Tasting Nutty bars and Strawberries

Alright. I'm not denying that I always complain that I'm tremendously fucking busy... I complain about the shit a lot... A lot more than I should.

But I refrain apprehensively that urge to bitch about what I'm slacking on and kicking my own ass for not being 'on the ball' (snicker... Makes me think of this when I say that).

I'm going to write about a different challenge. A challenge that I had totall control over but didn't exercise restraint or patience... and henceforth, let's just say I'm really in a bad way now. Really like totally head up my ass territory here.

And as a pre-empt to that I'm going to begin with one sentence that should sum it all up:

I truly am my own worst fuckshop, and I love my Dad for reaffirming my juxtaposition.

Hmm. What the fuck does that mean exactly? Okay... Let's digress waaaayyy back and I'll tell explain exactly why this applies.

***
Day at work, normally stressful... I'm able to leave a little early to accomplish some work chores. I do work chores, I get home earlier than expected.... *snicker* Nobody's home yet... AWESOME!

It was a beautiful sunny and 50+ degree day here which necessitated I peel out of my work clothes and into a crop top and yoga pants. HUR-fucking-RAH my little love monkeys.... Spring is here!

But being that I was mostly naked in transition from changing....

and the house was quiet...

I had time to masturbate my way.
None of this 'hiding in the bathroom' bull shit... No no... This time Emma was doing it- and doing it right. Sprawled across the bed, sunlight through the shade hitting the body and giving it the warmness of another body (for fantasizing fucking rocks!), nice and slow and quiet and yeah.

*Sigh*

But fuckers that's not why I love my dad and I'm fairly pissed that I just threw up in my mouth a little with that fucked up digression I gave you.

***
After finishing, I decide I'm inspired to tackle a short story that's due like, tomorrow or errr today. fuck. Yeah, so I'm taking a quick shower and preparing to boot up the lap top when my phone rings:

"Hello"
"Hey sweetie, it's your father"
"Hi Dad! What's up?"
"You need to call me."
*silence*
"Dad, you uhh. You know you just called me right?"
"Yeah, but I need to know if you're gonna call me."
"Do I need to call you?"
"Yes."
*silence again*

"okay dad hang up"
"why? Is there something wrong with the connection? Can you hear me?"
*rubbing forehead and chuckling a little*
"NO dad, but you said I needed to call, so hang up and I'll call you back!"

"Nah, you don't need to do that."

Did the above conversation make ANY sense to you people? Is it just my head he was butt-loving.... Or am I fucked? Jesus. The long and the short of it was that he needed to stop by and see me... And it took all that fucking mindmelting to finally get him over with my stuff.

My stuff, my stuff my stuff my stuff.

***
Needless to say, I'm a little stoned. And it's not helping with my story. I'm drifting and totally too fucking entertained to recall what a dick feels like in my ass.... Honestly I think I'd giggle like a mother fucker if somebody even tried to approach me with lube right now.

And I'm hungry... For junk food... I could do it, but errr... Then I feel dirty. Not in the mood to be encrusting my body with sugar dirt. That would piss me off for certain and then I'd be laughing, but evil, and writing Gonzo instead.

Back to the point! I'll free write for a minute and give you an example:

The warmth and silkiness of the water encapsulated my body, bringing with it a tingling sensation as it extinguished the numbness of my bone-deep chill. I dipped my head into the stream and opened my mouth to drink from it, holding my tongue ...

*stop*

I need a coke. No, cocoa... Yeah. cocoa. Alright, with marshmallows.

(ten minutes later I return with hot chocolate on a 50+ sunny day)

...Under the pulse of the stream. Your hand presented itself on my back slowly, with only fingertips touching.... I surprised a bit, but knew our connection was inevitable. It was mere seconds until I turned to look at you and hope to meet with a kiss.
*stop*

Hersheys kiss. Right. I got that. And I'm fucking horny... God damnit maybe I can fit some of that in too again. Oooh and hersheys kisses with strawberries even! I could do a cap (Hersheys kiss stuffed inside a strawberry-- very yummy)!

(go check out uninterruption factor, is good... More masturbation.. Then chocolate then... then..)

Reaching for my collarbone, your fingers grasp tightly and pull me into you. My back connects with your chest; and as it does I can feel your hardness on my ass cheek. My head rests back against your shoulder, the water hits my body hard and emits a soft spray that...
*stop*

wow. See, now that's hot... wtf do I do now. hmmm. So many options (pondering for 30 minutes). *sigh*

Eventually my thoughts lead somewhere to the Banana Split Gang and singing the La La La song. Don't ask me how shower fucking goes to a 70's kids variety show, but it does. And before I know it I have my character fucking a large suited Dog looking mascot in the shower.

Just fucked. Dunno. But I'll be god damned if I can even think straight on shower sex at this point. Describing a blow job is just bad so I can't skip to that. Coitus for some reason sounds like a yoga position... and writing a self-help article about how your physical health affects your orgasm just makes me feel guilty while I'm chomping chocolate covered strawberries and Sara Lee Nutty Bars.
Hypocritical Even.

God damnit dad. God damnit Emma. God damnit sexy fucking guy in the shower with his dick in my ass while we're soaping. I have no idea what to do with any of you.... Honestly.

*pondering*

K, dad can go... He's forgiven.
But let's just leave Emma and hot shower guy where they're at... shall we?