Preface to my Novel

As the rain fell against her window, she opened her eyes slowly. Such a dreary morning to already be performing fellatio, but what else was there to do, besides her turn was cumming up next. Pun intended. She reached her hand up his soft warm body as he grunted with pleasure. She toyed with the thought of calling out of work and maybe just lay there all day fornicating and “being 16 again”. Irresponsible and naïve. Lord knows it had been forever and a day since she allowed herself that contentment.

‘She’ was Anne Driscoll. A 32 year old dancer. And the legitimate kind, not of the exotic sort. Ballroom, salsa, but mainly ballet. Although, to her everything was exotic & sexual. Paying the hot young cashier and slipping in a lingering glance, grinding against her male dance partner, Steve, even though she was certain of his homosexuality. It gave her fantasies to play with. Even now as she deep throats her occasional Tuesday-Thursday night mistake, better known as Damien, or as she refers to him with her friends; Jack Hammer. Mr. Hammer works as a valet in the neighboring building adjacent to her job. Their union began quickly and very spicy. He had been just the thrill she was looking for when she turned 30. He was 27 at the time and prime for picking. They never did much outside of the bedroom, but that’s exactly what Anne had wanted. Or was it?

Damien squeezed her hair in his hands and began to thrust eagerly, chasing the orgasm that was about to devour his entire body. His breathing got heavier as the intensity grew. Anne squeezed back in assurance to cum. And so he did. They had been off and on lovers for a little over two years, so it was completely acceptable for him to fill her mouth with his succulent semen. She enjoyed it thoroughly, almost as if it were her reward for working so hard for him. Anne also demonstrated acts of affection because she wanted it repaid exactly the way she gave it. Damien was very good at doing just so. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her hard. He turns her slowly on her back and kisses down toward her navel and beyond, she quietly thinks. Definitely calling out today.

Philly, wont you be thy Neighbor

Hey friends, fam, haters, lovers, guys and dolls. I've been cheating on you a bit with Philly Neighbor. See what I've been ranting about and check out other rants from the infamous gents & lady(ies). All Philly, all the time. I mean, afterall, what else is there?!

Inspire This!

What great things would you attempt if you knew you could not fail.--Robert H. Schuller

We must become the change we want to see.--Mahatma Gandhi

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.--Ralph W. Emerson

And in the end it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.--Abraham Lincoln

remember people:

Intergalactic Sense Of Heaviness

Again you go.

Both faced outwards.

Not looking to stay, nor staying to know.

The timetable has passed.

Our journey's don't cross.

We held on to the laughs in

addition to the loss.

The time was real and refreshingly true.

Six years still gone & my heart is still

infected with you.

The Past Lies Under The Dust

nostalgia: nos.tal.gia (no.stah.juh) n. 1. a bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past.

Before she knew it, she was right back there again. Awaiting a response. Some form of flattery or half full nostalgia. Although she tried to trick her mind into reassuring itself, it was nothing more than a breezy recurrence, she knew better. She knew that her thoughts would dance around the wrong side of the tracks. Inhaling the memories that she once considered regrets. Exhaling charming little, indifferent remembrances.

Questions, inevitably, have made their way to the surface, as she climbs into bed and faces the ceiling. Arms above her head, she reflects with a smile. Wondering how the years have changed herself and the person in question. Wondering how it may not have changed them at all. Not lost, just wondering..

Did they miss the same thing? Was there still a blanket of comfort that no one else has filled since their union? With a toss of her pillow she escapes her intrusive mind. Logic has presented itself useful with it's auto-shut off valve. Ut-oh there it goes again. Apprehensively submerging back into the past, she closes her eyes and thinks once again. And maybe it'll never change. Maybe that's just the one person she'll always find herself pondering over. Maybe she can break away from the thoughts before the morning comes. Or maybe, he'll just haunt her forever.

Playing with ghosts intrigued her, afterall.