Monday, July 12, 2004

The blog doppler effect

Since it took me the better part of a week to tell the story of July 4th weekend, I am only now able to talk about everything that happened last week.

I am reminded of the time I watched a military funeral on TV, and there was a 21-gun salute. The men raise their rifles, and fire; the guns recoil in their hands. A fraction of a second later, I hear the shots. I'm not a physicist, but I believe this is the Doppler effect.

The same type of thing happens when astronomers gaze up into the heavens and watch supernova's (stars exploding), but because the stars are so far away, it actually takes millions of years for the light to reach us. So they are watching something that looks like it's happening right now, but it actually happened 5 or 10 million years ago.

With that in mind, I am sure you guys won't mind if I continue to tell you stories that happened 5 or 6 days ago.....

Nothing like putting things in perspective, eh?

It's Wednesday morning, about 11:00. Lila's been working full-time with us for about a week. My BlackBerry goes off.

"I AM SO HORNY," it says.

I look out my office door. Lila is seated at her desk, facing forward (her back is to me).

I write back:


I look out my door. Her back is still to me.

Her response: "LUNCH MEETING"

Shit. I have a working lunch with Ross at 12:00. That will take two hours, easily.

"DAMN" I respond.

I look out my door. Lila is still facing forward. I can see her elbows jut busily out from the sides of her chair as she taps out her next message. I find it hot that we are messaging each other in secret this way, and that we aren't even so much as looking at one another.

"Mom has date 2nite can U be over @ 7"

I feel myself getting hard. I LOVE fucking Lila at her place. Especially in her mother's bed. Not because her mother is hot - I've never met her mother. It's just the danger of it...

"OK" I message back.

Lila and I have a procedure for when I go to her house. Bob Woodward and Deep Throat have nothing on us...

First, I drive to the 7-11 near Lila's house, then I message her that I am there. When the coast is clear, she messages me, and I walk over.

Lila's "house" is really a condo, and a small one at that, with only one door in or out. Sometimes, when her mother is pissed at her, she will lock the deadbolt and take Lila's keys, and I have to climb in and out Lila's bedroom window. Let me tell you, it's pretty demoralizing, knowing that I have made something of myself, that I am a successful executive in an insurance company, that I bought and renovated my own house, and yet, I somehow have been reduced to climbing in and out my high-school-aged girlfriend's budoir window...

So I pull into the 7-11 and shoot Lila a message: "HERE."

I wait, 3 minutes, 5 minutes, 10 minutes. Suddenly, I see her mother's car zoom by.


I feel pretty badly, because I could not take Lila to her prom, for obvious reasons, (her friends invited her to go stag with them but she declined), AND because I missed her graduation party (I was travelling on business). It would have seemed weird if I stayed at the party too long, anyway, I think...

At any rate, I know Lila was disappointed that I could not be there for all the various rites of passage she's had this year, and she's been really cool about not complaining about it. So, I brought her a little present (and I am planning some others...)

I pick up her present, which is in a brown paper shopping bag resting flat on its back, and head to her door.

I am about to knock when the door flings open. "STEEEEEEEEEVE!" she shreiks, looking like she is going to jump into my arms. Then she spies the bag.

She gives me a suspicious sidelong glance. "What's THAT?!"

"It's a little graduation present. I'm sorry I missed your party."

"Awwwwwww! You didn't have to get me anything!"

We enter the house and I rest the bag on the kitchen counter.

"We haven't been together for a long time," she says.

"I know."

"I miss you when I can't see you," she says.

"You see me every day at work."

"It's not the same! I have to be professional at work. I can't talk to you at work," she says, pouting. "....and my mom's being a TOTAL fucking bitch...."

"Lila, your mom is just concerned-"

"You ALWAYS take her side!!" she yells.

"I'm NOT taking her side! I'm on YOUR side, Lila! But you were doing COKE, for Christ's sake! That's serious shit! You know how many times I'VE done coke?"

She looks at me.

"NONE," I say. "I've never fucking touched it! I HATE when you do it. It really just-"


"Nothing," I say.


"It scares me. I don't like you doing that shit. Pot, fine. Drinking, fine. Actually, not totally fine, but at least it's not coke."

She smiles. "You don't LIKE me doing coke," she says.


"It's just nice knowing that you give a shit..."

"Ya, I definitely give a shit," I say.

She walks over and stands in front of me, grabbing the waist of my jeans with both hands. I look down; she is in bare feet and wearing metallic blue toenail polish.

"You did blue?" I say.

"Your favorite color," she says.

Is this chick the bomb, or what?

"Be right back," I say, and head to the bathroom.

I am standing over the bowl, pissing, and the floor suddenly feels wet. I look down. There is a huge puddle spreading from under the washing machine, which is directly behind me.

"LILA!" I yell, flushing the toilet, then turning around and shutting off the washing machine.

She rushes in. "Yeah?"

"You've got a problem," I say, pointing to the puddle.

"SHIT! What are we gonna do?" She says.

I climb on top of the dryer (which is next to the washer), and look behind the machine. One of the hoses is just barely hanging on. The wire clamp looks intact, though.

"This looks pretty easy. Do you have a set of pliers," I say.

"What are pliers?"

"Shit. OK, hold on," I say. I run to my car and get a set of pliers from the emergency tool box in my trunk.

I move the washing machine forward about 18 inches, and climb behind it. I reseat the hose and use the pliers to clamp it securely into place. I use some towels to sop up the water. Then I climb out and move the machine back into place, and turn the machine back on.

"You are sooo handy," Lila says, throwing her arms around my neck. She kisses me.

The washing machine starts banging. THUMP - thump. THUMP - thump. THUMP - thump. Then it gets faster: THUMPthumpTHUMPthumpTHUMPthumpTHUMPthumpTHUMPthump
THUMPthump...the machine is rocking wildly from side to side.

I push Lila's butt against the undulating machine and squeeze our hips together. She keeps perfecly still, and lets the machine grind her hips into mine. She still has her arms around my neck, and her shirt is riding up. I can see her navel peeking out from underneath.

I reach up and stop the machine.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

"When washing machines are rocking like that," I say, "it will last maybe 3 minutes before the cycle finishes, tops. So let's make the three minutes count!"

We pull our clothes off. I can still see the "S" she shaved in her "hair down there", but the rest of the hair is starting to grow back. I pick her up and sit her on the washing machine, and start to lick her. Flat tongue, broad strokes....

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMM," she says, writhing. Her head is right against the hard metal of the washer; that can't be comfortable.

I reach into the dryer, and there is a bath towel inside. I fold it up and put it underneath her head. Her ass is right over the gap between washer and dryer...nothing I can do about that one, really.

I can feel Lila getting really aroused - she is almost hot to the touch down there.

I jump up, and suddenly I am on top of her, laying across the washer and dryer. I look down. I am as hard as can be. The head of my cock is big, round and bulbous. I push my cock against her, then press it down with just one finger as I shove it into her waiting pussy.

"OHH!" she moans audibly. Now I am sliding fully in and out of her, feeling her heat, her wetness.

She grabs my head with both hands and runs her fingers through my hair. Now she is pulling my head to her, kissing me, filling my mouth with her wet, silky tongue.

I look down, watching my shaft glide in an out, wet and slippery.

I reach over and turn the machine back on. The machine starts out slowly, but soon it is bucking like a bull ride at a honkytonk bar. She presses her hips against mine, me still inside her, and lets the machine do the work. It feels awesome!

The orgasm takes me by surprise. By the time I feel it, it's too late to stop it, and I am pumping loads of hot goo into her.

I prop myself up on my elbows and look down at her. The machine is still rocking violently.

"We're crazy," she says, laughing.

She reaches between her legs and starts to finger herself, staring at me all the while. She furrows her brows just a bit, as if she were trying to remember a phone number.

I suppose this girl would really like to be eaten now, I think. But let me tell you: A post-creampie pussy sandwich is NOT on the Chez Steve menu!

Hey, wait! I have an idea. I take the towel from behind her head and unfold it, draping it over the side of the washer. "Sit here," I say.

"Now!? Why?"

"You'll see in a minute," I say. She sits on the towel.

I run into the kitchen and get the bag, then bring it back to the laundry room / bathroom.

"Are you ready for your present?"


I pull the box out. It's a graduation cake. Written on it, in frosting:

"Lila - Sorry I missed your graduation. I'll make it up to you! -Steve"

"You got all THAT written on the cake?!"

"Yeah!" I say. "That girl at the bakery was a major bitch about it, too!"

And she was! I had to pay extra for all the writing. And I had to buy a 1/2 sheet cake, which is enough for 25 people, because that's the only size that would accomodate all the writing.

"That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," she says. There are tears in her eyes.

"Lila, it's just a cake!"

"It's MORE than a cake! You are SOOOO sweet, baby! Thank you!!"

I take a finger and run it over the top of the cake, picking up a bit of frosting. I put it to her lips, and she licks it off. Then a bigger blob of frosting. She licks it, slower, running her tongue slowly up my finger.

I look down. Most of my load has dribbled out of her. I wipe her with the towel; she ought to be very clean now. But I still can't believe I'm doing this.

I pick up some frosting with two fingers and wipe it on her pussy, smearing it around good. I lick it slowly off her, moving my tongue in a circular motion.

"Oh, baby...." she says.

I reach behind me and get the biggest frosting glob yet, as big as a golf ball. I rub it slowly on her. I slowly lick the frosting off of her swollen clit and vulva, using only the tip of my tongue.

"Oh shit. Oh SHIIIIIIIIT," Lila says. She grabs my head, digging her nails into my scalp. She folds her legs behind my head and squeezes tightly.

The pain is immediate and blinding. My entire field of vision goes white for a moment, and I feel as if someone has whacked the back of my neck with a two-by-four.

Her tightened grip has forced my face tightly and squarely into her pussy. She is writhing and moaning in ecstasy.

"Owwww, yes, yes, yeeeeeeess, oh, baby...."

Finally, she relaxes her grip. "I just came," she says.

"No shit," I say. "Is that why you almost broke my neck just now?"

She looks stunned. "Oh my god, did I hurt you?"

"It's ok," I say. "I'm pretty sure the paralysis won't be permanent!"

She laughs.

But now, for the hard part: What to do with the rest of the cake!