Random Moments With Us – Interlocking Fingers

interlocking fingersSo Venice and I were walking around a home improvement store when I saw an old friend I hadn’t seen in a while. I looked over to him and called out his name.  He smiled and walked over and asked how I was doing.   We talked for a few minutes and caught up with each other’s current events. My friend is a bit of a talker so I wanted to end the conversation without being rude.  I held up my hand above my head, as if to say “I’ll talk to you later, give me five.”  However, I do not give “fives” where I come from.  I give “daps.”  Usually the other person responds by leaving his hand low so we can basically clap hands and give each other daps.  In other words, a simple form of shaking hands / clapping hands to say goodbye.   My friend, who isn’t really a high school buddy or anything, just a guy I met when I moved to the South from California years ago. Apparently, he was not familiar with the daps tradition.   So instead of giving me daps, he reached up as if he was going to high five me.  However, instead of the classic high five, he latched on to my hand and interlocked fingers.   Interlocked fingers?  What the fuck?

Dog Look 1I glanced over at Venice as my hands were entangled with my friend hoping she would dive across our arms and save me from this moment.  Sort of like when you grab an electric fence and someone needs to push you away from the current to save you from being electrocuted to death.  However, she left me for dead. Rather than saving me from the moment, she barely moved.  Do you know how when you say an unfamiliar word to a puppy they’ll cock their head sideways and give you this, “What the fuck are you talking about”  look?  That was her look.  She cocked her head sideways and just looked at our hands interlocked, then back to my eyes, then back to the hands.

Once I realized Venice wasn’t going to save me, or pull me away from this disaster, I pulled myself away as fast as humanly possible…once the shock tapered off.   I admit, for a matter of seconds I was frozen, like a deer in headlights.  I had never interlocked my fingers with another man, and to be totally honest, I didn’t think it was even possible.  Truthfully, I thought a man’s fingers would give off a force that is similar to the negative effect of a magnet if they got close to another man’s fingers.  I really didn’t think it was scientifically possible for two men’s fingers to interlock.  I was wrong…very wrong.

But the interlocking fingers phenomenon doesn’t stop with this one moment.

Fast forward months later.  Mid threesome.  I was behind one of Venice’s girlfriends, looking down on her ass and back as her face was between Venice’s legs.  I shared my attention equally with the different things going on, from glancing down at my dick, at the other girl’s ass, at the back of her head eating out Venice, and at Venice’s reactions.  At one point, I believe the girl was moving her hands up to possibly play with Venice’s nipples.  At the same time, I saw Venice’s hands moving down to possibly hold her friend’s head against her crotch.  I say possibly, because neither of those things happened.  I saw the movements in slow motion.  It felt almost as if two cars were driving full speed at each other, with only one lane.

Confused_dogI wanted to scream, “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatch out, your hands are about to collide!”  But instead I just sat there, with my head kind of cocked sideways, and watched.   As their fingers interlocked, Venice looked up at me, with her head also kind of sideways.  She cringed her eyebrows and looked down at her friend who wasn’t paying attention, as if to suggest, “What the fuck, really bitch, you are interlocking fingers?  You have to at least take me to dinner and by me a sexy outfit before you move up to fingers interlocking status.”

Venice:

As our hands touched I cringed.  No offense, but this is a booty call, not a walk on a moonlit beach.   My eyes were piercing into Ryan’s soul sending him complex soul mate messages that only he could decipher.  When our eyes connected, I knew he got the message.  Relieved, I relax and breathe, knowing my hero was going to save me from this moment.  Then he looked away and slapped her ass, saying out loud, “Work that pussy on this cock.”  What?  Is that how he received my secret soul mate message? Bastard.  How about belly flopping in between us to break our hands apart?

I was desperate and apparently my bat signal wasn’t working correctly.  I knew what I had to do.  I closed my legs tightly around her head and screamed out that I was going to cum.  I forcefully freed my hands from her grips and grabbed the back of her head.  Still slightly upset, I pulled her face as hard as I could into my pussy and pretended it was because I couldn’t control myself.  I hope it hurt her nose.  I’m not proud of myself, but I had to do what I had to do to free my fingers.

**This wasn’t the only time a girl has tried this with me.  I also did a photo shoot in a bathtub with a friend, and while she ate my pussy, she reached up and interlocked our fingers.  We had candles out and the mood of the photograph was supposed to be somewhat romantic, so it worked.  However, it still felt awkward.

TAGS: bro fist, clap hands, daps, fingers interlocked, fingers interlocking, high five, holding hands, interlocking fingers, pound, shake hands, bitch just eat my pussy don’t try to make love with my fingers, finger sex, finger banging, fingering a girl, finger soul mates, interlocking fingers, stop trying to hold hands and suck my dick, holding hands is intimate I just want to fuck, fisting, fist sex, palmela handerson

Random Moments With Us – Fat Joe featuring Chris Brown “Another Round”

sandcastlesThe other day a song came on from my list of songs on my phone: “Another Round” by Fat Joe f. Chris Brown. I hadn’t heard it in a while, so I let it play. I know that Chris Brown is the new R. Kelly (a.k.a. douchebag personified) and I’m not a huge Fat Joe fan either, but if I were to choose between the lesser of two evils, I prefer Chris Brown. I know, I know. But I can’t deny he has a soft, creamy voice which has basically been the soundtrack to my “How I learned how to deepthroat” sessions several years ago. He holds a special place in my playlist.

So anyway, we’re listening to the lyrics to “Another Round” and although I’ve heard it a hundred times, we noticed something a bit odd about young Chris Brown’s solo toward the end of the song:

“Girl you got that bomb thing, no I can’t resist
I’mma light some candles girl, then tie up your wrists
Then i’m licking chocolate right up off your stomach
Baby you ain’t had no freaky shit like this

Ryan: Did he just call her vagina a thingy?
Venice:
No, a bomb thing.
Ryan:
I haven’t called a vagina a thingy since like 3rd grade.
Venice: So what are you saying?
Ryan:
The line just feels wrong like, Girl you got that bomb private part I can’t resist.
Venice: Haha.  Or more like, “Girl you got that bomb pee pee area I can’t resist.”
Ryan:  “Girl you got that bomb yucky cootie place I can’t resist.”
Venice: Let’s light candles and eat chocolate yum yums.
Ryan: What grade was he in when he wrote this?
Venice: “Yeah, girl…do you like me? Circle 1 for yes and 2 for no. <3U4ever”
Ryan:Girl, I wanna take you out to dinner…at Chuck E. Cheese’s and eat pizza til our sides hurt…”
Venice: “…and our arms go numb from playing skeeball a lot.”
Ryan:I’m freaky girl…I’ll buy you chocolates and that Garfield candle with the Chuck E. Cheese’ tickets we win.
Venice:I wanna sit on the benches in the mall and engage is some massive heavy petting.
Ryan:You make my heart all warm like the Similac in my baba.
Venice: Haha!

Yes, we sang those lines as if they were the actual song lyrics.  You try it.

P.S. Yes, they are in the video making sand castles.

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Random Moments With Us – Caught Lube Handed

Coconut OilLast week I went to the drug store to pick up some coconut oil. I prefer the drug store because it has the brand we know and trust and it comes in a big container. We have another brand of the same size, but I’m just not happy with it.

After finding the coconut oil, I hand it to the cashier, thinking nothing of my purchase. She scans the tub and looks at it for a moment as a man approaches the register and waits beside me. “I’m looking at this because…” she begins to say and looks at me. “Now, you use this for cooking, right?”

I look at her with paranoid eyes and feel the eyes of the man standing beside me burning a hole into my brain. “Umm…I…umm…” My mind races trying to remember the other uses of coconut oil. But the only things I could think of were sex lube and massage oil.

I must have taken too long to answer because she says, “Because of a friend of mine told me that she uses it to massage her feet.”

“YES!” I exclaim. “That’s what I heard, too. That you can use it as a massage oil.”  She nods her head in agreement and I feel more confident at that moment. I add on to her suggestion and get a little creative, “It’s really good for your skin and hair, too. I just take whatever’s left on my hands and run it through my hair.”

“Ah, okay. I’m thinking about getting some myself,” she says.

“Yea you should, and it also tastes great. This is our second container because we use so much of it.”

Then I stopped talking, realizing I had probably said too much.  Either this cashier thinks my husband and I use coconut oil as french fry grease to make our fish and fries, or I enjoy eating hair.  I quieting grabbed my bag and removed myself from the store.

…I guess that’s better than her knowing I’ve used two containers as ass lard.

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This Friday Is On Me

fridayRyan has been grilling for me every Friday for about 3 years. Each Friday, my day is filled with the thrill of knowing I’ll be getting faded with Ryan and enjoying a New York Strip or Ribeye (with grilled corn, broccoli, or whatever sides I feel like having), followed by (or following, depending on horniness and intoxication levels!) rough and kinky debauchery.  The end of the work week signifies a celebration, a party that I prepare for and look forward to. Although Ryan himself has said to me several different times, “Do you really want steak today?”  I follow it with, “What the fuck…YES, I WANT STEAK! I wait all week for it!”  Ryan made a promise to me 3 years ago that every Friday he’d grill for me, and my steak meal at the end of the week was a way for him to show his appreciation for everything I do for him.  It is also a part of our intimacy circle and makes me feel spoiled, which I really enjoy.  I deserve my man cooking for me.

Occasionally, we’ll eat out (on a Saturday or Sunday). It’s not as fun as preparing food together at home, but I welcome the change. Although tomorrow is Friday, I’ve decided to spoil him this week with a special meal.  Inspired by the different places we eat out, I have listed tomorrow’s menu:

 
Spinach cheese dip
Strawberry Lemonade (Vodka)
Shrimp Scampi Linguine (with garlic cheese bread)
Caramel Pecan Brownies à la mode
 
I’m making everything from scratch!  I’m even putting together a new playlist!  So if you have any song suggestions, let me know!

Random Moments With Us – Do You Know My Blood Type?

Last night, Ryan dropped a glass onto the floor and it shattered.  As he reached over to the pantry to get the broom and dustpan, I tried to carefully spin around to sit on the counter.  I felt a little tingle in my big toe but thought nothing of it. I watched as Ryan swept the entire kitchen floor and even into the dining room.  The tingle in my toe began to irritate me. As I turned to look at my toe, I saw smeared blood down the inside of my sole as a red fluid continued to pool around the source.

“Oh, no… I did step on a piece of glass,” I said. Ryan continued to sweep as he apologized profusely. “Not your fault,” I told him.

A few minutes later, with a piercing needle and a tweezer, I was able to remove the piece of glass. It continued to bleed as I covered the cut with a tiny circle Band-Aid. It was the only size I had.

As we were getting ready for bed, I held up my foot to Ryan and said, “I could have died!”

“I know, I know…you could have died,” he played along.

“I lost so much blood!”

He pulled me onto the bed and I lay my head on his chest. “Yes, V, you lost a lot of blood.”

“I may need to go to the Red Cross. In case I pass out, do you know my blood type?”

He made a letter V with his index and middle fingers, placed them over my eyelids and made a pulling down motion, as if he were shutting the eyes of a corpse. “Shh, ssh.  It’s okay.” I laughed as I pushed his hand off my face. “It’s okay to let go, V. LET. GO,” he said as he pinched my nostrils together while cupping his palm over my mouth.  I laughed even harder as I pushed his hand away yet again. “Shhhhhhhh..shhhh,” he said as he put a pillow over my face. “Be free from the pain. Walk to the light, V. Walk to the light!”

The next afternoon in the car, I told him I was having trouble walking at work because of my injury.   I also asked if he thought maybe amputation would help with the pain.  He laughed and suggested pulling over to a the cemetery we happened to be driving passed and physically kicking me out of the vehicle.  Literally, kick me out with his shoe in my back.  He made me visualize that I would grab the window of the car and hang on as he tried to drive off, yelling, “Stop Ryan, stop!”

He said he would yell back to me,  “It’s okay baby, don’t hold on, go to the light! Don’t worry I will come back on every anniversary and birthday.  Don’t fight it.”