*EEB - Struggling (04-08-2009)

Dreams are the vacant delusions in which I try to escape the harsh ugliness of life. I find no solice there any longer. They are painful reminders of all that is missing. Hopes are nothing more than sadistic tormentors that disappear like deceptively bright clouds ripped to shreds by the cruel winds of reality when I get too near. Don’t tell me it could probably be worse, I’m learning to expect it soon will be.

*EEB - Life Synops - Part Two (12-16-2008)

Before we'd moved from Grandma's house I'd started high school. I was so painfully shy and introverted then… (Yes, hard to believe huh... *wink*) I had a few friends who quite honestly if it weren't for them I don't know how I would have made it through that time in my life. It's probably why those who I choose to call my friends are so valuable to me to this day. But still I had no self worth so I'd often ask them why they were my friends because I saw no value in myself. How much could you have if your parent is always telling you how worthless you are or how I was a waste of time and effort. It was during this time that I had a wonderful teacher who found that I had a knack for writing and encouraged me to do so. He also made me smile and took great pleasure in making me blush so I'd turn that lovely magenta shade a few may have seen on occasion. (Yes, I still blush rather easily – comes from being a born redhead I think.) It was also during this time that I met Rodney. He was two years ahead of me and flirted with me outrageously. Something that took me by great surprise because I just didn't get that kind of attention from guys ever! Looking back I can also see that I was so incredibly vulnerable; that I was starved for any positive attention. We became very good friends and we were strictly that for the first five years that we knew each other. Ah but he was a huge bone of contention between me and my mother… She'd been sadly influenced by her father, my grandfather, who had been an official card carrying member of the KKK. But even through my own lack of self worth I started to recognize that my mother wasn't the ultimate authority on all things right and wrong despite her attitude to the contrary. I think we all start our own evolution when we begin to question those who've had authority in our life. There are also times when we realize that those same people are somehow stunted in their development and we recognize when we have surpassed all they are able to be. There's a sense of freedom in that knowledge, that somehow we've cut at least one of the major invisible threads that tethers us to the burden of their limitations...

We moved to the small isolated town of ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />New Carlisle. Did you know that Carlisle means city within walls? Well it sure felt like that to me to be sure! I felt imprisoned there. Not only because it was so small but because now I didn't have that circle of supportive friends. As I said, I was expected and did give up my teen age years to raise my brother and sister while mom worked. She was a master manipulator and made me feel guilty for wanting more than what I had in my "duty to the family." (Another ideal that was engrained into me that I can't manage to extricate myself from to this day) My escape was writing and I filled volumes with my journals. Writing was my reasoning tool, my exorcist, my sanity and my best friend. Through it I tore myself to pieces and restructured myself, finding not only value but real worth and I'll also admit to a bit of arrogance in my own ability for tolerance. For all that I was discovering about myself I still had a long way to go… Even now, decades later, I find that sometimes when I'm feeling out of control and vulnerable I feel like that same lost girl, doubting myself all over again. But in understanding myself I became even more intuitive to others. Some said that I had an uncanny ability to know what was going on in others minds, which was why they came to me when they wanted advice or were trying to understand a situation and to make sense of the actions of others.
With time I made friends, both male and female, (I've always had friends of both sexes, believe they can be such and actually prefer male friends to female, I just seem to be able to relate to them more easily) But I was always the one they came to with their troubles. I wanted my friends to be happy so I did my best to be there for them. I look back now though and see how one sided some of those tended to be but I really don't mind. I only have my self to answer for in life ultimately so as long as I am being the person I feel I need to be then that's all I can do but it did teach me another lesson on people, not everyone defines things the same as you might. What I considered was my role as a friend may not be the same as what someone else sees it as being. That was a concept that took some adjusting to as well and I think we all struggle with it even more as we get older and less tolerant of differences. But anyway… the guys only saw me as a friend, (I didn't mature in my attitude or my physical appearance until more recent years. Oh my breasts were always there, wore a size 36C in as early as fifth grade, but it was a bit annoying to me then that guys seemed to be so attracted to only that aspect of me so I dressed to cover that up and was very plain in my appearance) This left me always on the outside of the social interactions of teen life. Again, that might not be a very bad thing since it meant that I wasn't out doing the things my other friends were doing and finding themselves in trouble for because they weren't making the best choices for their life at that time. Please don't think though that I'm under any delusion that I was immune to making bad choices. I had my share although a vast majority of them were squeezed into my 'late rebellion.' More on that later… Anyway, not being overly social gave me more of a chance to watch and study the interactions of my friends and others. So with my own mistakes and paying close attention to others I learned that ultimately the best way to learn a lesson in what choices not to make is to see those who have chosen wrong and are living with the consequences. Ah, and yes there was the RP… I can look on it now and see that it probably kept me from doing some of the more foolish things that my friends did and most likely kept me safer because I wasn't able to be out running around like they could. It also isolated me even more. Well, there was that and my mom keeping me under a leash to my 'obligations.' But the RP also made me again choose friends that I could literally put my life in their hands and trust to look out for me. My visual fields were pretty normal then but I've always been night-blind so I never drove at night, though my night vision then wasn't nearly as bad as now, but I did have to have friends who didn't mind looking out for me, guiding me around if I needed it.

Now onto that late rebellion… I was about 19 when it happened and Lord knows how I managed to make it through in one piece! It began when mom finally got her way and Rodney caved to the pressure… We had started seeing each other more seriously, by then I was 18 but she was still determined to protect me from the ills of facing the wrath of society by being entangled with a black man. (Right, like that was the only reason I ever heard…) Rodney called for me one night and mom took the call, explaining to him that if he didn't stop seeing me she would disown me and put me out on the street. He knew that she'd been threatening to put me out for one reason or another most of my life as a means of controlling me so I knew that it had just been easier for him to cut all ties than keep dealing with her drama. Gee, that made me feel great knowing I'd not been worth fighting for with him. But it was not bloody likely she was ever going to follow through since I was keeping her home intact but Rodney wasn't as steadfast in our relationship as I was so he bailed. Oh I remember that night, the night my mother dug the knife so deep I thought I'd never stop bleeding from the pain of it. Rebellion exploded in me as I told her how much I hated her and walked out the door to die inside. The sad part is that I was tied to my family, I couldn't leave. My absolute knowledge of what my mother truly was made me stay for the sake of my brother and sister. I stayed because as I saw it I was all they had even if I didn't believe that was much, it was still more than mom could be for them. I still looked out for my brother and sister; we had realized that we only had each other to rely on so we'd grown together for the most part. Anyway, I started running around more with friends, sneaking out to run around in fast cars, spending as much time as I could away from home, hiking around state parks where I couldn't see an inch in front of my face at night trusting friends not to get me killed, partying and generally making up for lost time. As I said, I was very lucky. A particular incident comes to mind… Including one night where I'd gone out with a couple of my guy 'friends' who picked up more guy friends and bought a bunch of alcohol... Beer and early male testosterone brain lock doesn't improve any situation. After a bit they thought I was to be their treat for the night. That idea was squashed right quick when I forcefully informed them that the first idiot willing to risk his life was going to get a beer bottle smashed upside his head and the rest I would beat the hell out of if they tried to touch me. Thankfully this all occurred while we were all still sitting in the car so none of them had any leverage and I was in the middle of the front seat so I had a definite advantage. They were to take me home and never darken my step again. There is a definite advantage to not being a small woman. They knew I was serious so they took me home and the next time I saw any of them they apologized. Just the same I put distance between myself and them. Make no mistake, it scared the hell out of me and I never made the mistake of allowing myself to get into a similar situation again.
Oh and driving… One of my all time favorite freedoms… It ranked right up there with water and sun for me. And baby was I ever a lead foot! One of my best claims to fame was that Scott had gone to a vocational high school where he'd taken auto mechanics. (He had a natural talent with anything mechanical and fast) So most of his friends were big motor heads. He would brag that his sister, me, could outdrive any of them anytime and I could too! I loved driving and I loved driving fast! (I did slow down a bit when I flipped and rolled one car into a 6 foot ditch off the side of a country road and managed to walk away with nothing more than some very nasty bruises and minor stitches. Those kinds of things happen pretty easily when you're driving a Vega wagon with may pops and you hit fresh tar and gravel on a country road doing almost 70mph and the front right tire blows! Nose in first, flipped it back over front and then rolled it sideways three times. No seat belt and during one roll my head went out the side passenger window into the only damned mud puddle in the ditch but bounced back in before the roof of the car rolled down to crush my head… Yes, life wasn't ready to let me go just yet…
) The partying was limited. I never acquired a taste for beer or the hard stuff, though I did get quit wasted a couple times on it, made me horribly sick but five cent whiskey and cokes, even if they are weak, will do that after about 14 of them... YUCK! What a horrid night and whole next day that had been! My saving grace was since I'd never been able to see of drive at night I always had someone else who had to be the designated driver! It's still that way today. I found that I was allergic to pot, never really liked the feeling anyway. (It was a control thing I guess, I always have to be aware of what's going on around me and be able to remember it the next day) Discovered wine and dancing the night away at clubs. My friends and I had a system for letting me know, since I could see very little in those dark clubs, who I should and shouldn't dance with when they asked. (Can you even imagine the hilarity of it to have a guy walk up and tell you that he's noticed you watching him during the evening when you're in a place where every one just looks like a black silhouette against the neon beer signs and you'd be lucky just to see your own hand in front of your face because it's so dark and you're night blind as it is?) I also added to my sexual partner list, another area I didn't go overboard on because quite frankly I wouldn't have known what the hell to do with them. For all the information I thought I had I was naïve about sex and still not confident enough to embrace the education or the lessons… (Gee how time has changed me! Now my issue is my deep desire to expand my horizons and not having a partner with the imagination or ability to do so. Life can be so damned cruel!) Besides, I was still gun shy. I'd already been hurt once and I wasn't willing to jump in too deep again. Funny how important something or someone becomes to others when they no longer have it. Apparently that's what happened to Rodney. It took him a couple years but he decided I was what he wanted in his life. Oh and I was not going to be an easy catch. He'd hurt me deeply and that hadn't healed. I couldn't trust him as completely as I had before. As beneficial as I can see that break up was after the fact, in that it broke that illusion of the untarnished first love, even once we got back together I still withheld a part of myself from him. Self preservation I'm sure… (He's since had other occasions to make me reserve myself as well over our life.) He'd been laid off from where he'd worked during the great Reagan military build up and went into the Army. Not long after joining he asked me to marry him. I did love him and I saw it as finally having someone in my life that would be there for me and love me back so I said yes. At that time I was still living at home, my brother and sister were old enough to take care of themselves and that time around I never let mom know that I was seeing Rodney again. It was my life and I'd be damned if I was going to allow her to dictate the rest of it for me. About two years after he'd joined the Army he came home one weekend and we got married… ok, eloped. No big wedding, just me, him, the minister (a former air force chaplain that we found via the same air force base where I'd been born who could do it on the spur of the moment), and his wife in the tiny white country church out in the middle of nowhere. Needless to say our families were very surprised. We were married June 1 1984 and he was gone back to his base June 2 1984. We spent all of thirty days together that first year and they weren't consecutive… See, he was based at Fort Jackson, SC and all his 'friends' kept telling him that it wouldn't be a good idea for him to bring me down there being the kind of couple that we were and again, I wasn't his top priority, I waited and begged for a year for him to bring me there before he actually did. Of course mom took every opportunity to add her poisoned two cents. "Well if he really loved you then he'd want to have you with him no matter what…" And in the back of my mind I was sad that I had to agree to a point. (Another tell tale I should have seen for what it was but didn't) Eventually he did find us a place, with my doing most of the searching from Ohio, (before the internet I might add), and he came back to get me. Now, a very funny thing happened between me and my mother when I was actually leaving. She said, "You're not really going to leave us to go with him are you?" I told her that yes, he was my husband and I was finally going to be where he was. She was actually upset with me for leaving when she'd done nothing my whole life but threaten to make me go… First she threatened the children's home when I was younger, the juvenile home as I got older and then the streets when I got to be 18 and over. At the time leaving home was hard because it had been all I knew but I was ready to go, ready for something new – my own life.

*EEB - A Mother's Ire (12-11-2008)

I'm trying really hard not to let my emotions get the better of me but I'm having a really hard time because it involves my son. A little background here… My son had developmental problems that we discovered when he was about a year old. He wasn't doing the things those other children his age did. At first his doctor told us not to be concerned, children develop differently one from the other. By the time he should have been developing more complex language skills and still wasn't on par for his age we were concerned and told our pediatrician who merely told us to read to him more. OK, no problem. We read to him every night. Stories, poems, even had a sesame street dictionary that we'd read him word and their definitions out of to try and increase his vocabulary. This did help but there were still other things that just weren't right. The first instinct is to find out what might be causing the problem because if you know what caused it then you might find how to correct it. The poor kid had testing done from a CAT scan to blood tests for fragile X syndrome and lead poisoning. There were no answers, there was just him needing me to do everything I could to help him in a world that was going to be even more difficult for him than it was for most other kids. At the age of 3 we had him in a special school geared to helping children with development delays where I was told my son was developmentally handicapped. He'd never learn past a certain age. For those who don't know me you won't know that the last thing anyone wants to tell me is that something can't be done or to give up. I don't know how to when it really matters most. So I worked with my son, I worked with the schools and by the time he was in third grade his 'academic classification' had been changed from being developmentally handicapped to having learning delays. Doesn't sound like much but that meant that he went from never being expected to function past a relatively young age to being just enough behind others his age to need some extra assistance to accomplish the same as they could. I never stopped pushing him… In a lot of ways my expectations made our relationship harder because I knew my son and knew that he could do whatever he wanted to do as long as he wanted to enough. Needless to say this meant that he and I clashed a lot during his teen age years but the result was that by the time he got to high school he only had to have assistance in math. He was mainstreamed in all other classes and doing better than just passing grades. The one thing that we learned was that he may take a bit longer to catch on but once he gets it he snowballs and catches up very quickly. Throw in the fact that he also inherited my visual disorder as well as being very nearsighted so he will probably never be able to drive unless some medical miracle should occur; the kid is not going to ever have it easy. He'll always have to work harder to do what others take for granted.

He graduated from high school but because I'd spent those years at home working with him I didn't have a career of my own so there was no money for him to further his education and because of the prior assessments any state or educational agency refused to offer assistance other than helping to find a menial job. It makes me sick how these agencies want to define a person's ability that has no real idea what that person really is. It seems they'd prefer to error on the side of negativity because it takes the least amount of effort on their part. Anyway, he didn't need their help to find a job where they felt he'd need a babysitter just to be able to learn it; he found his own and did as he was told to learn what was required to do the job on his own.
Now this is where my heartache comes in. Knowing all that this young man has battled in his life, how far he's come, how much he's accomplished and how oh so proud of him that I am I have to watch him today deal with something that he shouldn't have had to. That job he got for himself was at Wal-Mart, the great retail demon God. He had worked there for over a year, never missed but one day in all that time and it was a blizzard that caused that, had gotten employee of the month, bonus' and such for his dedication to his job and those he worked with as well as customers had nothing ever but praise to offer about him. This kid got up this morning and went to work as usual. Was sitting in the break room BEFORE his shift and while watching something on the television swore once over something that he'd seen. He wasn't even clocked in yet so he was still on his own time in a room where he'd been alone until the manager had walked in but since the manager heard him swear, told him there was a zero tolerance for it and terminated him right then and there.

The thing is that I think I'm more upset about it than my son is. Since he no longer had to work today he spent it out looking for another job and knowing him he will do the same till he finds another. Of course the assistant manager pleaded with him to come back in three months and reapply and she'd push for him to be rehired. Shouldn't she have pushed for him to be kept? In my head I know the manager's obvious penance for snap judgment will not serve him well in life and will bite him in the ass more than once as consequence for his choices but in a time when it's a rare few young people, (and even those who are older for that matter) who have a high work ethic; should it be ok to disregard that over such a insignificant and benign incident? Perhaps its vindictive of me to hope that they are made plainly aware and it is crystal clear in the most painful of ways just how valuable a job my son did for them.It's not that I imagined he'd have a future at Wal-Mart, I want more for him than that, and it's the principle of it. I do admit that in this economy and especially in our already desperate job market I worry about his finding another job. At the age now of 22 he needs something that will have benefits soon. As of right now he's still covered under ours but as I've always done with him I have to weigh out the goals. And of course it'd be left to me to figure it out because my husband will have to be pushed to even make the effort of participating in the process. You know when I could more easily rely on myself to get things done his non-involvement could be overlooked because at least one of us was getting things done. Now that I have no choice but to ask for his help more and he still looks at me like a deer caught in head lights my patience with him wears VERY thin. At any rate, this is about my son… I'm sure something will turn up but for now I can't shake two emotions. Anger for the situation and guilt for somehow not provided him more opportunity than he currently has. Somehow even after 22 years of not knowing why he has the problems that he does I still wonder was it something I did or could have prevented? And then I wonder if life will ever just be easy ever. I am so tired of it being so hard so much of the time.

*EEB - Life Synops - Part One (12-09-2008)

I have a friend who has been writing fantastic blogs for a while now, most of it is off the wall stuff that makes you laugh your ass off but then there are others where he lets you have a peek into his life and you realize that there’s actually something pretty amazing going on inside that hard sun baked Aussie head of his. He’s let me/us see the building blocks of what has made him the man he is and I’ve always felt that knowing those beginning steps that people have taken are the very best way to know a person and in turn learn something about the rest of the world. So because of you my dear friend Addy, I open a vein and bleed my own life onto the pages for those who care to take the time to really get to know me for outside fantasyland… Hugs B! (Ah, and also by his inspiration since this is a long tale to tell I’ll break it up in parts, plus I don’t have it all written yet – hey, I’m still living my life, don’t have freakin forever to sit down all the time and write about it! LOL)....
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Frame of reference - Date: 1897 ....
1: an arbitrary set of axes with reference to which the position or motion of something is described or physical laws are formulated ....
2: a set of ideas, conditions, or assumptions that determine how something will be approached, perceived, or understood.....
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I was first made aware of this concept via a teacher I’d had in elementary school as early as the second grade. The teacher explained that everything we experienced, every person, place; event that touched our life would mold the person that we came to be. I remember being fascinated with the premise that the things around me, both externally and internally, would have such an impact of who and what I was to become. I think this is where I first started looking at people as puzzles, ones that’s had to be solved in reverse. You couldn’t really know them till you could take them apart and find out what it had been that had created who they were. The phrase and concept has stayed with me and served me for four decades since I first heard it used. Of course my understanding of it has greatly expanded over that time period. It has helped me to understand not only those around me but in turn it has given me insight into myself that I might not have otherwise had. Isn’t it funny how relevant terms that speak specifically to our own self truth can stick with us even before we’re fully aware of their impact. Another that I heard that relates to the previous defined term is ‘there is no such thing as reality, there is only perception.’ Another connective light bulb moment. There is no truth, no fact, no concrete anything because we will always place our own frame of reference filter over the lens of how we perceive all that is around us. That truly is the very best analogy of what we are – a camera looking at life through a lens that has a multitude of colored filters and those filters enhance or distort what imprints on the film of who and what we are. No two people will have an exact frame of reference; they can be similar but never exact. We often make the assumption that if someone is similar to us that they should think as we do, process life as we do, conclude as we do but when they don’t we have a hard time understanding why. The simple fact is that they aren’t us and quite frankly, they don’t have to be. Here’s a ponderer for you - what is the ratio balance of how you are perceived by others; how much is dependent on what you put out there by comparison to how others perceive you through those filters I mentioned earlier? What responsibility do we hold in how others see us and at what point is it beyond our control and in the conception or misconception of others?....

I have found that we are fanatic story tellers. We see something and from our own frame of reference we fill in the facts as we believe they exist. Now this doesn’t make it accurate or inaccurate. Our experience and judgment does count for something. How many times have we met someone and thought them to be of a character that perhaps they don’t turn out to be in the long run. Does this mean we were entirely wrong about them? Perhaps not. It may instead have been that we perceive them to be what they ‘could’ be rather than what they actually are. This doesn’t make us wrong but perhaps they can’t see their own potential as we do. Or perhaps we close our eyes to the whole person so as to serve the purpose of making them less than they are. Reducing them in our eyes so as to justify our negativity regarding them. The problem comes when we make the choice to believe ONLY those areas that we’ve filled in without probing further for what might not be so easily seen. Sadly we too often take our fleshing out of the unknown as fact/reality. We are all guilty of it to some extent though there are some who absolutely swear that they ‘know’ all there is to know about a situation or person and that’s all they need to know after having done nothing more than make a world of assumptions. They’ve told themselves a story to explain why things are the way they are and no matter how fantastic or fabricated the story is they are so self absorbed that they believe if they think it then it has to be true when it may not even be on the same planet as the truth. Sometimes the story isn’t interesting enough for us to want to create or probe for more so we ignore it and go on our way. Other times we crave to probe, to learn more, to fill the blanks with the other person’s truths but that person shuts us out so we’re left with a sort of emptiness and longing that make us feel vulnerable and we’re afraid to speculate why the information isn’t forthcoming. We shy away from the snub because not to do so means that the other person sees us as one of those uninteresting ones that they’ve ignored and moved away from. We’ve all been on either side of that scenario at one time or another haven’t we? Wanting to know someone desperately or knowing that there is someone who wants to know us desperately. Neither are comfortable places to be yet we still place ourselves and others in that situation knowing what it feels like to be there. A rather Sadistic/masochistic coin is it not?....

It has long been my perception that if someone wants to know me then they’ll ask. I’ve never been a big volunteer of information about myself. I told myself that if someone REALLY cared they’d want to know more and therefore would ask. Well, this idea has gotten me a life with few people who know me at all because most people don’t ask. They again assume that their perception is fact and that’s all they need to know. I’ve decided to take back the power of my own story, my life by offering it up. Now talk about vulnerable! To write is to open a vein and bleed on the paper, at least when writing about one’s self. Perhaps that’s why I never before gave up the information readily, to do so was to give a part of myself that I protected from the outside. So why do it now. Because I want to. I want to make that connection with those who are open to it and the only way we can do that is to share our thoughts and experiences. This won’t be for everyone, it doesn’t have to be; but for those who can muster empathy, even compassion, then a door that once had been unseen is now open, a connection is made. To allow you entrance and to pave that path I must prepare the way by working at becoming more exhibitionistic about my life and my thoughts.....
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The best place to begin is the beginning… Pre-me… My mother, ‘Jean’, 16 year old high school girl in love with 18 year old Kenny… They were tragic lovers on the scale of Romeo and Juliet… Or at least they thought they were. As passionate about this brand new thing love that no one had ever experienced as they had. Well, they maneuvered themselves into somehow getting married at such young ages - thinking that playing house would be like some romance novel rather than the reality it was. She quit school, he went into the Army after he got out of high school, was stationed away from his young bride who went through most of her honeymoon induced pregnancy with the support of her mother, my wonderful grandmother (known as Katie to her friends). I was born 10 days before my mother’s 17th birthday. She was no more ready to be a mother than she had been to be a wife or an adult but she had my grandma, which was my salvation, at least for the short 13 years that I had her in my life. My father soon went his own way; due I’m told in great part, to the influence of his mother who never wanted the two together in the first place, not long after I was born. The last I remember seeing him was when I was 5 years old at his father’s funeral where he picked me up and cried. He still made the choice to step out of my life all the same. I don’t know where he may be or even if he still is alive. There are times when I wonder what my life might have been like if he’d been there, wondered if my battles with my mother might have been lessened and my life might have been happier. I wondered if he ever thought of me, remembered my birthday, wished he were a part of my life or even wished me well in my life without him. But then I may be better off for his being absent. I’ll never know and you can’t truly miss what you’ve never had can you… At least not entirely. ....

I do remember much of those very early years as being happy and being loved by the only person who at that time mattered most in my world, not my mother, but my grandmother. She was one of those rare souls who had the wisdom of ages, a heart that was open to all who needed it and extraordinary ability to make me feel that I was the most precious thing to ever set foot on this earth. My childhood in her home was like living in the Garden of Eden. Everything she ever touched flourished. My favorite place was the backyard. All along the fences there were peonies, small roses, poppies, morning glories and of course my snowball bush that I’d lay under when the tiny petals fell off so that I’d be covered in their soft snowy flakes. There had once been a small wading pool near the garage that was shaped as a giant’s foot with a small bridge built into the sidewalk at the arch of the foot. By the time I was growing up there it had been filled with dirt and in the larger side every year my grandmother planted it full of multi colored marigolds. In the heal side was one of the two apple trees in the back yard. The idea of ....Eden.... continued in that there were not only the two apple trees but there were also two different kinds of cherry trees, rhubarb and a very large grape arbor that formed an awning over the sidewalk before getting to the giant’s foot bridge. It truly felt magical. Her pride and glory though were her roses. There was a huge red rambler that grew beside the porch as well as on the other side against the house. Behind the porch which contained the swing that was always in use was her peace rose. They were gorgeous huge buttery yellow blossoms that were the envy of any who saw them. I remember when the roots from the rambler connected to those of the peace rose and caused the most amazing red streak through the yellow petals, as if they’d been smeared with blood but they were still beautiful. At the front of the house was the large porch where I spent so many hours on a hot summer afternoon. Oh and when it would rain there was nothing more peaceful for me than to go to sleep on the glider as the rain sheeted off the roof like curtains of water or thrill as the lightening split the sky and thunder shook the ground. Those days are why I still love rain storms so much, why they relax me so when they are downpours and excite me so when they create such a ruckus. It’s little wonder with this entire sensory stimulus that I grew up to so wholly appreciate the wonders of the sensuality of all the ways we take in the world around us. There was nothing my grandmother couldn’t do. I grew up watching her paint her own house, plant gardens every year, process most of our food for the winter, do her own carpentry, work on her own car, roof her own garage. She had a heart of gold. Every morning that I would get up while she was able I would walk into the kitchen where she was always sitting on her stool in the corner with her coffee and smokes. She’d immediately get up to hug me and ask how her girl was doing today. There was never a question I couldn’t ask her that she didn’t have an answer for. No mistake that I could make that would ever make her love me less. She did discipline me, even made me cut my own switch off one of those fruit trees if she deemed it to be my punishment but unlike my mother, who would actually laugh at my panicked pleading when she would spank me, my grandmother truly hated the deed. I also don’t believe that I was an unusually bad child but I specifically remember one time digging in the heel of the giants foot with Grandma and proudly piping up that I hadn’t been spanked that day to which my grandmother with a smile reminded me that the day wasn’t over yet! Most often I was trying to help. Looking back I’d say that it was the adults who got me in trouble most, not being clear or careful about what was being said around children. One prime example of that is when my uncle, who had his own room in the basement of grandma’s house, bought a Thunderbird but said that he didn’t like the color so he wanted to get it painted. I was all of four at this time and because I loved my uncle and wanted to help I proceeded to go out to the garage, find an old house painting brush, some white house paint and yes, did the deed all over the one side of the car I could reach. I proudly walked back to the house, covered in the paint myself and when they asked what I’d been doing to get paint all over me I told them I’d did his car for him! I then remember him tearing out the door and of course my getting into trouble yet again… *grins* Another of the multitude of tales that followed me through my life was that of when I was very small and I first noticed that there were people of different colors and asked her why. *smiles* Her answer to me remains with me to this day as an example of the kind of heart she held - “God made people like cookies ..Vicki.., some he just left in the oven a bit longer than others.” That’s just how she was; fair, open minded and generous with herself and her life. I can only hope that I am in some way a fraction of the woman she was… ....

This isn’t to say that I didn’t love my mother or want her attention and approval; it just wasn’t mine to ever have. I suppose I was a tangible reminder of her bad choices as well as the life she’d given up in favor of a tragic fairy tale. My mother had the gift of an amazing voice and might have easily had a career as an opera singer if she’d have followed the guidance of her vocal teacher but of course she was hell bent to do what she wanted because the young simply aren’t able to properly predict the outcome of their choices. She had my sister almost 4 years after I was born during a brief reconciliation with my father, my sister’s name is Debbie. Then mom married Bill, a man who had no interest in the two daughters that preceded the birth of his son, my brother Scott, five years younger than me. That marriage didn’t end any better or last any longer than her first had. Bill was equally as involved with Scott after the divorce as my father had been, not at all. Mom was great at always choosing the wrong men but at least Bill was the last one she actually married. So, except for a few months here and there we lived at my grandmother’s for the first 15 years of my life. ....

Mom had a natural talent for retail. She was fortunate in that she had mentors in the field who trained and guided her into a career that made her happy as a retail manager but it was more her life than we were. She spent long and varied hours working. I remember before I’d turned ten I strongly felt the need of her attention but she was never home and even when she was she wasn’t a maternal figure ever. I was such a sad lonely child where she was concerned. I remember being so desperate for her attention that I wrote her letters, put them in our mailbox because I was too afraid to approach her directly and just hoped that she’d talk to me about them. I’d see her bring them in, look at them but she never said a word, never even acknowledged they existed or I suppose that I did either. Needless to say my self value as an older child and teenager was non-existent. Hell, if the one person in my life who should value me didn’t then no one else could… For all the help my grandmother was to my mother I think mom was often jealous of the relationship that my grandmother and I had. They would get into arguments and mom would drag us out for one of those torturous rides in the car where she’d blow off steam by regaling us kids as to what her life could have been had she not had us. Mercifully my brother and sister were too young for these trips to stick in their memory but they were carved painfully deep into mine. The ride would always end the same, mom would drive by the children’s home, point it out and say, ‘That’s where you kids would be if it weren’t for your grandmother…’ Gee, can’t make a kid feel any less wanted could she? Yes, she was emotionally and verbally abusive and for me that was just the way she was. She was poisonously negative and seemed to feel better about her misery if she could make others/me in particular, just as unhappy as she always seemed to be. Mom gave my sister and brother hell as they got older too but in different ways. She drove my sister to be perfect and was damned cruel if Debbie didn’t measure up. Sadly my sister holds herself and others to that standard on her own today. My brother was forced to be the ‘man of the family’ which meant mom was up his ass and always in his business to the point where it was just un-natural and my brother HATED it. I often wonder if perhaps that had a hand in his being gay even though I do believe someone is born that way. I’m sure it didn’t help him to view women any better at any rate. Of course after living with her all those years after the fact I found it was little wonder our fathers had escaped and not looked back. We had no choice but to live with her, no one who could choose would have stayed. I was never really close to my sister but my brother is still my best friend even to this day. Whenever there were family fights it always paired off to myself and Scott against Mom and Debbie. My sister has grown to be much like her and even though she’d piss and moan about Mom behind her back as we were growing up she now sees her as some sort of saint. I think its guilt. Mom was fantastic at laying loads of that out on all of us. My brother left the state to join the air force to get away from her attention and control right after high school and has only come back to visit.....Got sidetracked – back to where I’d left off… The situation didn’t improve when my dear grandmother first had a heart attack while I was with her at the store when I was 12 or died when I was with her alone but for my brother and sister when I was 13… I can’t begin to tell you how hard that part of my life was. To see someone die is hard on anyone. To see the person you love most in your life die when you’re so young is just scarring. It’s still a painful memory… I can be pretty dispassionate in relating the other instances in my life, way too much heartache and tears spent on them already, but never about her. Grandma had come from a family of 13 and she’d had 7 of her own children so when she’d been alive there was always family nearby, cousins, aunts, uncles. But when she died the divisions that I’d not even had any idea existed were exposed so not only was she gone but the rest of the structure of my life crumbled along with her. The only light that ever shone in my life was then gone and I really was lost. I look back on it all now and as sad as it was I realize that none of us are promised some utopian existence. As a matter of fact from what I’ve learned from others there are very, very few who have something even close to what is portrayed as being ‘normal’ childhoods. We do what we can to take what we’re given and make sense with it. Hopefully we learn along the way and make better choices, or at least adjust our attitude to make it as pleasant or as unpleasant as we think we deserve. When Grandma died it became my responsibility at age 13 to do all that a mother would have done in our home for my brother and sister and our home while mom continued to escape life in the one place she found it easy to succeed. I had no choice in the matter, it had to be done, I was there and no one else was going to do it. Eventually the family sold Grandma’s house, much to my heartbreak, and we moved to a small town, the first time my mother had ever really been out on her own alone… Well, she really wasn’t because instead of grandma she now had me taking care of all the things she couldn’t bother with…....

*EEB - August Sucked! (09-04-2008)

I'm not a pisser and moaner and I hate those people who can't seem to do more than that with their lives. Negativity breeds the negative and I'm so often the cheerleader whenever things get down. I mean of course things could be worse and I tell myself that all the time to get myself through but sometimes it's a basic requirement to lance the infection and bleed it out when the pressure gets to be too much.The month of August has truly sucked! Our truck got hit by a hit and run driver who caused over $3000 worth of damage. The positive is that we have insurance and even though the truck is 13 years old they fixed it rather than deny or total out the claim. It did cost us the deductible which I know we'll never recover. Oh yes, we had to make a deductible out of money that we had to borrow to cover our bills and expenses for the month of August because my husband finally filled out his paperwork to go from pre-retirement under Delphi to full retirement under GM but the promised 'smooth transition' crashed and burned when we found for the month of August we wouldn't be getting any money from either at all! GM would send us two checks at the beginning of September, we're waiting to see if that happens even now, but for August we were just S.O.L. The same for our insurance coverage - our coverage under Delphi was retro deactivated back to July 31 and coverage under GM was to begin August 1… Sure! We went to the doc for a sinus infection for my son, my husband had annual blood work done and it wasn't until we went to get the RX's for my son that we found that the insurance company doesn't have any of us as having coverage at all! The union rep has told us that any billing we get we are to bring to them and they will see that they are taken care of. I have little peace from this because I saw how fast the union worked at getting mishandled medical bills taken care of when my husband had a workers comp injury two years ago. Something is very wrong with a system that jeopardizes your credit because a company's ability to work sufficiently and in due time is about as fast as growing hair. Hell, going gray because of their insufficiency is faster than they accomplish anything! My biggest concern is that my son's RX for his Synthroid be honored

*EEB - High School Reunion (08-30-2008)

What an odd evening we had last weekend! It's rare that I find myself in a situation that fills me with such a torrent of so many poignant emotions all at once.

It was the all class reunion for the high school my husband graduated from and I should have had we not moved out of the city after my freshman year. We had only found out it was to happen nine days before it took place but we'd looked at the web site the alumni had set up and I'd found that there would be people there that I'd gone to school with during my grade and middle school years that I hadn't seen in literally a lifetime so we decided to go, really looking forward to it as well.

Now let me add that all my life I have had more male friends than female. I do have female friends; I just get along with males too. They really aren't all that difficult a creature to understand as many women would want to portray. As long as you understand they are male, are meant to be male and don't have to be like females then you're good to go. (I personally prefer them to be whom and what they are because I absolutely don't believe females are the apex of perfection by any stretch of the imagination either. I've worked with them, it's a wonder men can ever stand them!) Anyway, in my youth I spent more hours tromping around wooded trails exploring the world, playing games, riding bikes with my guy pals than I could ever stomach playing store, board games or listening to music with my girl friends. (Dolls were strictly out, had no use for them) I'd seen on the roster of those planning to attend this reunion one of my best school pals. His name was Anthony and I remembered how it had broke my heart when his family had moved away when we were in the forth grade. As it happened I had run into him once for a few minutes not long after I'd gotten out of high school, the one I had moved to later. My brother and I had gone to my uncle's house to pick something up one night and I had waited in the car. While I sat there a guy my age had come from the house and asked if I'd remembered him. It was dark and by that time my eye disease had already stolen my night vision so I could see nothing more of him than as a darker shadow against the night. He didn't seem to mind that I didn't recognize him because he enthusiastically told me he was Anthony; we'd gone to school together. Of course I remembered him and I asked him how he was, what he'd been doing and the obvious, why was he here at my uncle's house. He was in the military, stationed in ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Alaska and somehow in the course of life had met and married my distant cousin. They were there visiting with his father in law, who was closer to my uncle than he was to any of the rest of the immediate family. Anthony was getting ready to go back to Alaska with his new wife. He blurted out that he'd kept all the Valentine's Day cards that I'd given him that we'd all exchanged in elementary school and I was so surprised and flattered. Oh my dear readers, if you'd have known me then… I had no self worth, was so painfully shy and introverted… The fact that he'd remembered me no less saved anything from me was a concept I just couldn't perceive. My brother returned to the car and I had to give fast goodbyes and best wished but to this day I regret not having made sure I knew how to keep in contact with him before we'd left. I'd asked my uncle soon after if he had any contact information for Anthony but he hadn't. So I lost touch yet again. When I saw that he'd be attending the reunion I was excited that finally I'd get to talk to him again!

Good God what a fiasco it was! Oh yes, it was a huge turnout. So huge in fact that people filled and spilled out everywhere from the out of the way restaurant/bar. I saw some people I'd not seen in 30 years and we talked of old times and how things had gone for each other in our life. We saw people we remembered and were remembered by some who we didn't. "I don't remember" and "I do remember" were overly used phrases all the way around. Since my father, mother, aunts and uncles had all graduated from the same school there was an odd feeling of family because graduates were generational among many there and even though I'd been hoping to run into anyone who might have known my mother or father that never came to pass. We did meet one woman there who had graduated before either me or my husband but she wasn't there as much for herself as she was for her brother who had been killed. She said that she came to the reunions to hear stories of her brother from those who had known him. Both my husband and I had although his was more knowledge just by name. I told her that at one time I had a crush on her brother and that he had been a nice guy and he had for the most part. I told her that I'd met him when he was running around with some friends of mine riding trail and mini bikes in some of the trails that ran through some of the wooded areas around our neighborhood. As I said earlier, if there were trails to be explored I was often out in them. She was so happy to talk to someone who had known him that I didn't have the heart to tell her that what I remembered most about her brother was that he had been very aware of his good looks and what many other girls were willing to give him because of them but that when he was about 17 and I was 13 he'd once taken me for a ride back into the trails, stopped the mini-bike, tried his damnedest to get me to go further than I was willing to go beyond some kissing and petting, became angry that I didn't find him so irresistible then left me to walk back out of the trails when I'd refused to play his more than practiced game. No sense in tarnishing her obviously glowing memories. I really didn't think her brother had been a bad guy. He'd just been a young man being a young man and hitting the proverbial brick wall with me. *grins* I do understand her grieving though, I'm very close to my brother and if something were to happen to him I would be devastated.
While we were out walking about two groups of people had come up to us trying to place me amongst their memories. One group of guys all echoing the comment, 'You would have come out with me', yet they couldn't remember who I was but made it clear they'd like to now. As I said, I'd been very shy and introverted so I'm not really surprised by their not remembering me but then I hadn't been invisible so had they made the effort then to know a young girl who they'd made a point to over look then they would have known me now but since they'd not had the time for me then neither did I for them at this point. The other set was a group of obviously still very cliquish women. "You look so familiar to us but we can't place your name…" Again I explained that I had been very quiet and shy in school and I hadn't graduated with the class so perhaps that were the reason why. They, on the other hand, weren't familiar to me at all but then again, not surprising since I never was one for cliques. I had my friends but we hadn't gone through school all connected at the hip.
Through the chaos I did manage to get with my class for the pictures. Not everyone was there because the only way we had heard the announcement was that we'd been inside when it was made and none of the announcements had long been cut off to the outside revelers. It was already deep night so I'm not sure how the pictures will turn out but I did stand next to one woman I remembered immediately because she had been on of the tallest girls I'd known. Since it was so dark I wasn't able to recognize or even see anyone else. I kept thinking, I wonder if Anthony is standing within arms length and neither of us knows it… I'd been looking for him but I'd yet to find him.

There were many who didn't attend that I had really been hoping to find again and many who may have been there that we just missed among the throngs. (Even the organizers said that the next one will be in a much larger place) We met up with some old friends and talked of the past. It's funny how some events are so fresh in your mind it's like they just happened yesterday. Still others slowly walk into the light of memory after lurking in the shadows of remembrance and others are somehow pushed completely out of the hard drive of our minds for need of space for storage of more important matters. It's also amazing just how much most people change over a life. You somehow think that those you know in high school will retain at least most of their features so that you'd know them when they crossed your path again – believe me, they don't! Very few looked like they did then. It's just the normal cycle of life of course but fascinating to witness. We learned of the fates of some who were no longer with us, favorite teachers and classmates alike.The evening was winding down, at least for us, so we went inside for a while to watch the 'door prize' drawings. No winning for us and as much as I'd looked – no Anthony was ever found. We left for home. I spent that night as well as the next day flooded with all those emotions that I'd mentioned before - excitement, contemplation, sadness, surprise, happiness, nostalgia and disappointment. Perhaps one day I'll find Anthony again, perhaps not but I know that I certainly don't regret going to this reunion and hope to do so again with even better results next time!

*EEB - Independence Day - Let FREEDOM Ring (07-04-2008)

On a day that we celebrate our independence and our freedom let us be reminded of those who had the forethought to set about attaining those rights for us. Let us remember those who dreamed for us something better than we had and set forth to create it and not just bitch about wishing it were theirs. Let us remember those who sacrificed; past, present and future – their own lives to insure that we don't have to do the same with our own and can enjoy the benefits their blood bought for us. And lastly let us not forget what freedom is in a time where so many want to make it into something they allow others to have as long as those others agree with their own point of view. Liberty and freedom 'should' be the birthright of humanity but those rights do hold responsibilities that we are charged in taking upon ourselves in perpetuity to ensure that what we enjoy is available to those who come after us. I believe that a man who gave up many years of his own life and freedoms in the fight for the same for others defines the term best.........

"For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others." ~ Nelson Mandela ~....

.. ..Let us not be as selfish as to horde for ourselves something as sweet and plentiful as the fruit of freedom while we starve others of it who are within our very midst.....

*EEB - Summer's Heat (05-22-2008)

For those rare few who really know me, you know what this time of year means to me and how excited I am that it's here once more! For eight months out of the year I deal with the rollercoaster of my life as it comes but there is always this underlying sense of tension; sort of like there's always this presence of dreaded anticipation of what could possibly happen next. I'm sure this is more relevant to the rough few years that I've had in my life of late than seasonal depression that affects some people. I'm not going to piss and moan about that, this is a very happy time for me. Those issues still exist in my life but at this time of year my soul is soothed by sun and water and the trials and tribulations of life are somehow easier to handle. ..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
This is my season of Zen, when I experience the most enveloping serenity to my core. I don't know what it is about the feel of the warmth of the sun on my skin but it actually feels like as soon as the heat touches my skin it spreads like a wave throughout my body, literally washing over and through me, making the small hairs stand up over my skin. *grins* I've come to the conclusion that I'm solar powered. One of the most pleasurable and simplistic erotic experiences I have in my life happens just from laying on a lounge chair beside the pool while the ebb and flow of a breeze carries the rays of the sun over my body; occasionally catching the mist of the water to caress my flesh with a tingling moist kiss. (Yes folks, this isn't just poetic prose, I think just as descriptively as I write. As any given experience is taking place sensations are truly poetic and artistic in their existence if you're open to experiencing them fully) I'm sure I'd find the same experience if I were relaxing anywhere in the sun and by water. This combination of sensation brings me a peace to my being that I find at no other time of the year because I just don't have access to these elements any other time as I do between Memorial Day weekend and Labor Day. This is the time when the pool we go to is open. Ok, it's more than just a pool, they call it an aquatic center which means its big pool with some nice extras like an inner tube slide, a body slide, the diving board and the dump tube slide, a sand large volleyball area, the wet sand play area, a concession area and surrounded by a large area of parkland. A full summer's worth of all this for a family of four non residents of the city for $190, cheapest and longest vacation anyone could ever hope for! We've had a family pass there for about eight or nine years so there's comfort in the familiarity of the place as well as the people – our pool family as we call each other. *laughs*
I've known what medical science is just finding out, being outside in the sun does wonders to heighten your sense of well being and contentment. At least it does for me. There's also the absorption of vitamin D. As much as I'd like to sun bathe nude that's impossible at a public pool but make no mistake that I do expose as much as I can get away with to my own comfort and I have plenty of flesh to expose as my own personal solar panels! *grins* Yes, I use sun block, all summer long in fact. I begin at a 30 SPF, using that for at least the first full month before I gradually step down to a 15, 8 then 4 by the end of the summer. I hate to burn and I don't want skin cancer. I'm a natural born red head so my skin is fair. That's fine for the non summer months; I give my skin that time to heal for what I put it through during the summer. The contrast of how pale my skin isn't tanned to that which is will be incredibly striking. (Again, here's the reason why I so wish I could sunbath nude because I hate how stark the contrast is from the exposed skin to where my suit covers me) Being a redhead I don't tan to brown skin. I do get dark but my skin always has a coppery red tone. No matter how tan I am when I've been in the sun for any length of time I glow red for the first few hours after I get out of the sun. I think my auburn hair just emphasizes the coppery hue of my skin too. I'd be rich if I had a dollar for every time someone has been startled when they looked at me and told me I'd gotten burnt when I hadn't. I've gotten to the point that I actually avoid going into places after time outside just to keep from hearing the repetition!
Anyway, I get a bit crazed for opening weekend. I've already got my bag packed up with all the essentials. Any other year I'd be cracking the whip to get us all out the door to be one of the first in line for when the gates opened. This year will be a bit different. My son has to work so we'll have to drop him off early in the morning and shortly after that we'll be heading to my nephew's high school graduation. *smile* Let that be a measurement of how much I love my nephew that I would think nothing of being late the first day of pool season to be there for him where we're the last things he'll even care about! Of course I'll only be about an hour and a half late for the pool at the most and one of the pool family will hold us a couple chairs… *laughs* Like I said, I have this very well planned out! My son will get off work and join us at the pool later if he wants, we'll be there the whole day every day this coming weekend. After that the pool won't begin regular season hours till the following weekend and at that point I'll be there any time I don't have other obligations. During the week my husband will meet me there once he gets off work. I will have taken the bus there in the morning so the only time we'll expend extra for gas is during the weekends.Ah yes, now there's an interesting aspect of the summer, public transportation… I'm fortunate that my town has a fairly extensive bus system. It gets me where I need to go overall. The people who use it are an interesting blend. I like to observe people, they're a fascinating enigma and I enjoy the mental exercise of puzzling out their actions and behaviors. So the summer gives me the chance to indulge in my greatest pleasure as well as sharpen my senses and skills all at the same time. *grins* One of those will inevitably be fending off the advances of total strangers. Ah summer heat – it strikes in more ways than one! I am oh so glad that it's again here at last!!!

*EEB - Bad Eye Day (03-02-2008)

"Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn in whatever state I am in, therein to be content."..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
~Helen Keller
It would be nice if everyday could be full of fantasy and erotica but the truth is that is but a fraction of my life. Occasionally reality steps in and reminds me that there are things not quite as pleasant.
This has been for me what I call a 'bad eye' week. Sometimes I struggle even with my glasses to read what I find on the computer screen. Thank you ever so much Web 2.0! All those nice subtle shades on top of a white background… And what happened to the concept of making the internet disability friendly? I think the problem is that people make the error in thinking that you either see or you don't, like there's no place in between. Well let me tell you – there is in between.
First, for those who may not know, I have a hereditary eye condition called Retinitis Pigmentosa. It's a degenerative disease that I was diagnosed with at the age of nine so this is something I've known about all my life. Although knowing about it and now experiencing it's much increased progression now that I am older is a lot different than I thought it was going to be. I am legally blind by definition that my peripheral vision is less than 20°. Some may not understand what that means so I'll explain. The average person has a visual radius of 180°, so that even when you're looking straight ahead you are able to see a wide view of what's around you without looking directly at it. Also that area where the fields overlap between the eyes gives you your three dimensional vision and your depth perception. Now, try to imagine going through your world without that. Try looking through two paper towel tubes and you'll get the basic idea of what it might be to see how I see. Ah but it doesn't end there! The central vision is affected too! I still have corrected vision of 20/40-50 but now put a sort of sunglass filter at the end of those tubes because the rod and cone in my eyes that process light are dying so when it's dark for me it's REALLY dark and when it's light it's not as light or depending on the type of light – its glaringly bright! (The glare isn't as bad now that I've had cataract surgery in both eyes as it once had been) There are times, such as this, when the central vision is affected. My vision goes between clear to blurry and back again. The harder I try to focus the worse it gets and if I work to hard to get my eyes to work I end up straining them to the point where I can find it even harder to see for days. My doc says this is due to a side condition called Cystic Macular Edema. In other words, being female whenever my body decides to retain fluids my eyes pay the price for it too. I do have drops and those help but they sting a great deal and I have to use them consistently for a couple days before I anticipate this issue to occur to reduce the problem.
Over the years I have been lucky that it progressed very slowly. My family first suspected there was a problem when I would run into things in the house at night. One of the first signs of the disease is night blindness. From the beginning it set me apart from my peers. I couldn't see the stars as easily at night, people who didn't know about my condition just thought I was clumsy because people always believe their own assumptions rather than seeking the truth. It's kept me from participating in many of the normal social activities that most teens engage in. It showed me who were not my friends were when they couldn't be bothered to include me because I was work to assist. It kept me from having the complete freedom that driving affords, it's kept me from doing many things that others without it take for granted. Now, let me tell you what it's given me. It's given me time to be more thoughtful about myself, my life and others. It kept me from going out and engaging in some, not all, of the dangerous behavior that my peers threw them selves into. It made me appreciate the absolute glory of the things around me. It made me choose better friends because often when being out with them I literally had to entrust them with my life by allowing them to guide me. (*grins* Tramping around in state parks, climbing up and down hills, walking over narrow high bridges all in the dead of night seeing only blackness and feeling only the warmth of the hand or arm beside me… Funny how brave you can be when you don't see the dangers surrounding you) There have been disadvantages as well as advantages. A couple good points - I've never had to be the designated driver. I get to use a sort of hands on approach to seeing things in my world – people included. The bad - I have to rely on others to get me where I need to go so I don't have a personal escape other than inside my own head. And worst is the knowledge that my son not only inherited my quick cutting wit, my stubborn streak but also this damned disease.
When I was younger it was easy to know I was going to lose my vision because I had no concept of what that entails. At the time it just meant that I got a lot more attention from my eye doctors and maybe felt a little outside my peers but I was that way with or without the RP. For the longest time I was very lucky in that it didn't progress that rapidly. That has changed. Sometimes I wonder where to find the strength and heart to go blind with grace and dignity. I think that having known so young does give me the advantage of having had the ability to learn to adapt more readily than one might who is stricken suddenly. But there's this limbo that I exist in now. Seeing and not seeing enough to be confusing and even dangerous. I've often said that I had RP, it didn't have me. Is certainly isn't who I am although it has had an impact. It's no different that any other struggle that any of us might face. It won't kill me, at least not directly, although it does sometimes make me feel frighteningly vulnerable. It's a specific ambiguity, if such a thing can be said, which at least means it's something I can focus on overcoming. Time will tell whether I do it well or not. But I take inspiration from Helen Keller's quote above. My interpretation of it is that the beauty in life doesn't end simply because the eyes are no longer able to behold them. We are conduits through which our life passes; it is either minimized or amplified via the lens of our being. Today isn't a day it'll burden my heart – tomorrow is tomorrow, I'll see what that brings as it comes. As with my eyes, some days are easier than others.

*EEB - Spank Me (02-12-2008)

You're sitting in your chair and I come to give you a kiss, I love kissing you so I do that whenever I get the chance. You smile at me, reach up and run your hand up my arm, caress my face then slide your hand to my waist. You pull me towards you - I'm expecting another kiss but instead you pull me across your knees, my behind exposed as the skirt I am wearing rides up higher as my omission of underwear is revealed. 'Mmm, you really are a naughty girl aren't you my sweet', you grin and rub your hand over the pale globes of my ass. Your hand rises as I feel and hear the crack of your hand against my soft flesh. The shock of the act makes me jump more than the sting on my now reddening skin. 'Ow! What was that for?!' I say with only a slight hint of indignation, the rest laughter and excitement in my voice. 'For being my bad girl of course!' While one arm held me fast the hand that had dealt the blow was now soothing, caressing, tracing the area with your fingertips. Your hand rises again and another smack resounds, again I jump but I moan because immediately after your hand fell you slipped it between my legs to the wet inner evidence of my growing excitement, traveling easily over my clit and into my warm walls. I clenched the muscles to grasp your wonderfully invading fingers and push into your hand. I could feel your cock, hard and straining against my side. Again you repeated this luscious torture as I squirmed and moaned more loudly each time. Your voice tight with barely restrained passion you tell me to stand, I do so, my skirt still high on my hips. You turn me towards the desk, facing away from you. Your hands open the front of my blouse, tipping my breasts free of my bra into your waiting hands. You pinch, roll and pull my nipples till they are hard knots in your hands as you fondle the full pliant flesh. Releasing my breasts you put one hand to my back and push me forward over the desk as you free your cock from your bulging and wet pants. I gasp as you're suddenly filling me, stretching my pussy around your hard shaft. You begin to slide back and forth inside me; I'm grasping the side of the desk for support, clenching my teeth as erotic intensity bursts inside my veins and begins to consume my body in a tidal wave of sensations. You push together then pull apart the globes of my ass, matching your stroke so as to tighten the fleshy muscles on the in stroke and watch your cock retreat, wet and shining, from the butterfly wings fluttering around it. 'Damn babe, I love it when you're bad…' you breathe. Again, another loud smack sounds, I thrust back, you thrust forward. I've released the desk with one of my hands and have reached between my legs to manipulate my clit, feeling your driving deeper and harder into me with every stroke. You smack then sooth my now very red ass as you thrust. The tempo has increased to frenzy; you grasp my hips driving yourself into my tightening pussy as orgasm rocks me. 'Oh Yesssssss!!! Oh god, ohhhh, I'm cumming!!! I whimpered tensely on my release. I feel your legs begin to tremble as you follow with your own hot cum flooding my insides. You lean against my back over the desk to support your shaking legs, your breathing labored and fast. You nuzzle into the back of my neck, breathing me into your overheated lungs, 'Jesus woman, what the hell have you done to me?!' I turn my head to the side and on a wicked grin say, 'I don't know but whatever it is I'm damned well going to keep doing it!!!'

*EEB - Some Like It Hot (02-07-2008)

The sky is an intense blue, funny how the hottest of days can come from such gorgeous skies… We've walked along the beach until we've found an isolated vacant area. The heat of summer is upon us, the air moves but it's thick and heavy. Seems most would rather wait out the heat in air conditioning rather than play in the natural cooling water of the sea. Blessed relief can be found in the water that draws the excess heat from our bodies with cooling fingers. We drop the heavy cooler we've cared between us on the sand and throw out the blanket. Stripping down to our suits quickly you challenge, a grin lifting the corners of your mouth and making your eyes shine, "Race ya…' You run full tilt to the waters edge then turn to watch as I run to you, breasts bouncing naturally with my motion. Of course you won to the water - longer legs and practiced stride, but as you stand mesmerized by the hypnotic bounce of my breasts I pass you grinning and dive under the waves… You laugh at yourself and follow in hot pursuit of some sexy romping in the waves with me and your favorite floatation devices. We play, taunt and tease each other unmercifully until we both run out of the water to fall into a tangled heap on the blanket, bent with laughter and overly aware of how we are affecting the response and pulse of the other. Smiling I kneel by the cooler, pop open the top and ask if you'd like something to drink, you accept and I toss you a cold drink but I don't take one for myself. Instead I take out a piece of the ice and slip it into my mouth. 'You know,' I say, over emphasizing my words so that I'm understood over the rapidly melting ice that I'm sliding from one side of my mouth to the other, 'what they say about people who eat ice don't you?' 'Um, they have cold lips?' you wink but look back at me questioning. I grin, my eyes sparkling with devilment, 'That people who eat ice do so as a sign they are in a state of sexual repression just begging for release.' 'Hmm, don't know that I've ever heard that before… Think it's true?' The light of excitement burning brighter as your eyes roamed assessing over my body before you scanned to check that we were still very alone on our stretch of beach. As you'd done that I'd reached back into the cooler to get another piece of ice for my mouth and moved to sit next to you. When you turned back towards me I kissed you. 'See, I was right, cold lips…' you spoke in an intimate tone. I smiled, moving the ice around in my mouth then leaned to press those cold lips to your left nipple, letting the ice rest against the instantly erect nipple ring now between my teeth as my icy tongue danced around the areola, the metal drawing the icy pleasure deep into the root, that magic connection between cock and nipple fused, you felt the instant response as hot blood flooded the chambers, straining and throbbing steel rising in it's own demand for attention. Your breath caught, mouth falling open as you inhale quickly at the sudden, intense sensation of cold on very warm skin. You lean backwards till you have propped yourself up on your elbows and watch as I purse the cube between my lips moving from one tight point to the other, your nerve ending screaming in pleasure. You tip your head backwards, mouth opening in both pleasure and need to take in air as your rate of breathing increases. Mmm, your exposed throat is too much for me to neglect. I grin again as I close in on that tender spot just to the side of the corded muscle of your throat and above your collar bone. Your head instantly tips to the opposite side allowing me access but bringing you closer to me as you raise one hand and hold the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair as I trace cool lines with my tongue over your shoulder. 'Mmm, that's very nice…' you almost purr. I remove the much smaller piece of ice from my mouth and whisper, 'Just wait for what's next…' My mouth still cool and wet from the ice I kiss you, loving the contrast of my cool lips and tongue moving passionately over the warmth of yours. The ice has melted in my hand and I reach quickly for another piece as I push you gently back to lying on the blanket. I sit by your legs and you know what's coming next as I smile, slip it in my mouth and release your straining cock from your waistband then pushing the trunks down your legs. 'Mmm, beautiful," I coo over the ice chilling my hungry mouth as I descend. I hold the ice in the back of my mouth and let the tip on my cold tongue lavish the already weeping opening before I circle the ridge around the head with tiny short flicks. Then slowly, so that the cool water from the melting ice trickles from my mouth as I begin at the base with my tongue widened and flutter it as I lick back up to the tip. You're moaning, 'OMG! OMG!' as the muscles in your stomach and thighs tighten in response to the copious stimulus I'm imparting to eager nerves. Your hips rise to meet my mouth, your body begging in its own language for more. I remove the ice, unable to accommodate both it and you, before I wrap my frosty sucking mouth over your lovely rigid, heated shaft. Slow strokes, up and down to let you feel more intensely your movements between my lips as I pull you deeper with each stroke from me and thrust from you. One of your hands was in my hair, the other pulling the nipple ring. One of my hands caressing the other nipple while I held the ice in my other, letting the heat from my hand melt the ice so that cold water dripped over your balls and thighs, running in maddening rivulets over your flesh. A desperate grasp at control made you sit bolt upright and pull me forcibly against your chest, 'Oh no you don't minx! Now it's your turn…' Voice deep, slightly shaking along with your legs, you reach for the cooler, pulling me to my back as you lean across the blanket. You pull out a large piece of ice, 'you're never gonna fit that in your mouth…' I laugh. 'Who said I was going to try… Just wait my dear, I have plans of my own for you…' you smile then lick your lips. 'Hmm, first we have to get you out of that pesky suit…' Eager passion has me up, out and back on the blanket in a blink. You chuckle, 'You don't appear very repressed to me…' 'I think that because I'm about to get everything I need to correct that condition!' I wink back and grin. With that you bend over to kiss me. I'm so lost in the glorious pleasure of kissing you, eyes closed, feeling your lips on mine, your tongue invading my mouth to challenge mine that I forgot the ice until your mouth captured my cry of surprise as you placed it directly on my nipple which hardened and throbbed in answer. Tiny freezing fingers of water began running in miniscule streams over the mound of flesh to pool in the valley between. You moved the ice away to replace it with your hot mouth, licking, sucking and rolling the hard pebble between your lips, pulling gently with your teeth then soothing again with your tongue. My back arched pressing my soft mound into your welcoming face. While one of my hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer still the other rolled and flicked the other nipple. You pushed that hand away so that you could bring the ice to that nipple, watching it contract and harden under the circles you drew in ever smaller circles around the whole breast before again slipping the ice lazily over the pink peak. I moan, breathing heavier, chest rising and falling as I begin to move in sensual invitation for more. You move the ice oh so slowly over my body, chilling then heating the tissue with your mouth. The heat from my body having more to do with you than the day melts the ice rapidly. You kneel close to my head as you reach for more ice, seeing such a wonderful prize so close I again seize your throbbing cock, pulling you deeply into my now warm sucking velvet soft mouth. 'Mmm, oh yes honey, I love that but now it's my turn so just a little while longer…' you gently pull yourself away from me, I lick the outside corner of my mouth to bring the precum that has smeared my cheek into my mouth, loving the taste of you. You lean to kiss me again, smile wickedly, pop the ice into your mouth then scramble between my legs, pushing my knees apart and bending my legs up to open me wide to your ministrations and my pleasures. You begin by planting tiny cold kisses from just beside my knee down my thighs. Your fingers were softly stroking the silky smooth butterfly wings, spreading the nectar already flowing over her satin folds. I feel your breath, an odd combination of hot and cold, blowing over the swollen button of my clit as your fingers hold it for the lightest of strokes from your cold tongue. I gasp as you let the ice slip forward making direct contact with my engorged clit, my hips thrust upward, I cry out your name and you bury your face against my pussy. I clutch the blanket as I feel you push the ice from your mouth deep inside my convulsing walls with your tongue then suck it back out into your mouth. ''OMG! You're driving me crazy!' I yelp as my hips are grinding into you trying to absorb the incredible impact of your lips and the ice providing such sweet torture. The rest of my body has broken out in sweat as I begin undulating, moving, dancing a sirens dance under your skillful orchestrations. 'Oh please, I need you now! I need you inside me now!' I plead. You sit back; pull my legs over your thighs as I sit up and with one last push of your fingers the now very small sliver of ice slips back inside me to be followed by your cock pushing it in further as our bodies melt into each other in passionate rhythmic thrusts and grinds. Our hands grasp, caress, explore, needing the feel of each other, coaxing each other higher as our wet bodies join in the most soulful of all unions. As the tension builds the need to consume grows. 'I want you deeper, harder, I want you, no, I need you so much…' We're both panting, mindless but the need is so demanding in us both. It's frenzy. I push you backwards then shift my legs so that I am straddling your hips. Your hands reach up to push my breasts together, kneading them, rolling my nipples between your fingers. I take them in my own hands, licking them as you watch through passion glazed eyes, leaning forward offering my nipple to your lips as I use my now free hands to dance and pull yours. I'm riding you, my ass slapping your hips as I buck my clenching pussy up and down over your growing cock. Your hands grasp my hips, holding me while you thrust up, deeper still, my hands at my pussy feeling you pounding in and out while smacking then rubbing my clit in time to your strokes. Our moans are loud, wild, drowning out the sound of the sea. 'I'm cumming!!! Oh God, NOW!!!' All my muscles, outside and in, spasm, tremble and jerk as the most intense orgasm I've ever had washes over both of us for mine has triggered yours. We are exploding into one another, filling, being filled and overflowing, our bodies joined into one continuous being, sensing from and through each other. I sat there for a while, catching my breath, feeling my convulsing muscles milking you dry, always hungry for every drop of you. Slowly I moved next to you, holding each other, pushing the wet hair away from each others face, kissing, joyful at what we'd shared yet a small part sad that it had ended. Our eyes searching each others face… "Think they'll be ice left for a little later?' You smile wickedly. 'Oh yes! I'm sure there will be!' I grin. Let's go play some more and get wet all over again!'OK, so the next time you are drinking anything that has ice in it I expect you to be thinking of this adventure and smile for me.

*EEB - A Question of Karma (01-23-2008)

I hope all who have decided to share their time by stopping by to read this had wonderful holidays and are enjoying the beginning of a promising new year! I had the unexpected pleasure of having my brother come up for the holiday. Between him and my sister I found myself the recipient of the truest spirit of the season. Sometimes family can prove just why blood is a stronger bond than any other. *smiles* ..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
Unfortunately I awoke the day after Christmas to find that my computer had died. No matter how many times I tried to start it up it just refused to obey! Ah, but no worries – this chica is a strong believer in extended warranties for computers! So I stripped it of all the multiple peripherals and off to the store we go! Now if I hadn't had access to the other computer in the house that my husband and son use I'd have gone mad because it took nearly a month to get mine back. A new motherboard and CD Rom drive later and the most tedious and damnable of tasks to hook the thing all back up and I'm back up and running! Took me three hours just to get everything back up to date, scanned and readjusted to my settings again. Sometimes they are the most miraculous of machines and at others they can be the undoing of a sane person's hold on their hair follicles!
On with the subject of this entry… I'd not been online till New Years day, I just don't care much for using a computer that isn't my own so even though I had access to the other computer I just didn't use it much. When I got online I went to the chat room that I don't get to visit often but have gone to for nearly ten years now and instantly got a pm from someone who I know asking me if I'd heard the news about a friend of mine named Jille. Now I met Jille through the room but we'd met and become friends with in real time too. Well of course I hadn't heard so she informs me that she'd heard Jille had a stroke. My first concern was for Jille but I also needed confirmation of this news because this person and Jille aren't at all best buds by any stretch of the imagination so I didn't really trust that she knew what she was talking about. It was too early to call Jille's husband Randy so I PMed another friend from the room to ask for the news. Yes, it was true, she'd had a very severe stroke the Saturday before New Years… Then she went on to apologize for adding more bad news but by the way did you hear that another regular to the room, Hooter - who many cared a good deal for, had been killed in a trucking accident two days before Christmas? NO!!! All I could think was please God, not again! The new year the year before had seen the tragic loss of one of our rooms beloved soldiers, killed in Fallujah while locating mines. Here was another year starting just as heartbreakingly. All I could do was sit there and cry. When it got to be a time that I felt comfortable calling her husband I did so. He gave me all the details and I promised we'd be up in a couple days to see her.
The first time we saw her it broke my heart. She is such a strong willed stubborn cuss. *smile* And I say that with nothing but absolute love. She's known for often saying what others perhaps wouldn't and not saying perhaps what she should. You know exactly what you get with her. Many either love her or hate her and if you can tolerate her tendency to brutal opinionating then you can't help but to love her. To those she dislikes she does so passionately but she has also been known to change her mind about a rare few. When she loves you she does so with all her heart and let me tell you she has one very big heart. *grins* Even if you don't always like everything she may do you allow her to be herself. At least I do. My feeling about anyone is that as adults we answer for our own actions and we stand alone in our responsibilities for the most part. She's made more friends than foes but just like her friends, her foes feel their emotions for her just as strongly. There were some who came to the room who'd not been there in a while simply to gloat over her misfortune; a form of callousness I can't fathom. It took only a short time for the news of her condition to be deemed off limits in the room due to those few who would use it to their own nasty delights. You may wonder where this is going but I had to explain her personality to eventually get to the point of this story down the road a bit further…
The second time we went to see her she was MUCH worse. It was very touch and go for a couple days but eventually the medical profession put their expensive degrees to work and resolved the issues. Now she's on a very good road to recovery I am very pleased to say. *smiles*
During the time when things we bad another regular from the room and close friend of hers came to visit her as well. We were both there when we started talking about the news of the man who'd died, Hooter… Imagine my horror and shock when she told me that it was a ruse. That some of Hooter's friends had called his place of employment to get information to set up a memorial fund only to be told this 'person' was perfectly fine, they'd just seen him and he was perfectly healthy… A memory flared and I remembered a conversation we'd once had in the room when he'd come in fuming because something had happened. What he said stuck with me because it had just seemed so odd. He said that he's almost decided to just fall off the face of the earth, he'd done it before and he'd do it again but for right that second he'd decided not to. I asked him what he was talking about. He told me he'd disappeared before and if he didn't want people finding him they wouldn't. Now the saddest part of this story is that his wife was in on this trick. I don't know if she had been in the room before but she'd made a point of seeking solace and planting information in the room to make it all believable. How sick is that? Someone even set up one of those online memorial pages so that friends can leave messages. The funny thing was that there was no birth date or other personal information about him, just his name. Of course that was closed down because it was a freebie and payment to keep it going hadn't been made. No obituary, no report about any accident, absolutely nothing in a world that is so geared to information that all you have to do is Google a name to find tens of thousands of results… NOTHING! What is the content of a man, or lack of it, which could do such a thing to others emotions?
Now we come to Karma… Another regular from the room PMed me to talk about Jille. Previous to this PM someone had told me that this room regular had said what she was about to repeat to me and at that time I'd refused to believe this person PMing would be so cold. One of the first things she types is that she knows that Jille is my friend but that Jille had this stroke because karma is catching up to her… Wow, so much for empathy. Yes, I knew they didn't get along but in such a situation if you can't scratch up some compassion for another human being who is suffering or even for the suffering of those who love her how can we expect to find any given to us when we need it? Isn't the truest state of compassion not that which we can give freely to those we love but that which we can to those we don't? Which is exactly the question I posed to her. She went on to tell me that Jille had made her miserable to which I told her that people only have the power over you that YOU give them. It takes two people to argue, if you refuse to respond the result is the other person just looks ridiculous. She praised my good heartedness but I couldn't help but think that I hope that karma judges us less cruel than others might wish it to. In speaking to another friend about our MIA trucker I remarked that I would be scared to death of putting those kinds of ripples in the water of karma to come back to me as a tidal wave later…I do believe that what we put out comes back to us which is why I do my best to put out that which I want to be returned. I'm not perfect or saintly but I really do make a concentrated effort. But then I began to wonder at the impressions that we leave with others. What percentage of that is our responsibility compared to how we're perceived through the filters that are forged to the positive or negative that colors the acuity in another's view? From where does our karma come? Who deserves a harsher judgment and do we have the right to make suggestions, do two wrongs ever make it right? Is someone else to blame for our misery or is it solely our own for allowing another that condition of power over us? Or better still, should we tread lightly while covering our own heads/asses and pray for mercy. As with all things I'm sure I'm looking for a single answer where a myriad of them exist. Or perhaps I'm more naïve than I'd like to believe because I'm perfectly aware that for as much as we want to believe that people think, feel, process and live by the same ideals that we do they simply don't. That doesn't make someone who doesn't mirror us right or wrong, just makes them someone who's not us. I still insist on believing in the best of people in spite of themselves. I feel that if you look for a monster that's what you'll find and if you look for good you'll find that too. Perhaps that's why for all I know of the human heart I can still be saddened when I find one that's turned cold. Karma comes for all of us everyday and perhaps we should be looking over our own shoulder instead of wondering or hoping for what's behind someone else's…

*EEB - A Bedtime Story for a Hot Summer Night (09-06-2007)

I have written for as long as I can remember. About anything and everything. It's been my sanity, my sounding board and my release throughout life. One of my favorite things to write, when need of a bit of extra release of those um, creative juices is required, is erotica. I don't just toss it off in quickie fashion, I like to embellish with as many nuances as I can get in them. I try to write so that my reader is right there with me. (in the case or erotica that's a VERY good thing! *wink*) I also can't write it at the spur of the moment so no requests please. I do find it easier to write when I have a muse. This is a piece that I started last year and have only tonight felt properly inspired and motivated to complete. I hope you enjoy it!
Her heart and body aches with the tenderness and passion she feels as her gaze touches every beautiful inch of your still form. She hungrily peruses you while you sleep, her eyes caressing your nude body - relaxed, tranquil; uncovered by the sheet pushed to the side on a warm night. The windows open, allowing the cool night breeze to roll over you like a gentle tide. So deeply you sleep that you're unaware of the woman standing so still beside your bed, that curvaceous silhouette against the glow of the moonlit window. She stands, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe deeply. Her body almost ethereal with iridescent light as she strokes lightly over her tight pink pebble hard nipples standing out on her ample breasts then following the line of an hourglass waist to the generous curve of her hip then on to the smooth mons below. Her shapely body gives evidence of the development of her sex. She is formed as a woman, not a teen age child. Startling pale blue eyes glow with a silvery light as she observes you greedily. How dare she want you so much… yet she does so with an overwhelming intensity she's never felt before. She can't control the desire that leaps like a living thing within her to claw ravenously at her insides as she silently breathes your name. Her gaze traces the long defined leg that is nearest her, the strength of the long muscles - an athlete's power, the reverse bell shape line of your hip bone emphasizing the place where your deceptively still member rests, the tan line evidence of where the sun had been allowed fortune to kiss, the flat sculpted surface of your stomach beckoning her caressing gaze to gently touch then rise higher. Twin tips stood out against heavily carved mounds of velvety flesh covering steel - she lingered on the gold ring that pierced the left point. A sigh fell from her parted lips. Continuing to follow the path she visually touches the sensual curve of your neck to your handsome face. Finely trimmed hair darkening your chiseled jaw and emphasized the fullness of that generous, welcoming mouth that could be so gentle and so demanding, eyelids hiding in sleep penetrating lapis pools she'd gladly drown in. Your long hair fanning the pillow showing glints of gold where sunlight had ran her fingers through it. A smile curved her parted lips but her fingers felt the rampant desire spilling forth from her center as she continued to play amongst her secret sacred garden. You are so peaceful as you sleep but she is set to rouse not only the man but the passion that she so easily sees lying banked just below the surface whenever she encounters you. She would stoke the flame and glory in the boundless rapturous consumption he promised.
She pulled her hands away from her wetness, sucking a finger into her mouth, tasting the evidence of her desire for you, wanting to add to it the flavor of your passions. She sat gently on the edge of the bed, silently reaching out to softly caress the nipple ring, allowing her finger tips to send a light vibration that your body readily responded to even in sleep. As the nipple contracted the ring was pulled upwards to stand at attention, asking for more. Her lips and tongue replace her fingers -- warm, wet and supple, urging the peak to hold out the ring in provocative incentive. You moan in your sleep, responsively moving your hand to the back of her head. She smiles over her task, needing no more encouragement. She moves to her knees beside you, wanting to trace your body with her hands and mouth. As she feathers light, balmy kisses and licks over your skin you slowly awake, a smile curving your mouth as you watch her with a smoldering radiance burnishing your eyes to a deeper blue. She hears the change in your breathing, she is so aware of you she can even detect so small a change. She looks up, shades of contrary blue igniting indigo flames as both pairs of eyes search the others face, needing to connect more than just physically. "Is this a dream?" she sighs, "I've been imagining this for so long… This has to be real…" As if to confirm the solidity of her senses she moves towards your face, lips parted as her breathing comes hot from her lips, her pulse visibly racing in her veins, her breasts lightly sliding over your chest so that you are both aware of the hard peaks being stimulated even more as they make bare contact with each other. You raise your hands, putting your fingers deep into the fiery auburn tresses of her long hair, stroking either side of her face with your thumbs as you draw her mouth to yours for a languid kiss, lips tormenting, coaxing an escalating response, sighs of pleasure issuing and blending from between two pairs of lips. She begins kissing the outside corners of your smile then tracing your lips with the sweet wet tip of her tongue teasingly till you suck it into your mouth, bringing her lips into deeper contact to your own. The kiss intensifies, tongues licking, dancing together, tasting the sweetness offered so willingly, igniting carnal hungers that demand fulfillment. Her long hair tickling sensuously where ever it touches as mouths challenge each other to explore their depths.
As much as she loves kissing you her appetite builds to taste more of you. With a soft moan she begins by kissing your eyelids gently closed, moving to kiss along the tickling, cushioning fur of your jaw line, her hot breath in your ear sending an electrical shock of pleasure washing over your body as she traces the curve of your ear lobe with her tongue before next trailing slowly down the arch of your neck. You groan as an intense wave of pleasure grips you and races up your spin as you press your head back into the softness of the pillow allowing her to feel your pulse quicken under her tormenting lips as she finds the dip at the base of your throat. Her persistent lips play over your collar bone before descending again to your nipple ring. Your hands have found the fullness of her breasts, lifting and weighing their supple heaviness in your palms, fingers rolling then flicking the pink buds into aching attention. She sighs with wanton approval at your touch. Her nursing becoming stronger as she circled each peak with her tongue before taking it between her lips and biting gently, hearing you moan with delight. Her fingernails trace circles over your sides that make you writhe with delight against her touch but she eases each tortured path by following with her mouth as she continues to trail down over your stomach. She wants to explore every inch of you, find all the places that heat your blood to fever pitch. She especially likes the reaction she gets as she traces then licks those wonderful hip bones. The skin is so close to the bone that the nerve endings jump in anticipation of her caress. "Hmmm…" comes her seductive approving sound. Your hands have been tracing her sides, soothing her back, fondling her breasts then tweaking her nipples and beginning to explore lower but she moves away from you, standing to walk with a sensual swaying, an alluring grace, to the bottom of the bed, taking each of your feet in her hands, massaging, stretching, maneuvering them in a relaxing way. Just as you close your eyes in appreciation she traces a fingernail up the instep of each foot. Your eyes fly open to see her grinning at you mischievously and you can't help but smile back. "Playing now are we?" a glint of mischief lighting your own eyes. "Oh no, just exploring…" she smiles. Next she kneels between your calves, running a hand up each leg - fingers grazing calmly over excited tissue, again stopping to tickle just behind your knees. You chuckle, "You know you're going to get it for that…" "Oh I very well intend to and very soon!" she said with a face flushed with her most eager smile and earnest intent to do just that. Her warm palms kneading the heavy muscles of your thighs; advance stimulus to the ecstasy that rocks your body as her mouth follows. Alternating between each leg she licks, tickles, lightly bites, and teases her way upwards, her tongue licking white hot flames over your skin as she advances.
She kneels between your knees, leaning forward so that her breasts swing heavily before she nestles them to either side of your pulsing cock, pillowing it between the generous mounds then pressing them together to form a warm deep valley. She moves her soft flesh over your shaft, tipping her head to capture the precum that glistens on the tip with each stroke. Her desire to taste you more fully has her moving back to lie between your legs, head resting on your thigh as she strokes your engorged staff and sack lightly with the barest of touches from her painted fingertips. The dark tips make a sexy contrast as they slide teasing over your jumping, contracting flesh. Her mouth follows her hands, licking softly, fluttering wickedly to make you moan and squirm beneath her skilled manipulations.
"Oh I want to eat you alive…" Desperate need filling her voice. Once said she engulfs your cock deeply in her hot demanding mouth, her hands caressing tantalizing patterns over twitching muscles and tissue. Squeezing strokes of rod and tickling fingers just behind the tightening balls have you sucking in air like a happily dying man. Her mouth takes the place of her hands and you gasp at the passionate assault, leaning up to hypnotically watch and take wondrous pleasure in your own devouring. Her hair falling in a gauzy curtain that conceals her passion filled face as she worships with her mouth the root of your masculinity. You want to see her face, want to watch the havoc of desire awash on her continence. You gently tuck the long hair behind her earlobe. Her eyes are closed, cheeks flushed bright with the fever of desire, her lips ovaled and pressed tight against the shaft of your cock as you watch your hardness sliding in and out, going deeper with each stroke. You can feel her tongue pressing tight and wide along the underside ridge as you move in then fluttering over the top as you move outward. Her mouth is like hot wet velvet encasing you, her tongue like sun warmed silky rose petals dancing against your flesh. You watch her, her intoxication in giving you pleasure infusing your own heightened reactions. She feels your eyes upon her, hears your deep breaths coming between teeth clenched in desperate control as you feel the increased tightening of her lips as they twitch with her answering smile as her eyes slowly open to gaze back at you. Oh she knows the effect she's having and she knew that the very instant her eyes met yours she had sealed the casting of her magic over you. Iced blue fire circling dark pupils widened in lustful abandon coaxing you to catapult into their scorching depths. Shock waves echo out from her eyes and envelope you, your body trembles and quakes in answer to the tidal pull of the magnetism between you. She raises her mouth, never breaking the eye contact as she lashes the tip of your cock with her pink tongue, letting you see how it dips and swirls around your blooming flesh, before taking you fully into her devouring mouth. You feel the tide rising, feel the control you were clinging to so desperately ripping away. You're muscles tense, body building to sweet torturous crescendo, breathing in short gasps. It was like imploding then exploding, like going nova… The odd stray thought burst into your mind as your body immolates the event on its own heart pounding scale. Your hands are buried in her silky hair, your hips rock, and your eruptions spilling into her greedy throat in answer to her commanding eagerness. She is milking you with both hands, her mouth wide to catch every creamy squirt before sucking you in, taking all you give, moaning approvingly at your passionate release.
Your body glows in the dim light of the moonlit room as perspiration films your overheated, sensitive skin. You reach out your arms to her, needing to feel her pressed against the length of you to try to steady the tremors that still quake your body. You pull her to lie pressed tight to your side, kissing her deeply, tasting yourself lingering in the sweet nectar of her mouth. She strokes you slowly with her fingertips feeling your body tremor, knowing that the sensitivity of your skin is still excessively heightened to her touch.
"You're the dream." Your voice deep and raspy over unsteady breaths.
She purrs contentedly, "Mmm, if I am then can you have me every night…?" A smile spills across her face in remembering.
You lean up onto one arm, caressing her breast and rolling her nipple between your fingers, "I wonder how many times I can have the same dream in one night," your smile reflects back to you from her, "let's find out…"
Your hand caresses the abundant mound of her breast as you lower your mouth to lick the nipple standing at erotic attention then sucking the point deep into your mouth before releasing it only to nibble and pull at it with gentle teeth. She hums in sensual approval. Her skin smells of a heady soft spice that fills your lungs and mind. Her skin is smooth and pale as cream. Your hand strokes her hair as the other milks the pink tip into your mouth. Nursing oh so sensually yet hungrily demanding. Her hand tangles now in your long hair; tendrils caressingly curling around her fingers, the other stroking your face as she watches captivated as her flesh is consumed and she moans rhythmically. You move your arms behind her back to pull her softness into the hard expanse of the iron wall of your chest before claiming title to her mouth. So deep is the kiss that when after a long while it is broken both pant as if surfacing from some unfathomable depth. She has become something untamable under your marauding hands. Eyes glaze, panting breaths making her breasts rise and fall quickly, sinuously twisting body trying to crawl into your never near enough embrace. You stroke your hand down her body to her core. At first touch her hips thrust forward and your hand is full of her sacred flower's nectar. You dip your fingers inside her, fondle the engorged bud then bring your fingers back to your mouth to taste her sweetness.
"Mmm, like wine…," you whisper, "and I'm so thirsty for just this vintage." You kiss her deeply again, letting her taste her own arousal. You move between thighs that you gently push wider apart and she pulls up her knees - surrendering to your erogenous explorations. You kiss the smooth soft flesh of her shaved mons then trace the full lips of her labia torturously slow with your tongue. She arches her back, moaning, her head lulling from side to side as her passion builds. You place both of your hands under the soft curve of her ass, pulling her hips forward so that you can fasten you mouth over her sex and fuck her weeping slit with your tongue. She cries out and clenches your hair in her fists and pulls your head harder between her thighs, grinding her hips against your invading tongue. You want this to last, want to fill her with more than just your tongue. Your cock has reasserted its need. It's hard and twitching to be sheathed in her welcoming body. You release her hips but you gently and slowly insert a slickened finger into her tight hot ass and watch appreciatively as she wriggles again it with new sensation. You can see the clenching spasms beginning at the mouth of her velvet walls. The shining swollen bud draws your attention and your tongue circles and caresses the sensitive, slippery pearl before your lips clamp around it, sucking it in and out as she grinds hard into your mouth. Your tongue dips into the dripping orchid of her sex as your fingers continue to roll her engorged clit, causing her to quake in response. Then you slide one, then two, then three long fingers into those clenching folds, finding then stroking that secret spot towards the front of her pelvic wall.
"Oh please, I'm so ready! I'm going to cum, oh GOD I'm going to cum for you…!" she groans, face and body tense, wild and beautiful beyond imagining at the height of her passion.
"No, not yet!", you growl as you quickly rise to your knees then leaning over her trembling body to sink the full length and breadth of your cock deep into her soft flesh. She cries out with pure pleasure at the fullness of your plundering shaft pressing, expanding and impaling her body to yours. She raises her hips to meet your powerful thrusts, each stroke carrying you deeper into her center. Your hands pull her hips into yours as you increase the rhythm of this most primal of all dances. You raise one of her legs to your shoulder to allow you to pound deeper into her grasping hole and both of your hands meet at the swollen red pearl of her clit while her other hand caresses her breasts, pulling her nipples between her fingertips then pulling her breast up to suck the taunt pink bud between her own lips. Your eyes are locked with hers, both spliced through your genitals and eyes in one continuous circle. The ultimate symbol of passion. The din of groans, heavy breathing, slapping wet bodies and erotic encouragements fill the air, ever growing in intensity and pitch till she sings her glorious song of release and you respond in perfect harmonious kind. Bodies heaving clasped so tightly in bliss so that it's impossible to distinguish where one begins and the other ends…To be continued in your dreams….(feel free to comment)