Clash Perform Browse Raven, for Word of the Day Challenge Prompt – Candor and for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle #205 – Potatoes Scrimshank Malign Review Operation Larder Cellmate Mail Torporific Negligible Panting Martyr.