ImPerceptibility

Archive for the ‘Cheez Whiz’ Category

The ride home was long but not too long. If I could spend the rest of my life driving through quite back roads in the middle of night, with nothing but the light of the headlights on the road and MyHusband’s music playing softly in the background, I would never have another complaint. You can’t loose your soul under those circumstances. You do however find some of the little pieces that were lost.

I crawled into bed and the sheets felt cool and they were familiar. The warmth of MyHusbands body was close to me and it felt good to press myself against him. I was tired but my mind turned to other thoughts. He was more tired and almost asleep and I thought for a minute about waking him up but I knew I’d probably end up with hurt feelings. He was very tired. It had been a very long drive.

I lay there on my side with my back to MyHusband and I let my mind wander. My breath became a little faster as I imagined his hand on my shoulder and it moving slowly down my side sliding into the soft spot at my waist and moving back up to my hip. His hands squeezing and pulling me against him. I imagined his breath against the back of my neck and him kissing me over and over until I moaned and turned my head to face him. Our bodies pressed against each other and my mouth finding his shoulder and neck. His hands brushing my hair from my face and gathering it gently, slowly, deliberately, into a bunch at the nape of my neck. Him pulling my head back so he could kiss my neck, under my chin, my breasts and stomach. Over and over until my back arched and my feet pressed hard against the bed and I pull him roughly onto me.

He fills my ears with inappropriate words that are somehow quite appropriate and I move my hands from his shoulder, down his arms, and underneath his hands. Our fingertips touch and I lightly trace his fingers and palm, feeling the roughness of the callouses. He closes his fingers around my hands and they are lost inside of his. His big calloused manly hands. He pull my hands to his lips and kisses each of my fingers and I place his hand on my mouth and kiss his palms as his fingers trace my cheek. I make sure he looking into my eyes and I grin at him. I press my hands against him and push, pretending I wanted him to go away. He grabs them and pins them over my head as I giggle.

I imagine how my breasts bounce and the sound of the bed as it makes that rhythmic sound that anyone who knows would know. Him grabbing my waist and slipping his hands under me. Pulling me hard against him. Demanding and rough making my body do things that we both know it’s wants to do.

Then through my half closed eyes I saw a bright flash outside. It startled me back into myself. Then a few seconds later a loud explosive sound followed by loud rumbly sounds. Then silence. For a second I though the world had come to an end. Then another flash. And the thunder. Then I counted and listened and waited for the storm to pass. A thunder storm in March. I rolled over and snuggled against MyHusband. He thought my heart was racing and my breathing was heavy because I was frightened by the sudden storm. I didn’t have to worry, he would keep me safe. Sometimes, men are so gullible.

[Disclaimer: Don't read this.  Seriously, don't read this.  I've listened to way too many Christmas songs and drank way too much diet coke today. It's sick and perverted.  You've been warned.]

A little know fact about me is that I was once one of Santa’s reindeer. I know you find this hard to believe, but it could be true, if it were true. And not only was I once a reindeer, I also had a very shiny nose. If you had see me back then you might have even thought it glowed. This an important part of the story so remember that. Nose glowed. Okay, now there is more to the story but it isn’t fit for children so be good for goodness sakes and don’t read this out loud to them on Christmas Eve.

Because of my nose and a few other obvious differences I was made fun of. Things like that happen but that didn’t make it any less hurtful. They didn’t even let me play in their reindeer games. Like Monopoly. I was left out, ostracized by the very deer that I hoped to make my friends. There was nowhere to turn. I had never felt more alone in my life. But things were about to change.

It was a foggy Christmas eve and I heard Santa calling me.

“Rudolph” he called.

My name isn’t Rudolph but I was okay with that. I mean, it hurts that Santa can’t remember my name, but I was alright with it. For the most part. Well, I learned to deal with it. I put on my happy face.

“Rudolph with your nose so bright” He continued, “Won’t you guide my sleigh tonight!”

I jumped to attention.

“Ohh yess, Santa, Yes. I will guide your sleigh tonight. I will guide your sleigh like it’s never been guided before. Give me that sleigh, Santa. Give it to me”

I stood there and waited as the jolly old elf, well, Lets just say, the chimney, he rose. Then he decided to speak.

“Damn girl. I wasn’t talkin ’bout all that now.”

The truth about Santa is that he is not a fat old white guy. He’s really a short skinny gangsta. Possibly from Atlanta but he doesn’t talk much about his old ‘hood. It was traumatic for him.

Now, a lot happened that foggy night and I am legally bound by my reindeer contract not to tell the whole story. They have their version of events and it’s a good version. So, lets just say that by the time I was finished, all the reindeer loved me. I mean, they really loved me. And I loved them too because I love peppermint. I really, really love peppermint. I ate peppermint sticks all night while they shouted out with glee.

Now, as fate would have it, I have gone down in history. But I don’t get any credit for it because Santa doesn’t even remember my name. It’s a sad life I live, but I’ll be fine. Just keep that peppermint coming.

It was a new bra and it needed to be tested. Worse yet it was a sexy bra and those are the worst. Those of us with ample bosoms understand what I’m talking about. My trusty bras were all in the wash and we were going to the berry patch. That involves reaching and bending. Reaching and bending can lead to a mishap that is sometimes called a wardrobe malfunction. If you’ve ever had this problem you know it’s not a good thing. An improperly fitted bra can give out on you when you least expect it. You could fall through the bottom, slip out the side, or worse yet the full single booby pop out of the top. There is not much worse than having to stuff your right breast back into position while trying to act nonchalant. It even worse when you have berry juice on your hands. I just didn’t want to go there. So, I decided to test it.

Standing in front of the mirror I started with a little light bouncing. All seemed well but I’ve been fooled before. I did the trusty side to side shoulder shake. There was considerable movement but no side poppage. I was feeling a little more confident in my bra choice when I grabbed the shoulder straps and wiggled them up and down. No leakage from the bottom. This was a good bra. I was very excited about my new bra and I was all hopped up on caffeine. It was time for the final test, the Flash Dance test. Oh what a feeling! You never know when you’ll suddenly be caught in a musical and it’s good to be prepared. Thats when I looked up and noticed MyHusband standing in the doorway with a peculiar look on his face.

“I’m…uhh…testing my bra. I’m testing my bra!”

He told me I didn’t need to stop.

I was a little embarrassed and decided to hug him. That’s when I noticed it. If you are or are married to a man over the age of 35 there are certain things that aren’t as spontaneous as they use to be especially if you’ve been spontaneous in the last 12 hours. With age come patience. Lets just say there wasn’t a need for patience.

“What the heck. Do you think you’re a 20yo or something?” I asked.

“Apparently,” he said.

Finally, after all these years, I figured out Victoria’s secret. It was well worth the wait.

“If you’re planning on running a marathon you need to warm up first. Stretch out a little. Start out slow. Pace yourself.”

Myhusband said this a few hours ago as he massaged the charley horse out of my neck. I giggled and tried to act embarrassed but I wasn’t.

The pain started last night. My pectoral muscles were a little sore. No fears everything else was fine. I couldn’t figure out why they were hurting until I pushed my shoulders back and looked up. That was the muscle and it was tight. I immediately knew what I had done. I did a little light stretching and hoped for the best. I told my husband how it happened and he just laughed and shook his head.

I woke up this morning and things weren’t too bad. A little stiffness but nothing major. I thought I was recovering until I reached to scratch my back. That’s when the muscle in my neck decided to clench itself into a tight little knot. Now that was some serious pain. MyHusband was kind enough to massage it for me until it loosened up again.

I should be embarrassed about what happened but I’m not. The fact of the matter was that yesterday I had an empty house for thirty minutes, some unwatched files, and a fresh set of batteries. I had plans for those thirty minutes and I was gonna use them. And I did. Six times.

Six times. I was impressed with myself. I still am. You can be impressed or jealous. Whatever works for you. Lets just say this (NSFW) is worth every penny and next time I’ll be sure to warm up first.

audio I’m not sure when it happened. It wasn’t gradual but it didn’t happen all at once. Passion turned to desire. Desire turned to complacence. Complacence turned into to what I have now. I think it’s called… actually, I have no idea what it’s called.

Let’s face it. A fresh ripe tomato is nothing more than a fresh ripe tomato. It hasn’t been around long enough for seasoning. There might be slight variations in color, texture, or size but nothing remarkable. A tomato has to be around for awhile to become remarkable. It has to be simmered and seasoned, and stirred. Time changes the tomato. Experience makes the tomato more interesting.

I don’t want my tomato sitting there looking sweet and ripe but unable to express it’s true desires. Half the time they don’t even know what their true desires are. They think it has to do with their stem. You also have to handle them gently or they’ll bruise. I don’t want a tomato that needs to be handled gently. I want a tomato that sits on the counter, looks me in the eye and says I am Lasagna! Stuff me between noodles! I want my tomato to know what it wants and make me want it too. Actually, I don’t want a tomato at all. I want cheese.

Extra sharp aged cheddar. The kind that is so rich and flavorful that it melts on your tongue and leaves you wanting, if not begging, for more. Put it on crackers or sprinkle it on a salad. Serve it with grapes and wine. Perfectly aged cheddar is the ultimate in culinary experiences. It knows what you like and it gives it to you. It takes years to age cheddar to perfection and that is time well spent.

I saw him. He was sitting on the other side of the room watching the game. There was something about the way his body moved. The sound of his voice. The softness in his eyes. I wanted him. I wanted to press my body hard against his. I wanted to hear him call out my name. I wanted to love him until he begged for mercy. I wanted to own him.

I stood against a wall drinking my rum and coke and watching him. He eventually looked up and noticed me. His eyes caught mine for a few seconds then with the guarded glance of a man that didn’t want to offend, he carefully checked out the rest of me. A little shiver of pleasure went through me when our eyes met for the second time. The look in his eyes mirrored my own. It was a look I haven’t seen for quite awhile. I’d almost forgotten. Suddenly feeling a little shy I looked away.

He looked back at the TV screen but he was only half watching the game. I turned to get another drink, a shot of confidence. I could feel him watching as I walked out of the room. My hips swayed just a little more than usual. I shook out my hair then glanced over my shoulder. Oh yeah, he was watching and he was liking it.

I returned with my drink and sat down beside him. We discussed the game but our hearts weren’t into it. Another drink and a short conversation later I reached out and lightly touched his knee. He tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and his hand stopped just below my chin. I saw some uncertainty. I took his hand and kissed it. He leaned in closer to me. I don’t know how long we kissed because there was no more time.

I hesitated slightly as seventeen years, two kids, and some promises disintegrated. Another empty glass and I was young again. There were no mouths demanding to be fed. No laundry waiting in the hall. No mortgage payments, grocery shopping, dentist appointments…

The empty glasses on the table were a memory when he pressed me against the wall. I pressed back harder, pushing him against the opposite wall. He moaned softly when my hand went down the front of his pants. I’m not sure where we left our clothes. I fell asleep listening to the sound of rain on the roof and his heavy breathing. There were no regrets, only a feeling that I was more alive than I have been in a very long time.

I listened as he showered. Content happy sounds were echoing off the bathroom walls. He was smiling when he came in to tell me goodbye.

“I have to go. I’ll miss the train.”

I smiled and shook my breasts at him.

“I’ll try and come home early” he promised then paused for a second at the door. “We haven’t done that like that since…”

“The old green couch” I told him.

I heard him singing love songs as he walked out the door.