I never get nervous about first dates, but here I am, battling a fluttering gut and palpitating heart.
In less than 20 minutes he’ll round the corner and I will feel his arms around me as we hug hello. I will get to fill my nostrils with his scent and feel the vibrations of his own nerves through my fingertips.
I’ve strategically placed my purse on the seat so he must sit as close to me as possible. I don’t think he will mind.
The hotel lounge fragrance is both sweet and decadent and the staff are politely chatting with one another as bottles clink and ice is scooped. A gentle, pulsing melody floats overhead.
I’ve shaved my legs and even my pussy, but didn’t wash my hair. It’s my way to syche out the Universe. Or confuse it. I don’t know what I want with this young man tonight.
All I know is that if I had not shaved my overgrown snatch, he absolutely for sure would have ended up with his face buried in it later.
It’s a special weekend, y’all! It’s my birthday!! And it’s Ann’s birthday, too! I have fun things planned for me and Peyton and this year looks like it’s going to be a better one than the last two. Fingers crossed!
In addition to Ann’s birthday tits, I also have sexy Sandy and a friend from IG, @bustycurvymilf. It’s an account run by a husband for the love of his – you guessed it – busty, curvy, milf wife. They’re lovely, so if you’re on the ‘Gram, check them out.
In other news, I had an interesting convo with an IG follower today about how women “like me” are asking for dick pics. Check out my post if you’re dying to know what it was all about or you can wait because I’m definitely writing about this. For some reason I was finally able to crystallize my argument against that line of thinking. I don’t think I converted him, but I think I found a shorter way around between the two points.
Happy Labor Day weekend to those of us in Canada and the Us! Enjoy your Monday off!
Also, if you have it in your heart, please donate to a relief fund for Harvey. The pics are heartbreaking.
I had a revelation this week about intimacy, false intimacy, specifically.
All these years I have struggled with how I am treated because I felt like there were connections, real things occurring between me and the men in my life. And they were happening, I just called them the wrong things.
I called them trust and respect and intimacy. I should have been calling them hunting, playing, and gorging.
We did the dance of lust and curiosity, girated and slobbered on one another. Pulled hair and smacked flanks and spent hours cultivating a persona with 26 characters and a few vegetable emojis until our fingers were exhausted and our bellies full of pursuit. Until we were over as quickly as we started.
I’m wondering how I could have been so wrong for so long, to expect so much of the right answer from the wrong equation.
First of all, how can anyone get to know me if all we do is text then drink in a dimly lit room bathed in each other’s pheromones?
Secondly, they haven’t done anything to earn my trust so why am I so surprised when they’ve broken it? I hand it out like candy in Halloweeen night like the daddy-hungry little girl that I am.
I have expected something from nothing, for a rose to bloom out of granite.
So now I’m on my way to meet a man I hardly know and I don’t care about. He’s from a neighboring city and used the word “laconic” to describe himself. He’s 5’7″, good looking, charming as a Labrador and he will suffice for tonight because the truth is… I think I’m ok with nothing right now.
The rose can come later when it makes sense to grow. Right now, all I want is to feel the honesty of cold, hard rock.
You’re looking at Canadian boobs today, my friends! It’s lovely to be in a climate more similar to that of my beloved Northern California: dry, bright, cool in the shade, warm in the sun. The city is a bustling one and I love all the humanity on the streets, people busy getting from point A to point B, heads down, legs swinging, Beats by Dr. Dre on their ears (seriously, they’re everywhere).
So here we have the lovely Sandy in a scandalous white shirt and Ann St. Vincent cooking up some side boob for you, and of course my rainy morning tits.
Have a fantastic weekend everyone. Next week I’ll be sending you French tits!! Viva la France!
There’s a spike in my desire to post and take pics.
I could say it’s entirely due to sending the letter or I could say a month of working out, being sober, eating right, working hard, and some really nice sex with a really nice man have also contributed.
I’m going to have to cut back a little on the working out as some weird posterior/interior ankle muscle of some kind has decided to flare up. My chiropractor said it’s a common thing from overuse. I’m a little chagrined by that, to be honest, but I’ll take it as a warning that my body isn’t quite the wonderland I’d hoped – at least not yet.
Softball has started up again, too, and with that a whole host of minor injuries. But I’m in pain anyway, so might as well live life, right?
And speaking of which, I’m feeling quite proud of myself. Next Tuesday will be the end of my Whole30 and I plan on easing back in to the cut out food groups to see which I react to negatively. I honestly can’t wait for some fucking bread and cheeeeeese, though I know I’ll have a bad reaction. Oh well.
Anyway, it’s a small set of lovely breasts that I have to bring you here. I don’t know where Kim from South Africa has wandered off to (I hope you’re on a wonderful vacation or something!), but we have our stalwart star, Sandy with us still! To the bloggers who faithfully link and post every week, THANK YOU AND I THINK YOU’RE AMAZING. The fact that we all look so different, yet present ourselves as not only beautiful and sexy, but as normal and real makes me so proud of all of us. Please don’t ever stop!
School is out here and I’ve spent the week juggling work and child. I don’t have enough money for camps this summer again, so my parents are coming in for the big win this summer. Bike rides, sewing lessons, watching the lead up to the Comey hearing. The usual things you do with your grandchildren.
I have two posts I need to write. One where I had great sex with a really nice man and one where I was coerced and groped by a really not nice man. I’ll write those this weekend. I’ve held off writing them because it feels like a reward to write when I haven’t yet written to The Neighbor. I am revising my letter to bullet points. If he wants to read the narrative I’ll happily send it on, but I’ve decided short and sweet is the way to go. Wish me luck!
This week I have more lovely women to share with you. Miss S shares her longing for her husband who’s passed, Sandy and Miss Over 50 also join in and we have a new participant, Mike’s Lady.