When what should be comfort is part of the nightmare

Why is it that when I wake from nightmares with tendrils of cigarette smoke and stale beer still sinuously curling in my head that C feels the need to also wake up and get in my face, also smelling like cig smoke and stale beer? How is this supposed to comfort me, to chase away the demons? It doesn't ... and it doesn't help when he decides he's now awake too and sits and stares at me as I try in some convoluted way to purge my brain of those demons that still have easy access to my sleeping head. 

This morning the lyrics of an old country song are flitting through 

Digging up bones
I'm digging up bones
Exhuming things that's better left alone
I'm resurrecting memories that are better dead and gone
but tonight I'm sitting alone digging up bones

actually I'm pretty sure those are paraphrased or altered at some points but yeah, you get my drift ... and now with an audience my brain shuts down. Odd that I don't seem to be able to write unless I'm alone in the house or unless I'm the only person awake in the house ... but maybe not odd ... I need I deserve privacy and I have none here

Kidnapped by Pirates ...

ok so I missed yesterday. I have a really good excuse. I got kidnapped by pirates and was being held captive aboard the ship The Black Joke, captained by Rand Morgan.  Think I've gone off the deep end? Naah... I simply had a random thought that from probably my favorite book of all time skitter through my head and I was powerless to resist the call. 

It started innocently enough. I decided to reread Crooked Fang by Carrie Clevenger so I could go play with my TDT (tall dark and toothy) friend, Xan. I have a severe crush on him that I feed through Twitter, and it just seemed like the thing to do. After a couple of chapters I decided to send him and his maker a shout out on Twitter letting them know and the phrase that came to mind was that I was going to grub around in his pia mater. It was all downhill from there because that phrase is from a scene in The Windflower. After I saw the tweet it brought to mind the other book, and I couldn't help but go to that scene ... The next thing I know I'm paging back and being dunked in the sea by Cat and hauled onto a Pirate ship ... not that I fought it too much :D

The Windflower is a book by Sharon and Tom Curtis writing as Laura London. This is probably my favorite book of all time. I've read it literally more than a hundred times since I got it when I was 14 or so. At this point in life this book is simply comfort for me. 

Have you ever read a book and it just hit something inside you so that it totally stuck with you and you find yourself going back to it like an old friend that you seek out when you need comfort, need to reconnect with where you started, or just need to relax and recharge? This is my book. Thankfully I ran up on it in ebook form because my severely tattered paperback copy has been rebound and glued so many times now I'm nearly afraid to open it.

I needed to step away from life for a bit so I allowed myself to be taken. It doesn't matter how many times I read this book I still find myself drawn to it, needing it like a comfy cuddly sweater that you automatically reach for when the weather gets chilly. It may no longer be fashionable but you could really care less because it is what you need at the time. 

Oddly enough, though I adore Devon and Merry, my heart was captured and is still held by Cat. For the most part he is a hard hearted, no bones about it, icicle souled pirate. Until Merry ... then he finds himself in the unenviable position as a captor's assistant/foster parent/Dear Abby for the girl who is more naive about the world and how men and women relate in it than most 10 yr olds. She humanizes him, thaws his soul, and softens his heart. To my mind he's also sexy as hell. 

My other favorite was Raven. He could be just as hard as Cat but his nature is different. He is like the best friend/hot younger brother of best friend that every girl needs. Fiercely loyal to Merry, you can just see that when some woman does catch his eye and his heart, he will move Heaven and Earth to see to her happiness. 

This book is just so sweet and innocent in its way, and especially since I have been battling an ear infection this week, I needed something comfortable and sweet. 
I still think its a crying shame that Cat never got his own book. He more than deserves it.

Now, as soon as I can escape from Regency London, I really must get back to Xan ... that vamp is worth purring over. ;)

Morning Dreams

Warmth and wetness envelope your sleep induced semi-erection,

bringing it to life and seeping into your brain like a drug.

Soft lips glide over your skin ... the slight scrape of teeth on the return journey, the gentle pressure of something small and hard just at the underside of the tip before a tongue swirls around the tip and the journey back down begins.

You sigh as once again you are swallowed, slowly, so slowly that you want to force the issue with your hands and your hips, but you resist,

allowing the game to spin out on its own.

Deeper and Deeper you are taken before, once again the lips begin receding, and in their path a fingernail follows, sending sparks through you.

This time a hand wraps around you, holding you while the tongue laps at the tip of your erection as if it were a melting ice cream. Another hand cups your balls, caressing gently, while your tip is swallowed time and again, the mouth pulling and sucking before lowering along your length once again, this time the hard ball of pressure running down the center vein, causing shivers through your body.

You grip the sheets as you feel pressure building inside, as the mouth quickens, increasing its pressure on you, pulling you deeper into it, harder and faster, until you are moaning and bucking your hips ... wanting ... needing more.

Your breaths come harsh and fast as you feel orgasm spin through you as you are taken deeper and deeper into the mouth ... your body tenses .. anticipating the rush ....

an alarm startles you awake ... your body throbbing with need ... and you realize it was just a dream.

Rambling from a blocked writer

You know what's weird? When I had an outside job, I couldn't seem to stop writing. I'd have a blank Office screen pulled up just so I'd have somewhere quick to jot things down as they wandered through my head. 

Now that I'm home and have all the time in the world to write my mind has gone almost totally blank. 

Oh sure, quick little pithy stuff will come to me, but I can't seem to sit down and concentrate on anything of substance. I complain about Twitter only allowing 140 characters per post, but in the grand scheme of things I think my brain has become so Twitter and TM oriented that its lost the ability to concentrate on anything much longer. 

So I guess what I'm doing here is just mind vomit (yeah sounds gross, but it fits). In other words I'm just going to come here, close my eyes, and just hope something flows. My goal is to post something each day, not sure what it will be, but, my hope is that if I can get into the habit of spewing words every day, at some point they will make sense. 

Some days may be just rambling ... other days might find poetry.