So we were stoned and out of no where realised it’s almost April and fuck taxes are due! In a baked semi-panic we decided to get it over with and just do it, even though it had been a long day. We agreed to follow last years precedent and promised some making out followed by some filthy rough sex as soon as the daunting task of filing our taxes was complete.
We set up at the dining room table, took turns choosing tunes and made light of our least favourite annual task. He wore a pair of costume glasses without lenses because he wanted to get into character. He called me by a secretary-ish name and we took breaks for snacks and goofiness.
We finished! High-fived and then realised that we were space cadets and the deadline for filing is the end of April, not the 1st.
Double high five! For once in our lives we did our taxes early. Thank you weed.
How do we even qualify as grown ups?
(Also? He looks good in the glasses… time to make good on the smooch-fest with fucktacular results.)
2:47pm- Me: Careful, you don’t want to wear out my little mouth before the party… Him: Aw but you like it when you’re sore, makes you feel like such a good little slut doesn’t it? Me: *blushes*
4:19pm- “Let’s smoke a joint and have an early dinner, I don’t want to feel bloated if we’re going to be group-naked later.” Genius plan.
6:51pm- ”This is the smoothest it’s ever been. That’s how we do it from now on, you have a long bath before I shave your puss.” -My husband (Hee hee… This ritual keeps getting better.)
7:50pm- Somehow knowing I’ll be naked for most of the party means I spend twice as long on my hair and make up. Femme-security-blanket ftw.
8:17pm- omg OMG you know what would go perfectly with my costume?! My pretty pink cuffs!!!! SQUEEEEEEE!!!!!!!
8:39pm- (Dies from awesome when she realises her pink earrings match her cuffs which match her panties.)
9:58pm- My sexy husband and I snicker as we pass a giant billboard en route to the party with the following ad:
Fuck those Winter blahhhhhhs. I went to my favourite bakery today and bought some sort of salted caramel chocolate brownie and cookie dough cake. Yes sir I did. And I am going to smoke a joint and eat the whole cake and cross my fingers that my husband follows through with that foot-rub he promised. (And then see about following up on some of the things I may have promised.)
- Cute flirty notes from a tumbl buddy in my ask box. <3
- Hearing about your successes using my Holiday Gift Guide. (Check it out if you’re still not finished/started your shopping/making.)
- Queuing up pictures of pretty girls to post tomorrow.
- Texts from sansshame pouting that I’m not there to get things started at his party tonight. (I assured him they would all find a way to get naked without me.)
Bad habits are
bad habit-y awesome. (Current status.)
We smoked a joint in our living-room afterwards. It was really nice. My husband and Ben in their underwear, Bette in my husbands hoodie and nothing else, me naked. Bette and I sat on the couch together while my husband played a little guitar and we all blabbed and giggled. She doesn’t identify as bisexual, isn’t so sure about the label, but she likes me, I can tell.
We passed the joint around and she stretched and rearranged herself so she was curled up on my lap with her head on my shoulder. I snuggled into her, smiled to myself. Her hair smelled so good, and I love how it felt to have it tumbling over my skin. She nuzzled against me and sighed. I’m a sucker.
I stroked her hair, running my fingers through it and gently massaging her scalp with my fingertips. She closed her eyes. My heart was in my throat. I hardly know her, but it felt so familiar to touch a woman this way. It made me ache.
And then she said something stoned and ridiculous and we all laughed and my husband played a happier song and she moved and the moment passed.
Just as moments do.
In my fantasies this is what self-care looks like. (Except there would be a tiny ashtray with a half-smoked joint in it.) (And perhaps someone handsome to replenish my tea and stroke my hair gently now and then.)
Can we have a moment of silence…. for the saucy-as-fuck faces that I have to crop out of the pictures I post of myself here on my blog? I know all you other sexy tumblr girls know what I mean, and all of you secret self-shooters too. You feel sad inside editing out the best elements of the image. I mean, not to brag, but I can give a pretty serious eye fuck, and I’m also
kinda goofy, and between those details and the dimple I’m seriously cropping out some of the most entertaining parts.
The few people who see them appreciate them enough for everyone though, I assure you.
Also; baked Saturday mornings with blueberry pancakes. Self-care for the win.