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2003-12-06 @ 7:52 p.m.
sex toy hockey

Oh how cute...I just looked over and my cat Guard Cat is sleeping with her head resting on my sex toys box on the bed. Usually when I'm done, I shove the box under the bed next to my Casio immediately. I mean, I don't want my purple vibrating weenie in plain view.

What if my house caught on fire and a fireman broke in, braving his way through smoke and flames looking for me, and suddenly grabs what he thinks is my hand (my...that certainly has an odd shape) and it starts vibrating.

My kitty Guard Cat actually "helped" today during self pleasure hour. I was laying on my bed, trying to get a vibe on and I looked over and she had her paw in the sex toys box and was flipping out little plastic attachments all over the bed.

Oh how helpful.

She then launched into an impromptu hockey game with them, swatting them all over the bed, until she lined up a perfect shot. And cuffed the sex toy attachment straight off the bed and out into the living room, where I heard that the Stanley Cup was taking place. You know, the cat version.

I just hope I can find all the pieces before I have company again.

Oh wait, I don't have company. Which is why I have self pleasure hour...every day.

My shrink once asked who I fantasized about while masturbating.

I was totally nonplused. Not at the question, but that I was supposed to be thinking about someone besides myself during masturbation.

Whoops. I thought they called it self pleasuring for a reason.

I have tried fantasizing. It took me a really long time to bring someone else into the equation. It's hard enough concentrating on one person let alone two. I have used Married Guy a few times. He's never actually doing anything. Just watching. And that's enough for me to get excited about. I've tried using other people, like the cute guy from the art class, the waiter at the piano bar, even my shrink.

Can you say transference fantasy?

But I prefer to just use myself as a reference point. And lately I have really gotten into thinking about myself as a nude model. Lordy, I have been thinking about that way, way too much. (grin)

This past Wednesday our figure drawing model didn't show up for the class and some frantic calls had to be made for another person to come in and pose. So we were all sitting around for about 20 minutes waiting. Some people were chatting. I was enjoying some witty repartee from a cute guy next to me with the teacher. It sort of felt like it was being done for my benefit. And we all know, kitty likes witty.

But I was also thinking...hmmm, they need a nude model. Gee I wonder how much they pay? I could just save the night by ripping off my artsy black turtleneck, jeans and lesbo boots and jumping right up on that raised stage and everybody would be whispering and gesturing to each other, "Who is that girl?"

And I would say: "Its WittyKitty -- Nude Model"

My new career! And think of all the attention I would get. And how good it would feel, and how much my self esteem would spike when I saw all those beautiful drawings of me. And how my little vageena would be all tingly since I was getting a chance to act out one of my favorite fantasies! Posing nude in front of a bunch of men holding their art utensils.

But alas, they finally got ahold of somebody named Roz, a forty something hippy woman who was, shall we say, truly hippy.

What's nice about this class, is that the models are all different shapes and sizes. First week was the guy. He was skinny. Second week, an Amazonian twenty something woman with perfect breasts. Third week, an introverted 30 something woman, very slender, almost boyish. Fourth week, a well rounded 40 something woman with saggy breast.

I know I could fit in there somewhere.

So have you ever typed your first boyfriend's name in Google and actually found him? I did that last night. I had typed his name into the computer before on various occasions, but last night I hit gold and even got a photo. He's now a real estate person in the Southwest.

I wasn't totally sure it was him. He had gained a lot of weight since high school, but his photo was on the real estate company's website and it had a little bio about him saying he was from the S.F. Bay Area and was an avid movie fan. Which sounded like "G". And they also had an audio WAV. of him speaking, saying how great buying real estate from him was. And that definitely nailed it. Well, at least 98% worth.

So I wrote him a lengthy letter catching up and sent my picture. Now I'm not sitting here dreaming of a reconciliation. He was gay. I/we just didn't exactly know that in high school.

But surprisingly this morning, I had a lengthy e-mail from him. It was really great to hear from him. He had initially thought my e-mail was spam from, because I said "Are you from ** ***** High School, well so am I". But fortunately he didn't delete it.

He was remarkably candid about his homosexuality. He wrote: "...anytime it (our relationship) leaned toward anything romantic or physical, I simply could not go there. With you or any other girl. (In fact, to this day, I've never slept with a woman, nor have I ever wanted to). I know that must have been really confusing for you as well, even though you must have wondered about me."

Well, yes it was very confusing at the time. I blamed myself for not being pretty enough, or sexy enough. I also thought it had to do with the fact that he was very religious. The one time he did playfully push me down on his parent's bed (and boy was I ready...for something, anything!!), he said, and I remember this exactly, "What would my parents think?"

But it was great catching up. He sent me a picture of his boyfriend. I told him I was in love with a married man, but didn't elaborate. See, I just traded gay boys for married men in my fourth decade of life. All of them equally unavailable for wittykitty consumption.

We also talked about our classmates who are now in show business. One is a movie director and one is a television producer. That had always been our strongest bond. Movies. We went to the movies constantly in high school, and used to go to San Francisco to buy movie memorabilia together.

So it was good finding "G" out there. He said he wouldn't mind writing occasionally, so that's pretty cool.

Oh, and the picture I sent, he said I had "aged gracefully". Spoken like a true GAYtleman.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty