It’s that time of year when the veil between the living and dead grows thinnest. Witches and warlocks, ghosts and ghouls, pookas and goblins, faeries and pixies, and all manner of othernatural will be running amok tonight.
However you celebrate, stay safe.
Stay SINful, friends.
To all who suffered and continue to suffer from Hurricane/Superstorm Sandy, our thoughts are with you. May you find comfort and relief quickly, and your recovery leave you stronger than before.
Stay SINful, friends
As I write this, Hurricane Sandy is within 24 hours of making landfall on the Eastern Seaboard of the United States. Reuters reports that it may be the largest storm to ever make landfall in the United States. Let that sink in a minute. By size, larger than Katrina, or Andrew, or Irene last year. Already there are reports of flooding in NYC. In Gowanus, Brooklyn, New York the storm surge is literally pushing toxic sewage into the street. Even of NYC does not take a direct hit, the immense size of this storm could be disastrous for the city. A storm surge correlating with landfall near high tide during the current full moon could flood the subway system and affect service for a month. While I admit my combined 13 years of living in Florida and riding out dozens of storms has made me cynical when it comes to heeding the hype, we saw with Katrina that sometimes not even the predictions account for the amount of damage potential.
As Mrs. AP pointed out while we were discussing the problems Sandy poses, what happens when all the rooftop furniture starts taking flight? We have seen lawn chairs split palm trees in half during storms in Florida. What is a handrail from a rooftop deck going to do when it hits the glass facade of one of the buildings in Midtown? What happens when the loose equipment from the various towers under construction gets an unobstructed flight across town? What happens when debris from Roosevelt Island splits a cable on one of the bridges over the East River? Okay, maybe that last example is an exaggeration. Nevertheless, we know in Florida that flooding and debris caught by the wind cause the most damage, and NYC is fraught with potential for both.
After the surgery Mrs. AP had, we’re under doctor’s orders for no intercourse until she’s checked out and we’re given the blessing for all systems go. For a couple as active as we are, it’s been agonizing. It’s also led to some incredibly hot “everything but” sessions like we’re a couple of teenagers trying to get every fix we can. It’s been lots of fun and has had the added bonus of forcing us (read: Me) to talk about what we like, what we want, and so forth. We spent every day of my “weekend” off from work either talking, cuddling, or playing in every way we could. In a word, we reconnected, which we both needed. I feel refreshed and comforted, and I think she does as well. Part of the problem we’ve been having in the physical reconnecting, however, is holding to those orders from the doctor.
This “problem” — ’cause really, it’s a relatively small problem as long as intimacy is being maintained, right? — started not long after Mrs. AP gave me one of the most amazing blowjobs in the history of blowjobs. One of the immeasurably wonderful things about Mrs. AP is that she gets turned on by turning me on, so by the time I’ve begun shooting my hot cum down her throat she’s ready for me to turn her over, grab her hair, slap her ass, and fuck her so hard she screams her throat raw. Not being able to do that right now requires getting a little more… creative… in our problem solving skills. Oh, how I wish all problems required such fun ways of finding solutions!
This has been making the rounds. Enjoy.
Only two rules: You must answer yes or no. You may not explain unless someone asks.
Hello there SINful friend! If you’re reading this posting you fall into one of a few relatively small categories: somebody who is a sex blogger, somebody who wants to be a sex blogger, or somebody who stumbled here accidentally through a cheeky inclusion by a rogue search engine. If you’re here because a search engine drove you astray, don’t worry, we don’t bite around here without expressed permission to do so. In fact, that’s one of the tenants of being a good member of the sex-positive community; always get expressed consent. Lots of bad things happen when you don’t, so it’s a good rule to live by. Please feel free to follow this post to the end while you’re here, and if you feel so inspired do explore further through additional posts. My archives to the right are organized chronologically; you can start with the first post or the most recent and read through them all, or just bounce around as you see fit. Whatever works for you.
If you’re one of my long-time friends (or even a new friend, to whom I say thank you for joining!) you will likely already know most of the advice I’m about to dispense. In fact, as I’m still a relative newcomer to this community, you likely know even more than I! Your comments are welcome as always to help expand upon my limited foundation.
Therefore, I turn to my final set, and the core audience for this posting; those who wish to start a sex blog. Writing a sex blog is easy, honestly. Anybody with a sexual thought and the ability to sign up for a WordPress or Blogger account can start one. Writing a good sex blog, however, requires a little more effort. To help ease the amount of effort required, I recommend the following:
I was on my back on the bed looking up at Mrs. AP as she came into the room. She smiled as her gaze caressed my naked form, the sparkle coming into her eyes with an intensity that’s been missing for over a week. In slow, measured movements she closed the door behind her and peeled her shirt over her head, swaying her hips gently as her delicious breasts emerged from cover. She tossed her shirt to the side and crawled onto the bed, her eyes hungry, her smile dancing dangerously. Her lips met mine with a ferocity that still surprises, amazes, and entices every time. Never have I ever been kissed by anybody who can put so much intensity and emotion into the seemingly simple sensation of pressing together two pairs of lips.
Her hand trailed down my chest, teasing all the sensitive and tickly spots before spiraling lower to brush against my hardening cock. I felt her smile against my lips as her hand wrapped around me and squeezed. My cock became her stress toy, her hand pulsing around me as she tested how hard she could grip me before I cried out in that swirling kaleidoscope of pleasure and pain. She pulled back, grinning a cheshire cat grin, and shifted to her knees before turning and lowering her tantalizing lips to the throbbing head of my rock-hard cock.
There it is. All debates are complete, and there’s 2 weeks remaining until Election Day here within the United States. Between all the rhetoric and attacks and question dodging there seems to be no question that neither candidate is quite getting all the information he wants to divulge in a clear and concise manner. What, then, is a responsible, sex-positive individual to do? Look to the platforms of the two major parties, of course! Follow me as we explore then in more detail.
Today’s T.M.I. Tuesday questions focus on looking back to when we were younger and comparing our current selves to what we knew or did then. Read my answers below. Find other’s answer at the T.M.I. Tuesday blog.
This morning I unleashed a rant upon the sky. One of the few perks my job affords me is the ability to walk along some of the waterways south of St. Petersburg, FL at times when few people are about. This morning — very early this morning, before the birds awoke — I pace and ranted, yelled, muttered, and ranted some more. The stars and the waves were all that bore witness to this meandering rant that contained enough circumlocutions not even Kevin Smith could have written them.
This rant followed very shortly two very important steps in my healing process. First, foremost, and greatest of all is that Mrs. AP, in her incredibly insightful and supportive disposition, enticed and encouraged me to unleash many of the frustrations I’ve had over life in general for the past few weeks, all of which were brought to a boiling head one week ago when we learned we were no longer nurturing a pregnancy. My mood crumbled, leaving me very down and dazed and not at all the high-spirited person to whom Mrs. AP has grown accustomed. Worse still for both of us has been that we cannot find nor make peace with the loss of our child. Neither of us prescribe to any particular religious precept — I’m closest to a Humanist-Agnostic with a respect for the Pagan and Buddhist tenets in respect to life and natural energy, she’s closest to a Pagan-Buddhist with a deep connection to nature and natural energy — so the usual Judeo-Christian platitudes of being reunited in Heaven ring rather hollow. As we see it, what soul was there that abandoned our fetus may yet one day return to us, but for now we’re left without, and it hurts. We both want answers, but realistically and scientifically there are no answers to give. None of the tests that were run could provide anything solid. Best guesses include stress or some fetal medical condition not discoverable via bloodwork. We don’t know, and neither do the medical professionals.
All went well. Mrs. AP is now on 2 painkillers, antibiotics, and a muscle rebuilder. She is prescribed bed rest for 2 days. Luckily I don’t work again until Friday night. The kids (and the puppy) are at Grandma’s until Sunday evening. I get to be the best damn nurse husband ever! 😀
Stay SINful, friends.
Continuing the updates provided by my previous post, Mrs. AP now has her prescription for her UTI — thank you Lily Lloyd for the offer to help! — and is scheduled for a D and C this morning. The number of complex maneuvers required to make this happen would make the Navy Blue Angels blanch. As I’ve not the time to draw the diagrams required for a proper demonstration I trust my list-making skills will suffice.
- Medicaid eligibility is determined in Florida by The Department of Children and Families (DCF)
- Medicaid coverage includes multiple sub-providers or plan names
- Medical service providers may accept one Medicaid plan to the exclusion of others
Follow me so far? Here’s what Mrs. AP did — while growing increasingly frustrated, suffering increasing pain, and fighting the fatigue her anemia triggers — to overcome the ridiculous failings of the current system.
- Call the pharmacy where we tried to fill her prescription Sunday night, learn the (not accepted) Medicaid plan was still in effect.
- Call Medicaid, sit on hold for 20 minutes before talking with 1 representative and then 1 manager to learn that the Pregnancy plan we need is active on the account but that the unaccepted sub-plan is still attached until November 1. Furthermore, the account is now marked for all benefits to expire October 31.
- Call the sub-plan provider to obtain a list of Obstetricians who will accept said sub-plan. Try not to yell at the representative who is surprised to find not a single office in the county. Obtain a list of the 3 closest offices, a respective 24, 33, and 56 miles from our house. Also be told that “most everybody accepts the prescription coverage, just not Walgreens.”
- Call the closest office to learn they only have Doctors and Mid-Wives available on Wednesdays.
- Call the next closest office, get an appointment scheduled at their closer office for mid-afternoon yesterday (Tuesday now).
- Call the closest non-Walgreens Pharmacy. Be told they no long accept the particular sub-plan.
- Call the next-closest Pharmacy, arrange for a transfer of prescription, to be available for pickup around noon.
- Call DCF to determine why coverage now expires on Halloween. Sit on hold for 30 minutes. Give up and give in to exhaustion; take a short nap.
I do not want to be writing this. I do not want to be writing anything. I do not want to be at work, or in front of computer, or doing anything other than holding Mrs. AbsinthePassion while we eat ridiculous amounts of junk food and drink potent alcohol and watch television shows and films that will seem immeasurably deep and complex while we’re drunk. I want out of this pain that runs so deep even the Marianas Trench would be afraid to peer over the edge of the yawning abyss. I also want to spare you, SINful friends, of this pain, so be warned, continuing further down this path finds only sorrow and despair. Continue at your peril.
As I mentioned in my 6-month Anniversary post the other day, I took a brief sabbatical from the blog due to a continuous 11 days of work and the need to recuperate afterward. I’m noticing this is a growing trend among many of my fellow bloggers; if I work from the top down through my blogroll I can find at least 3 examples before I hit the midway point of people who are taking a break in one form or another. Between burnouts, changes in lifestyle, work requirements, or what have you’s these fine people need to step back, catch a breath, and recover. Recognizing when to do so is, I think, one of the keys to living a long and happy life.
Here in the United States, taking a break is not encouraged. It is not mandatory. To some of my international readers, this may come as a shock, but there is no mandatory vacation/holiday time in the United States. Employers have no requirement to provide paid time off, for any reason. For recent parents, the Family Medical Leave Act assures that a mother may take up to 12 weeks off from work to care for her newborn child, but those 12 weeks are not required to be paid time off. Yes, you read that correctly; a mother may take unpaid time off from work for up to 12 weeks to care for her newborn before she must return to work or lose her job. In my current job I am offered no paid time off for any reason; not sickness, not for a death in the family, and certainly not for a vacation/holiday.
“Daddy, you’re so pretty!”
This my daughter, Princess, exclaimed to me this evening as I was donning my requisite work finery. Mrs. AP sat on the bed, grinning ear to ear as she wholeheartedly agreed. Mrs. AP had been discussing this very topic with me very recently, noting that the specific word “pretty” was used in description of me by an overwhelming majority of people seeking some method of delivering the opinion of my looks. I smiled and chuckled, absolutely unwilling to disagree with the angelic face of Princess as she grinned up at me. I tousled her hair and hugged her close, basking in the warmth that can only come from the glow of a happy and loving child.
What prompted this exposition from her? Granted, I had just come from the shower, wherein I trimmed and shaved face, chest, arms, underarms, and groin. That fact notwithstanding, by the time Princess came running into the room to embrace me I was already clad in underpants, socks, and work trousers and was in process of applying deodorant; hardly a position inherently imbued with beauty or grace, I’m sure. Nevertheless, Princess is not prone to falsehoods nor false modesty, much less false praise. When she speaks truth issues forth from her in a way that would embarrass the most ardent of monks. Thus I wondered, in that moment, what it is about me that brings forth these claims of me being pretty?
Hello again SINful friends. I know I’ve been gone a short time. Do forgive me, please.
When I last left you all I was preparing for a work trip to New York, wherein I worked 36 hours in 3 days. This trip itself was sandwiched between 2 work weeks of my Day Job, wherein I work 48 hours in 4 days, weekly. Combined, I worked 132 hours in 11 days, for a smooth even average of 12 hours a day. I did, in short, burn out a few transistors, blew a few capacitors, and did have to recuperate for these past 3 days in the arms of My Beloved Mrs. AbsinthePassion. Did I mention I adore her? She is the perfect remedy for all that ails me, and these past 3 days have been well spent indeed. Doing what, exactly?
Well, we loved, we fucked, we cuddled, we lay exhausted in each other’s arms, we talked, we planned, we went out to eat when we could afford to and got creative with meals at home when we could not. We played with children and yelled at children and did the same with the puppy and generally lived a typical, normal, every day kind of life.
During my absence here, the 6-month anniversary of the launch of this webspace passed. I wish I could tell all of you, SINful friends, that I took note of it on the day it happened. Sadly, I was instead deep in the embrace first of sleep, and later a minor concussion.