Spot The Lies

Hello dear reader(s)!

Because of the continuing tendency for people who know me to read too much into my fiction and then ask me about things in it like the stories are some window into my secret life, (which is actually quite boring, and not secret), I have decided to never again tell the 100% in truth in all posts, even update style posts like this one here.  Or have I?

I just got tired of people who care that much about things like I am keeping some sort of secrets.  Or did I?  I am very open about my life and simply can’t believe that people have nothing better to do than to speculate about the one or two gaps I haven’t filled in.  Or can I?  What is left to say?  I am in a relationship, long distance.  I have been with her twice in person thanks to my trip.  She is a friend of my framily (friends who are family, I have gone over this), and is one of the many reasons I am moving.  Or is she?

What’s left to say?

I am not going to tell you her real name, sorry.  She has a stalker, and is just more of a private person than I am.  Why do you care?  Just because she is famous, why should it matter?  I don’t understand why who I am dating is so important to you.  And so what if she is the leader of a sex cult?  That’s her business, my business, and the business of her many other lovers and servants.  What do you care?

My life is my own.  If you don’t like it, you don’t have to read about it.  But I have to write about it.  I have no choice.  The deal I made to keep my soul (signed in blood) requires it.  I share it on my Facebook and social media for my non- judgmental friends, not for you pricks.  If you care that much about what is up with me, chances are you might be someone who could just fucking ask.  And if I tell you that it is none of your fucking business, I guarantee you won’t find the truth in the stories I write.   Or will you?

But in the updates?  I am very honest.  Don’t believe me?  Let’s go over today.

I woke up this morning with a hard-on after some very naughty dreams that were, quite frankly, fucking hot.  I considered taking care of it, but I have not gotten permission from my Goddess on this day, so I just went pee instead, arching over the wall behind the toilet so that I wouldn’t miss.  Then I decided to sneak out of the apartment naked so that I could perform my sacrificial offering to my Goddess and take the required pictures of my devotion.  I will not go over the details of the offering ritual, but will tell you that nothing innocent was harmed in the process, but many of the guilty were.  After that, I made my way back into the apartment, (hiding behind trees for cover), in order to send the pictures as proof of my loyalty along with a sweet good morning message.  Then I messaged with my framily, (who are also lovers and servants of my Goddess), and talked with them about other ways we could prove our worth.  I then fed my kitties and made my coffee.

After making my coffee, I made a bagel, but sliced open my finger while trying to cut it open.  I washed it off, sprayed it with Bactine, applied the tears of a newborn, and put on a Band-Aid.  Then I finished making my bagel and brought them both to the living room so that I could enjoy it while watching my favorite television show, Touched By An Angel.  Then I thought about the people who must get triggered by that show, remembering all the times they were touched by an angel, and I cried for them.  Afterward, I stepped out onto the balcony to masturbate to those thoughts and came back in to find an old girlfriend had let herself in.

After the struggle for the gun, and the apologies to the neighbors and police for the accidental discharge while disarming her, I made her pledge her allegiance to my Goddess before taking her to my bathtub for sacrifice.  Then I changed my mind about the sacrifice, knowing that my Goddess would not be pleased with that action, and told her to leave and find other ways to serve my Goddess, none of which involve being a lover as my Goddess is currently saturated until one of us displeases her.

After banishing her from my apartment, I sat down on the couch to read up on the current goings on around the world that are hidden from those without the ability to see the binding energy the Goddess provides.  I chanted my favorite chant to her that goes, “Dea, Dea, Dea, Lingent mea penis, Gratias tibi” 5 times while flogging my back.  Then I turned on First Take to be annoyed awake by Stephen A. Smith, finished all my coffee, and decided to blog.

See?  Totally open about my boring, and regular life.

Now, can you please just quit reading in when I call something fiction?

How is your morning going?  Hopefully more interesting than mine.



Beautiful Scars

My first foray into #RomanticTuesday created by Erika Kind.  Check out her great blog by clicking here.


The most beautiful landscapes
In all of nature
Are caused by the scars
From receding glaciers

The most beautiful sight
That has met these eyes
Is she who could quit
And yet she still tries

When I say you’re sexy
When I show desire
I show it to you
As you rise on fire

I’ve seen your darkness
I love every scar
Because, my sweet Luna
It made who you are

Sexually Active

Hello dear reader(s)!

Hello family!  If you are family (blood family), you may want to stop reading here.  Why?  Because I am going to be talking about sex.  And unfortunately, that means you will be having knowledge about the sex life of someone in your family and nobody wants that.  I don’t want to know what gets you off, and I can’t imagine you want to know what does for me, so you might want to go away now.  I love you, though.  This post just isn’t for you.

Okay, are they gone?  Good!  Let’s get dirty!

Also, if you are under 18 or 21 depending on your locality, you should probably go away.  Not that I am going to get crazy explicit, (the dirty thing was mostly a joke), but I have to cover my ass.  So don’t tell anyone that I didn’t tell you not to read further when you get caught.  

Okay, are they gone too?  Good!  Let’s get nasty!

Okay, not really.  I don’t want to make this a porn blog-type-thing (yet) because then I would have to charge and that means building a pay-wall, and having to report income generated, and that would be working, and would require actual work to be put into it which I am still pretty unable to do given the frequency of bad days still from all the cancer treatment damage.  Besides, my man-boobs are not quite supple enough to grace the internet yet.  However, since sex acts and lots of them are a few of my favorite things (way better than raindrops on roses), and I hate censoring, I do want to write about it.

Also, on a societal level, I think our failure to talk openly about sex leads to a lot of problems.  So are you ready?  Good!  Let’s get sexy!

23 years ago yesterday, I lost my virginity.  (Yes, I remember the date.)  I am one of the few people I know who does not regret my first time, and knows that the woman I was with doesn’t either.  Pretty cool stuff.  Of course, the sex wasn’t all that great, but it was special and I loved it.  And as time went along, I learned to do it better.  And then I loved it more.  The more sex I have, the more I want.  I am a greedy slut.

I noticed I have recently been followed by a few blogs that exist solely for kinky reasons.  And that’s awesome!  I am all for people expressing the many, many ways sex can be and how as long as it is between consenting adults, we shouldn’t judge.  I understand why they have followed.  I occasionally mention consensual non-consent and vague BDSM and D/s type themes.  I am sex-positive and have no issues with saying so.  The only worry I have, is that they will get bored.  I am not in any 24/7 lifestyle, and rarely go explicit, even in fiction.

Not that there is anything wrong with doing so.  In fact, if someone’s words can help someone find something within themselves to make their sex lives more enjoyable?  Describe your fucking in as much detail as you can.  As well, because of the old Puritanical influence that causes many people to lie about sex and what they like, it is good to occasionally throw your sex in somebody’s face to prevent someone from being marginalized because they buy a riding crop and nipple clamps.

I’m pretty kinky.  I have always felt that if someone likes what you are doing, or what they are doing to you, and you and your partner(s) are happy with it, then you should do what makes you happy.  There are things I like that some people don’t, and things some like that I wouldn’t ever want to try, but as long as it is between consenting adults, none of us should ever feel ashamed for it.  And none of us should ever have what we like legislated against us either.

If in 23 years my sex consisted solely of missionary, I would fucking hate sex.  And I don’t want to hate sex.  Sex is better (for me) than pretty much anything else with the exception of love.  Sex should be fun.  So why should I feel bad for having fun with sex?  When that not-so-discreet discreet package shows up at my door, why should I be ashamed?

Just the same as if sex isn’t fun for you.  Why should you feel bad for not wanting it?

Do I care that you can only get off if someone spreads butter on you and calls you their little butterball?  Nope.  Am I going to make fun of you because you have a thing for being whipped with banana peels?  Nope.  I might not want to play with you that way, but there is no judgment for you.  But if you force yourself on someone (for real) or try something with a life unable to consent, you are a piece of shit and should probably kill yourself.  Take one for the team.

In my fiction, I tend to write about women who are the aggressors.  If you are reading in and think this means I like to be dominated, well, you are half-right.  I like playing all the ways but dominant women are a little more rare and therefore more fun to write about.  Sometimes I don’t like to play at all.  Sometimes, I just want to make love to someone.  The point here, is to quit reading in.  I do enjoy sex.  I do like to play, but because I write about something, does not make it real.

I like to write.  I like to fuck.  Occasionally the two will collide.  23 years of activity and counting, and I simply do not give a shit if anyone has a problem with that.

For featured image see page for author [CC BY-SA 3.0 (, via Wikimedia Commons



Sorry In Advance

Hello dear reader(s)!

I apologize, but it seems once again that I must enter the political arena after my happy little moratorium thanks to the idiotic responses to Colin Kaepernick’s protest over the treatment of people of color.  The response from some of my ultra-privileged white friends (I’m white too) has been the straw that broke the camel’s back on whether I should keep them in my life.  I wouldn’t unfriend over this alone, but this was just the last in a long line of racist and ignorant positions some of the people who once were my friends (but have only been social media acquaintances for years anyway) have taken.

The difference between our country and some other countries is that our country allows criticism of our country.  

I am sick and tired of the people I know who have never experienced the systematic racism thinking that our country is beyond reproach.  I am sick of these same people failing to see that the flag that means so much to them for the opportunities that have come from this country isn’t going to mean as much to those who have been systematically denied those opportunities.  I am sick and tired of the people who do not understand that this country is not perfect, has never been perfect, and can only be a more perfect union when people stand up (or sit down, as the case may be) to make it better.  I am sick and tired of people thinking that people of color in the public eye must keep out of politics and stick to performing like trained animals for their entertainment, instead of recognizing that the people like Colin Kaepernick are people who are entitled to their opinion and have every right to use whatever position they have attained through their talent and hard work to amplify their voice.

And I have to be honest here, if I were a person of color, I can’t really say that the flag or the anthem would mean shit to me either.  When your country uses your ancestors as slaves, then keeps them from voting, from attaining an education, from getting a good job, and from living anywhere but the shittiest neighborhoods legally until just a generation or two ago…why should the flag of that country be revered?  When the country finally attempts to get rid of the laws that openly discriminate against people of color due to the Constitution but then replaces those laws with a discriminatory drug war, enforced disproportionately in the neighborhoods where minorities are heavily concentrated due to those laws that allowed housing discrimination until the drug war took place to keep them there…why should the flag of that country be sacred?  When schools in those neighborhoods are allowed to crumble as the richer, whiter neighborhoods get brand new schools, making it even harder for the people born into those neighborhoods to get out…why respect the flag of the country that engages in that?  And when those neighborhoods have no infrastructure, no opportunities for a legal economy, police who at best are ill-equipped and reactionary trying to deal with it, and at at worst are downright racist murderers…why should you love that country and the flag it represents?

And don’t even get me started on the false belief that sitting down in protest during the national anthem is somehow disrespectful to veterans.

Veterans who supposedly fight for what that flag represents should understand that the whole point of fighting for this flag is that we are one of the few nations on this planet that allows our citizens to criticize it.  Otherwise, what is the point of fighting for it?   For the imported Chinese goods you can buy?  For the McMansions?  For the NFL?  For what?  They say they fight for freedom.  Well then, put up or shut up.  This is the very freedom they fought for.

And if you really want to go there, we can talk about 70 years since a war was actually fought for our freedom.  We can talk about our economic and imperialist invasions.  We can talk about the ridiculous sums of money that go to the military for invasions into countries that just cause more problems while taking money away from the things that could actually help level the playing field for our citizens.  We can talk about the economics of perpetual war, and who is actually profiting.  We can talk about our outrage over what Assad has done to the people of Syria, and how ISIS is even worse, and how that is bullshit when we turn a blind eye to the systematic, state-sponsored violence against our own people.  We can talk about how if our veterans can’t handle someone sitting for a song, it doesn’t bode well for them being able to handle someone trying to kill them on the battlefield.

Of course, the people throwing a fit over Colin Kaepernick’s protest are conservative.  The very people who love to run around and shout “Freedom of Speech!” anytime anyone calls out their racism, sexism, or other bigotry.  The ones who shout about political correctness anytime someone tells them it isn’t cool to use the N word.  This is blatant hypocrisy.  He sat down to make an important point, and is vilified.  They shout their hate and when called out on it point to their beloved and misunderstood First Amendment.  Hypocrites.

You can call him a bad quarterback (although I would love to see you do better, armchair quarterback), you can say his team sucks (I do not like the 49ers at all), you can say he is overpaid.  But if you call him un-American, you have no idea what America is supposed to be about.

He sat down to during a song you don’t even know the words to, to make an important point about our failure to work toward what the flag should represent.

And until we start trying to live up to our ideals and what the flag is supposed to stand for, I will sit too.

Featured image by Mike Morbeck.


WordPress Things That Piss Me Off

Hello dear reader(s)!

I am on another round of unfollowing, both on Facebook and WordPress.  Facebook because of the stupid political memes everywhere from people I didn’t really want as friends anyway but accepted because they knew Hannah, and here because well…they suck.

Now, when I say they suck, I do not mean their writing.  Or their grammar.  Or anything else that someone usually thinks determines a bad writer.  No, for me, when someone sucks enough to unfollow, it is their behavior.

Would you like to know what I am talking about?  Then keep reading.  If not, nobody is forcing you, so don’t get all whiny about it and cry to your mommy over a cup of warm milk squeezed directly from her bosom.  Nobody is forcing you to do anything here.  You can go read about sunshine and rainbows and go your own way (go your own way).  You can call it another lonely day.  (Another lonely day.)

So without further adieu, even though I will not hasten to bid you adieu but I will remember the Red River Valley and the girl who loved me so true…I present to you, my dear reader(s), for you education, entertainment, and enlightenment, for a limited time only, the things that people do on WordPress that piss me off!

  • Links in comments  Guess what?  I try to read your posts.  You try to read mine.  I appreciate it.  But unless it is related to the topic on the post of which you are commenting?  Do not add your stupid fucking link to your dumb motherfucking comment on my page.  I was probably going to read your post anyway, or catch one of the next ones.  Especially when my post mentions an apology for not posting regularly, it means that I have this thing called a life and might not be able to hit everyone’s posts all the time.  Sorry for not being so completely loyal to you based on your recent follow and one comment with the link included.
  • Mass posting  I followed this guy forever.  Pretty good stuff for a while, until suddenly he started posting just little news stories from a service that shall not be named but is actually NPR all of the time, every time, clogging up my feed so bad that I couldn’t read anyone else’s posts without scrolling for like a half hour to wade through all the NPR blurb bullshit.
  • Pushing your religion  I’ve mentioned my beliefs, but at no time would I push anyone to it.  Why is it too much to ask for the same courtesy?  If I wanted to listen to people who don’t understand their book talking to everyone like it is the only book ever written, I would join a Harry Potter fan page.
  • Racism, Sexism, Fascism, and Nationalism.  Seriously.  Why are you following me, and then reposting pro-Trump lies or blatant racist or sexist propaganda?  Fuck Trump and anyone who supports that racist, scumbag piece of shit.  We’re not friends.  If you think telling it like it is means disparaging an entire people, or supporting white male supremacy, then you are not going to like it here anyway.  And I don’t like you.  Promise.
  • People who do nothing but rant all the time.  Because seriously, does everything piss you off, Josh?!?!?!
  • People who do nothing but promote their book once it is written.  I am all for book promotion.  I am.  Promote the shit out of your book.  Especially if there is shit in your book, you should get that shit promoted out.  But, I did not follow your blog for a commercial.  So, if you could just go ahead and keep posting other things…that’d be great.  Thanks.  Besides, the cooler I think you are by not whoring your book all the time, the better the chance I will want your book.  I just got a book for free today (I would’ve paid for it.) that I can’t wait to read, but I wouldn’t have even taken it for free if she was the type of person to turn her blog into one big advertisement.
  • People who, rather than republishing their older blogs for more views or to reach a different audience, instead decide to just re-write the title and include a link.  No.  You do not get my click.  You are not going to get another click out of me for your revenue boosting exercises.  I am on to the next blog in the reader because I am not about to wait the valuable seconds for your page to load again.  Those fuckers add up.
  • People with no like button.  I don’t like to comment unless you are my blogger friend or I actually have something to say.  Don’t you want to know that I like what you posted, though?  Also, I am not going to fill out a fucking form to comment with all of my stuff that you can find out with the regular WordPress dashboard options anyway, thank you very much and thanks for coming out.

Don’t forget to tip your waitstaff and remember that the 10:00 show is totally different from the 8:00 show because of boobies.

The New Day

The two new lovers woke up to the sound of her son crying out, “Mommy!”

Confused, he raised his head to figure out what he was hearing.  She was already ready to pop up and get whatever Ian was calling for at that ungodly hour, but once he got his bearings he told her to stop.

“I got this,” he smiled at her.

“I’m awake already,” she replied.

“Well then lie down and relax.  I got this,” he told her, confidently.

She wanted to protest but they had already talked about her needing to let him do more for her.  He knew that he was new to her life, but this would give him a chance to bond with her son, Ian, as well as give her something she hadn’t had in years.  Peace.

He went out and told her son a little lie.  He said his mommy wasn’t feeling good, and he could help take care of whatever it was he needed.  Ian liked him, and told him that he was hungry.

“Perfect, I wanted to make us all breakfast anyway!” he told him.

He went into the kitchen which he had already figured out how she kept it, and began preparing a breakfast.  He set up Ian in his chair and brought him the food.

“This is good!  You can cook almost as good as mommy!”

“Thank you.  That is the best compliment on my cooking I have ever had!” he told Ian as he watched him eating his food.

He grabbed the tray that he had hidden from the closet and put her breakfast on it.  He wanted a flower, but he couldn’t find one.  So he ran to the closet where Ian’s Play Dough was kept and made a quick Play Dough rose to set on the side.  He then got to work on her coffee.  He put them all together and brought the tray into her.

Her nose was buried in her phone when he opened the door, she looked up and saw him bringing her breakfast and tears formed in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her, noticing the tears.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” she said as she smiled to let him know the tears were not tears of sadness.

He placed the tray over her as she sat up, and went back out to the rest of the house to eat his own breakfast and make his coffee.  He decided to cast a video onto the television for Ian to watch and ate his food while he listened to Ian tell him about how cool The Hulk and Iron Man was.  He used the video as an opportunity to tell the boy about friendship and the importance of giving people the benefit of the doubt.  He was happy, because they were bonding, but also because it gave this grown man the excuse to watch an animated Iron Man and Incredible Hulk cartoon.

Sometime into the next video, she emerged from the bedroom.  Her smile lit up the room as she walked out to join them.

“Mommy!  Hi!  We watched Hulk and Iron Man!  We ate breakfast.  We are going to play with the turtle shooter later!  We (blah, blah, blah)!  We (on and on and on).  We (something unintelligible.)”

“Fun!  Cool!  Nice!  Uh-huh.  Sure.” she replied to each thing enthusiastically for his benefit.

She then sat down at her computer desk so she could catch up on her games.  He surprised her by crawling underneath the desk and started massaging her calves.

“Oooh, that feels nice,” she purred, “But you don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he began, “But I want to.  Ignore me as best as you can, just play your game.”

She tried her best, but found that she was feeling guilty and wanted to show him the attention he was giving her.  But every time she started to change her focus, he stopped her.

Finally he said, “You can get me another time.  But this is for you right now.”

He went back to massaging her calves for another 15 minutes or so and then got up but smacked his head on the desk as he tried getting out from under it.

“That’s going to leave a mark!” he laughed as he rubbed his head.

She let out a giant laugh knowing he was okay and he was happy because she was laughing.  He laughed a little longer and then went to grab his yoga mat so he could do his yoga.  She got up from her game to join him.  She was smiling and they hardly talked at all.

Her son, Ian, started to get bored and loud just as they were finishing the routine.  He asked her if she could watch him while he went to shower.

That surprised her because watching him was what she always did.

After his shower, he emerged fresh and clean and ready to go.  “Ian, do you want to go to the park?” he asked her son.

“We’re going to the park?” he asked in reply.

“Just us, your mommy is going to stay here, because she has a headache,” he lied.

He got Ian ready to go, moved his car seat to his, and they went to the park for a couple hours.  He watched him play and then doused them both in hand-sanitizer before calling her.

“Would you like me to pick us up some lunch?” he asked her.

“No, it’s okay,” she replied.

“Are you sure?” he prodded.

“Okay, yes please,” she admitted.  “Burrito?” she asked.

“Of course, my love!” he said as he drove to the little taco place.

He got back and they ate and then he cleaned a little.  She seemed very content and relaxed, and he was extremely happy just being near her smile.  After he vacuumed, they decided to play cards for a while, before she got up to start preparing dinner.

“I can make dinner,” he told her.

“No, I like cooking,” she replied.

“Can I help?  I’m a damn good sous chef, Iron Chef Luna,” he told her.

She smiled as he went into the kitchen with her and helped her prepare the food.  They ate dinner and watched videos all together before putting Ian to bed.  After Ian was in bed, the two lovers went to her bedroom.

“You have done so much for me today.  You didn’t have to.  I feel selfish,” she told him.

“You have done so much for me!” he said in reply.  “Your smile brings me happiness.  Your joy is what I live for.  This is like Heaven,” he continued.

“Still, I feel like I need to do something for you,” she said as she tugged to loosen his belt.

“Ooooh,” was all he could manage.

“Although I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t for me too,” she said as his pants fell to the floor.

“And you thought I was being selfless,” he said before they kissed passionately.

Happiness Is A Warm Burrito

Hello dear reader(s), and welcome to Saturday where I am.

In yesterday’s episode, our hero (Me) was fighting off a vicious and terrible enemy known as Headache (An Ancient Tormanian word meaning Achy Head) and was not able to view computer screens for very long.  It seemed the forces of Headache had beat our hero, never to be able to read or post again.  Would our hero escape?  Would the forces of good once again prevail across this here-blot-type-thing and the land of WordPress?  Let’s pick up from yesterday’s story to find out!

So my head hurt.  Then I inverted the colors on the laptop, which helped.  Then I slept some.  Then I woke up, and my head is much better but still a little sore.  Exciting, huh?

My mom got back from Alaska (She didn’t even have to use her AK) today.  Her pictures from her cruise are incredible, and I am highly jealous of her trip.  As such,  I have decided not to talk to her for the rest of the day or until I decide that is childish and I should be happy for her.  Which, since I am incapable of such maturity, probably means the end of the day.

In other news, preparations for the big move are now in full preparing to begin preparing mode.  I set up a commission to study the impact of forming a commission to study the preparations.  I have almost started to clean and get rid of some of the things I do not use.  Almost.  The temperature today is twenty degrees (Fahrenheit) cooler than yesterday, so I am a much happier Josh.  I need to go trade with Joe later, but other than that, I do not have a ton of things to do.  Which means maybe I can actually move forward on preparing the preparations.

Life is good right now, which makes for a boring Josh.  I have a girlfriend who is wonderful.  I have only been able to actually be present with her twice, because she does not live where I am.  She is a friend of my framily in KC however, so it will not be much longer now before we can be together.  Have any of you ever done the long distance thing?  Rough, huh?  I am thankful it is not for very long.  To all of those who are currently in some long distance relationship, you have my respect.  Shout out to all my homies in the LD!  Oh, and hi.  ❤

I have also been informed by my good friend that pumpkin spice is now upon us.  I shall prepare a great feast in honor of the return and rebirth of the Goddess of Pumpkin Spice, also known as Juanita.  The village shall be decorated to the greatest splendor, and there will be much rejoicing.  It is so decreed.

I apologize for this boring post, but it is hard to be interesting when you are this happy.  Also, I am sorry this post was misleading and not about burritos at all.

So that’s what happening where I am.  Let’s see what’s happening in your neck of the woods.