Jack and Jenn are in the hands of an awesome Beta...I've set the publish date for January 21st...my Birthday. Can't wait to share their story.
Jack stood from his chair and grabbed me by the elbow as I tried to leave, and swung me around. His jaw was tight, and he looked pissed. He didn’t speak; his eyes were focused, like he was thinking something through, then without warning, he grabbed my face and kissed me. Sucking in my breath as his mouth connected with mine, I breathed in his scent of mint and coffee. I resisted as first; something about the kiss felt like he was trying to kiss me into submission. But there was only so much my body and mind could take of this man, so I melted after a moment and Jack felt it, and responded. He shoved one hand in my hair and jerked my head to the side, so the angle for the kiss got deeper. His other hand slid down my back and grabbed my ass, squeezing once, then pulling me into his hips. I gasped as my front met the evidence of his attraction, and damn if I didn’t, without even thinking, rub myself up and down that man slightly. He moaned in my mouth as my hips met his and then deepened the kiss. Even his tongue battled for dominance, and I found I was inclined to let him win. Slowly the kiss ended, and Jack moved from my lips to my neck, nipping and kissing his way to my ear.
“Jesus, what are you doing to me?” He whispered.
“Nothing,” I gasped, when his tongue circled my ear.
“Baby, if that’s nothing, you’re gonna kill me when it means something.” ~A Reason To Breathe
Saturday, December 21, 2013
It’s a real jolt to your ego when you get up one day and realize you’re not young, and not really old, think like you’re thirty and act like you’re thirty. Then one day you go to a bar, thinking you look good, see a hot guy sitting there, toss what you think is a flirty grin, only to find out it’s not cause you’re not thirty…. you’re fucking fifty…and he’s not fifty… he’s thirty, and he’s wondering why his mother is flirting with him? Cleary I wasn’t flirting with my son, but you get the picture. I need someone to explain where my youth went?
Scratch that, I know where it went; car pools, soccer games, homework assignments, and late nights waiting for your so-called husband, to get home from the office. Or more to the point, waiting for him to get home from fucking his most recent thirty something bimbo with the fake boobs, that never sag, cause she didn’t bother to get married and have kids, stretching her once hard body into a chubby mass of stretch marks that will never, I mean EVER fit a size 8 again…or 10 or oh, god, even a 12.
I sacrificed my body for the greater good…. my beautiful, wonderful, drive me to the brink of drinking, kids. I wouldn’t change a thing about them…but I’d seriously have to consider a surrogate if I’d known then, what I know now. Unlike a rubber band, our bodies do not snap back once you push those round, pink, bundles of joy out. Considering 80% of the female population went the same route as me, stretching their bodies out for the greater good, and their loving, cheating husbands…I was not alone in this.
But I was alone in life. I was fifty, starting over, and to put the icing on the “over the hill” cake, I color my hair every six weeks to hide the gray. Jesus, when did I become my mother?Kids raised, no grandchildren yet, thank god. Nothing says your youth is over like being called Nana or Grammy or god forbid, Grandma…. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll love my grandkids when I have them, I’m just not settled enough in my realization of being old…or older, to jump for joy at being a grandmother.