The world is your ashtray...

My father started going into one of his rages on Monday night. Typical. He's getting closer and closer to that breaking point he always approaches, speeding away like the Surfliner up the coast, looking for that other train to collide with.

As he built up his anger, I stood there, as usual, and took it. Accusations and manipulations I've become so accustomed to over the years mostly washed over me, things that I had no part in being flung in my face like I was the person masterminding it all. Unfairness flooded my being, as it always does, but in this house, it's not about fair or unfair, it's about maintaining, it's about making sacrifices of your own integrity for the status quo to be upkept.

Instead of my usual prodding in order to get him to blow up so we'd have a few weeks of relief, I kept him an at emotional simmer until he petered out. I just didn't want to deal with it, didn't want to be the person subject to his rage this time.

That's a first. Usually I leap him front of him before someone else can catch his attention.

... ... ... ...

I drove up to the loft last night, to meet with GV8. They're going to be starting construction in the next week or two, plan to have the basic stuff done by August 1st. Couple of extra bathrooms, bigger shower/spa, rework the ventilation, seal the floors, lay down some hardwood in the upstairs area, lay down some hardwood in the main part of the building for a dance floor, install some projectors, hook up a computer or two, install the bar, and other things I'm sure I'm not aware of.

On the drive up, I spoke with one of my guy friends on the phone. He's in the middle of breaking up his open relationship. He's also going to be moving, job hunting, and making himself happy again, as he's been miserable for quite some time. He's been dating C off and on over the last few months, but finally called an end to it because so much was going on in his life.

We talk a lot on the phone, even though we've only met twice (the first of which we ended the evening with him fingering C on one end of a couch while Wolfboy fingered me on the other end- the surround sound of wet noises was great). We have similiar enough outlooks that we get a lot of honest feedback from each other without duplicating our own views to justify behaviors. Last week, I went out to dinner with him and some friends, seeing him for the second time, and it was this odd situation where we knew each other's minds so well, but it was mildly disconcerting to actually be in each other's physical presence.

I got over it quickly. I'm a physical person, constantly touching, so I was sitting next to him, thighs pressed against each other, touching his hair, hugging him, etc. He didn't know what to do. He finds me attractive, but I put myself off-limits to him a few months ago for multiple reasons, and told him as such. He finds even casual touching an indicator of sexual interest, and he knows he does this and that it isn't always correct, so he was very offput by my physical contact with him, trying not to interpret it as interest, acting very awkward.

So I asked him about it, about his awkwardness, about his thoughts and the confusion, then explained my need for physical contact with people I'm comfortable with, and that, over the last few months, I had started finding him attractive.

I then further explained that even though I found him attractive, if I ever did act on it, it would not be anytime soon because I did not want to add any more complications to his already complicated situation, that he needed to focus on himself and for me to knowingly add a distraction to that would be very selfish of me and not be good for him in the long run.

Once the shock subsided, he agreed with me, we said our goodbyes, and I pulled up at the loft.

GV8 was a little late. He tends to be, as his office is in the Valley and traffic is never good coming from there.

We did our standard unloading of vehicles, then moved to the upstairs loft for fun and frolic.

The more I go down on him, the better I get with my technique. He's like a testing doll for oral, and he's quite happy with my experimenting. My learning curve is going through the roof. I can get his entire body to spasm whether or not he's orgasming, I can get him (and most guys) off without ever having to bob my head. I spent close to forty minutes with my face buried in his crotch, my face coated in saliva, finishing with him laying back going, "That was epic. Fucking epic."

It makes me happy to know that even with a man who has had so much experience, who has probably had close to 800+ girls go down on him, I'm still one of the best. I love to be so pleasing to him.

After the follow-up sex (which was, happily, me on my stomach, his hand on the back of my neck, pushing my face into the mattress as he pounded into me from behind), we went to Little Ethiopia on Fairfax for dinner, followed by ice cream at that place on Sunset and La Brea that I can't spell but is something like Mashti's or some such. He also took me down to Gower, just south of Sunset to show me the street full of awesome graffiti. I have pictures of all of this... just have to upload them.

Passed out, woke up to his hands sliding all over my body, his penis sliding inside me and a murmured, "Play with yourself."

Afterwards, he shoved fingers deep into me, making me squirt twice before heading downstairs to shower, leaving me in the wet spot. Typical male. I just rolled over and went back to bed, listening to the echo of his footsteps as he wandered around the loft, moving things around and taking measurements for the impending construction.