Read This Before Going On...

25 October, 2018

Erotic Fiction Thursdays - One Last Time

 Erotic Fiction Thursdays - One Last Time

      Aaron was exhausted. Fifteen hours of backbreaking work today and he could barely stand. His knees ached, his arms ached, and he hoped to be able to sleep tonight, but didn't think that was likely. He entered his home, listening to the groan of the floorboards under his steps. The old farmhouse seemed to protest his presence as he sat at the table and kicked off his boots. Leaning back in the chair, he sighed a weighty sigh full of longing and loss.

      It was one year since his wife's death and he thought that working all day would help him come home, collapse with sleep, and not dwell on her absence in his life. Now he was sad, tired, and he could barely stand. Life sucked for Aaron. The old house was too big for him without Betsy there with him, but he couldn't bring himself to sell it or move. This house felt like her and when he was within its walls, he felt her presence. 

23 October, 2018

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....

18 October, 2018

Erotic Fiction Thursdays - The Quickie

 Erotic Fiction Thursdays - The Quickie

Tom and Carrie totally fucked. Like - a lot. In the pool. In his room. In her room. Everywhere. They fucked a lot.

Oh, man... so much fucking.

The end.

17 October, 2018

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?

11 October, 2018

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."



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...

10 October, 2018

Erotic Fiction Thursdays - By The Pool

Tom, formerly John, thinks he's dreaming. To prove he's very much awake - his new, mysterious rescuer shows him around the manor and introduces him to a new teammate in...

 Erotic Fiction Thursdays - By The Pool

    "You've died, Mr. McConnell." She smiled a perfect smile. "You are now Mr. Tom Redding. And you've been chosen for something special."
     That's what she had said to him three days ago. Since then - he hadn't been feeling apart of anything special. The drug she used to fake his death took some time work out of his system and he'd been on bed rest for two days. Today he was allowed to get up and walk around Hillcrest Manor. With Victoria as his guide. There was no way he could complain about that. Just looking at her almost made him ache with the fuzzy memories from the ordeal at the prison. He'd been given a pair of lightweight lenin pants and shirt to match. Apparently their location was warmer than his prison home of a few days ago.
   "Jesus." John, now Tom, said. "This place is huge."
   "Yes." Victoria responded with a smile. "Our benefactor has spent a great deal to see to it that we are well provisioned and well taken car of." Her loose, floral sundress flowed easily around her body and Tom tried to sneak a peak of what he was remembering of her from the prison. 
   "Our benefactor?" Tom said with a raised eyebrow. "And who might that be?"
   "All in good time, Mr. Redding." She pushed open another set of doors to brilliant sunlight and the warm, humid air hit them.

05 October, 2018

Let's Talk About SEX!


Sex is the coolest thing ever. And I'm pretty well versed in cool shit. I've traveled all across the world, been in a war, got shot at, driven across the entire United States - like 5 times - and I was stabbed in the face by a pitchfork. What can I say? I like it rough?

Point is - I like sex.

It feels awesome to connect with someone else on such a personal level like that. But here's the strange bit - Out of all of our friends and family, my wife and I are seemingly the only ones who not only LIKE sex, but actively engage in the act on a fairly regular basis.

03 October, 2018

Erotic Fiction Thursdays - The Visitor

When John gets a visitor outside of normal prison visiting hours - he thought that was the strangest thing he'd see all day.

He was wrong.

The Visitor 

  "McConnell!" The guard's voice boomed into the cramped, 9x6 cell.
   "Visitor." The guard looked in the door at him with a smirk. "Let's go, sunshine." He motioned towards the walkway with his baton.
   "Sure." John stood, not knowing who might be visiting him. More concerned that this was not a normal visitation hours for the prison. "Who is it?"
   "Do I look like your fuckin' secretary?" The guard said. "Fuckin' move it before I tell her I couldn't find you." His eyes raised and he cracked a smile. Not at John, but at the woman.
   "Cool." John said. So it was a woman... And apparently an attractive one by the guard's standards.
    Looks and catcalls from the cells as he walked by them and out the door. Instead of turning right and going to the visitor's room, the guard led him to the left. To the private council rooms.
   "Fuck." He whispered. "A fuckin' lawyer." It had to be a lawyer. But his lawyer was Franklin James... a fat fuck from Jersey. And, clearly, not a woman.
   "In." The guard said. He ushered John in and watched him sit and the guard reached out to cuff his hands to the table.

It's my first day