ur pr0n, ur doin it wrong: im in ur base, doin ur doods

[ladycaviar]

Again, maybe it's something in the water.

There's a big swirl of people I respect posting in many fora (I suppose I could grit my teeth and write "forums") in the theme of change through inner strength, in various areas ranging from service to arts to fighting racism; but generally it's sic semper tyrannis to the assholes and hey, we're just as good as them, how the fuck did they get to be running things and this shit's just not gonna fly, no sir. w00t, and all that -- but that's not where I'm going, not at all.

With my beloved Atlantians, inevitably somewhere down these threads, I will be damned if I don't find that the discourse degenerates into a discussion of porn somewhere every time. God love you people, you are my fucking favorites. First, debauchery among peers is period, I can document it. But I love how it shows such a lack of fear from both the men and the women, such comraderie and ease. I am so home. :)

However, your sad pathetic little attempts compare in no way to my real life. Hah. So I taunt you with this:

I drove six hours to be with him, and I'm exhausted. I have room only for the thought of being with him. He is waiting in my bed for me, wearing nothing at all. So exquisitely handsome, he is 19, pale haired, strong for his size.

I slide onto the bed and greet him with hugs and kisses, but he makes it clear he wants what he wants. I am not surprised, I expected it to be this way. He has always been strong minded. He pushes my hand down to where he wants it, and makes deep noises of appreciation when I comply. I don't mind, I have never been able to resist him. I am captivated, besotted with love.

I lay back into the pillows, my arms stretching up over my head and through my unbound hair. He follows my movements fluidly to lie on top of me, sinking his weight onto me, and brushes me, nose to nose. He sinks his nails into my shoulder, hard, as he gently caresses his soft cheek against mine, as if to reassure himself that I belong to him. I let him, I don't resist. He is my everything, I adore him. I am certain at this point he is drawing blood -- still, I do not move to stop him, I stay where it pleases him. I know I will sleep in this bed where he wishes me to sleep, after he makes himself comfortable first; he will decide if he wishes me to curl around him to keep him warm tonight or whether in some inexplicable pique he will push me away. I listen to the sounds of his breathing mixed with mine, his heartbeat against mine, and whatever he chooses to do with me at this moment is his to do.

He starts horking up a hairball, and quickly but gently I hoist him off the bed onto the floor. Love is love, but there are rules. I think "no barfing on me" is a pretty good bed rule, and it applies to all my men, cat or otherwise. He protests in a very vocal and uniquely Siamese way. I clean his litterbox and bring him stinky fish treats as consolation for his indignity before we curl up together and go to sleep.

Perhaps it's the water; perhaps it's just in how one looks at thing. Honestly, the things that entertain me...

Comments

[mooselover13.livejournal.com]

I'm still snickering. I only got a brief gimpse of your 'man' when you were moving... but he did look sort of majestic hanging out on the pillow.

I'm not sure that I'd use the word 'strong' to describe him though. :x

[ladycaviar.livejournal.com]

Hey, you scritchle him in the wrong place, you'll see how hard an elderly Velveteen Rabbit of a cat turns into Mr. No, he's still got some tiger in him yet. ;)

[melvh.livejournal.com]

And how is Mr. Z? (It took me a second or two, but the lightbulb when on at "19, pale haired, strong for his size".)

Nor is he the only one glad to have you home. I have missed you. We have missed you.

[dr-zrfq.livejournal.com]

*giggle*

[johnomar915.livejournal.com]

ok you had me going. Well done.

I agree with the barfing rule. But it applies to women too.

Don't ask