As I’ve mentioned before, ♀ and I met on-line and it’s doubtful that we would have met any other way. Our work schedules, circles we moved in, interests and body types (hers and mine) would have made meeting highly unlikely. I was skinnier then her past partners and fat chicks for the most part were invisible to me. But when we met in person, it was after chatting on-line and on the phone (we may have even had phone sex by then) and there was already a definite spark.

Prior to our meeting, she had made several important changes in her life. She’d quit smoking, had a breast reduction, had her tubes tied and lost 20-30 lbs. She’s not sure of the exact amount because she avoided scales. Even though she was still a big woman when we met, she was feeling really good about herself and so I didn’t see a fat chick, I saw a very sexy woman.

A year or so after that we took some sexy pictures of each other and she was disgusted by what she saw. At about the same time one of her brothers was diagnosed with diabetes and had already suffered kidney damage (both her parents are diabetic). She was tested and her blood sugar levels were high. She decided to do something about it and over the next two years lost another 75lbs. That means seven years ago she was about 100lbs heavier. Can you imagine losing 100 lbs? My step-son dates tiny girls and one day I made the observation that ♀ had lost an entire girlfriend. People can get tattoo’s or piercings or any number of cosmetic surgeries, but to change your body that drastically with nothing but sheer willpower amazes me.

The past year has been difficult and she’s put 15lbs back on. The stress of the trial has been one factor. Also, a bone spur on her toe has made walking painful and favouring that foot has affected her hip so we haven’t been going for as many walks as before. What has surprised me is how easily her weight has crept up. She was still eating healthy, still very aware of quality and quantity, but less exercise and not being as strict and up it goes. She asked if I would still be attracted to her if she got as heavy as she was when we met. I told her that if she got that heavy again she wouldn’t be feeling good about her self and it would be difficult to be turned on by someone filled with self loathing.

I’ve been about the same weight since high school. When I get really stressed, I tend to lose weight. So my attitude about dieting was that it was simple. If you want to lose weight just eat less and exercise. “Take the damn fork out of your mouth.”.  Even though my attitude has changed, it’s still a challenge to be a dieters partner. I help with meal planning and preparation (most days that means two different meals, the kids and I need carbs). We exercise together; walking, swimming, biking and of course lots of whoopee. But even with the best intentions, there are days when encouragement is taken as condescension.

♀ went back on her diet today. She wants to lose 25lbs (10lbs below her lowest weight) With her build and metabolism, she knows she’ll never be ’skinny’. She also knows that she will always struggle with weight issues. I just hope she can get to a place where she truly likes what she sees and is able to maintain it. Now that would be sexy!

So it’s 2 am Christmas morning and I think I’ve done pretty good this year. Correction, I know I’ve done good. I’m not doing the happy dance or anything like that, but I haven’t been fantasizing about pulling out in front of large trucks at high speeds either. All the more amazing when you consider I’m usually a mess at Christmas and then the results of the trial on top of it.

♀ will get up in a couple of hours and we’ll spend some time with just us. Then we’ll get my step-son up to do stockings and have breaky. After some xmas loving I’ll sleep for a few hours then pick up my kid. I’m allowed 6 hours access, but I’m trying not to be bitter. The four of us are going to my mom’s to open the rest of our gifts and have dinner. That was unthinkable a year ago. My mother and I had not spoken in years and for years before that when we did speak it was not very pleasant. Last January ♀ decided she wanted to meet this woman and with her guidance a great deal of healing has taken place. I still can’t bring myself to call her ‘mom’, but my son has a new set of grandparents that adore him and ♀ has a mother & father in-law that think she’s wonderful. And I’m not dreading going over there today.

The post ‘Tell me a Christmas Story‘ was a real event and ♀ encouraged me to send it to my mother. ♀ warned her it was coming and during the next couple of weeks several emails were exchanged. You can’t imagine the relief. I’ve carried that around with me for 28 years and I actually felt like I could start to let it go. I really do have an amazing wife.

The following is an editted email from my mother:

Like you, I’m glad, especially for the sake of xxx and xxx, that we’ve made so much progress.  We can and do, all thank ♀, without a doubt.  We would like the cousins to see adults treating one and all with care and respect and to have some fun together this holiday season.

I’ll read your story more carefully and slowly, try to recall details and try to discern what is fact, what is fiction and what is erroneous memory.  But, I did want to say immediately that I am horrified and sad that this has been festering away for so many years.  I don’t know why you didn’t talk about it.  Interesting that you decided to break the silence on Mom’s birthday–Nov. 5th.  xxxx was Nov. 3rd.  It’s a gloomy time of year for me

It’s really too bad that your dad isn’t here to help you with this.  The first thing you should know, and I always thought you did know, was that xxxx took some peculiar pleasure in planning his own funeral.  He knew from the beginning that he wasn’t going to make it.  He first felt pain on Labour Day weekend when he came back from a boating trip.  He was 38.  He was told that it was a pulled muscle etc.  But he called me later in Sept to say he feared the worst.  By October when we were all at Mom & Dad’s for Thanksgiving, with xxxx,xxx,xxx,xxxxx, Dad said, “Well, we’re all here together,” and I fell apart and said that we weren’t, as xxxx was awaiting a liver biopsy.   I don’t recall if you  came when they got married, but during one of our visits, he talked with your dad about the scoundrels and costs of fuenral homes and practices (he’d been making calls to funeral providers), and decided he wanted it to be handled by people who loved him.  Your dad got right into it and promised that he would handle it.  He also wanted an autopsy to learn the source of the cancer.  What we didn’t know was that it was going to happen in xxxxxx.  It would have been different at the coast.

So, before xxxx came to xxxxxxx to die, you came down with pneumonia or pleurisy, and missed quite a bit of school.  I remember you on the phone with friends, wanting to plan going to the school dance, and how we didn’t want you to go because you were sick.  I suppose you wanted to get out of the house because you’d been home and we were very stressed–not a lot of fun.  Your sister was failing grade 4, I think your dad was working shifts, I was 33 working at xxxxxxx and worried about xxxx, Mom and Dad.   Anyway, you went, and were suspended.  Did I give you the letter we received from the  school board.  I come across it every now and then.  Anyway, I don’t recall that we cared so much that Mom and Dad knew (in fact we sort of thought that if xxxx weren’t dying it might be good to let them know, because they thought you were perfect, which xxxx and xxxx resented), but we didn’t want them to add worries about you right then.  I’ll have to check the letter to see if our school board meeting was before or after xxxx’s death, but it was awful because we were both grieving, and that was one thing too many to deal with.  Your dad loved xxxx as much as I did.  He thought xxxxx was wonderful.  He also promised to look after xxxxxxx, so there’s that…

When he died Christmas Eve, I was with him in our bed.  He had been hallucinating in the hours before.  We had taken him to the hospital and then brought him home again.  xxxxx was totally traumatised by seeing how wasted xxxx was.  He had gone to a nearby motel and was drinking.  I was worried that Dad would drink, and about Mom’s being able to live through this.  They were sleeping in xxxxxx’s bed but I have no memory of where xxxxx was–downstairs I guess.  xxxxxx was on the living room couch.  I don’t think your dad and I had a bed.   I woke everyone, including you, and told them.  Maybe no one ever slept.  I do remember the unreality of Christmas morning and being zombie-like for a long time after.  I do remember though, the plan to handle the cremation becoming complicated because of the intervening autopsy.  I guess xxxx and your dad thought the body could be picked up in a casket and transported for cremation, at the coast, with the help of friends.  Neither xxxx nor xxxx were able to participate.  I know xxxxxx was determined to honour his promise and proposed that you could help.  I didn’t think you were old enough, and had no idea what was involved.  We discussed this endlessly, but time was pressing for body pick-up as we were to have to have the ashes for the funeral in xxxxxxxx New Year’s Eve.  When it was done, I asked about it, but received no details.  None.  I presumed it was tough, but I’d never heard those sad and terrible details.  I asked if you were okay, and xxxxxx assured me then, and even the year he went to xxxxxxx, that the experience had not caused long-lasting harm.  Did you talk about it with him or anyone?  He never told me a single detail, not even later.  I guess he thought it was a kindness to me.  Of course I’m truly sorry that you went through it.  You shouldn’t have.  And he should have told me that it wasn’t a matter of picking up a casket and taking it to the crematorium.  You should have had post-traumatic stress syndrome counselling.  Maybe you should still.  I can’t be certain that I could have helped you with it then or for a few years after.  I was numb with grief, depression and all sorts of other things.  Likely going to Mexico the next year wasn’t the right idea, but it eased the immediate pain and we wanted you to be happy.  I remember xxxxxxx and I wildly doing a polka type dance at a fiesta, and you laughing and cheering, so it wasn’t completely bad.  Christmas morning was kind of fun, because we’d just bought a few things on the market tour the day before.  We opened them on the balcony and then swam and went body surfing.

Anyway, I sincerely doubt that I was furious about you going to xxxxxxx.  I might even have been relieved that I had one less person to worry about.  I don’t know.   I absolutely do not remember.  If you say you went, I’m sure you did.  It must have been helpful for Mom and Dad.   Do you remember how your dad felt about it?   I hadn’t wanted Mom & Dad to worry.  I was angry about the suspension when I thought you could have been supportive, but as you say, you were 15 and determined to go to the party. I was 33.  None of this can be undone, but it helps to know how you saw it.  I simply don’t remember much of that winter, except that xxxxxx seemed to be always with us, demanding attention.  I lost a lot of hair.  I don’t know if you remember that I had big curly hair.  It fell out by the handful and my eyesight even got worse.  The deaths in my life have been very hands on:  I found xxxxx’s daughter dead in her crib when I was 14 or so, I held xxxx until the end, sat with Dad through his last days and nights and xxxx and I sat with Mom.  And of course I have profound regrets that I didn’t do enough to help xxxx with his mourning and depression–about the death of his little girl, his parachuting accident which ended his career, about xxxx’s death and his divorce.  He took his life on xxxx’s birthday.  None of these tragedies were at a distance.  None of this can be undone.  I guess we all cope or don’t cope differently.  I am sorry that you didn’t get the support you needed after xxxx’s death.  I know, too, that after keeping your contact with your Dad to a minimum, you suffered badly when he died.  I don’t know if it was better for you to be too involved in xxxx’s dath or too distant from your Dad at the time of his.  But I know what it is to regret what can’t be changed, as with xxxx.  I didn’t avoid him.  I knew he was struggling, but I was in the midst of the bar admissions course, so only asked Mom & Dad about him.  I suppose in part I was trying to shock you into getting a grip or making peace with your family, when I came into the bakery last winter.  I was very close to death in the hospital, and still don’t know what the prospects are (who does?), and it made me furious that you would repeat the experience, or perhaps to be more honest, it made me furious that you wouldn’t have a single regret when I kicked the bucket and then who would xxx have, I wondered.  Death was on your mind too, because you said you’d made a provision in your will to ensure I didn’t see xxx or have custody of him.  So, I have no illusions; your hatred runs deep.

On a less serious level, I am surprised by the reference to being sent to camps or xxxxx.  Thsi reminds me of the statement in xxxxxxx’s affidavit about being kicked out of home at a tender age.  I’m perplexed.  You went to xxxxx for two weeks or ten days one summer, and I know you told me that you were frightened and wondered why I had sent you there, but that it was worthwhile in the end.    It was when I was making decent money and could afford to send you.  Were there others?  xxxx went to several camps involving horses.   In your memory it’s all about me; as though your dad was not a factor in any of the events or decisions.  You did go to xxxxxxx during holidays when it was appropriate.  I didn’t know you saw that as my rejection.  I thought you liked to do it.  I’d stayed with my brother, xxxxxx had always come to us, and even later you went to xxxxxxx, and one year xxxxx did, too.  It seemed a family tradition.  We helped each other out that way.   It’s sad that you remember not being with us, rather than all the family holidays, the cabin years, the camping and fishing trips, the family events.  In light of how selective our respective memories are, when I hear you say re the litigation, “At least xxx will know that I tried”, I have to caution you that despite what you may think have been good times, he may not remember or appreciate anything at all.  I keep wondering why, instead of indoor pools and daycare, you and xxx don’t travel, go skiing, sleigh riding, camping, borrow our boat or canoe, go fishing, head out into the bush as we did with you, but maybe none of that matters in the end.  It all seems forgotten.  xxxx’s kids are the same.  He’s always pointing out lakes and trails and campsites he took them to.  So, he’s got losses and disappointments to deal with, too.

Anyway, as I told ♀, we’ve struggled through many Christmases since then, with one of the best being my first with xxxxx, who has saved and healed me in so many ways.  And yes, Amazing Grace is hard to hear and it was years before I could bear to go to xxxxxxx without crying.  Every Christmas since ‘78 has been different and a challenge to keep my spirits up, as it has been for you.  Because you never talked about the Christmas xxxx died, I always thought that your negative attitude toward the season was about the bakery, your Dad and I divorcing, your dislike of working in retail , and often thought you were very self-focused and should have given a thought to how you might help me get through it, without my brothers and then my parents, and then even without xxxx and xxxx, which blew up over me defending you.  And you may not understand this, but I also miss your dad and remember the many funny and wonderful and exasperating things he did at this time of year.  Remember the piano delivery year, and the Cat House sign?  So, I sincerely appreciate learning 28 years later, what has been eating away at you.  You simply had nothing to give and I do understand that depression isn’t an easy thing to simply turn off.    I hope you can forgive me for my role or short-comings at that sad time, and as you say, let go of some of that.   I am sorry that there is no one else left for you to consult with but to the extent of my probably flawed memory that was how the Christmas of ‘78 unfolded.  I hope this one is better.

Cheers,

Mom

It was my goal when I started this blog to write 2 posts a week and look it’s been 10 days since you last heard from me. Should I hang my head in shame? Perhaps, but I think that I have a good excuse. (i know, i know excuses are like ass holes, everyone’s got one) My excuse is bakers at Christmas are VERY busy. Every year I say that I’m getting to old for this shit, but this year I really mean it. Two shifts in a row we had significant equipment malfunctions and it’s tough to find parts and Mr. fix-it’s in the middle of the night and yeast products don’t stop just because the motor fell out of the sheeter and…well…yeah…I’ve been busy.

While I’ve been gone there has been a big jump in the number of visits to my little spot in the blogospere. Does this make me an official sissy? Welcome Sissy’s. Comments are always (well, almost always) welcome.

♀ & I did manage to find time to go lingerie shopping recently. We got six pairs of panties, 3 thongs for ♀ and 3 boy shorts for me. (is that the right name for them? I’ve never seen boys wearing shorts like that) Anyway, the panties were regular $20 each and we got all 6 pair for $30. We found a very nice cami, garter, panty set. Light pink, soft fabric…the garter fits both of us, we could both wear the cami, though it looks better with breasts (what doesn’t), but the panties don’t work for either of us. They’re to small to fit over her hips and to small to contain my package. No, I’m not bragging. We also found some very nice stockings with lots of lace at the top (for the new garter, of course) And we bought our very first body stocking.

We went to a Christmas concert the next night. ♀ wore the body stocking and I wore the cami, garter and stockings with no panties. When we came home I poured us a drink and we shed our outer clothes. ♀ surprised me by suggesting we try out our new digital camera. Our impromptu photo session was a huge turn on for both of us and ended with hot sweaty sex right there under the Christmas tree.

Well boys and girls it’s now officialy Christmas Eve. I hope Santa is good to you.

Cheers,

sss

 

“Tell me a Christmas story,” she said. She wrapped and I moped.

“I hate Christmas,” I told her. “End of story.”

“Tell me the story of why you hate it and spare me the religious hypocrisy, rampant commercialism spiel, I’ve heard it before.” She wrapped a hockey stick and I considered asking why bother, but decided it was just one of the Christmas things I’d never understand.

“Once upon a time a boy was visiting his uncle.”                                                                         

“How old were they?” she asked. “Pass me the tape.”

“The uncle was thirty- nine and the boy was fourteen. It was early September and the Pope had recently died. The uncle asked the boy if it was a good thing or a bad thing to be a Christian and die on the same day as the Pope. A month later the uncle called to say he was dying. Two months after that, on his fifteenth birthday, two weeks before Christmas, the boy and three friends were expelled from school for being drunk at a high school dance. One week after that the uncle and his new wife arrived at the boy’s house. The sight of his wasted uncle combined with his own guilt was difficult to take. The boy’s mother did not want her brother or any of the other relatives to know of her son’s disgrace so for the last week before Christmas the boy had to pretend he was still in school. It was very cold, the boy had no drivers license, teens were not welcome to just hang out in the mall, all except for three friends were in school and their parents did not want them associating during their expulsion so the boy did not have many options. He hung out in coffee shops or pretended to be shopping or sometimes he jogged at a local track until he puked. Mostly he wished that it were he who was dying and having all his relatives around saying how much they loved him. Early on Christmas morning surrounded by family the uncle died.

“For reasons that were never explained, though he assumed it was a punishment for his expulsion, it was decided that this fifteen-year-old boy should accompany his father to the morgue to pick up the corpse and deliver it to the crematorium.  When they arrived with a cardboard coffin a hospital employee rolled the body out of a drawer. It was wrapped up like a mummy. The orderly gave them a gurney to put the box on, but refused to give them any other assistance. They did not know that rigor mortis does not stay in the body so were surprised when they each lifted up an end and it bent in the middle. Another thing they did not know was if the body is not going to be viewed later they don’t put much effort into sewing it up after the autopsy. So when it tipped on its side while they were trying to get it into the box it leaked… a lot. The blood soaked through the bandages and by the time they got it to the crematorium it had leaked through the cardboard coffin and had frozen to the back of the truck. 

 A couple of years later the father tried to talk to the boy about that day, but he was a couple of decades away from being able to talk about it.

“The funeral was held New Years Eve in the uncle’s hometown and was attended by a great many people. At the end of it a close friend of the uncle sang “Amazing Grace” and the boy’s grandfather wept. He had never seen a grown man cry before and the sobs sounded like they were being ripped out of him. The boy would never be able to listen to that song without hearing the old man’s sobs.

“At the wake, the boy told his grandmother about not being in school and asked if he could spend the rest of his time off with them. His grandmother was a very kind person and even though she’d just lost her son said of course he could come home with them. She was surprised that he hadn’t come to their house right away since he rarely stayed at home when he wasn’t in school. Most vacations he stayed with them or other relatives or sometimes at camp, but rarely at home. His mother was furious when she found out, but that’s where he spent the rest of his month off.”

There was a long silence and finally she asked “Did the boy have an answer for the uncle when he asked about dying on the same day as the Pope?”

“He didn’t then, but he would now. It doesn’t matter one way or another when you die. Dead is dead.”

She punched him in the shoulder.  “That’s a horrible Christmas story.”

“Life’s like that, you don’t always get the story you want.”

“Well, I’m the woman and I want a different ending.”

“You can’t demand a new ending.”

“If you want sex again this year, you’ll give me a better ending.”

“Well, if you believe that this is all there is, it forces you to realize how precious this life is. You can’t kid yourself that things will somehow be better the next time. It’s kind of like that ‘Live, Love, Laugh’ poem you have on the fridge. You know the one that says “Sing like you’re Yoko Ono, dance like a preschooler with a full bladder, curse like you’ve got touretts syndrome.”

She smiled at him.  “It’s not exactly the Hollywood ending I was hoping for, but it’s an improvement.”

She cuddled up to him and said, “If I try to keep the Christmas stuff to a dull roar can you try to be here in the moment with me?”

“Yes,” I told her, “I think I can do that for you.”

 

It’s very late on Christmas Eve and everyone is asleep. I go into the living room and turn off all the lights and plug the tree lights in. They reflect all blue, green, red off the rest of the tree decorations, the presents and the room. It’s so peaceful.

We always get a fresh tree and it smells nice right now. It feels almost magical and I can just sit and soak it in. Some years I can sit here like this until dawn, it’s one of the only times I enjoy the season.

I’ve been sitting here for a while when I notice that you are asleep on the couch. You are wearing that ratty old housecoat that you wear when you get out of the shower and those ridiculous over sized animal slippers. What the hell are they? Reindeer? Kangaroos? I think it’s kind of weird that you’re asleep here dressed like that because I usually only see you in your “crazy cat lady” outfit early in the morning.

I watch you sleeping and marvel at how beautiful you look especially with the tree lights on you. You stir and the housecoat opens a bit and I can see the top of that little black teddy that drives me wild. Now why would you be wearing that? Are you waiting for Santa Claus? Are you really asleep?

I sit at your feet and gently take off one of the slippers. I watch to see if you open your eyes while I kiss all 5 toes.
Then I suck on each toe one at a time. Now licking the ball of your foot, the arch and finally the heel. Then I take off the other slipper and give the other foot the same treatment.

You still haven’t opened your eyes and you roll onto your side with your back to me. I give your ankle kisses all around then slowly move up your calf with little kisses. When I get to the back of your knee, I lick it all over. I thought I heard a little sigh, but am not sure so I go back down to the other ankle and work my way up to that knee.

You roll over onto your tummy and I start kissing very slowly up your thigh. I adore your legs. I get to your cheek and the bottom of you teddy and I get a whiff of your nectar. I move down to your other thigh and work my way slowly back up.

Your legs are further apart now and you smell sooooo good. I start covering your butt cheeks with little butterfly kisses then I slowly lick the teddy where it’s pulled into your crack all the way down to the snaps. You lift your hips up and I lick your sex through the material. Next I undo the snaps with my teeth exposing your perfect pussy. I love the view from the back and with the lights on you….. Wow.

I lick the outer lips and you moan out loud. You are very wet and I drink your honey. I place my mouth full on your lips and my tongue finds your clit. You push yourself hard against my mouth and I feel the orgasm ripple through you. MMMMM it’s hard to believe, but you taste even better right when you cum.
you roll over on your back and kiss your juices off my face.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could cum that fast.”

“Fast? I didn’t think you were ever going to get started.”

 

<!–[if !supportEmptyParas]–> <!–[endif]–>

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring except for a curious little boy who had heard the schoolyard rumors and needed to find out for himself.

His plan was simple. He would wait until the grumpys were asleep then sneak into the living room. To see… what? Well that part of the plan wasn’t quite worked out. He set his alarm clock for midnight and stumbled out of bed before he could fall back to sleep. He put on woolen socks instead of slippers and dark sweats instead of his light coloured housecoat.

He listened carefully, but only heard the normal creaks and groans of the old house. He slowly climbed the steep dark stairs, avoiding the second from the bottom and the third from the top. Once he was upstairs he went to the washroom, left the light off, sat to pee and didn’t flush. After the bathroom he made his way through the cold dark house. The first bedroom he came to was his sisters’ and he knew that she or her dog Tweety would rat him out, but decided against trying to shut her squeaky door. Once past her room he stopped in the kitchen to grab an orange for later. He crawled past his parents open bedroom door into the living room and peaked past the piano.

There was still a glow in the fireplace and just enough light to make out shapes. The stockings were full, there were more presents around the tree and the snack they’d left out was gone.  As he moved further into the room to get a better view he saw there on the other side of the tree someone bending over. Santa bent over a sack? His heart was pounding and his mind was racing. What was He still doing here? What was I doing there? I’m in big trouble. He backed out of the living room right into Tweety and they both yelped. They got down stairs without waking anyone else up.  He let her out and in then climbed back into bed and considered his fate What would Santa do?  Maybe he’d take everything away like the Grinch did. He might leave a note for his parents. He shuddered at the thought. He drifted off to a fitful sleep listening to the ominous creaks and groans of the cold dark house.

 He woke to his sister jumping on his bed saying Daddy says we can get up now. He followed his sister upstairs towards his doom. When they arrived in the kitchen she told their dad that she heard Santa Claus outside her bedroom last night and that she thought he must have let Tweety out because there were mud prints on her quilt and he must have used the toilet because someone peed and didn’t flush.

“Really? Did you hear anything last night Son?” He asked the very pale and no longer curious little boy.

They went into the living room together, the lights on the tree were lit, the stockings were stuffed and everything was how it should be, including there on the other side of the tree where Santa had been bending over; a huge stuffed bear for his sister.

♀ & I went out for dinner with my parents the other night and ♀ was totally flirting with our big beefy waiter. Was I bothered by this? No, not at all. He was flirting with her as well. It was all very innocent and I think we all like to know that other people are still attracted to us. That’s easy to lose in a long term monogamous relationship. Besides she was rubbing my crotch under the table and nibbling on my ear; it wasn’t like I was being ignored.

We’ve never invited anybody into our bedroom before, but it’s certainly a reoccurring theme in fantasy and role playing. I’ve been thinking about the big beefy waiter and what might have happened had things gone further…

I left the restaurant before ♀ did to go to work and didn’t talk to her again until the following afternoon when I woke up. The very first thing she said to me when I came downstairs was, “what did you think of Peter George last night?”

“Who?”

“George Serge, the waiter from the restaurant.”

“He was OK I guess. He was certainly looking for a good tip.”

“Your parents paid for dinner and I left the tip. $30.”

“Wow.” I said absentmindedly as I sat down with my breakfast of a banana and a cola and logged on to check my email.

“There’s something else. I told him I’d like him to come over.”

“Oh yeah.” I said as I scanned the inbox full of junk mail and forwards.

She reached over and turned the screen off. “I told Serge that I’d like him to come over.”

“Who’s Serge?”

She took a deep breath and said very slowly, “Serge was our waiter last night and I’d like him to come over here. Tonight.”

“Why?”

“Well, he was a lot of fun last night and he’s really cute and we’ve talked about including others and we often have other people when we role play and we agreed it shouldn’t be anyone we know and we’ve had cyber sex with other people and he gets off work at 10 and I told him I’d call him at 6 if you were into it and…” she trailed off.

I was more then a little overwhelmed by all this. Whenever we had talked about including others, I was the eager beaver and she was saying no, not yet. To have her pushing for it and with a real person in mind rattled me. Everything she’d said was true, but moving from fantasy into reality was a big step and I wasn’t sure I was ready. “If I said no, would you see him anyway?”

She looked genuinely hurt by the question. “How can you ask that? I only want experiences that enhance what we have. We have fucking great fucking. I’m not even interested in swapping with anyone. I just think he might be a fun for a night, but only if you were into it.”

“Did you tell him that I’m a cross-dressing sissy?”

“No, that should be your choice.”

I thought about it for awhile and decided that if I said yes to this then maybe she’d say yes to including another woman at a later date.

She saw the little light go on and said,”who knows, if this goes well maybe next time we can try it with a woman.” I hate that she can read my mind like that.

So, I agreed and ♀ was positively giddy. She called Serge and I was somewhat relieved to hear that like me this was going to be his first time in a sexual situation with another guy and like me he was a little nervous.

♀ & I started getting ready for our big night. We had a shower, then I trimmed her pussy (a thin V that comes to a point at the top of her lips) and french braided her long blond hair. We chose our clothes and started getting dressed. ♀ had on a leopard print bra with a see through royal blue top, thigh-hi stockings, no panties and tight black lo-rise jeans. I chose a black garter and stockings, with the seam up the back, (she thinks it looks silly with the panties on top of the garters, but I think it’s more practical that way) matching peach full panty and bra with silicone breast forms, my favourite little black dress, open toe 2″ heels with the straps around the ankles, dangly clip-on earrings (my ears aren’t pierced) and matching necklace. I don’t have a wig yet, but if I did I think it would be shoulder length brunette. (I know you were wondering)

The entire time we were getting ready she was just so darn happy and excited and it really started to bother me. You see when ♀ first met, we both had some body type issues to overcome. She was larger then anyone I had been with and I was scrawnier then she was used to. Our lips fit just fine so it all worked out, but she kept chattering on about how much Serge reminded her of some old boyfriend.

Then she started in about how nice and straight his teeth are (mine are crooked) and by the time she started speculating that he was probably a former construction worker who had turned to waiting on tables after a lower back injury, I was getting cranky.

I’m not the most tactful guy so when I mentioned how I was feeling and that if we were just about to have sex with some petite little cutey with a peach shaped ass and that ♀ might need a little reassuring before hand, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it while she was helping me with my make up. I think she was rougher around my eyes then she needed to be.

Serge arrived right on time and was more then a little surprised to see me all dolled up. “Your husband is gay?” He asked.

“No. My first one was.” ♀ replied. “This one’s a sissy. He’s straight.”

“And that means…?”

“Well, it means I have a very strong feminine side and I’m usually submissive. To her.” I added.

He seemed to get that. “So how do you want this to work?”

“Well we were thinking that since all of us are new to this, we could start off role playing,” ♀ explained. “That way we could all concentrate on the scene and hopefully things will be a little less awkward.”

“That sounds reasonable. What did you have in mind?”

“I’m a huge fan of age-play.” I said. “What would you think of a mommy and daddy and sissy scenario?”

He liked that idea and I gave them a 10 minute head start in our bedroom.

When I went upstairs and peaked through the half closed door, they were on the bed kissing. “Hey Baby, you can come in if you’ld like. ” Mommy said. “My, you certainly look pretty in that dress. Walk around a bit and show Daddy how well you can walk in those high heels.”

I strutted around the bedroom like Mommy had taught me; heel toe, heel toe swinging my hips and my chest thrust forward showing off my perky little boobies. I felt so proud that they were looking at me like this and excited at being allowed in here with them.

I walked over to Daddy’s side of the bed and as I turned to walk back, he reached under my dress and grabbed my ass. I could feel the callouses on his hands through the thin fabric of my panties and a shiver went all through me. “You sure do have a sweet little sissy ass.”

“You can join us on the bed Baby, but you need to take off those shoes first.” Mommy said.

They were kissing again and I watched them intently. “Daddy kisses you differently then I do.” I said.

“You kiss like a girl,” she explained. “Daddy kisses like a man. It’s different, but both ways are nice. Do you want Daddy to show you how it feels?”

“No.” Serge & I answered in unison.

There was a pause, but Serge picked up the thread. “You’ve been kissing Mommy? What else have you been doing with her?”

“I brush and braid her beautiful hair every night.”I said proudly. “I file her piggies to keep them soft, I paint her pretty nails and I shave her vergina vagina.”

Mommy took Daddy’s shirt off and was running her fingers through the hair on his big chest. His belly was even bigger, but she didn’t seem to mind. She sat up a bit and Daddy pulled her shirt off over her head and tossed it on the floor. I almost got up to fold it properly, but decided I could leave it just this once. He started squeezing her boobs. Kneading them like loaves of dough.

“You’re touching them too rough.” I said. “Mommy likes her boobs to be touched gently.”

“That’s OK Baby. I like how Daddy is touching them.”

“Mommy lets you play with her tits?”

“Only if I’m gentle. Some nights if I can’t sleep she holds me and lets me nurse on them. I love her warm sweet milk.”

He took off her bra and we each started playing with a boob. Her nipple was hard as a cherry pit in my mouth and she started moaning. I noticed that while he was playing with her other boob, Daddy was rubbing Mommy through her jeans. She lifted her hips up and let him peal her pants off and I could smell how excited she was.

“Wow, you did a very good shaving job,” he said as he bent down and started licking her pussy.

“I think you need to take your dress off now Baby. Then you should help Daddy out of his pants.”

He didn’t stop licking as I pulled his pants off, but he needed to stop and help me get his tighty whites off. Mommy and I both noticed at the same time. “Hey!” She said. “You’re uncut.”

“But of course you already knew that, right?” He said.

♀ tore her gaze away from his thickening cock and looked at both of us. “Huh? Oh yeah, right. Of course I did.”

Daddy lay on his back and Mommy knelt between his legs. “Come here Baby and help me play with daddy’s cock.”

I only hesitated for a second then started sliding his fore skin up and down while Mommy licked his cock like a jumbo lollipop. We took turns trying to get it down our throats, but even though he was shorter then I am, he was much thicker and neither of us could manage to swallow it. Mommy was licking his balls when a single drop of precum appeared on the tip of his cock.

“Oh gawd, she said. I want that cock inside of me. Now.”

I slid a condom on Daddy and she straddled him and slowly lowered herself down onto his thick pole. I was amazed to see her lips stretch that wide and by the time she had it all inside of her she was moaning louder then I had ever heard her before. She started riding him and I alternated between sucking on her clit and licking her juices as they ran down his sheathed cock. I can usually tell when Mommy is about to cum, but not this time. As I was playing with her clitty. I reached around and pressed my finger against her rosebud and she went off like a rocket.”oh fuck oh fuck ohhhhhh fuuuuuck.”

Daddy was moaning loudly as Mommy’s pussy massaged his cock, but Mommy said, “Pleasssse don’t cum yet.” She looked over her shoulder at me and said, “I need you in my ass Baby, cum and fuck my bum while I’m riding Daddy.”

I lubed her up and started pushing my cock against her tight little asshole. She relaxed and I quickly popped inside. I wasn’t even half way in when I felt daddy’s cock move against mine through Mommy’s lining. My balls pulled up and I started to cum.

“NOOOO.” She roared. I didn’t know if she was ♀ or Mommy, but whoever she was, she was pissed. “You fucking little shit.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I stammered.

“You’ll be sorry all right Two cocks at once is my greatest fantasy and you blew it.” She snarled as she climbed off a very startled looking Serge. “You.” She said to him. “Keep that cock good and hard. And you, you useless little bitch lie down on your back.”

She straddled my head and pinned my arms to my sides with her legs. She lifted my legs and told Daddy to put a pillow under my hips. “Now I want you to fuck his little sissy ass until he’s hard enough to finish what we stated.”

“What?” I said. “NO. I’m not excited anymore. He’s to thick. It’ll really hurt.”

“You like pretending your a girl so much; well sometimes girls have to spread their legs even when they’re not excited. So you’d better relax that butt of yours because Daddy’s going to fuck it like it or not” And she lowered her pussy down on my face stifling any further protests.

She squeezed her thighs against my ears, muffling all sound. Her crotch blocked all light. I felt Daddy applying the cold lube to my hole with his thick fingers. He shoved one finger inside of me and my body jerked. There was no way I could take that entire cock inside of me. Even if I was really excited, I thought, it would still be a stretch. And I laughed at my little private joke.

Mommy held my limp cock up and I felt Daddy pushing the head of his thick cock against me. I took a deep pussy filled breath and he popped inside of me. Ever so slowly he started pushing deeper inside of me, stretching me so wide I thought I would break in half. By the time his thighs bumped up against my ass cheeks I could swear he was going to poke right out of my belly button.

Mommy held my cock against Daddy’s as he slowly fucked me and it didn’t take long before the pain started to morph into pleasure and I could feel my own cock starting to respond. Mommy loosened her grip on my head and started to ride my tongue, sliding her dripping wet pussy and her cum filled ass back and forth across my face.

“Oh fuck, he’s tight.” I heard Daddy say.

“He won’t be for long.” Mommy laughed. She stroked my cock with one hand and rubbed her clitty with the other.

Once I was reloaded, Mommy said, “now it’s my turn.”

Daddy pulled out and I felt a gust of cool air blow up inside of me. Mommy turned around and lowered herself on to me, then she brought her face close to mine and whispered, “I love you so fucking much.”

She shuddered when he entered her and seconds later I could feel the head of his cock sliding along the shaft of mine. I could picture the sight of her cunt and ass stuffed full of cock, but getting our movements in sync is much harder then it looks in the movies.

We must have done OK because it wasn’t long before ♀ groaned, “Oh my fucking gawd! He’s getting bigger!”

They both came like that. ♀ whispering insanely in my ear, Serge grunting and groaning above her. The two of them bearing down on me, squishing me, making it hard to breathe.

When the last waves of her orgasm had ebbed from her body and Serge had extricated himself from her well and truly fucked ass, ♀ was kissing my face, “thankyouthankyouthankyou. Can you cum again? I don’t mind giving you another one.”

But I was done and really so was ♀. I know guys have a reputation for falling asleep right after sex, but I’ve seen ♀ fall asleep in mid-sentence. As for Serge;  he did what any self-respecting fantasy lover does…

he turned into a pizza.

Cheers.

The list was in my inbox, but I changed the ending…
How to treat a woman:

Wine her.

Dine her.

Call her.

Hold her.

Surprise her.

Compliment her.

Smile at her.

Listen to her.

Laugh with her.

Cry with her.

Romance her.

Encourage her.

Believe in her.

Cuddle with her.

Shop with her.

Give her jewelry.

Buy her flowers.

Hold her hand.

Write love letters to her.

Go to the ends of the earth and back again for her.

There was more, but I decided it wasn’t all that funny. I still like the list though.

And that list made me think. Even though I have a very strong feminine side (funny thing about cross-dressing sissies) , I have many ‘manly’ traits and beliefs. I have always opened car doors for the women in my life. I always hold the door open for women in shops, I carry an umbrella in the car to hold over ♀ if it rains, I scrape her windows, I believe there is nothing on this earth as beautiful as the female form and as long as I have eyes in my head I’ll be a girl watcher, I believe you can tell a lot about a man from his handshake (I have a firm grip, but don’t try to crush fingers), I’m suspicious of a man who won’t have a beer with me, the only jewelry I wear (unless dressed up) is my wedding band and a copper bracelet, I don’t have pierced ears, I’m proud of my farts.

So you see, In many ways I really am a guy.

 

Many moons ago I was going to write the great Canadian novel. I have countless notebooks, files and floppy disks filled with outlines, notes, character studies, beginnings, endings and various bits and pieces of my killer first novel.

I joined writers groups and took classes. I’m a voracious reader. I know how a novel is supposed to work. How hard could it be to pound them out? Ah to be young and idealistic. I have published some short stories and a couple of poems and who knows, I might get back to that novel one day.  My focus has changed since then. I simply enjoy writing and for now that’s enough.

In one of those distant classes we were supposed to come up with 100 things that describe a main character.  The theory was that even if you only used a fraction of that information in your novel, it would give you a better understanding of who s/he was and you would have stronger more believable characters.

I’d never thought about writing a list like that for myself before, but I noticed Tess over at Urban Gypsy  had done one and it made her more believable and it altered how I read her blog.

So at the risk of seeming self-absorbed,  here’s my list of 99 things about me:

1. I was born in 1963.
2. I am a proud Canadian.
3. When I was 15, I watched an uncle die of cancer on Christmas morning.
4. I’m not a big fan of Christmas.
5. I’m a fanatic non-smoker.
6. I was a heavy pot smoker for 10 years. (somehow that was ok)
7. I loved hallucinogens. (past tense)
8. In high school I was voted ‘most likely to die choking on his own vomit’.
9. I thought I’d be dead by 30. (so did lots of other people)
10. I still drink (micro brews), but rarely to access. (rye & ginger)
11. I was 17 the first time I asked for a vasectomy. (The doctor refused)
12. I got fixed right after my son (now 10yrs old) was born.
13. My 10-year relationship with his mother ended soon after that.
14. I LOVE being a Dad.
15. I wish he lived with me full time.
16. I have been a ‘scratch’ baker since 1981.
17. I worry that my body won’t hold up to the demands of another 20yrs of baking.
18. I’ve been at the same shop since 1988.
19. I make awesome bread. (More then 60 varieties)
20. I work straight graveyard shifts.
21. I got married for the first (and only) time in June 2004.
22. We met in person 11/11/01.
23. Her 17 yr old son lives with us.
24. She proposed to me on her knee in a restaurant with my Dad’s wedding ring.
25. My Dad died in 1994. So did my granny.
26. I wish my Wife and Son had met my Granny and my Dad.
27. The best people I have ever known are my Wife, Son and Granny. (Sorry Dad)
28. All I know about love I’ve learned from them.
29. I lost my virginity on a Mexican beach when I was 16.
30. The only alter I kneel before is between my wife’s creamy white thighs.
31. I have always been a very sexual person.
32. I kept many of my desires secret until I met my wife.
33. I told her before we got married that I am a cross-dresser.
34. Her only request has been that the facial hair and body hair stays ON.
35. We’re still having the best sex of my life.
36. If schedules allowed we’d have sex twice a day. We average 5 or 6 times/week.
37. We watch porn together.
38. We go to see strippers together. (We’ve had private lap dances)
39. I’m a sissy. Though what exactly that means is something we are still exploring.
40. Every night I brush and braid her hair and also file and massage her feet. I keep her nails looking pretty and her pussy nicely trimmed. (just for starters.)
41. In role-playing I’m usually submissive.
42. She occasionally fucks me with a strap-on.
43. I can wear the same harness to fuck her with 2 cocks.
44. We’ve also used the harness to hold a butt plug in me for extended periods of time. I think the longest has been about 4 hours (we went to a hockey game)
45. I wear women’s undies every day. We often wear each others.
46. Except for 2 pair of silk boxers, she tossed out all my man undies.
47. I have some clothes that could pass for male or female and I’ve gone out in these. The dresses and skirts are for at home only.
48. I know it looks ridiculous.
49. My toe nails are almost always painted.
50. I have silicone breast forms and would love to have a nice wig.
51. With kids still at home, my opportunities to get dressed are limited, but I doubt they’d be too surprised to find out. I’m guessing they’d prefer not to see dad dressed as a woman.
52. We’ve fantasized about including other partners, but so far have never done it.
53. She shaves my head bald every week.
54. She’s given me golden showers.
55. I go down on her during her period.
56. I’ve come in her mouth, cunt and ass all in the same amazing day.
57. We met on-line and still occasionally have phone and cyber sex.
58. I introduced myself by emailing her some of my erotic stories.
59. She thought I was weird. (Do you?)
60. I like to write lots of things, but especially smut. 
61. I’ve had several pieces published, both in print and on-line.
62. Every time you masturbate, god kills a kitten. (Or a puppy)
63. I’ve struggled with depression most of my life.
64. The past 5yrs have been the happiest of my life. (That’s an amazing statement considering my legal woes of the past 2 years.)
65. I have chronic lower back troubles.
66. I like giving massages more then I like getting them.
67. I drive a 2002 Mini Cooper. (Black w/ white roof)
68. I don’t handle stress very well. (Especially financial)
69. I’m a procrastinator.
70. I read lots of fiction.
71. I mostly watch cartoons on TV. (And porn)
72. I also watch the NHL and the CFL.
73. I can be a difficult person to get to know.
74. Tact and subtlety are difficult concepts for me to grasp.
75. I offend many people. Usually without trying. (very hard)
76. I had my first real job when I was 10. (I’ve never been unemployed)
77. I don’t understand having pets.
78. I owned my first business when I was 21.
79. I filed for personal bankruptcy when I was 24.
80. A second business I owned also ended badly.
81. Neither was a bakery.
82. I would love to earn a living writing fiction.
83. I know that that is highly unlikely.
84. I’m a very good backgammon player.
85. I’m a reasonably good cribbage player.
86. I don’t like winter or being cold.
87. I have a letter from Mr. Dressup. (a Canadian version of Mr. Rogers)
88. When I was 16, I got a speeding ticket on my bicycle.
89. I don’t eat anything deep-fried.
90. I don’t consider ‘fast food’ to be real food.
91. I’m a pretty good cook. My wife is a very good cook. My dad & granny were both professional cooks.
92. Coke not Pepsi. I’ll east any fresh produce except carrots. I don’t like lemonade.
93. I listen to mostly blues and jazz.
94. I love being by the ocean.
95. My wife says I’m sexy. (She’s a goddess)
96. I’ve broken teeth and toes. (my own)
97. I have a crooked smile. (botched orthodontics)
98. Don’t believe anything you hear and only half of what you see.
99.  Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity; it just doesn’t work.

Prior to my 18 month legal battle, I wrote and it gave me pleasure. During that 18 months, I didn’t. Well I actually did write a lot, but it was all legal stuff. This blog was intended as a place or maybe an excuse to start writing again; some fiction, some journaling, maybe some fantasies and the occasional rant. My posts would be accompanied by interesting (to me) pics I found on-line and maybe even some pics of our own.

It turns out that just because we got a ruling on our case doesn’t mean it’s really over. Her lawyer interpruts the ruling much differently then I do. It’s not enough that I lost, he wants to put the boots to me as well. (as much as I enjoy various objects in my bottom, his boot isn’t one of them) So back to court we go to get clarification.

So today’s post is another story from my pre- legal mess archives.

Cheers.

Romeo & Susan

He lay dead in the ditch ten minutes after he’d snuck out my bedroom window. I couldn’t very well lie about it, could I? My parents were furious. It wasn’t so much that their precious 17-year-old daughter had a man in her room; it was that the whole neighborhood knew about him except for them. He wouldn’t start his bike in our driveway, he’d push it out into the street, but it was loud and he’d been coming in for almost two years. When I think about it now, it’s hard to believe they didn’t know.

God, even his mother knew. About six months before the accident, we were having sex in his room after school and she walked in with his laundry. I was so surprised; I jumped up off of him. I can still remember the thwack sound his cock made when it slapped down on his stomach. The funny thing was I was still wearing my dress so if I’d just sat still we might have been able to get away with it.

Tony was his older brother and we started spending time together after the funeral. At first we just talked and cried and we really did help each other, but one thing led to another and well, I think it’s a common thing to happen. Their dad had died a few years before and after Richard died their mom got sick. She wanted to see one of her sons get married. I guess it was a dumb reason, but that’s what we did. Two months later she was gone.

So you see how it was, there was all this insurance money and my dad helped us invest it. We retired before either of us had ever really worked. The first few years were great, we traveled, had a nice car, nice condo, but eventually it all seemed kind of, I don’t know…hollow. So now I spend eight months a year here then four months down south. Tony has his bottle of scotch, I have my bottle of pills, and we both have lovers and pretend not to notice.

Anyway, Tony and I fought again last night and he stormed out just after midnight. I didn’t sleep a wink and spent most of the night sitting on the deck trying to decide whom I hated more, him or me. I was a million miles away when this voice came out of nowhere.

“What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet the sun.”
It scared the hell out of me. I looked over the railing and he stepped out so I could see him.

“Do you make a habit of sneaking up on unsuspecting women and quoting Shakespeare?”

“Nope, you’re my first. Do you make a habit of inviting strange men up to your apartment to watch the sunrise?”

Cheeky bastard. “Nope, you’re my first.” I buzzed him in, opened the apartment door, poured a tetra-pak of orange juice into a nice pitcher, found a little bottle of champagne and a couple of fancy glasses and went back out to the deck.

It was totally weird. Usually I know what to expect when men come up here and believe me, they’re not here for the sunrise. At first I got kind of nervous because he didn’t say anything, but he seemed calm and he smelled nice so I relaxed. I felt the tension start to lift from my shoulders, and then Tony came home. I told Romeo to stay put and keep quiet. Tony was pissed drunk and pissed off and got even madder when he couldn’t find his secret little stash. It was exactly where he’d left it, but of course I couldn’t say that because then it wouldn’t be a secret.

I guess I could have called the cops and told them he was driving drunk, but then I decided that maybe I’d get lucky and he’d wrap it around a telephone pole. I was sure someone on his tramp line would take him in; at least he’d be gone for a day or two. I was on my way to bed when I remembered Romeo; I suppose I could have just left him out there. I’m sure he’d have figured it was safe to come out …eventually. Nah, he was sweet. “You can come out now Romeo, he’s gone. I’m going to bed, you can stay if you’d like.”

He was so cute, I know he was trying to decide if I meant stay in the apartment or my bed and he must have been worried about the angry drunk guy, but eventually he crawled in and spooned me and we both fell asleep. It was almost dark when I woke up.

“Hey Romeo, rise and shine.”

“Have you ever had one of those dreams where something really great has happened and it seems so real and then you wake up and it hasn’t really happened at all and it’s so disappointing? It’s sure nice when the opposite happens. I had this dream where I was in bed with a beautiful woman and when I woke up…here you are.”

“Are you always so sweet? There’s a new toothbrush on the counter and no I don’t keep a fresh supply of them handy, you just got lucky. What kind of tea do you want with your bagel? I’ll answer some other questions for you so you can stop wondering. Yes, that was my husband stomping around here this morning and no, he won’t be back for a while and this is a one day only affair so don’t get any big ideas.”

“Do I get to keep the toothbrush? I’d rather have juice with my bagel and the only other question I have is do you like massages? I’ve been told I’m quite good at them and you’re obviously very tense.”

It turns out he really was good at massages. I especially enjoyed the one he called ‘pussy wibbling’.

“Do you do this often?”

“Nope. I’m desperately single and yours is the first pussy I’ve ever wibbled. Maybe you’ll reconsider your one day only policy?”

“Nah. Any longer gets complicated and messy and feelings get hurt.”
“But we’re both lonely. Isn’t it worth the risk?”

“I’ll tell you something Romeo. Contrary to what you may think, most people are lonely and you and I experience it in very different ways.”

“How do you mean?”

“Instead of loneliness, think of it as blindness. You and I are both blind. I know I’m blind, but rarely think about it. I put my efforts into having the most fulfilling life I can and don’t worry about what I might have had if I could see. I can tell by your sad puppy dog eyes (not one of your best qualities by the way) that blindness affects every part of your life. You’ve seen the movies, read the books and you’re under the delusion that you deserve to see. All your energy goes into this desperate search for someone to give you sight and you miss out on all the wonderful things that go on around you. Today is a perfect example. I enjoyed myself and when you leave I won’t be the least bit sad because I focused on what we were sharing. You were thinking about what would happen after today and so you missed out on what was going on right now. Hasn’t anyone ever told you to ’seize the day and enjoy the moment?’”

He didn’t say much after that, but I could tell he was thinking about what I’d said. We made love once more and he was more focused. He introduced me to a few more massages that I’ve never had before and then we fell asleep. I woke up just before sunrise and he was gone, but he left a note thanking me for the toothbrush and a quote by Richard Bach “The opposite of loneliness is not togetherness, it’s intimacy.”

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