MOONLIGHT AND FUCKING
Last night Tucker and I took a late-night drive in the moonlight in search of Christmas lights and decorations. Most houses had their displays turned off, but we did see some good stuff: an elaborate dragonfly with a six-feet long red body and green wings, a bizarre Tazmanian Devil Santa on a big-ass sleigh pulled by a single monstrous reindeer, and . . . and . . . hmmm. I guess those were the only good ones that were still lit up after midnight.

I told Tucker that when we're rich (haha) I want to have lots of Christmas lights on our house. I won't aspire to great sculpted twinkly pieces of art, just a blindingly tacky overdone display of light pollution. It will be all about color and sheer number of bulbs.

When I was little one of the few family outings we could afford was to drive to wealthy neighborhoods (Medina, "Candy Cane Lane", etc.) in the Seattle area and look at the Christmas lights on rich people's houses. I remember this as a great experience (except when my mom and stepdad would inevitably start fighting in the car which really sucked ass), but I think it contributed early-on to feeling pretty aware of the difference between the haves and the have-nots, and that we definitely had less than the splendid "haves" had. I promise you that none of those Candy Cane Lane kids drove out to to OUR town to look up OUR house's lightless ass. I also think these trips to the magical land of privilege contributed to my nascent voyeurism. When poor people drive slowly past the homes of rich folk, our eyes all agog with awe and envy, it's a potent experience and I'm telling you, we just cannot get enough of staring at those people who seem to have it all. It's like stalking the entire upper-class -- inching along slowly, looking in their windows, wondering what all they do in those big-old houses.

Apparently those neighborhoods now charge money or require a donation of food to gawk at their houses. I think that's pretty fucking funny, because the people who want to GO to look at that shit are the people who "shop" at the food bank. Don't these fuckers know that? Is it not obvious by the delapidated cars we drive? We had a gold Duster which eventually caught on fire while my mom was driving with my step-brothers on the freeway. It was actually a pretty cool car, but not a model you'd often see in what is now Bill Gates' neighborhood.

When I am rich you will know by my Christmas display that I wasn't born that way.

*****

When Tucker and I came home last night we brushed our teeth and dove into the flannel sheets. Then I showed him my cute black bikini panties. He pretended to be impressed by them and began rubbing and stroking me over the panties, which I soon requested he remove. Not long after that I started licking and sucking his dick, and not long after THAT I paused for a moment with his cock in my hand and felt it ripple and bulge with a thick rope of cum he wound up shooting all over his belly. I sucked him some more before rolling onto my side and pressing my ass against his him. Then I slung one leg up over his hip and we worked his dick into my pussy. I rolled over onto my side again and he fucked me from behind like that, in a spoon position. It was effortless, lazy, but HARD slapping fucking. I felt like I could orgasm from that alone, but since I've never had one in that position and couldn't really stand the thought of waiting much longer, I momentarily detached myself from him so I could mount him and ride to a couple of climaxes. Then I turned around for some reverse cowgirl and Tucker had a nice noisy second coming.

Some things are more important than Christmas lights.
posted by Trixie at 12/16/2005 11:49:00 PM -