Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Marketing Consultant Getting a Blow Job at His Parents’ House on Christmas: Male, 43, San Francisco Bay Area, freelance marketing consultant, straight, in a relationship.
DAY ONE
7:10 a.m.: Awake. Girlfriend sleeps naked next to me. I’m horny and sleep-drunk. I cuddle with her and fondle her breasts. She half-wakes up. She fades between soft, sleepy breathing and little whimpers. I finger her a little. She goes back to sleep. I get up, shower, and hit the café to start working.
7:50 a.m.: At the local café. Barista One is hot; Barista One is always hot. This is not news.
10:20 a.m.: Sitting with laptop and third Americano. Girlfriend calls from work on my cell phone and asks me, “Did you feel me up this morning?” I tell her I did and ask if that’s a problem. She says, “Not at all, I just wish I’d been awake for it.” I’m kind of glad she wasn’t, because I’ve gotten through buttloads of work in an hour and a half — but I don’t tell her that.
3:20 p.m.: At home, lunch eaten, I stretch out on the couch and fall half-asleep. I’m horny. I call Girlfriend to promise her that spanking she and I have been talking about, but she isn’t picking up. I start to jerk off and wonder if I should text her a picture of my hard-on. Kidding! Finished masturbating, I work for a while on the couch.
7:15 p.m.: Girlfriend comes home in gym clothes. Nothing makes me hotter than a woman in gym clothes. I’m all over her. I kiss and bite at the back of her neck. I guide her to bed and we work in concert to get off her sports halter and workout shorts. For some reason my fantasy about spanking her has vanished completely; all I want to do is to go down on her. When it seems like she’s not going to come, I break out the vibrator, which sits, embarrassingly, discarded on the floor from when we used it last time. I don’t want to lose the moment by getting up to wash it, so I break open a condom and stretch it over the head. I get her off, with my hand wrapped around the handle of the vibe and her hand laid softly over mine. She comes. We cuddle a little bit before making dinner.
DAY TWO
7:05 a.m.: No cuddling this morning; I jump out of bed without hitting snooze, alive with fresh ideas. I walked to the café in the dark and reached it freezing my butt off.
9:05 a.m.: I order Girlfriend the Wii she’s been wanting, and get free two-day shipping. Best “fresh idea” I’ll have all day.
10:45 a.m.: Barista One is still hot. Barista Two is not as hot as I originally thought she was, but she is still fairly hot.
3:55 p.m.: Finally realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast; I call Girlfriend to see if she has plans for dinner tonight. She reminds me she has dinner plans after work with a female friend she hasn’t seen in ages; she told me this weeks ago. On the way home, I pick up a carnitas burrito, then watch BDSM porn on the widescreen computer monitor we use as a TV, while answering personal e-mail. I stop dead in my tracks when I realize I’m typing an e-mail to my Mom while a porn scene is playing. That is just creepy. I think I’ll stop doing that.
9:30 p.m.: Girlfriend comes home a little drunk from several glasses of wine at dinner. I tell her she’s very naughty for drinking wine. She says the older boys told her she had to. Holy crap. This girl is 38 years old and she knows how to push my buttons perfectly. I draw her over my knee and pull her slacks down and spank her butt until it’s very red, which she likes very much, kicking her feet and saying “I’m sorry I was bad!” She kneels in front of the couch and gives me head, still wearing her work clothes, though her pants are around her knees. Hot.
11 p.m.: I show Girlfriend the one hot porn scene that I downloaded earlier in the evening. She says she liked our scene better. I’m flattered.
DAY THREE
6:45 a.m.: Morning cuddling. It’s sweet, but neither of us are horny. Reminds me that it’s Christmas on Sunday. I grumble.
3 p.m.: Home from the café, I decide to masturbate. I e-mail girlfriend to tell her that, half expecting to get a “how nice for you” response. Instead, she e-mails me back right away telling me to save it for her. How can I resist a command like that?
7:30 p.m.: Girlfriend comes home in her gym clothes again. I’m all over her again. She and I make out on the couch a little. I go down on her. She doesn’t come. She goes down on me. I do come, almost immediately, and she swallows this time. I say, “Sorry I came so quickly,” and she tells me not to be an asshat. She got that word from me, so it’s meant with affection. I notice she has red marks on her butt from her spanking. I dig that. I point them out to her and she digs it even more than I do.
10:20 p.m.: Girlfriend and I fall asleep in each other’s arms. It’s sweet until she begins to snore. I put earplugs in and everything’s golden.
DAY FOUR
6:30 a.m.: Girlfriend wakes up with me; she has an early meeting. She reminds me again that Sunday is Christmas. Ugh. After her shower, she dances around the room naked singing “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.” She knows all the words. I’m impressed. Also, her boobs bounce.
7:30 a.m.: Get a ride to the café with Girlfriend, instead of walking. It’s a little weird not to have that bracing morning walk.
8:10 a.m.: Barista One is definitely hotter than Barista Two, all told. She is also a more accomplished flirt, I notice. I could live an entire life underneath those eyelashes of hers.
12:10 p.m.: Screw it. Writing marketing copy sucks. I ask myself what the hell I’m doing with my life.
1:20 p.m.: Arriving home, I discover Girlfriend there, playing Mario Kart. Since her office is closed tomorrow, her boss closed the office at noon. Her Wii arrived just as she got home. She couldn’t be happier. She stops playing Wii long enough to give me a blow job. I am pretty stoked.
3 p.m.: After playing Mario Kart for a while, I get all weird and tell Girlfriend I hope she didn’t feel like she “had” to give me a blow job as a thank-you. She tells me not to be an asshat.
4:30 p.m.: Girlfriend and I take a nap naked together. It feels luxurious and intimate. I feel her up a little but we doze off before much happens.
7:45 p.m.: Girlfriend has some “last-minute” shopping to do. I express my bewilderment that buying presents three days before Christmas qualifies as “last-minute,” and ask if I can borrow her car to go shopping tomorrow. She rolls her eyes.
10:40 p.m.: Wrapping presents, eating takeout Chinese food, drinking mediocre red wine, and a little bit of cuddling before bed.
DAY FIVE
8 a.m.: I’m taking the day off, so Girlfriend and I have long, slow, sloppy, sleepy sex before my day of shopping. It is not exceptionally hot but it feels really comfortable and sweet. She has always liked morning sex the most, same as me. I come; she doesn’t. I reach for the vibrator and she says, “Nah.” I ask her if she feels like going to the bookstore with me. She says okay. Her presents have long since been bought and wrapped.
11:30 a.m.: We hit the bookstore; it’s a zoo, but not as bad as I thought it would be. Girlfriend sits in one of the plush chairs and pages through photo books of antique nudes while, in about an hour, I pick out books for everyone in my family. This is my usual strategy. Girlfriend is used to it. We head off for lunch.
3 p.m.: I’m done wrapping my presents. I ask her if she wants to “nap.” She does.
3:10-4:05 p.m.: We fool around again. We start by making out, but both of us seem not to be really feeling romantic and makey-outey; we’re feeling more utilitarian. I get her off with the vibrator. Then she coaxes me on top of her. I come easily and quickly even though I came once today.
11 p.m.: Homemade dinner and a quiet evening of watching bad movies, drinking beer, and surfing the web.
DAY SIX
10:15 a.m.: Christmas Eve. Girlfriend and I spend the morning lounging about, reading news on the web, chortling about stupid things Republicans have done recently and watching videos of porcupines.
1:30 p.m.: We decide to watch J. Edgar, a big bombastic epic with multiple historical inaccuracies.
4:10 p.m.: Over a late lunch, I annoy Girlfriend by picking apart the movie. She reminds me that movies suck. We argue a little bit.
7 p.m.: Arguing long forgotten, we make out and cuddle a little. Neither of us wants to do anything more. We have two or three invitations for Christmas Eve parties, but we’re both tired and not up to the one-hour drive to my sister’s place tomorrow. We eat leftover Chinese food and goat-milk chocolate ice cream (surprisingly good).
10:45 p.m.: We go to bed, read, then try to make out, but are both too tired. We go to sleep.
DAY SEVEN
7 a.m.: Christmas. We want to avoid the traffic, so we leave early for the usually one-hour drive to the town where my sister and my parents live. It takes us about 50 minutes. On the way, Girlfriend ridicules me for being from a truck-stop town and suggests we have sex at a rest stop. She looks good in the red tights I bought her last Christmas, but I’m vaguely afraid my parents will think they’re too slutty.
7:50 a.m.: We’re ludicrously early, and we realize it was stupid to leave so early just to avoid traffic. She blames me; I blame her, but it’s all very good-natured. We stop at Denny’s and have a greasy, sleazy breakfast, taking as long over it as we possibly can.
8:50 a.m.: We finally relent and go to my parents’ place, since my sister’s “dinner” isn’t until 1. My parents are shocked to see me on time and seem to decide Girlfriend is a good influence on me. I guess they don’t think her red tights are too slutty.
11 a.m.: After visiting with my parents for a while, I’m yawning. Mom suggests I take a nap. Girlfriend takes one with me. No one objects. I guess I’m finally 43 years old or something. Of course, between Girlfriend and I, “nap” usually means something different than what I assume it means to my parents. As if to prove Mom and Dad’s worst fears about having their son share a bed with his girlfriend under their roof, Girlfriend gives me a blow job on their daybed.
1 p.m.: At my sister’s place; kids and cousins zooming around everywhere. Everyone here also seems to think Girlfriend is a good influence on me.
4 p.m.: Finished! “Dinner” was great, and we make a run for it. The freeway’s remarkably not crowded …
5:10 p.m.: … until we hit the bridge. Then it’s a nightmare.
6:10 p.m.: Home, with a cache of leftover ham. We resolve to save money and have ham sandwiches for dinner, if it comes to that. At the moment, though, we’re both feeling overfed and gross.
7:30 p.m.: We kick back on the couch, watching TV. My hand slides easily over her breast. I tell her how perverted and wicked she was for giving me a blow job at my parents’ place. She agrees. Her nipple stiffens. We make out a little.
8:10 p.m.: Time for another spanking. She wiggles her butt and looks very fetching. The red tights look even better around her knees.
10:30 p.m.: We go to bed and I go down on her for a while. Her butt is very sensitive from being spanked, which I like. We’re both tired, so when she doesn’t come after a bit, I fetch the vibrator again. I cuddle her and we hold the vibe together as she gets off. She seems to come for a long time. We cuddle some more and go to sleep. I like being domestic as hell. I’ve had more sex in the last year than I did the five years previous. I like it.
TOTALS: One act of masturbation; two acts of cunnilingus; three vibrator-induced orgasms (giving); two spankings; four blow jobs; two sessions of intercourse.
