Just a few notes to play catch-up with the blog. My morning routine has been blown out of whack for the last month because my daughter and her family have been staying with us between military moves. We love having them here, but tonight will be the last night. During the stay, I've been out of my office, my normal morning e-mail check and blog location, just to avoid making any noise on that side of the house. Instead, I've retreated to the mancave and an old laptop.
Last night my wife and I slipped out to our local pub to have a beer and grab some pizzas to bring home for dinner. There was a new bartender in their, a college girl I suspect. Tall and slender with big boobs spilling out of her bra. She was wearing glasses and looked like she could easily be the librarian in a porn flick I might watch. What I liked best was that her shirt was just short enough that when she moved, it revealed her tummy. I can't explain my turn-ons, but there is just something about seeing a glimpse of mid-section when it is intended to be covered. I mean, I could go on Instagram and see a million pics of ladies with bikinis where the mid section is reveled, but I see the accidental glimpse of a tummy just as much a turn on as cleavage that pushes out further than the owner intended. Ditto for that tramp stamp my co-worker doesn't want anyone to know she has.
Anyway, as we sipped our beers and my wife grilled me about an e-mail conversation JD and I had earlier that day, I would casually observe that bartender walk from patron to patron and it occurred to me, why don't I just go to a strip club and look at all the single mommy dancers my boner desires? I mean, I support sex workers in whatever form they take, as long as they are doing this work of their own free will, and are safe. So why shouldn't I support strippers at a club? I have a colleague who asks me about once a month when I'm going to go with him to one of the local places for lunch. $4.95 for a steak and a beer and titties! I don't know. Maybe it has to do with my turn on being that I desire women in their natural habitat. The office, the grocery store, the mall.
Back to the conversation about JD. He had asked about a party we had that he was not able to attend, but his wife came by. He wanted to know if anything (anything?) happened. It was all good. She is a nice lady and my wife likes her. I told JD that she came, ate, chatted with some folks and then left after about an hour. No weird looks, no awkward questions.
After that was clear, we chatted about potential adventures for our little threesome fun. Talk about hotel action, pictures, etc. You know, the usual stuff we do. Well as I took occasional glances at the bartender, my wife waited for me to recap pretty much the entire conversation with JD and only then did she pull out her phone and show me that he had sent her a recap of what he and I e-mailed about. I know, that may sound shitty, but in fact it turned out that she was happy that I revealed pretty much everything that he and I talked about. The truth is, this time around in our "open" arrangement with JD, she has been very forthcoming with what they talk about. I really don't think there have been any meetings or such that she has not told me about. This open line of communication has made this arrangement very beneficial for both of us.
Of course, it is still me who is the deceptive jerk. My wife doesn't know about this blog and she certainly doesn't know of the many different people I e-mail. And frankly, this private journal works just fine for me.