Chores

In an attempt to get my Rockstar’s Daughter out of my hair and into better habits, I suggested coming up with a list of chores with which to fill her summer days. I was surprised at her unexpected fervor for said task, and even more surprised when one of the chores she thought of was picking up dog poo. (A job not even the most dirty of people relish, I expect.) Of course there were the typical chores a child should learn to accept: washing dishes, cleaning their room, etc… As well as a few that consisted of a bit more fun- giving the dog a bath with the garden hose, washing my truck with the garden hose, watering the flowers with the garden hose. (There does seem to be a disturbing obsession with the garden hose.)

I got to thinking about how we as children are bogged down with such minimal tasks as these; usually with the expectancy of reward upon completion. Why is it as we get older, these tasks no longer hold promise of payment? I object.

In lieu of starting a riot over such injustices, I have composed a list of chores that I might accomplish that very well may result in acceptable annuity. I trust you all approve.

1. Blow jobs.

To quote Samantha from Sex and the City: “Buddy. It ain’t called a job for nothin’.” From what I’ve heard in passing conversations, (yes, most of my passing conversations consist of blow jobs and the like, so shut up) most girls just don’t like to give blow jobs. This is completely foreign to me, for I love giving them so! There’s nothing like having my Rockstar’s hard, throbbing cock shoved down my throat. But! This isn’t all about me and my favorite penis.

Since some girls detest the act, this could be one of those chores they go to with dread, in hopes of a nice big allowance afterward. A nice, big, throbbing allowance- one that you can ride on and get extreme pleasure from….

2. Cooking.

Some women like to cook. I am some of these women sometimes. It’s when it’s an everyday occurrence that I begin to detest it. (Trust me, there’s a reason I always end up working in a restaurant.) They say that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach; I always thought it was through his dick- but I guess if his stomach gets filled because I cooked for him, and the end result is him making sweet love to me, that’s almost as good as a good hard fuck.

3. Laundry.

It should go without saying that if you wash a man’s underwear, there will be no surprises when you’re down there doing your oral business. That is reward in itself.

4. Reading.

Because there has to be something completely enjoyable on the list. And reading always comes with knowledge. And the more you know, the more you grow. 🙂

Ok, I’m bored of this list now. Goodbye.

 

Untitled

She spent the day with her mother.

They did the things mothers and daughters do- window shopping, dining out and the like. As they were lunching on skinny fries and cobb salads, the girl almost dropped her fork when a small child of another patron nearby let out a ferocious shriek. That got her mother talking even more.

“So your cousin is planning to marry that dimwit girl even though she quit her job. I wonder how happy he’s going to be working three jobs when she’s sitting at home popping out babies?” The older woman tsk-ed once or twice before taking another bite of her salad.

“Well, he must know how pampered she is, Mom. They’ve been together since high school.” The girl tried to steer her mother away from baby talk.

” I just hate to think they’re going to have a bunch of babies when they haven’t thought about how they’re going to afford them. And that’s another thing that irks me, most of those kids at school where I teach have such horrible parents that care more about they’re dumb dogs than they do about they’re kids!” The girl hid her amusement at the fact that her mother still refused to use the word “damn” in front of her daughter, even though she was going to be thirty-two in two months.

“Yeah, well, isn’t that the way of it? All the people who shouldn’t have kids have whole herds of them when the ones that want them can’t have any.” The girl refrained from adding “including me” to the end of that sentence. She didn’t have the energy to get into that conversation today.

Her mom had a few more choice words on the subject before bouncing to another topic three or four more times before dessert came.

After her mom dropped her off, the girl walked slowly up the stairs to her apartment, the depression of the days outing weighing heavily on her heart. She couldn’t ignore the tiny tutus in the baby section of the department store earlier, or what seemed like the constant flow of new mothers with strollers who had sped by all day. She took out her keys, and let out a wavering sigh as she opened the door.

Her boyfriend was in a surprisingly good mood after having worked with morons all day, and was excited to show her the new guitar he’d found listed on Craigslist. She couldn’t help but think that the baby blue of the Gibson’s body would be the perfect color for a newborn’s nursery. After awhile, the two sat down to finish watching the last few episodes of a show they’d been watching on Netflix.

The girl was momentarily distracted from her misery as they watched the young love blossom of the two main characters on the TV screen, until the heroine’s sister decided that was the perfect time to go into labor. The girl clutched her pillow and unsuccessfully pushed back tears while the woman onscreen gave birth to a flawless baby girl, as the fictional family looked on proudly. The girl had had enough.

She had a lovely life- a job that paid her bills, a friend or two who were always there for her, a boyfriend whom she loved and loved her back, and yet she felt she hadn’t a thing in the world. She tried to push away the thought of the children she didn’t have as she slid down to her knees and slipped her lover’s boxers off before taking him in her mouth. She thought to herself before she lost herself in foreplay- She may as well play the part of a useless slut, since her body was never going to be used for a good purpose.

To the Makers of my Rockstar’s Undies

Dear Undertech,

My Rockstar recently purchased a package of your silky boxer briefs. While I appreciate the fun and vibrant graphics that your company chose to place on panties designed for men’s crotchal areas, I must point out that I KNOW what you’re trying to do. You are trying to distract people from the fact that you have placed no convenient hole for peeing and other more exciting activities on the front of your Butt Duds.

I will explain the source of my disappointment.

While my Rockstar and I were driving the many miles back home from the desert wastelands of South Dakota this week, I found myself slightly bored and without entertainment. I had already belted out all the favorite songs I have off of my MP3 player, and needed something more to stimulate my me. And so without further ado, I unzippered my Rockstar’s very fun rust-colored plaid short and stuck my hand inside to see what would happen. Imagine my delight when my hand slid repeatedly over the silkiness of his new underoos and the friction was enough to produce a mentionable boner! I unbuckled my seatbelt and proceeded to ready myself to administer a Sparklebumps Special. If you’ve not heard of those- how sad for you. Anyhoo, I found my busy hand searching unsuccessfully for a button, or an opening sufficient enough to dislodge my Rockstar’s waiting erection from it’s satiny prison, but alas! There was none to be found. In the end, my Rockstar was forced to push down his paradisically-colored boxer briefs in order to receive his intended blowjob.

As a company that thrives off of purchasing customers, I would just like to point out how dangerous it could be that any man who buys your product would have to flex and struggle to remove his panties while driving in order to receive a blowjob. How much safer would it be to just create a small opening to release penises that should be receiving desired oral attentions? Do we really want yahoos swerving around on our roads just because an underoo was mistaken to not include an exit hole? I think not!

My Rockstar fully intended to purchase more of your colorfully silky male lingerie at a later date, but I have convinced him of the unwise-ness of that decision. I have also informed him that he may only wear said undies when he is NOT expecting favored favors.

I feel that in the future, you will think harder on your underoo design, Undertech.

Irritatingly,

Sparklebumps

The Benefits to Dating the Elderly

Tonight, my Rockstar celebrated his birthday. I have, on occassion, mentioned the near- generational gap that seperates us. While not quite old enough to be my father, the age difference would be the equivilant of his ten year old daughter dating someone of legal American drinking age . When put that way, the word “ewww” comes to mind.

It is true that certain downfalls accompany being in a relationship with a time-worn individual. Namely,the absurdly early bedtimes of 8:30 they have, and a somewhat less-than-satisfying sexdrive of only four times a week. However, I have devised a list of advantages that come from dating a geriatric:

1. They know what they want. My Rockstar knows he wants to retire.

I believe his exact words when asked who he admired were, “Anyone who doesn’t have to work for a living.” I must admit, he hasn’t exactly figured out how to achieve this dream yet.

2. They are generally monetarily settled.

I say generally, because this is not yet something that completely applies to my Rockstar; however, he IS very good about paying the cable and rent on time.

3.They know better than to argue with a woman.

Perhaps women are not always right, (HEEHEE! Just kidding!!!!!) but men of a certain age know better than to try and dispute what a woman says. (Or in my Rockstar’s case, receive a face-smashing once or twice to help them realize when they’ve come up with erronous ideas.)

4. They are better in bed.

Instead of enduring the thiry-second jack-rabbit drilling of the inexperienced, I get to enjoy the prolonged sensual humpings of a man who’s made love with someone other than his right hand and the Jergen’s bottle. Too, he is considerate enough to pull my head away before his man-juices shoot down my throat when I’m administering a blow job. Unfortunately, last night, he didn’t pull it quite far enough out of the way… Let me just point out- that shit stings when it hits you in the eye.

Whiskey Kisses

The following post has not been rated due to the mature content. So by all means, keep reading!

I think it is really no secret that I loves the Sex. I love to watch it; I love to do it; I love to read about it; and I love to talk about it. Perhaps this is due to the fact that I was raised to NOT talk about it, to NOT do it, or to NOT even think about it. Who knows, but I do believe the morals my parents tried so desperately to instill in me backfired. At least just a little bit. That is not to say that I in any way resemble the girls from Sex and the City, because I could count on one hand the guys I’ve slept with, it just so happens that I have decent taste in men, so there has been no need to dispose of them as quickly as those girls do. Alas, my first relationship was somewhat devoid of mind-blowing Sex. Not completely- we DID do it once in a parking garage inside a step-side stickshift regular cab Ford ranger. (Yes, it was a tight squeeze.) But fortunately, with my Rockstar, I now have pretty fun sex quite frequently. I am a bit more adventurous than he is (no butt sex or spanking for him!) but really, that’s quite aright. I am just open to more things. But yes, he would be just fine sharing me with another girl (what guy wouldn’t?) Anyhoo, I am getting off track.

My Rockstar and I have a good time drinking, as well. I don’t know if this is normal in a relationship (as I have only been in 2), but we can entertain ourselves quite well, especially with a little whiskey or peach schnapps. Tip a few back, turn on some tunes, and it’s a mosh pit.  Also, whiskey is very beneficial in educating a person. I have learned that you must be careful jumping around on the bed with a microphone near your face,  heard numerous stories of past Exes, and found out that my boyfriend sings like Vince Neil. (At least he did when I was drunk.) I have also realized that we make a huge mess in the kitchen when we are drunkards. C’est la vie.

Porn is also very fun to watch when you are inebriated. I don’t know about you, but I love porn! I have been fascinated with it ever since me and my used-to-be friend Catherine found her dad’s Playboys. At least you men out there would agree with me- BOOBIES ARE FUN! It is also fun to find out you are the first person to give your 40 yr old boyfriend a blowjob while watching porn. Yay, me.

Basically, if you have never spent a night drinking with your significant other, try it! You may get to talking and learn somethin about them you never would have otherwise, or you may end up having sex in a different way, or maybe you will just end up having a steamy make-out session. And even if that’s all you do, just remember, at least you were probably too drunk to care if he had whiskey breath. XOXO