Every Picture Tells a Story

Riding is in my blood.

It's part of my family history. From the time I could remember, I remember my Dad on a bike. He even taught my Mom to ride when she was young and carefree.

Times weren't always good when I was growing up. Quite often they were anything but. But the one, shining, great memory of my Old Man was him taking me for rides on his bike when I was little. He'd say "hold on, and don't touch the engine with your legs! It's hot!" And off we'd go.

My Dad was a biker. To me, that made him just about the coolest guy in the world.

Granted, those illusions never last. Life intrudes. But now that I'm a Man, I get to ride too, on my bike.

I give it gas. The engine roars. This is what it's like to come alive. When you pull out the drive and onto open road; then and only then you understand. You're apart of something strong and ancient. The history of man and horse and being one with the road. It's something primal that speaks to the heart of man. You smell the open air and feel the wind and sun. This is how we are meant to live; not trapped behind walls and ties and insurance and oppressive government. We are lions in the wild, and we need to roam.

Sometimes I go riding with my old man. And I'm a little boy again. And my Dad? When he's on that bike, racing with the wind... he really is the coolest guy on Earth.

Every Picture Tells a Story

The Trans Am wasn't just a car. For a long time it was like one of our roommates.

People wonder about the guys who name their vehicles, but I don't think there's anything weird about it. A car isn't just a machine the way your television is. So much of your life is shared with it. Road trips and heart breaks and taking home your baby girl from the hospital for the first time. Your car is there for it all through thick and thin.

It wasn't my car. It belonged to a friend, but I'd spent so much time in it that it may as well have been part of my family.

It was hard for everyone when he had to sell it. We made the long drive in my van to Baton Rouge as his sister drove that beautiful Pontiac for the last time. We met the seller at a tire shop. He was tall and muscular with gel in his hair. As it turned out he and his wife were a pair of strippers. The hilarity of that fact didn't help though.

Whoever they were, we knew they wouldn't appreciate the Trans Am the way we had. To them it would just be a slick car. The act of sale stole it's personality.

We said goodbye, and made the long drive home.

Every Picture Tells a Story

I never had many friends growing up.

I was just a weird kid, and there's nothing worse that being different when you're a kid. Come to think of it, I'm not sure how different it is as an adult.

And then one day I had lots of friends... or at least some. Each wonderful. Each special in their own way. For my eighteenth birthday, my wonderful Mother rented a limo.

I haven't had many great birthdays... more often than not, it's a disaster. But this one... I have yet to top it. I'm not sure I ever will.

I can't remember what we did. I just know that we were young and free. There was laughter. And joy. We were still young and stupid enough to believe we would always be friends. And of course, we had our whole lives ahead of us.

I envy those kids. The light in their eyes... the laughter... the hope. If I could get back one day, I think it would be that one.

It's one of those days that makes it all worth while.

Short Story: The Back Up

Journal Entry; January 20, 2008

The wedding was, oddly, pretty great. I know what everyone was thinking. They knew why Lisa and I got married. And I guess it's a little pathetic in other people's eyes. But at the age of 38, what were we supposed to do? Should we wait around for true romantic love to find us? It seemed a little unlikely at this point. That's why we made the pact fourteen years ago. If neither of us was near to getting married at 38, we marry each other.

It makes sense. I can't think of anyone off hand I would rather marry than Lisa. She's been my best friend for twenty years now. We were practically married for the last fifteen. So why not? We're still young enough to have kids if we decide. And at the end of the day, I'm happy with the decision. So why am I having so much trouble with this?

Sex. Neither of us wants a sexless marriage. But there's something so... creepy about having sex with Lisa... I mean, I just had sex with my best friend. What the fuck?! And it didn't go well.

When she came out in her lingerie... that silk teddy hanging off of her... she looked phenomenal... but then I got nervous and started laughing. I thought the mood couldn't be any more dead, but then I removed my robe and she spoke.

"What the hell is that?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You are NOT putting that inside me."
"I... you don't... there's something wrong?"
"James, it's 6 inches long and 3 inches thick! You would need a jack to get me open that wide!"
"It's not 3 inches..."
"Your head is as big as my fist! That's not a cock, it's a coke can!"
"Why would you say that? How am I supposed to have sex with you when you think I'm a freak?"
"I don't... I'm sorry James. I don't think you're a freak. An example of life imitating porn, maybe, but not a freak."
"What am I supposed to do now?"
"I'm really sorry, James. I'm just nervous. Why don't we try? Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm alright. Should we just... you know... get to it?"
"Yes. And get the lube."
"How much should I use."
"Use the bottle. The whole goddamn bottle. I don't need you chafing my vagina."

I did as she asked, then prepared to fuck my best friend. We didn't even bother with foreplay. It was almost as if we were just going through the motions. She layed down on the bed and I flopped on top of her.

"Alright... I'm inside you."
"James, it feels like I'm in the middle of childbirth. I am well aware that you are inside of me."
"How's that?"
"It's... fine. Just go slow, okay?"
"Okay... there we go."
"Could you lift yourself up a little, I can't breathe."
"What?"
"You're crushing me, James. You aren't supposed to just slap yourself on top of me. Hold yourself up with your forearms, like you're doing push-ups."
"Oh, sorry... how's that?"
"OW OW OWWWW!!!! You're on my hair! Get off!"
"Whoops... sorry. You okay?"
"No! Look, just get off me!"
"Already? But we just..."
"Get off me!"

Day 2
"You like that you little whore? Yeah, I bet you do, huh? You're so naughty."
"Heh heh heh."
"What?"
"Heh... nothing... heh eheh... sorry. *Ahem* Keep going."
"Oooookay. I umm, I'm gonna fuck you so good. You're gonna love it."
"Hehehhahaaaaa."
"Oh come on!"
"Hahahhaaaaaa.... I'm sorry, hehehe. Really, I'm sorry. You're doing good. Just keep going."
"Fine. ... I'm... I'm gonna make you eat my big sausage and..."
"BWAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!
"That's it! Fuck you!"
"AAHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAHAHHAHAHA!!! WAIT! WAIT! Give me you your big sausage! HAHAHHAAAHAHAA!!!!!!!!!!!"

Day 3

"How does that feel?"
"Ohhhh... wow. That's amazing. Oh my God..."
"Really?"
"Reeaalllllyyyy... oh fuck... oh oh uhhhh uhhh where... where did you... uuhhhhhhhh... learn th.... ohh shitttt....."
"If you like that, you'll love this!"
"No, wait, don't!!! Oh. Ohhhhhh yeah. Nevermind... do that instea..... OH FUCK!!!!! YEEE..... RIGHT THERE!! OH PLEASE, RIGHTTHEREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"
"Now how about some of this?"
"WOAH! WOOOOAHHHHH! WHAT THE FUCK?!!!!!!!!!"
"Something wrong?"
"Yes, something is goddamn wrong!!!! Take off the damn blindfold! Was that your... WAS THAT YOUR FUCKING TOE????? Did you put your toe inside of my vagina???!!!"
"Well, yeah... I...."
"WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"I'm sorry! I've done it to other women, and they all liked it."
"They were lying, dip shit! No one wants your nasty UN-CLIPPED TOE inside their Va-Jay-Jay!!!"
"Their what?"
"You're disgusting! I think I'm going to be sick!"
"Look, I'm sorry. I thought you would enjoy it."
"Enjoy it? YOU GAVE MY PUSSY ATHLETE'S FOOT, DICK HEAD!"
"I do not have athlete's foot."
"Getthehellawayfromme!"
"Alright."
"Get the fuck away, so I can go bleach my uterus!"
"ALRIGHT!"
"WAIT!"
"What?"
"Can you untie me first?"

Day 4

"Who commands you, slave?"
"You do."
"I DO... WHAT?"
"You do mistress."
"There. That's a good slave. Behave, and Mommy Lisa may just give you what you want."
"Yes Mistress. But... can I have a taste?"
"A taste?!"
"Just a sample... please."
"You want a taste? I'LL GIVE YOU A TASTE!!"
WHAPPPPPP!!!
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!! WHAT THE HELL, LISA??!!! DAMNNIT!!!!!!! OWWWWWWWW!!"
"What?"
"You hit me with the whip!!!"
"Yeah, so? That's the game."
"You fucking whipped me!"
"Oh man up! I mean, really."
"Undo the handcuffs!"
"Fine! Here!"
..
"Give me that!"
"Oh, please, like you would really..."
WHAPPPPPPP!!!!!!!
"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why would you????? *crying* WHyyyy??? I'm a girl!!! OOOWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!"

Day 5

"Knock, Knock!"
"Who is it?"
"It's.... Paco. The naughty cabana boy. I'm here to give you service!"
"Oh, Paco! Please come in! I wasn't expecting you. What kind of servicing can I expect?"
"I'm here to clean to your pipes, Senorita."
"Oh my, Paco! Your wrench is sooooo big!"
"Jus' wait til ju see my toilet plunger!"
"Oh come on!"
"Hahahahaaaa!"
"Can't you take this seriously?"
"I can honestly say no. No I cannot take this seriously."

Day 6

"Ohhhh that's it!!! Uhhhhhhhhhh..... ohhh yeah!!!!!"
"You like that, don't you?!"
"Shut up!"
"Take it, bitch!"
"Shut up!"
"What's your problem??"
"I can't hear your voice right now! So shut up and fuck me!"
"What am I supposed to do?!"
"YOU ARE RUINING THIS!! Fuck me!"
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr......"
"Ohhhhhhhh.... oh uhuh uhhuhhh right there.... yesssssss...."

So we finally finished. We both really enjoyed it, too. But it's still a little weird. I can't help but wondering... am I going to have to wear the bag over my head every time we have sex?