Bits and pieces

[y=mx+b]

There is something about it
You know?

It's something that is yours
You know it will be there when you come home

A certain certainty
Of a love that won't let you go
No matter
No how

She loves me
And I feel it

I am there
And she knows it

Even though I feel broken and inept
She doesn't see it
Just as I don't see what she sees in herself as being unattractive in spite of her feelings causing them to be so real to her

And that's what it is

Just as water weds the heat of the sun
The two become one in vapor
And the severity and depth of each other's
Intimate, individual problems

Become scattered
Dispersed throughout the ever expanding atmosphere of time together.

 

[y=mx+b]

Madness

This time of season truly is

Every year since forever on my memory

The need to fuck
The need to breed
The want to swim
To drown in the love
Of mutual lust
In a forever fuck
Of sweat and flesh
And lubricated orgasms
Sliding in and out
And across each others bodies
In bathrooms and bedrooms
In stairwells and hot dry saunas
Licking her labia
And tasting my ejaculate
Four fingers in
Three knuckles deep.

 

[Wife of Bath]

I wish I had the words.

 

[y=mx+b]

The struggle is real

If it wasn't it wouldn't be a struggle.

There is this certain something that can be felt when you feel something feel you back

And you want to be able to place it
To put your finger on it and say "ha! I got you!"

But you can't
Which makes everything all the better

Like trying to touch the smoke rising up from a freshly blown out candle

True you are able to touch it
But it's not that of which you find yourself falling in love with
Rather it's the pattern
The silver grey ribbon that circles around your finger
Escaping
Off into the either
Leaving behind all it was ever to offer you

A patch of soot so black light falls into it

Wiped or washed off and it is gone

No trace to be seen


But yet there still is the memory
And it fills you when bring your hand up to your face

And it's all there on you
The scent of the candle, the flame, the smoke.

 

[ShaiGirl]

Hey you! Glad you're still around. I still like your bits and pieces. Have a great weekend!

 

[y=mx+b]

I wish I had the words.

It seems to me that you do
And freely share them

With other people

 

[y=mx+b]

Hey you! Glad you're still around. I still like your bits and pieces. Have a great weekend!

Honestly? I rather not be around
It's just that some thoughts of moment cannot be comfortably expressed elsewhere.

 

[y=mx+b]

Holding on to her
While she cried into my chest
Made me wish I could grasp the sun
To give her the life that it is able to provide

 

[y=mx+b]

Dysmorphia

On a whim I took this picture of me washing up at work.
It's something that usually can wait until I'm home
But that was a rather rough day personally
And I required some pre-cleaning.

So I took this photo and forgot about it
I remembered later the next day
And when I got to it
I experienced a moment of disbelief

I knew it was me
Yet it didn't feel like me

And it still doesn't


I never felt as big as I am
Granted I'm not some 6' 4" guy tipping the scales at 280

But I'm also not the 150 pound 6' 2" guy like I once was back in the early years of high school

Yet I still very much feel like that guy


When I look at this image of me
I find myself feeling angry at myself
I find myself feeling so... underwhelmed by the reality of my given disposition
Of being so trapped in my head of imaginations and emotions
And how instead of being into hunting and having a greater palate for alcohol than my wife; I'm into drawing and writing, getting caught in the emotions of my feelings and letting them carry my thoughts back to moments of experience--whether I had them, or not.

When I look at this photo of me I see an image of a guy that shouldn't defer to others as much as he does, and shouldn't feel indifferent when he does. I see a guy that is confident that when it comes time for him to stand up, others will stand down.

 

[36524]

------

 

[y=mx+b]

A sleepless stream seeks a sound that will keep it flowing
A dark crystal clarity of who she was
When she was

She had a walk about her
The kind of walk all women have
But none quit like she did

The click of her heels
Choreographed her hair
How it swayed back and forth
Across her mid-back
Like kelp clutching the sea bed sheets of sand
The Suns shimmering light
Golden across silken strands
That I wanted to feel wrapped up in my fist
Between my fingers

She had a walk about her
The kind a guy could follow to his death
Perhaps some even did

I like to think that I wouldn't
I'm not desparate

But my mind is

And my mind goes back
To that clutching kelp connected to the sea bed

Some stalks become disconnected you know
The sultry salty sway of the surrounding water gets to be too much
And it can no longer clutch
Or the strand like stalk snaps to drift
And I wonder if that when it happens
The kelp goes "oh fuck..."
Like a part of me does
When my mind can no longer clutch
The thought it once held
Long after the fact it was let go

Somewhere else on the Internet a woman asked me if I would write her
What's weird is that she's already got writers writing her words
And there's no telling what kind of words are being written to her privately

I always side on the side of others sending those that are women words of perversion so I don't bother writing anyone anything

Not anymore anyway

And if I do it's usually because I'm not entirely sure why but I briefly do
And then I feel dumb as fuck having done so
Because what I write is what's been written
And a connection is made
Nothing dirty
Just human
And mostly cathartic
And because it's just that
I dive for the ditches and disappear

Because why stick around amongs the desparate
Competing with them even when I'm not?

So out of the blue she asks me
Specifically
If I

Would write her again.

 

[y=mx+b]

And so I did

A couple more times
But you see
It's difficult to perform on demand

And I'm not a performer to begin with

Maybe sometimes I am

 

[y=mx+b]

I smell of diesel fuel and motor oil

When I come home from work
She subtly recoils

And my welcome home hug
Is usually an A-frame one.

But still, we kiss.

And she smells nice.
And her voice is soft.

Lyrical
And beautiful.

My ears fall
Into the words
Her lips speak.

Her eyes pull at me
And draw me back out
While she tries to draw out of me
How my day was.

And it's difficult
Because my body hurts
And my hands still hum
The ear-ringing-sound
Of air-powered power tools
To the tune of muffled
Thirty-three millimeter lug nuts
And all everything about me wants

--is to express my want of her.

Surrounding me.

Quietly.
Poetically.

Like the halo
That surrounds
The flame of a solitary candle.



But I give her what she wants.

The crass vulgarity of passing conversations.
The broken body heavy lifting
Of tires.

And fighting filters.

The fuck-yous
And go-fuck-your-selfs
And the bashing of thumbs
And the throwing of wrenches

And I watch her body watch my words
In a way that makes her want to fuck.

Just as hers
Made mine
Long to make love.

 

[y=mx+b]

So I work with this guy...

And to get this right out of the way...
He's the kind of guy no woman should bring home to meet her parents because he'd manage to emasculate her father and would get her mother to fuck him at some point and if not he'd certainly get her on her knees.

He's the kind of guy that can walk into any room, any situation, and own it absolutely.

The kind of guy I have little doubt that started drinking around age ten and fucking women (as in actual women) by age twelve.

The kind of guy the principal permitted to graduate from high school just to get rid of him.

And no doubt the kind of guy that took advantage of a passed out woman or two.

Now that said, and in spite of it all... he's also the kind of guy that's the champion of the little person. The person with no voice of their own. The kind of guy that has zero fear about going up against the system. And the kind of guy that system fears having to up against. The kind of guy that keeps a tight circle of friends and if you were in it.... well he'd still talk shit about you behind your back, but he'd bring you up to his level--giving you the kind of respect others better fucking give you.

Nevertheless... he's a grade "A" asshole that won't ever get his shit together. The kind of guy that gets pitty by women whenever guys like me say such things about him. Much to my motherfucking chagrin. And to the chagrin of nice guys the world over.

Seriously... fuck that guy.
And fuck those of you reading this who don't even fucking know him, yet find yourself drawn to him by my discription and subsequent disdain for. Seriously fuck all you bad-boy fetishists. May you spend your afterlife sharing an asexual purgatory with foot-worshiping heterosexual cross-dressers

Honest to fuck... fuck you.

And so my wife is all too familiar with this guy. Not that she's ever met him. Just that he's so bombastic that I come home with all kinds of entertaining stories to tell her

So one night I get to telling her about how in the locker room one of the other guys asked this guy if he's going to meet up with this woman he's been banging to which he says "yeah if she's up for fucking tonight if not, (pantomiming making a phone call, talking into his pinky, listening to his thumb) hello Lisa... can't find a babysitter? *click* Hello Kari... your boyfriend is getting suspicious? *click* Hello Daniel... period? *click* Hello Maria..."

And I'm going on about it all with an air of, "can you fucking believe this guy?" but as my wife is listening while also sorta surfing the net or whatever she was doing at the time, I started to get a feeling about something. I couldnt really place it.

After I finished my story/rant, instead of her being all "I honestly can't believe the audacity of this guy!!!" there was a brief pause that gave me the distinct impression she quit listening somewhere towards the end simply because she had enough and says...

"At least he's calling."

And so this is where you'd expect me to go "Are you fucking kidding me?!" But I didn't. Not externally anyway.

You see, my wife and I have an ongoing discussion as to how men are to be that follow along the lines of "Married Mans Sex Life". (Google it if you are unfamiliar) and "No More Mr. Nice Guy" (again, Google). And she goes on to tell another story about her friend that had moved to another city and how difficult it's been for her to find a guy in spite of all the dating sites she belongs to and all the guys she's met in between. She went on to say how her friend was making some headway with this guy she met on a dating site. So much so they made plans to meet for a date. When the day of the date night arrived the guy bailed. My wife went on to say how her friend was flat-out willing to fuck the guy that night and how she made plans not to wear panties just to get the point across and how he blew it all for himself because of why? Because he couldn't follow through. He was too scared. Scared of what? That he was going to get laid?

And so you see, that's why jackasses get all the pussy. It's not because they are fucking jackasses. It's because they move forward and when the woman says "no, not tonight" it's never taken as rejection, it's viewed as a loss. Her loss. And he keeps moving forward.

 

[y=mx+b]

It's a new day...

And here I sit stewing.

Stewing over the fact of knowing that no matter what, guys like the guy I work with will continue to do what they do and women will continue to be attracted to them.

So what.
Right?

What's the big deal?
I mean all a soft spoken insecure gent that has succumb to the siren song of gaming, pornography, and whatever other modalities of instant gratification there is that so lucidly provides one with a false sense of accomplishment has to do is see that of what they are doing is exactly that... right?

No. You know why? Because someone will always have something about them that you won't ever have and people will flock and swoon over them leaving you standing there thinking "are you fucking kidding me? I stepped out of my comfort zone and made all this personal progress and there's still more? Fuck my goddamn life"

I'm reminded of a commercial I saw some time ago. I think it was for auto insurance. A woman is waiting at an intersection when a guy on a motorcycle pulls up. She looks over and he revs the bike. A wanton look comes about her face and she starts to give him suggestive looks and he revs the bike again and her looks become all the more suggestive and just as things are getting all hot and horny a child's toy comes from nowhere and strikes her in the face or something and the camera zooms out showing that not only is she driving a minivan with kids in tow, but her husband is in the other seat obliviously looking out the window and ha ha it's all funny shit right?

Sure it is.
I get it.

And a woman has every goddamn right to find herself unhappy or distraught over the life she had to give up just as much as a guy does. Fair is fucking fair, correct?

Okay... cool.


What do you suppose the guy was daydreaming about while he was looking out the window. My imagination has him sitting there with a thought bubble thinking about the motorcycle he wanted to get after the birth of their second child but instead put the money he saved for a motorcycle into savings bonds for his kids.

So which fucking guy wins out? Who's king shit of the alpha males in that situation? Is the father even seen as an alpha male in the commercial?

So how the fuck is a guy supposed to be?

The guy I was talking about in my previous post? Yeah he's roughly the same age as I am. A year younger to be exact. Never been married. My wife has been married to me, the same old guy since she was 19.

Do you think she's bored?

If your thought was "no" you're fucking stupid.

Of course she's fucking bored! How can she not be? Because she loves me? Fuck you. Love is boredom cloaked in promise.



I honest to fuck lost the direction I was going with all of this


I guess my point is that it's pretty fucking difficult being a guy. You wouldn't think it given how the male gender has lorded over that of the female gender for as long as we have and in many respects continue to do so. But the tides are changing. The past couple decades men have been conditioned to be more conciderate of women, and rightfully so. But in doing so there's been a loss of masculinity. And it's not that we've all become sissies, because we haven't. We've become... empty with fear. Stuck in a loop of uncertainty where the fear of being too conciderate is just as strong as the fear of being abusive.

At least that's how I feel myself

And that's the one sticking issue the alpha male movement, my wife, my therapist, and my few trusted friends have a hard time addressing. How is one to be considerate yet also self entitled? Not just when it comes to getting laid, but in life in general?

I don't know.
There's a shit ton of word vomit all over the place up there and I've written myself to the point of not giving a fuck about any of it anymore.

 

[y=mx+b]

And lastly...

Here's a pic!

 

[y=mx+b]

Point... Counterpoint? More rambling nonetheless.

I admit my last couple post were kinda "boo-hoo poor me, poor nice guy finishing last..."

Or... Maybe they weren't.

I'm just as fucking clueless about whatever the fuck I mean by what I say as the next person.

Nevertheless... I found myself pissed off at myself for still being attracted to other women besides my wife.

Because this is so
I have zero ground to stand when it comes to her (and women in general) getting all hot and bothered over a guy that shows more initiative in or excels at a particular area of existence than I or all the other men like me with respect to their respective others.

In short this post is where I take it upon myself to speak for you women that share this opinion of me after having read the past couple posts.

Seriously how the fuck dare i have the audacity to imply that women should put into consideration the difficulties a man has to deal with when looking to score? Fuck that bullshit. Seriously. What a woman mostly wants is for a guy to take hold of her, and tell her not to worry because he's got this. And if he doesn't shows that he's capable to get it. Not to pamper but to provide better opportunities for her

More or less anyway? Perhaps? Maybe for some?

But that never happens because there's always.. ALWAYS! Going to be younger vivacious women that we men will want to fuck.

I talk about this with another guy I work with and have adopted as a father figure of sorts. Because he's cool. And well, because my fathers are dead and a guy should always have a father figure to talk smart with and try to figure shit out with... because if there's one thing I've come to learn as I progress further towards the second half of my life that I really wasn't counting on... at least not to such a degree... is how there is absolutely no fucking shortage of very attractive women. And you all just keep fucking bubbling up out of the ground or something. It's fucking stupid.

And it's also absolutely unfair because it's not like there's an endless well of stable men capable of providing a women with whatever she needs to feel secure and "at home" bubbling up from the ground.

And now not only do you have to compete with eachother and a never ending, vastly increasing supply of "freshmen girls", you gotta compete with an ever increasing acceptance of easily accessible pornography, habituated masturbation, and online gaming.

Honest to fuck guys are lame. And I'm not saying this to be smart or funny or to further appeal to my base demographic... whoever the fuck you are. I say this because I am one and I am guilty to the degree of being issued ultimatums. Serious ones at that.

And so with that--I leave you.
Not because I was told to

But because I choose to.

 

[y=mx+b]

Warm

Warm
Wet
Creamy white
Coating

Cock
Coaxing
Lubricant

Thrusting in
Drawing out
A desire
To feed a desire

Thick
Convecting
Ejaculate

A marbled clarity
Looking to be absorbed
To be consumed
By the warmth of another.

 

[y=mx+b]

age discrepancy

it’s one thing to read about a large gap in age in a story
quite another when experience in real life

particularly when you haven’t really given it much thought


that’s not entirely true for me

I have given it much thought but my thoughts mostly involved me with older women.

Younger women haven’t really interested me all that much in the past. Although, the older I get, the more this seems to be changing.

That said… doesn’t cross my mind as they have and should have better things to pursue.



I attended a party the other night where I was twice as old as the median age of those attending. Most of which were women. I can’t say I felt all that awkward going in. That is until I happened to notice two separate woman actively checking me out.

it was weird


I think I felt like how a woman feels when she makes a quick run to the store dressed in sweats, no make up, and unwashed hair and finds that of all the moments in her life, that’s the one where men take an active interest in her.


I never doubted the reality of a young woman’s interest in a much older man. I’ve read my fair share of stories and thread topics about the such. But I did so in that none of it pertained to me—and likely wouldn’t.


So there I was at the party minding my own business when the first young woman caught my eye. Now, she did so by wearing a rather low-cut top with a sport coat type of jacket over it. She had this early 80’s mod type of thing going for her and admittedly I liked it. Nevertheless, it doesn’t take more than sporting a low-cut top to catch a guys attention. So… whatever, we made eye contact and I wrote her off.

The thing is… she didn’t write me off.
And it wasn’t until the third obvious step into my field of view that I caught on to the fact that she may have a thing for me.

So I watched her
What was interesting was how she didn’t seem to have control of what she was doing to make sure that I noticed her. Small things like the flipping of her to one side so that I was always able to see her neck and face; and looking out the corner of her eye making sure that I was. Turning towards me whenever she was talking amongst her friends from across the room. And the constant darting eye contact. It was difficult not to think about how a daughter interacts with her father while she’s playing ballerina… always checking to see if her dad is watching her… looking to be validated by her performance. To which I did. It was difficult not to. It was; after all, for me. And it was fun. Her the exhibitionist, me the voyeur, dancing our little dance around everyone else.



The second young woman sat amongst her friends at the end of a very cramped couch.

This one I liked. She was more modest, more… organic. She pursued me less, yet took interest in me more. There was a hapless-victim sense about her. One were she acknowledged the age difference, and that for all practical reasons should not be so… curious about me, yet she was.

She was the one that made me wonder most about myself. What was it about me? Why?

The nature of attraction with the other young woman was largely mutually sexual. Which is easy enough to explain and written off as a one-night-stand. The nature of attraction that this young woman had was sexual, sure, but there was also a seeking-out sense about it. As if she were looking for shelter, protection, a place where she could settle and not have to worry about breaking it in, decorating it. A place where she could just be who she was without having to defend or explain.

I confess to playing with her. I confess to making purposeful eye contact with her. I confess to being sadistic in that kind of sense with her. I let her know that I saw her, and expressed my equal interest in her as best as I could through eye contact. And I confess to getting a kick out her frustration of deeply wanting to escape her clutch of friends in favor of me, but not wanting to be seen doing it. Not wanting to admit that she wasn’t interested in the same things that they were interested in, and perhaps fearing the associated stigma of having “daddy-issues”.


So now I sit here thinking about it all. Thinking about how…


I don’t know what I am thinking about. and really it’s all just a waste of my time doing so. I have no interest. Even if I were single I doubt I’d have an interest. At least in terms of establishing an actual relationship with a woman 15-20 years younger than I. It’s actually excessively exhausting to think about.

 

[y=mx+b]

In a funk

My wife has a medical procedure tomorrow

It's a minor one
I don't think she even needs to be put under

Nevertheless I took the day off.


I woke up this morning with the thought of how bad things happen unexpectedly and applied that thought to the up coming procedure and I soon found myself in the matrix like realm of my imagination where the events imagined aren't real but the emotions very much are.

So for a moment I lost my wife. The dr. came in and said there was an issue etc...

With my wife having to work today I found myself laying in bed feeling as though I was just told the news of her passing yesterday. I laid there in a disbelief that she was gone and that she was going to come home any moment even though I (in my matrix world) knew that she wasn't.

It's a feeling I've had before when I was a young child after my dad died. I remember accepting the fact that he was dead, yet death was a concept I wasn't familiar with and there was an expectancy of him returning home after work.

Only he never did.


I've had similar experiences with the loss of my stepfather. But it's all kinda backwards from when I was a child. Now quite familiar with death I find myself forgetting that he's actually dead and I'll experience a moment or an accomplishment I know he and he alone would get a kick out of hearing and I get all excited about telling him. And then I remember that I can't.

I found myself laying there empty not knowing how to be and feeling that how I've been just hasn't been enough.

 

[y=mx+b]

We're back and my wife is comfortably resting and is doing so not so much because of the procedure, but rather because we both finished gorging on pizza and bread sticks that we had delivered.

I'm glad to have taken the night off from work as I absolutely don't feel like doing anything but take a nap.

 

[y=mx+b]

Another thing I give too much thought to

Women teachers having sex with their male students

And I'm not talking about the first year 22-23 year old teacher banging some 17-18 year old football stud or artistically inclined pensive Don Juan. I'm talking about the 28+ year old doing it with a kid 17 or younger.

Why I think I think about it as much as I do is because every time one of these women gets busted I'm struck with the same kind of viceral feeling I felt when I happened upon the first porno I ever watched.

Now I've been no stranger to porn since forever. But up until that moment it's always been in a 2-D format. An element of... fiction? was associated with the images I saw. I mean, I knew the naked women I was seeing were women, but having never seen an actual naked woman--let alone one in action. All the women I knew were, well... teachers. And of course family members, and the girls in my class etc...

So when I threw the vhs tape into the vcr and began watching I was... well I was turned on, but I was also dumbfounded! I mean... all the women I knew didn't do any of that and gave no impression hat they ever would! Sure there's what I saw in the porno mags... but none of that was real. I mean... they were just pictures. Right? And eventhough the pictures alluded to the awareness of porno flix, it just didn't register.

And so what I was seeing on film was an aberration to what I had previously known about girls (a category which I generically lumped all women into regardless of age, profession, or relation... to give you an idea of about how old I was).

And that's my initial reaction I have hearing about a teacher actively pursuing a sexual relationship with a kid she could have given birth to--or most certainly should know better. It's an aberration to what is normal and dare I saw one that's greater than homosexuality? And much like homosexuality I can't say I see anything wrong with it. Fundamentally.

Desire to be desired is desired
And when orgasms serve to be the sole currency of the business, does age matter between two consenting individuals?


I've gone further into this as I intended and honestly don't have it in me at the moment to continue so seriously so I'm somewhat veering off.

The thing is... I can't imagine how the male teachers feel. I mean, I'd be pissed the fuck off that my hot co-worker was giving up the goods to some twat jock or pensive poet type in the auditorium during her off hours of the day, or on the desk (we probably share) after class. Particularly if I'm single and available. I fucking feel myself getting pissed off for these guys. Here they are, secure, stable, employed, able to buy a woman a decent glass of wine legally and in a mature fashion should the moment call for it... and what's she doing? Sucking off a student near the dumpsters behind Applebee's.

And the teaches that are married and have families! Seriously... unless the husband is in the know and promotes the practice, I can't imagine the devastation that's felt learning that your wife has been banging some kid(s) she teaches or attends the school she teaches at in places and in ways he's come to believe the only reason why pornstars do it is because of the money!

Now... granted, perhaps these women turn to their students because... well they are easy to teach therefore more apt to take direction without question or judgment. Because let's be honest here, it really fucking blows having to build up the courage to express to an equal or of greater influence the things you are really into or find yourself wanting to try. Even if the other half is game, they merely indulge without engaging. How long can one go on like that before breaking down and seeking out someone... anyone with the capacity of understanding why you get off on whatever it is that gets you off, thereby gets off being the one getting you off?

 

[Interested_Girl]

How steep is your slope?

 

[y=mx+b]

Steep.

 

[Mrgl720]

No idea how on earth I missed this thread but, hello handsome, I can't wait to read and see more.