Hunting and Life in Rural America - A Guest Post by "Just Ben"

My Guest Author Today is "Just Ben" (@TheDarkRabbit)

Self-described as a combat veteran, father of 2, and husband to A.J. Bass.

I met "Just Ben" on Twitter when I won a giveaway for his wife's book. He and I share a lot of common interests and he offered to write a post about hunting when he saw that I'd recently gone myself. I hope you enjoy this glimpse into his life.

Hunting: Life in Rural America
A Guest Post by "Just Ben"

I'm fairly certain that hunting is looked at in vastly different ways by the rural communities vs urban communities. Out here in rural Nowhere - it's a way of life.

In the urban community it's probably seen as an unnecessary thing by many, possibly barbaric by some, and just not an option for most. But I am not talking about trophy hunting or going on safari (fuck you Eric Trump!). I'm talking about walking out into the woods before the sun comes up and freezing my ass off for several hours in the hopes I will come home late that day with a large deer that will fill my family's freezer for months to come.

People here hunt, and for good reason. If the deer in our area were left to their own devices - they would breed themselves to death. I know that sounds silly, but it's true. They'll strip an entire area of its food (for the deer) in a season or two if their numbers get too big. Then they'll start getting hungry and move into the towns and roads and become a hazard. The hunting community keeps these numbers in a manageable level. And the people here are passionate about it.

Living With BPD and PTSD - a Guest Post by Ana Hannah

My Guest Author Today is Ana Hannah (@merge_9) self-described as "Your friendly online drunk." Currently living in England.

You can follow her on Twitter: @Merge_9
Her stories are available on Amazon and on Wattpad

I met her via Twitter randomly and has become one of my favorite online friends. We have a great deal in common and I am so glad to have her writing this post today.

Living With Borderline Personality Disorder and PTSD 
A Guest Post by Ana Hannah

On bad days, like today, I struggle thinking of words to put down. I struggle to see the light. Or the purpose. In anything. Unfortunately, these bad days far outnumber the good ones. I have borderline personality disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder.

Now, boiled down to basics, I tolerate my PTSD far better than my BPD. At least with PTSD you know what’s in store – nightmares, anxiety, panic attacks, triggers. Sure, some of those triggers bleed over into other areas of life. For example, I am not able to go outside. On the rare occasions that I do, I feel like there is a target on my back. This is due to a variety of reasons – I have been sexually assaulted as a child, and as an adult. I have lived through a war and in the wake of the terrorist attacks, I’ve grown to expect danger at every corner. I don’t go out without having several fool-proof scenarios in my head on what I would do if I encountered a hostage situation or if I’m affected by an attack.

Being honest to yourself.

So... honesty. That's a big thing. But I'm not hear to talk about going to confession or anything like that. I'm here to talk about being honest to yourself. Because, let's face it - that shit is sometimes NOT an easy thing to do.

I started my @BourbonSex account as a way to express the thoughts and desires I have in a somewhat public forum as a way to stop lying to myself.

Let's rewind a bit...

Ever since I was a kid - I've had a thing for sexy things. Maybe I walked in on my parents one too many times, or found my dad's Playboy collection at too early of an age -  don't know. Maybe it was being seduced at 15 by a 22 year old and, I guess technically, being raped by her. Who knows... Point is - It is a part of me.

My family is NOT like me. They talk and joke about sex, but it's more of defense mechanism/macho bravado - much like the guys I all knew in the army. And that's not healthy.

Why I don't like "Porn"

Okay - disclaimer - I love porn. I love watching naked people fuck. That shit is hot as Hell. But........

What I hate is the Porn industry and the fucking ridiculousness of porno.

Why must we make silly porn with terrible plots and stories?

"Hi, I'm here to... clean some pipe."
"Oh, my. Well, let me just bend over, in the nude, and pick up this giant dildo I dropped."
"Mind if I stick it in your butt?"
"Oh by all means! Let me call my cousin so she can come lick your balls while you do it."

I mean... COME ON.

Why can't we just make a decent movie with realistic fucking? If I'm ever in a situation where I was with someone who started talking to me the way do in a porn... I'd probably just laugh at them and the sex would be over. Thankfully, I can hit mute if/when I ever need to watch stuff. Gifs... gifs are where it's at for me in the porn industry. No sound. Short, repeating clips of people having some crazy-good sex.

I think this is why I like Hentai... And no, not the incest/rape hentai (well, MOSTLY not those)... but the stuff like Fuzzy Lips or Kanojo x Kanojo x Kanojo, Bible Black, Giant tentacle monster sex god from outer space. You know, people doing stuff and then having crazy sex with WAY too many bodily fluids. But I like it.

And there's no "Oh yeah, fuck my asshole, daddy"... that's just a mood killer for me. And there's no completely shaved dude who goes to the gym looking all stoic and shit going "yeah... yeah... I'm gonna fuck that ass. Yeah..." - WHO DOES THIS IN REAL LIFE?!?!?

And to make it worse - the unrealistic plastic surgery plaguing porn stars is distracting. I mean... like in a big way. You were clearly not born a 49DD... those look like they're about to pop. And why is every man is shaved from the neck down?? I'm no fan of chest hair, and I understand that it makes your junk look bigger... but I'm having trouble suspending my disbelief here, man.

The icing on the cake is the moaning and sound effects the women make... Are you having sex or are you laying down backup tracks for some dubstep?!?

I get it... this stuff is supposed to be far-fetched and whatnot, but I just can't do it. I can watch gifs and muted clips... but Pornos are, in my opinion, a joke.

You want hot sex? Make it look real. Find real people who look NORMAL. Sex isn't a 90 minute run for most people... shit, for most 20 minutes is considered too long.

So... sorry, Porn industry... I am not a fan. I'll stick with Erotica, Hentai, and my wife's underwear drawer.

PEACE OUT!

The Nap - A @BourbonSex Erotic Short Story

The Nap

A @BourbonSex original Erotic Short Story

The window stood open and the gentle scent of summer floated in as they lounged lazily in the living room. Stirring from her rest, she looked on and watched his chest rise and fall on the opposite end of the couch. He slept peacefully, for once, and she found her eyes drinking him in. She liked watching him when he was like this and a playful smile formed on her lips. He seemed happy and at rest. His shirtless chest moved as he readjusted his position and the smile manifested on his lips and his closed eyes moved as he dreamed. Gently she ran her hand over his shorts and she smiled.

If he was dreaming, she was going to try to influence those dreams.

Soft, slow touches to the outside of his shorts and his breathing changed ever so slightly. Another whisper of a touch against the fabric of his mesh shorts and she felt him stiffen slightly. She stopped touching and watched as his shorts shifted and changed as his dreams changed and the blood began to flow to his cock. She laughed despite herself at the sight. It looked like a snake manifesting itself out of thin air under the fabric of his clothes. As she watched and smiled, she felt a stirring within her. It started as a warm flush, almost a flutter in her chest. The warmth spread from her chest, down the length of her stomach were it radiated warmth between her legs. Her face became flushed as she realized, too late, that in trying to manipulate her lover's dreams, she was becoming increasingly turned on.

What Dreams May Never Come...

Earlier today I posted a list to my Twitter Feed about the things I've wanted to do but fell short of...

These have been my half-assed dreams as an adult. Things I was 100% passionate about for a week or so until I realized I didn't have the time or money to commit to any of them. They are my dead dreams... for now. I will now go into detail on these dreams and why they've all died....

There are many anxieties... but this one is mine.

Stress, anxiety... whatever the fuck you want to call it - SUCKS.

I have catastrophobia... which I'm not even sure is a real word. But it is pretty bad at times. I can't say exactly when it started, but I do know it has gotten progressively worse as I've aged.

This isn't the "Oh, I think the world will end" type of fear - well, not always at any rate... This is the fear that if I go, relax, let my guard down, and do something - the worst case scenario will occur. No matter what it is... ESPECIALLY if that thing is something for my own enjoyment or personal well-being. How fucked is that?

Mental Health Day...

Yesterday was the 2018 National Mental Health Day... and I took the day off of work for Mental Health Reasons.


Well, that, and to spend time with my wife and kids.

The irony being - calling in fake-sick to work... gave me a fucking panic attack. I suffer from PTSD. Sometimes horribly so. And yesterday, while having a good time out with my wife and kids - I had a little bit of a freak out.

When I do things like call in sick when I'm not, or give my kids off to my parents to go do something for myself, I get horrible guilt. This guilt compounds over time and causes anxiety. The anxiety builds up and then BAM! I get a full blown panic attack all because I wanted to take time for myself. And this is killing me...

So, as my day went on, we were having fun and I went into the local bookstore to look for some good books. This store is about as big as my living room and is floor-to-ceiling books. They have shelves everywhere and it's a narrow, confined space with no circulation, no sound, and it's hot. I... already starting to stress out from being home... started to get really uncomfortable in this place. My ears were ringing, I couldn't catch my breath, I felt like the books were going to collapse on me and kill me... it was a good time.*

When we got home I was drenched in panic-sweat and my heart felt like it was trying to beat out of my chest. So I went upstairs, turned the lights off, and curled up with the cat for 2 hours and tried to calm down. It helped a little, but not much.

Mental Health is no joke. And we all need to take care of ourselves. BUT... how can I do this when taking time to myself actually CAUSES me anxiety??  I can't stand my fucking job and it is, literally, killing me with its stress and bullshit.

What I'd like to do is sit back, smoke a shitload of weed, and try to relax... but I can't. I'm desperately trying to find a job closer to home and they all still test. I'd LIKE to find some sort of medication that helps, but the last one they put me of turned me into a fucking paranoid monster.  Seriously - that shit was awful. My wife and I both agreed it was better for me to be the way I am than the paranoid, weirdo that the pills caused... I would wake up in the middle of the night, wide awake, worried about the most ridiculous shit. I was suspicious of everyone and everything - including my wife which was a big red flag... I've been off of that shit for a few months now and things are MUCH better.

It sucks.

It all fucking sucks. 

I drink more now than I ever have in my life... which is saying something when you look at my
twenties. But it's sometimes the only way I can shut my brain off long enough to get some sleep. Then the problem arises that drinking causes dehydration and dehydration causes high blood pressure and high blood pressure helps to cause the anxiety. It's a vicious fucking circle of bullshit. But drinking seems to be the one and only option to my since our country has a hard-on for calling mental illness a weakness and shunning people... and then we destroy our healthcare in the name of political theater...

Then - to make it better - I try to explain to my boss that "sometimes I just need a minute to process some shit. I'll be fine, just let me calm down." And she - being one of those people who has done everything you've done, only better, and has advice about fucking EVERYTHING tries to belittle my PTSD with "Well, when my dad died I had some PTSD, but coming to work really helped get me back on track."

REALLY?

FUCKING REALLY???

You're DAD was sick for six years and his death was not sudden. While I, in no way, doubt that it was traumatic... It's not the same thing to be in your fifties and losing a parent as it is to have been in my twenties and watching people fucking burn to death in Iraq. Sorry. It's not a contest... but if it was, FUCK YOU.


AH - damnit. Now I'm all pissed off and forgot where I was going with this...

Take care of yourself, people. I mean - really TRY and take care of yourself. Take time for YOU. Take time for your loved ones... and Don't let all of the bullshit in the world weigh you down and pull you under.


*It was not, in fact, a good time at all...

Suicide and Life...

I'm on my... 6th? Cup of coffee already.  Which isn't truly unusual... but today isn't the normal level of tired from general insomnia -  Last night stayed up late, talking my friend out of killing herself...

It was not fun. I did not enjoy it.

But I did it. And my friend is still alive this morning... And, for that, I am happy.

This is not the first time in 40 years I've done this... and that is a sad, sad thing.

The friend in question was not one of my former Army mates. She is someone I've known since kindergarten who has been sexually abused by a family member for most of her life and is now in an emotionally and physically abusive relationship... And nothing I can say will make her feel like the good person we all know her to be. The abusive assholes in her life have her believing THEIR bullshit.

It's times like this I wish we had a Purge Night... well, sort of. Not really... I mean, I'm not advocating violence... but I sure as shit would love to beat the ever loving shit out of her family member and dickhole of a so-called boyfriend... but, alas, that is not an option.

All I want to do is lift my friend up where she needs to be so she can take the time needed to look after her own happiness and not rely on the assholes she's known.

Why do people have to be assholes like that? Why must people degrade and humiliate others into thinking they're somehow LESS??  WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?

Look - if you're reading this and you know someone in a relationship that is toxic - talk to them. Don't wait until you see a last-ditch call for help on Facebook before reaching out. I've not been in close touch with my friend in a few years. I've moved away... but when I saw her reach out, then delete the post - I called her. And we talked.

Talk to someone if they need it. Be a friend. Take the time out of your day to make sure your friends, family and loved ones make it to tomorrow. It can get better. It will get better. But only if we all remember that we're in this together...

Now, here's a cat photo to help you through your day:

I thought about using one of those hairless cat photos - but they look like ballsacks. So... no. 

BE GOOD, PEOPLE!!!

Erotic Fiction Thursdays - Accidentally In Bed

Two friends find themselves in bed together when plans change and their paths cross unintentionally

Accidentally In Bed

Carrie glared at the text message on her phone in frustration.
“Stuck at work. Have to cancel dinner”
“Mother fucker.” She tossed the phone aside.
She was expecting a night out, complete with dinner and sex. Now she was looking at a night in... by herself. Fresh out of the shower with her hair and makeup perfect, wearing her “I’m going to be seen naked” panties she flopped onto the couch next to her phone. She was pissed off and turned on - and that was not a good combination. It had been weeks since she had seen Nick. And when they had seen each other, he’d been distant and cold.
“Looks like whiskey and Netflix tonight.” She said to the empty house. “Why is it so hard to just get laid?” She stopped talking to herself and shot up from the couch when she heard the sliding door open in her kitchen and got up from the couch to investigate. Maybe Nick was just playing with her? She stopped in her tracks when, to her complete surprise, it was Tom. Despite looking tired and worn out - she couldn't help but see his broad shoulders and admire him from the back. He was, in fact, a very desirable man… and Standing before him in nothing but her "going out" panties and a fuzzy bathrobe made her think inappropriate thoughts as she watched him rummage through his bag on her kitchen table.
"Hi." She said startling him.
"Shit!" He said. "I didn't think you were home, Carrie." He turned to acknowledge her and pulled a double-take when he saw he clothes… or lack thereof. He quickly turned away.
"I see... so this is just your standard, run of the mill, home invasion thing? You know I don't have anything good to steal."

The bliss that is being alone...

I love my wife and kids very much.

But there are times that, as a human being, I just need some time alone. And I don't mean I need to get in the car and go to the store - I mean home, in your house, with no other person.

Maybe it's just me, I don't know. But there is something internally balancing about being able to just spend some time each day at home, alone, not dealing with anyone else's shit. Before we moved, I had an hour every morning to myself when my wife went to work and the kids went to daycare. It was glorious. Some days I'd do laundry, somedays I'd do the dishes... it doesn't matter what I do during the time alone - the point was just to be able to do it without worrying about anyone else for like 60 minutes.

It was fucking glorious.

But... now I commute for two fucking hours every day and that's about the closest I get to alone time.

Holy shit, just shut up already...

If there is one thing I hate - it's people who just keep talking and talking when the conversation is clearly over, or worse yet, never even started. Seriously. SHUT THE FUCK UP in the morning.

I have two co-workers in particular who believe that "Good morning" is the gateway drug to "Please tell me about whatever inane shit you did last night or your sump-pump that's been broken for six months... I literally do not care.

At all.

Mornings are for coffee and contemplation as the saying goes and your blathering on about whatever reality show you watched last night is causing a buildup of some SERIOUS rage in my system.

Even on good mornings - like this one - where I've had coffee, taken the kids to school, and returned home to spend some quality time sans pants with my wife, I just don't have the patience or mental fortitude to deal with people until 11:00am at the earliest.

So, I sit here, gritting my teeth and typing on my keyboard HOPING you will get the hint that I am, in fact, not paying the slightest bit of attention to you - but NOOOOooooo. You just keep running that hole in your face.

I'm amazed there isn't more workplace violence in the world. I guess that speaks volumes about humankind's ability to endure the trials and tribulations of society - more or less.

So - there is my rant for now. Day started out awesome and now, it's 10:00 and all I want to do is scream at people for harshing my calm.

It's my first day

Hello. This blog is meant to be for me. Nobody else. I say that in the strange idea that someone, somewhere, will stumble upon this thing and actually read it.

This blog is my quiet space. This is the place I can come to be alone with my thoughts and in peace. This is the place I can talk about things that matter to me that, for one reason or another, I can't share with family and friends on normal social media.

Examples:
I can't openly talk about sex on Social Media due to my family being mostly super-religious.
I can't openly talk about drugs and drinking on Social Media due to wanting to remain employed.
I can't openly talk about the strange shit that runs through my brain because I don't really want to freak people the fuck out.

Aside from my wife and kids - I normally don't care about people's opinions and perceptions of me. Well, that's not true. Let's face it, we ALL actually care about what people think. If we didn't, there would be a lot less anxiety in the world. So we act in accordance to our own set of morals, values, and whatnots...

I'm going to talk about my love of coffee. I'm going to talk about my love of sex in all its forms... which will be vanilla to some and pearl-clutchingly scandalous to others depending on what you like. I'm going to talk about bourbon. Because I fucking love bourbon.

If these things sound like things you want to read - come on down and read along.

I will occasionally post erotic fiction - which I love to write.
I will occasionally post political rants - which I don't love to write, but which I do seem good AT writing.
I will talk about my occasionally crippling PTSD and the joys it brings.
I will talk about sex with my wife.
I will talk about masturbation and porn...

I'll basically talk about anything... So... yeah.


Welcome to my fucking blog. My private, alone-time, blog where I'll post my middle-aged missives.