Are you my daddy?
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Posted:Mar 5, 2016 8:26 pm
Last Updated:Mar 6, 2016 8:47 am
4665 Views
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I've often heard women refer to a man (Who is ovbviously not their father) "daddy."
I'm just not sure what to think about this.
Is it just a form of role play?
Perhaps a sign of submission?
A term of endearment?
What's everyone think about this? Ladies, if you've ever called a man daddy, what does it mean to you? Gentlemen, if you've been called daddy, what does it mean to you?
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7
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Is it in your....... ummmm......
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Posted:Mar 3, 2016 12:33 pm
Last Updated:Apr 7, 2016 7:13 pm
4002 Views
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So today I have the pleasure of working with a student nurse. It's his first day of his psych rotation and he's absolutely terrified here. He's hoping to eventually work in the ER. I don't have the heart to tell them our patients don't just fall out of the sky, most of them come from an ER. He'll figure this out on his own someday. Anyway, I'm trying to get him to lighten up and relax, and a situation comes up that we need to give a patient a medication. I show him all the necessary steps that have to be taken before giving the medication and he's paying attention, asking questions, seeming a little less awkward and afraid. As we're talking I pop the pill from the blister pack, and it disappears. I look all over the med station. He checks the floor. We both check our pockets, our hair, the floor behind us, every nook and cranny of the med cart. I said well it has to be here somewhere......I keep looking then notice him staring at me with the terrified look in his eye again. Finally he says "ok, I'm not a pervert I swear, but, is it....could it have ....umm......maybeitsinyour....ummm...hmmmm...... aaaaa....cleavage?" So I peek down my shirt, and sure as shit, there it is. I pluck it out and he said "are you still going to give that to him?!" I explained that we couldn't do that, we'd pull another pill and he'd get to learn the protocol that has to be followed when a narc is not in the pack, but not in the patient either. Any tips on how to write this incident up in a professional (or hilarious) manner are greatly appreciated.
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4
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Maybe I'm not a voyeur after all
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Posted:Mar 3, 2016 4:07 am
Last Updated:Mar 6, 2016 8:50 am
3648 Views
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I'm puzzled. I've always enjoyed watching, man, woman, couple, group, solo, doesnt matter, I like to watch.
But now, after a couple weeks of daily trips through FriendFinder-x to the blogs, I find myself rapidly clicking past pictures thinking "again?" "Seriously?" "Omg put that thing away already" and "why? Why would you put that here?"
So I'm puzzled. If I like to watch, why am I not enjoying the pics?
Part of the pleasure of watching is seeing it all play out, the flow of things. That flow doesn't exist in a still shot. There's no movement. No progression. Just "bam, here's a cum shot!"
The greatest pleasure in watching is imagining what they feel. His cock thrusting into her. My tongue in her wet pussy. I don't get that from pictures.
I'm not bitching about the pics, I'm just surprised I'm not aroused by them. Perhaps it's just part of being a tactile person in a visually over stimulating environment?
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7
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My career
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Posted:Mar 2, 2016 3:45 pm
Last Updated:Apr 7, 2016 7:13 pm
2950 Views
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It's exactly like this.
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1
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Rage yoga
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Posted:Mar 2, 2016 5:11 am
Last Updated:Mar 2, 2016 11:44 am
2954 Views
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Rage yoga is a thing now.
It's about fucking time.
From what I've gathered, it's like yoga yoga, but instead of New Age music, they blast heavy metal. And you can scream. And cuss. And make obscene gestures.
Sign me the fuck up!
The concept was started by a woman who felt she didn't fit in in regular yoga classes because she's "a very loud and colorful personality, a "beer and shot kind of girl." I can totally relate honey.
The classes are held in the corner of a dimly lit basement pub. Perfect!
I need this in my life.
Namaste motherfuckers.
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4
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Ill never forget Mrs. P
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Posted:Mar 1, 2016 6:23 am
Last Updated:Apr 27, 2024 4:49 pm
3785 Views
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Every time I run into someone from my hometown, the conversation always mentions a beloved elementary teacher, who fo anonymity's sake, I'll call Mrs. Peckinpaw, or Mrs P. For short.
Mrs. P was cool, but she could be intimidating. She was tall, well tall to elementary anyway. She had this hair, it was the color of sunshine, and there was a lot of it. I mean a fuck ton, like a tail. It was curly, so she kept it braided. More than one got whacked in the face with that braid when Mrs. P got excited and spun around to scribble on the chalk board. It kinda hurt.
Mrs. P taught 6th grade, but she would always play with the younger at recess, she would jump rope, play four square, pitch the kickball, walk you to the nurse when you ripped half of your knee off when you fell running to third base.
There was a box of neccessities in the closet in Mrs. P's room. Anything you could possibly need was in that box. Hair ties, tooth brushes, maxi pads, soaps, lotions, chewing gum, safety pins, Bobby pins, bic stick pens, erasers, deoderent, dimes for milk or a cookie from the bakery next door, stuffed animals to cuddle during trying days, it was all in that box. The box rule rule was take what you need and give what you have extras of.
Some unfortunate never got to experience Mrs. P in the classroom, she had a baby just about every other year for several years. If you were lucky enough to be in her class, you were in for a wild year. She loved science, she tolerated math, and made sure you were reading at grade level or above, but She rarely used standard English text books. We read science or history or whatever interested us, and we learned spelling and grammar through writing about our readings.
At lunch time, on my first day of 6th grade, Mrs. P pulled me to the side and said "are you always like this in the classroom? You can't sit still. You're fidgeting with everything. You're staring out the window, you are everywhere except in my classroom." I said I figured all the other teachers warned her by now. She sighed and said "at least you have good grades, but we need to work on this or it I'll ruin you in junior high." So I was placed in the Mrs. P special program for hyperactive and easily distracted . ADHD didn't have a name back then. Each year, a handful of got placed into the program. We were allowed to sit, or stand, in the back row. We were allowed to fidget with anything that didn't make noise. We were allowed to march in place, if we could do it silently. As we went through the year she progressed us to other coping mechanisms that kept us moving, but were less obvious. We could kick off our shoes and wrinkle and straighten a towel on the floor with our toes. Then the shoes had to stay on but we were supposed to try to wiggle our socks off. By the end of the year all but a few successfully completed the program. We lost our labels. We could sit politely and stay on task. There was always one that totally failed at the program, the one from my grade remained a raging bundle of energy throughout high school. And college. And beyond. And he actually replaced Mrs. P in the classroom several years ago.
Mrs. P was known around town a beloved teacher, a sweet woman, and a darn good Christian woman. That persona was tossed a couple years ago when she showed up in the local ER with a dislocated shoulder, spewing profanity, threatening the staff. Her behavior was so out of character a member of the staff assumed she was suffering with dementia. Mr. P, who was also a pillar of the community, quietly explained that maybe her shoulder "just really fucking hurts and you should maybe shoot her up with morphine before I whack her over the head to knock her out." Once everyone picked their jaws up off the floor, Mrs. P got some medicine and regained her status of beloved Christian teacher. It's funny how pain brings out a raging beast.
This turned into more rambling than I'd planned. I started out just wondering if anyone else remembers a teacher who went above and beyond. Was there a Mrs. P in your school? I'd hate to think she was a unicorn, a rare, perhaps mythical entity. I hope there are more of her out there.
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1
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A few more FAQs
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Posted:Mar 1, 2016 4:26 am
Last Updated:Apr 27, 2024 4:49 pm
3009 Views
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Some more answers to popular questions.
I'm a switch, usually top with women, bottom with men, but I can go either way.
Yes I've had group sex, my ex and I were in the lifestyle for years.
My ex and I are actually close. He didn't screw up. I didn't screw up. We just didn't want to be married anymore.
Yes, I have , but I don't need to plan my social life around them.
My favorite position totally depends on what kind of sex I'm having, a quickie from behind is always fun, but if we have time, lazy missionary is great.
I work in healthcare. Afternoon shift. And a couple mornings.
My hobbies..... I do things with wool, I shear sheep, dye and spin yarn, then knit things. I make soaps and lotions and potions. I read. I upcycle things and sell them.
Oh I'd really have to like you to give you a reach around while I ram your ass with a strap on.
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0
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Every damn time!
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Posted:Feb 29, 2016 4:14 pm
Last Updated:Mar 1, 2016 4:03 am
2763 Views
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The new coworker hasn't been trained to never, ever, ever say "it's really quiet" yet. We need to work on this.
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2
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A Close One
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Posted:Feb 29, 2016 4:52 am
Last Updated:Apr 7, 2016 7:15 pm
3064 Views
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Sometimes the simplest things empower me.
I just took my out for her morning "traipse around and do important stuff" routine.
While she was sniffing around on the right side of the yard, I see, out of the corner of my eye, movement on the left side of the yard. I go on high alert because my is of the retriever sort and loves to run down, kill, and deliver any kamikaze varmint that wanders into her yard. I casually call out "here Sassy", while I'm watching the brushrow. Sassy (that's my dog) looks at me over her shoulder like "what's wrong with you? I'm in the middle of important stuff here..." And she lumbers a little farther away.
Soon, the kamikaze varmint reveals itself. It's a fucking skunk. A big skunk.
I immediately call "here sassy..... Come.... Here girl" Sassy looks at me with more curiousity than usual and turns and sits with her back to me like "naanaanananaa I can't hear you if I can't see you"
The skunk is well into the yard at this point. Disaster is imminent. In my best singsong, I'm dealing with a serial killer here voice, I call out "sassy..... Come to mama...... Where's my good girl?" Nothing. I get nothing. The just sits there. The skunk keeps coming. I'm dying inside because it takes a lot of douche bottles to soak this to remove essence of skunk.
In desperation I call out "cheeeeeeese...... Sassy want some cheeeese?" It worked, the was up and running to the house and barking out like "well fuck yah I wants cheese!"
Crisis diverted. I feel like some kind of superhero now. I'm sipping coffee, Sassy is brewing some impressive dog flatulence (she's lactose intolerant it seems), and no one smells like skunk.
It's going to be a great day. I can feel it.
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7
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Dear 20 something male,
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Posted:Feb 27, 2016 5:49 am
Last Updated:Feb 28, 2016 7:30 pm
3808 Views
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I seem to be popular with the college age and just out of college age crew. (Please read that in a sarcastic tone, what woman ISN'T a big hit with them) You boys are too cute. You look yummy. You can get it up multiple times a night, probably even an hour. You have little baggage, no , no ex wife, you can be free at a moments notice to come fuck me all night long! Besides, you're attracted to older women, so I should be flattered that you've taken the time to contact me.
I have made it pretty clear on my profile that I am not into younger men, don't waste your time contacting me if you're under 40. Why? Because.....
I am an aging woman. I don't want to fuck all night long. I want conversation, laughter. I want to feel that I am with someone who's travelled as far through life as I have. Age is not just a number, it's years of experience being on this planet. We get beat and bruised along the way. We get scars. I'm sure some women would enjoy the youthful vibe given off by younger men, you guys just wear me out though. I'm not even talking about in the bedroom. My is 24, his friends are of the same age. Just being around them makes me realize how far ahead of them I am. I'm not saying I'm better, I'm just farther ahead in figuring out life. I don't have the energy to back pedal.
I truly wish all of you younguns the best. This site can make you crazy if you let it. I admit I love your square shoulders, your tight butts and oh what I'd give to kiss my way down some 6 packs abs......
Mercy. .....Someone fan me here....
What was I......
Oh, younguns. You're nice to look at, but too soft around the edges for an old battle axe like me. Or maybe you're too hard around the edges actually. There's nothing like the warm glow of wood that has been handled for years, people are like that too.
To put this in perspective, I have a ZZTop tshirt that is 30 years old. I can't date men who are younger than my clothes.
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9
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FAQs
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Posted:Feb 26, 2016 12:21 pm
Last Updated:Apr 7, 2016 7:15 pm
3318 Views
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Answers to some of the questions I'm asked most often. I've decided to make this the "getting to know you" spot. I suck at replying to messages.
Yes, I am a natural redhead. I may play with the shade from time to time, but I am a true ginger, down to my soul.
Yes, gingers do have souls. Most of us have a whole collection of them actually.
No, I do not have freckles.
Yes, my breasts are natural.
No, my back doesn't hurt. My mom also has a huge rack, so she put me in swimming lessons when I was a small so I'd always have a strong back.
Yes, I still swim.
No, I will not meet you in 20 minutes so you can rock my world.
My favorite song is Sundown by Gordon Lightfoot. At least it is right now, but that varies depending on my mood.
There are more, many more, but I've got stuff to do.
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3
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I Can Totally Blog
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Posted:Feb 26, 2016 5:11 am
Last Updated:Feb 28, 2016 7:31 pm
3224 Views
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I've been lurking around here for years. I come and go. I've spending more time reading blogs lately.
I decided I could totally blog.
I could have a bad ass blog.
I hopped in here already to set the world on fire. And. Now here I sit.
I have bloggers block on my first post.
Maybe blogging is harder than it seems.
I'm no quitter though, and it says I have to post something to create the blog, and I have to create the blog to name the blog, and I'll forget the name I picked out if I don't do this right now.
If you're still reading, thank you, it will get better. I hope.
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11
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To link to this blog (jessabell1967) use [blog jessabell1967] in your messages.
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