Author: Michelle

NSFW: Mara and Cara Bare Their Souls

Super, super NSFW. Seriously. Flee now if you are at work.

If you are not at work, and are offended by sexual content, go away now.
Really.

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If you are still here, it means you are not at work and are not afraid to read something of a sexual nature.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Every few weeks, Mara and Cara go out after work and drink tequila greyhounds. A few too many tequila greyhounds. Nothing brings out secrets like tequila. So they drink their tequila, and tell each other stories. The stories they’d never tell anyone else. You never know what you might hear when Mara and Cara are riding the tequila train. Sometimes it’s just work stuff or boyfriend stuff. Sometimes it’s embarrassing stuff. Sometimes there are tears. There is always a lot of laughing.

At the end of this night, finishing their last drinks, Mara looks at Cara and blushes. Cara asks what the blush is about. Mara tells her it’s because of a secret. At first, Mara doesn’t want to say. It’s too silly. It’s nothing important. Cara knows how rare it is for Mara to blush, which makes her very curious. Finally Mara agrees to tell her, but makes her promise not to get mad. Cara promises. Then she makes her promise not to think she’s a pervert. Cara tells her that she can’t promise that because they both know that Mara is definitely a pervert. She is currently involved in a very kinky relationship with an angel, which must mean she’s a pervert. Can an angel be a pervert? Cara starts doing a Google search on her phone.

For a second, Mara is relieved that Cara has been distracted, but after a Cara takes the last sip of her drink, she nudges Mara and says “so? What’s the secret, pervert?” and Mara blushes again and orders them both a shot of tequila.

She takes a deep breath in. Then out. She tosses back the tequila.

Mara tells Cara that the secret is she would love to get in the back seat of a car with her. Somewhere that’s private, but not absolutely guaranteed to stay that way. She wants Cara to straddle her, and and then she wants to pull her close and kiss her. She wants their teeth to bump together just slightly as her tongue tastes Cara’s for the first time. She wants to pull Cara’s head back by the hair, and nuzzle her neck so she can smell her. Then she wants to pull up Cara’s blouse, and pop her tits out of her bra. She wants to rub her thumb over Cara’s nipples and watch them get hard, and then squeeze them just hard enough to make Cara squeal. Then she wants to suck them hard, almost too hard, until Cara moans. She wants to slip her hand down the front of Cara’s jeans and suck on Cara’s tongue while she gets wetter and wetter in her hand. She wants to find out what Cara sounds like as she gets more and more aroused. Will she moan or sigh? Will she be aggressive or passive? Will she just let Mara finger fuck her until she’s moaning into her mouth and neck, or will she have her hands up Mara’s skirt to find out that she is just as wet as Cara? Will she suck her fingers to taste Mara or put them in Mara’s mouth?

She wants to pull Cara’s jeans all the way off while she kneels in front of her on the floor of the back seat. She wants Cara to be embarrassed that someone might see them, but for her to want Mara’s mouth on her cunt so much that she doesn’t stop Mara from taking off her jeans and spreading her legs. She wants to push aside Cara’s panties, and fuck her with her whole hand while she runs her tongue up the wet folds of her labia to her clit. She wants to hear Cara asking her not to stop, she wants to hear her ask Mara to kiss her so she can taste herself on Mara’s mouth and face. She wants to suck on Cara’s tongue as she comes in her wet, sticky hands, and then suck on her clit like a tiny cock until she comes again. She wants to see the expression on Cara’s beautiful face as she opens her eyes to see Mara loving everything about her.

On the bar stool, Cara is the one blushing now. She’s leaning toward Mara, almost kissing her. Their knees are touching. The bartender looks suspiciously like he is only pretending not to have heard anything. They pay the tab, and Cara takes Mara by the hand as they walk out to Cara’s car…”the parking lot has a lot of very dark corners in the back, and I have a few secrets to tell you, too ” she whispers, “and If Samael doesn’t like to share, he won’t like them one bit. Pervert.”

Mara doesn’t mention it to Cara, but given how utterly invisible Samael can be when he chooses, she would not be very surprised if he already knew.

Listmania: people say the nicest things…

For some reason when I woke up this morning my first thought was that I should make a list of some of the nicest or just coolest things people have said to me over the years. It seemed like a good way to keep a smile on my face all day, and it did.

In no particular order of preference.

1. When I lived in Paris in the 80’s, I worked as a personal assistant to a guy who worked at the Stock Exchange. Translations, errands, and on occasion some minor kitchen demo. Jerome was remodeling his kitchen. One evening, we were knocking down walls, and I got plaster in my eye. He drove me to his mother’s house. She was a retired eye doctor. While she was irrigating the plaster out of my eye, she was looking at me very hard. Not an unpleasant look, but I felt like I was under a microscope. After she thought I had enough saline dumped on me, she took my face in her hands and said to her son:

“You should marry a girl like this one. Look at her face. Her face is as serene as the Holy Virgin. She is radiant. “

I doubt very much I was either radiant or serene at the time, but I blushed very deeply and thanked her politely. I know it’s hard to believe, but I don’t get compared to the Holy Virgin very often.

Actually…that’s not true. I used to get a lot of comments about having a face like a Renaissance Madonna. South Americans, Turks and Italians are extravagant complimenters.

2. One night at the end of a girl’s night, a friend was helping me put my coat on, looked at me with sort of a puzzled expression and said:

“Oh my god. Your eyes are extraordinary.”

She had seen my eyes many, many times before. We are unsure what was so extraordinary about them right at that moment. Still. It’s always nice to have the word extraordinary used about you.

3. I once asked someone to tell me something cheerful. This was the reply. Clearly someone who knows me just a little too well:

“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings eaten by a vampire.”

What? It cheered me right the fuck up.

4. When I lived in Poitiers, France (age 20-ish) I was walking home from the bus stop and heard someone yelling “mademoiselle! mademoiselle!” and then horns honking, brakes squealing and more yelling. A young man ran up to me, having apparently narrowly averted being run over and said

“Didn’t you hear me calling you? I saw you from the 2nd floor of the bar and wanted to tell you how much I like your look.”

In French, the word look is pronounced like it has about 6 o’s in it and I didn’t understand. After I understood that he was saying that he liked my style, I thanked him and turned down his offer to buy me a beer. I’d been in France for a few weeks, so I already had a jealous boyfriend. What was I wearing? Think Cyndi Lauper and Madonna’s love child and you won’t be far off.

5. Last year, while running errands in beautiful downtown Tigard, a man rode past me on his bike and said:

“That’s quite the set of pectorals you’re sporting there, Queenie.”

Normally, I am not overly fond of having random greasy strangers make comments about the state of my rack. But. But. I don’t know. He called me Queenie. No one ever called me Queenie before.

6. After my last vacation, while two of my cube mates were consulting with me about a problem, I made a sarcastic remark. I don’t even remember what it was about. Just a normal sarcastic remark of the sort I make many times a day. They both got big smiles on their faces and one of them said:

“We’re so glad you’re back. We tried to keep the sarcasm level up to your standards, but we aren’t very good at it. We missed you.”

I tried to get them to put it in my annual review, but they wouldn’t. They are not going to ever reach my level of personal sarcasm without taking risks.

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Just hanging out at the Eiffel Tower. Being radiant, yo.

The love games

I love you.
I love you more.
Not possible.
Well, it’s not a contest!
If it is, then I win.
–Every pair of lovers ever

What if it was a contest? What would the rules be? How would the judging work? What if it was like the Hunger Games, with a TV audience who could send gifts as your sponsor? There would be explosions, poison and traps.

Oh.
Right.
There are already all those things.
It’s love.

Mostly the explosions, poison and traps are metaphorical rather than literal but still. Danger, danger. You’ve got to be in your best form to play the love games. Love is fraught, simply fraught with peril. The game is not about who loves who the most, but about who survives it with their heart in one piece.

For instance, there’s that defining moment of every relationship, the first
“I love you.”
It’s always a wonderful, romantic moment. Or is it?
What if you say it and she doesn’t “I love you” back?
What if she doesn’t reply at all?
What if he replies “I love you too, but not in a romantic way.”

The natural instinct if you like someone, if you care about them at all, is to reply with “I love you,too.” Even if you don’t. Once it’s out, though, how do you take it back? You don’t. You can’t. OK, maybe you can, but I sure wouldn’t be able to.

What about the “I love you” that leaks out during or just after sex? The one you don’t really mean, although you kind of did under the influence of orgasm. That can’t be taken back either. It’s not like you can say “what I actually meant by that is that I love orgasms. You just happened to be there too.”

The wonder is how anyone ever has the balls to say it at all.

It was bad enough to navigate love back in the days before voicemail, call waiting and texting. You didn’t know if someone was home but not answering the phone, but that was pretty unusual in most homes. Generally someone would be running to find out if the phone was for them. You didn’t have to wonder why there was no answer, because you really could believe that a person just wasn’t there to answer. It was kind of paranoid to think that someone was not answering their phone because of you.

Now that we have smart phones?

Did they get your message? Yeah, they did. And they knew it was you, so they could choose whether or not to answer based on who was calling. It doesn’t take very many dates with someone to find out if they’re the kind of person who forgets their phone, has a flip-phone and doesn’t know how to text, never looks at their phone, just doesn’t have their phone on, or forgets to plug their phone in so it’s always dead. You know if they have a job where they can’t have their phone out at work. If you know they’re the person who has their phone with them at all times and is always looking at it? You know they got your message. Now what do you do?

That’s a love game that is only for people with a lot of faith or a lot of courage.

Why are you not getting an answer?

Is it because they are busy? Maybe. If more than a day or two goes by? That’s less likely. If days go by, there is a higher likelihood that they do not want to talk to you. If they wanted to talk to you, they would. It only takes a few seconds to text you and say “I’d love to chat, I miss you, but I’m swamped.” Everyone has a few moments in the morning, or before they go to bed. While they’re having lunch. Waiting for the bartender to take their drink order. Whatever. How long does it take to text someone and let them know you’re thinking about them? Not very long. We find time for the things that are important to us.

Maybe they are involved with someone else and are deleting your messages as soon as they come in so their significant other doesn’t see them. Maybe their significant other IS the one deleting them.

Maybe they are in the hospital, or their mother is gravely ill and they just can’t deal with anyone right now. If it’s someone you are close to, they normally tell you stuff like that. If you don’t know that? Why don’t you? Because they don’t want you to. Or they’d have told you. Or they’d have asked someone to call you. They’d be worried that you’d be worried.

The other possibility, and this is the one you never find out, is if they are just all fucked up. Some people don’t respond because they think you’re mad at them. Or they’re mad at you in error. Or they don’t want you to know how drunk they are. The possibilities are endless, really.

Including the one you are worried about. You know the one. You aren’t getting an answer because they just aren’t interested and are either to chickenshit or to indifferent to tell you.

Or, and this is the hard one, they just aren’t a talker unless it’s in person. If this is the deal, you just have to trust that it’s OK if long periods of time go by without a word.

This is why cell phones make love and friendship so difficult if you are anything but 100% trusting (or gullible).

How much do you like this person? If it’s someone you know well? Could there be some reason they’re angry? Are you too needy? Are you boring? Are they just getting off on making you wait? It is hard to say. These games don’t just apply to romantic partners. Sometimes you get to play them with friends.

It always sucks.

Would it be kinder for someone to gently suggest that you back off? Possibly. If you’re insane, it won’t work. If you aren’t, you might be a little hurt…but not as hurt as you’ll be after being ignored.

The real bitch about any of the love games is that everyone is trying to win and no one is saying what they really think. No one wants to be the mean person, and no one wants to be the one who doesn’t get loved back. This is just as valid for the dissolution of a friendship as it is for a marriage. No one wants to be the one to start the conversation that might end with one of you saying that you’re just not having a good time anymore.

So everyone loses when you play, and the only way to win is if everyone involved agrees to quit the game.

Most of them involve being kind to each other and being adults, and communicating. All of those hard things.

I think putting us all under a dome with some survival equipment and letting us battle it out on television might be a healthier approach.

May the odds be ever in your favor!