SSS

She and I watch a fair amount of television---no reality shows, mostly police procedurals and medical soap operas of the evening variety. Invariably, on a medical show, a surgical candidate goes south with heart stoppage, the OR staff zotzes the patient once or twice, after someone declaims "Patient in V-Tach", and another voice declaims "Normal sinus rhythm." And that's what this post is about.
As I've said from time to time, She is the middle sister of three, a child of an alchoholic father and an abused mother. Her older sister, known to us as The Wicked Witch of The West, was the valedictorian in high school, the cheerleader, the "everything" that She wasn't, She who went out with motorcycle gangs from Polishtown and belched out load at the dinner table. And so She bore the brunt of all the disapproval from the entire family, especially from Her older sister.
Fast forward to the present, where Her sister no longer speaks to her, because She has the audacity to speak with her nephew (known as The Golden Boy, son of the Witch) after mother and son had quarrelled. On a visit to her house about a year ago by both sisters, even the youngest could see who mean and abusive the older was.And so for the last eight months, She and I have had woefully little information about her, except to know that she hadn't been feeling well and was undergoing some tests (her husband, aka Peter Pan, divulges nothing ).
Last Tuesday, before Thanksgiving (to which we had invited the entire family, and to which she never even responded), we found out that she had suffered a seizure, was unconscious for five minutes, was hospitalized, and "not doing well", in some local third rate medical center. Initial test revealed no stroke, no Alzheimer's, no senility, in short nothing to indicate why she had passed out---oh, and did I mention that within the last month, while in traffic on the Capitol Beltway, she had stopped her car in a daze and just wandered off?
Friday, it was relayed to us that she was suffering from Sick Sinus Syndrome, a condition where not enough oxygen is pumped from the heart to the brain, resulting in all the erratic behavior. And so, we are left to wonder, which have gone on for almost a year, a result of this medical issue, or is she just as mean and vindictive as she's been her entire life?
Stay tuned.

Interlude: The Real Amalia

Longer ago than I care to remember, there was a real Amalia. It was during a time when young people still believed in gurus and avatars, when there was always someone cooler or hipper than you were, someone to be followed and studied, learned from. And so it was with Amalia...I had just met Her, and Amalia worked in the same research lab that She did, a seductive and manipulative woman, mysterious in her ways and connections, seemingly disdainful of us and our relationship, until we included her.
For almost a year, she dominated us and every aspect of our lives, holding us entirely and completely in her thrall. We totally surrendered ourselves to her domination and direction, I trying hard to fit such a dominant woman into a life that now included Her, and She becoming ever more submissive, forgetting how to think for Herself and how to make Her own decisions. We saw Amalia separately and as a couple, always deferring to her wisdom and judgements, gradually at first and then more and more, allowing her to control almost all aspects of our lives.
We were told how and where to live and love, given specific directions on how to experiment sexually with each other, what buttons to push and what avenues to explore. We were a compliant and complicit couple, She the middle daughter of an alcoholic father and an abused mother, always obedient, I besotted with Her and overwhelmed by the strength of Amalia.

Not Enough #13

I stood poised in the doorway, knowing that crossing the threshold and re-entering the room was more than just a physical manifestation, and that once I went back into the room I went back into the vortex we all three had entered...Debra stood with her hands at her sides, her shoulders slumped down, her eyes downcast, a vacant stare on her face, looking every inch a defeated ragdoll, lost yet again in her own faraway world. Amalia now stood behind her, hands raised to Debra's breasts, gripping Debra's nipples between the thumb and middle finger of each hand, rolling the nipples back and forth between the fingers until they became stiff. She lifted each breast by the nipple, and I could see the fluttering of Debra's heart, Debra who was now no longer Debra, but who was morphing into Alice, a new person created by Amalia.

"Plug that thing in and hold it against her clit...let's see just how long it takes her to cum." And so I extended the long cord to the nearest outlet and knelt in front of Alice's vagina, the dyed blue hairs now drenched in fluid, her cuntlips now engorged and slick with her arousal. I held the head of the vibrator flush up against her, moving it around in little circles, trying to match the rotation of the hips in front of me. Alice now exhaled deeply, and emitted a slight moan, the tempo of her breathing increasing, her mouth open and her tongue working itself back and forth across her lower lip, her discreet little noises now cascading on top of one another in rhythm to the circling of the vibrator, the wetness now starting to shine at the tops of her thighs.

"Please, she asked..."Please what?" "Please, can I cum, just a little?"

There was only silence for long seconds, ten seconds, fifteen seconds, as the vibrator hummed away and as Alice sank deeper into her own arousal...then finally, "Cum right now, little girl," and I watched as waves of contractions rippled through her belly, her chest and shoulders shrugging several times quickly, then she sagged back against Amalia.

She had always told me that when she came, the sensations immediately afterward were too intense to bear, and she needed to separate. But I could see the evil smile on Amalia's lips, as she looked me straight in the eye.

"Make her cum again," she said, and Alice just tried to moan her dissent and disapproval.

MIA

And in the time I was trekking, two of my favorite blogs seem to have disappeared---Jane Not Plain and Thursday's Child.
Any clues as to where they went??? The former is just gone, the latter temporarily unavailable.

A Little Travelling Music, Ray

I haven't posted in almost a month...much of my disposable energy has gone to being stressed about being hounded by a disgruntled client who threatens, on a daily basis, to sue me for malpractice and take me before the state boards. Couple that with the angst involved in getting ready to travel and it has been all I can do to keep my head above water.

Tomorrow I leave for two weeks trekking in the volcano region outside of Quito, Ecuador, travelling without Her but with an organized group, almost all of whom will be younger than me, and will look upon me with mixture of curiosity at the old guy trying to keep up and amazement at the fact that I'm sooo much cooler than an old guy should be. The trek means two weeks of relative quiet, minimal ambient noise, time for reflection and regeneration, and just getting high (altitude-wise).

Say a prayer for me, as these trips always have some element of danger. I plan to be back just after Halloween.
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OK, I meant to post the above just before I left, but the franticness of departure meant that it stayed as a draft, at least until now.
I'm back after two weeks at serious altitude (when I departed, I looked up at the screen in the airplane that tracks altitude, distance, etc., and wondered how the plane could climb so fast, only to remember that I was starting at about 8500 feet.) The trek was harder than I had planned on, and I submitted only about half the volcanoes, although I did get good altitude on all of them, including Chimborazo, which is the highest mountain on the planet, despite being only about 20,000 feet, owing to the curvature of the earth. I made nice new friends, mostly Brits, had lots of personal thoughts and relative quiet for two weeks.
One interesting thing musically...I didn't take an ipod and so had no music other than what was stuck in my head. And so, when I've come back and started up the ipod again for the gym, it's as though everything was in HD. I'm hearing things in the music that I never heard before, and with greater clarity. I've retained some of the benefits of being at altitude for two weeks, and can manage better on the treadmill and stairmaster.
I've thought a lot about postings for here over the two weeks, and just need to find the time to write...when you're self-employed, nobody does the work for you when you're away from the office, and so catchup has been a bitch.
The next trip is with Her, either to Barcelona/Bilbao or Tunisia/Paris. My next trek is not until 2011, but I'm looking at the NYC Marathon again, after an absence of 15 years.
And can someone explain to me why Jackson Browne is soooooo stuck in my head, Here Come Those Tears, The Pretender, In The Shape Of A Heart.