I was sequestered in the office last weekend, busy writing the next chapter of Death & Taxes  surfing smut and playing Backgammon when I came across this little jem  at <Sex-Kitten.net> by my favourite PSO, MS. Angela.

You don’t know her? Seriously?  Even if your not in the market for trash talk (today) she’s a fine writer and has a very entertaining blog. Here’s what they say about her:

Angela St. Lawrence is the PhoneSex Operator of choice for the thinking man. While she’s been called many things by her clients (”The way she riffs on matters sexual and otherwise, she is my white Billie Holiday” & “A 21st century Anais Nin with just a touch of Machiavelli.”), mostly she just likes to be called Angela. Make sure you visit her award winning website– and her blog, Zen Fetish.

“Don’t kiss me on the neck.”

“Why? I thought you liked it.”

“I do. Just not right now. I just want to be fucked. Just stick it in.”

“Okay, but don’t bitch at me later.”

“Christ, shut the hell up and stick in it.”

And then he is pushing her over the kitchen sink, sliding her skirt up over her generous, round ass. Surprised to see she is not wearing panties, he thinks better of saying anything; she obviously isn’t in the mood to listen.

As he goes to push her right leg out further with the cap of his bent knee, she moans.

“Hurry up, damn it. Give me that cock.”

And so he presses between her legs, again surprised when the head of his cock glides so easily between her already-moist thighs to bob against her sodden bush. She grunts, wiggling her slit back onto the head. He feels himself slide into her–fast and deep–with hardly any effort.

As he starts moving in and out, he can hear the slick sound of her juices coating his pistoning cock and feel them oozing between the hair on his balls. The smell of her sex wafts up to surround both of them. He moves quicker; her animal need has quickened his pulse, sharpened his need.

She’s curled her fists along the edge of the sink, her white knuckle grasp helping her to push back. Her breaths are fast. She is grunting and groaning, then whimpering.

“I need it. Right there. Yes. There.”

And then she is crying and her cunt is rhythmically spasming around his cock as she begins cumming. The raw quickness of her orgasm pushes him over the edge and he is pumping his load into her, his face buried between her angora-covered shoulder blades.

They stay that way, hunched over the sink like twin embryos as they catch their breath.

And then she stands up straight, his dick sliding out of her and down her thigh–a slug, leaving it’s slime.

“Okay, leave me alone, now. I need to finish these dishes.”

I was still awake when Uncle got up and we had about an hour just to ourselves. We didn’t really talk about anything important, just chatted. It was nice. I guess it’s like talking to a sibling who you were close to a long time ago. Someone you still really like and maybe wish you could see more of. It was comfortable and easy and there were so many things I could have said and there were so many things I didn’t need to say. He really is a great guy. He’s only ten years older then me and we spent a lot of time together when I was growing up. He’s more like a big brother then an uncle. He was the Best Man at our wedding.

 I had a restless sleep. We’ve been on the road almost 2 weeks and I miss sleeping in my own bed, surrounded by my own stuff. We’ve had a good holiday, but I’ve had enough driving and I want to get home. I think another reason for my troubled sleep is I’m concerned about Junior. The ‘celebration of life’ for his dad is Saturday and I think this is going to be a difficult weekend. Realistically he’s in for a tough year, the first…of everything…birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries…everything. I know in the short term at least he’s going to use alcohol to deal with things. Our job as parents will be to try to prevent him from doing serious damage to himself and that won’t be an easy task. How do I explain to a 19 year old that getting drunk isn’t really grieving? That it’s a process he has to go through, that there’s no going around it, that booze is only going to postpone it? I know it’s been less then a week. I know this weekend will be like a wake for his dad. I suppose he’s expected to drink right now…I just worry.

 ‘Don’t let them fool you with dope (or drink) and cocaine. No one can harm you, feel your own pain.’ John Lennon

 We went window shopping after I got up. ♀ had already checked out most of the shops while I was asleep, so she knew where to take me. We had a nice lunch in a heritage house…simple, tasty food with a nice atmosphere and good service. We went through a couple of kitchen type stores. I don’t think she was really planning on buying anything (our car is getting full), we were just looking for ideas and colours and…well, just looking. We did buy a really cool plant for Uncle & L. I don’t remember what’ it’s called, but it grows in water. The container it’s in looks like a brandy snifter with rocks in the bottom. You can see the roots dangling down…it’s cool. We also stopped at a toy store and we did end up buying a little something there; ankle and wrist restraints. It was just a cheap nylon set (all 4 four $30), but we decide why spend a lot until we know if we’ll use them regularly or not.

 After we left that store ♀ said she was horny, but Uncle would be home from work at 3:30 and that old house is NOT sound proof at all. We hurried back and it was 2:50 when we got up to our room. By 3:05 we’d both had orgasms and I was ready for a nap. Who here doesn’t like the occasional fast furious fuck?

 nap time

Uncle & L were getting dinner ready when I got up. Her daughter was there too. She’s 18 and cute, but I think her mom spoils her. She and Uncle jab at each other some. If he wasn’t so good natured I think there’d be problems. My very pregnant cousin came over for dinner. She was young the last time I saw her…maybe 8. I could sure see mom in her, but I wouldn’t hold that against her. She was nice. I liked her dry sense of humour. We all had a really nice dinner together. Uncle bbq some chicken, there were green beans and spuds and L baked a cake. Tomorrow Uncle and daughter are driving to Kamloops to be with one of his other very pregnant daughters. She’s scheduled for a C section tomorrow. So in less then a month he should have his first two grand-babies. I told him the third daughter will be jealous now and L has two daughters and it won’t be long until there’s a whole gaggle of grand kids.

During dinner, Cousins’ boobs sprung a leak and she soaked through her shirt. That led to a lively discussion about lactation and breast feeding and feeding in public. I hope ♀ was proud of me for not blurting out that if we’d ever had a baby together I might never have let her milk dry up. Nursing is a reoccurring fantasy and like most fantasies, I can’t imagine ever getting bored of it. Even though I’d never planned on having kids, I’m sure ♀ & I would have had a lot of fun being pregnant.

After dinner we headed for Kelowna. That WAS part of original plan, but after last weekend we’d decided to go straight home after Revelstoke. But she talked to her dad and he was really hoping to see us and really it was only going to add another hour to our driving and Junior is back to work and so we don’t really have much to worry about until the weekend and so 2.5 hours later I was having a beer with my father-in-law. It’s not really a big deal (except I miss my bed) I like her dad. He’s a guy who has made some big mistakes in his life. He’s paid for them, owned up to them, apologized for them and if you can’t forgive him…oh well. He’s building a life for he and his wife and as far as fathers-in-law go, I could have done WAY worse.

We had a couple of drinks with the in-laws then I took ♀ out to their new motor home (it’s huge) and tucked her into our last strange bed for awhile…I hope. Tomorrow it’s homeward bound and Junior and work and ♀ starts new job and getting all of our shit sorted and packed and moved and unpacked and then the Christmas silliness starts and yeah I think it’ll be a challenging few months.

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