0 comments/ 18631 views/ 1 favorites Life's Little Pleasures By: JRob I love the game of golf. It's relaxing, it takes me away from the pressures of the job, and it allows me to strike a mental balance between competition and fun. While one can surely compete against others in a tournament setting, it's really an individual game. The golfer makes the good (or bad) swing, not his or her opponent. The worst shot imaginable can be followed by a masterful, smooth, accurate shot. Of course, not everyone loves golf. Some prefer tennis, others are dedicated to working out in the gym, while others think sports of any kind is a waste. And while it has been said the game of golf is nothing but a good walk spoiled, it is something I look forward to playing whenever time permits. I love walking a golf course, joking with my playing partners, observing Mother Nature at her finest. And heck, a day in the great outdoors sure does beat a day in the office. Which brings me to last Saturday. What a day. Fall like weather despite what the calendar indicates. The kind of comfortable weather that brings a light pullover out of the closet. My playing partners were friends, guys I have played on numerous courses with over the years. We've traded shots both on and off the course, and are strong enough friends to let the constant ribbing and insults slid right off our backs. It was a slow day on the course. The group in front of us was slow, having to look for errant shots. Still, despite some grumbling by the group behind us, it was a good, pleasurable day. The seventh hole was a short par four, and after hitting our tee shots we stood, two of us in the fairway, two in the rough, waiting for the group ahead of us to clear the green. That's when it would be safe to hit our shots. Nowhere to go, we were tradiWrong. Normally such an offensive attack would have sent me ballistic and directly into Defcon Four. I would have shucked aside the mild mannered Clark Kent appearance in favor of The Terminator. I would have found his ball, pulled out a club from my bag, and then smacked it back at those who had attempted to bean us. Or, more likely, stroked it into a lake where it would find a watery grave. Then I would stand there, as if willing to take on the four of them barehanded. But on this Saturday, something was different. Maybe it was the effect of the horror, terror and sadness of September 11, maybe it was the mellowing which comes with age, but whatever it was, I just took pity on the offenders in the group behind us. I took a deep breath, pointed at the people playing ahead of us, and simply shook my head and moved on. It just wasn't worth fretting over. At the clubhouse --- as we made the turn to the back nine --- we reported the offenders to the head golf professional, who assured us that we were keeping up with the group in front of us and were smart for letting him handle what could have been a dangerous situation. The group behind us did not bother us for the rest of the day, and after getting over the shock of their actions, my game was strong. I even birdied two holes on the back nine. I was thinking about that round of golf, and how we dealt with what could have been an explosive confrontation, and my mind wandered to some of the little things that make life a treasure. Like the time I threw a peach pit into the back yard and a wonderful tree miraculously emerged. Or seeing my dad walk a month after suffering a serious stroke. Times like we are living in tend to bring out a wealth of emotions. There is hate, there is love, and there is a special appreciation of the fragile nature of life. On Sunday my son scored his first goal as a Peewee ice hockey player. It wasn't pretty, it was a rebound of a teammate's shot, but when it hit the back of the net I felt proud of how hard he has worked to not only make his team but to have fun while playing. The look on his face --- shielded by his helmet and mask of course --- was priceless. But it wasn't as priceless as the look on my face later that night when a neighbor stopped me outside my house just to tell me how wonderful my son was to take out the trash for him while he was sick. Monday night my significant other made a superb four-course dinner to celebrate my birthday, and later some friends stopped over to offer their good wishes over a bottle of special Port. Friendships are special, and all too often one doesn't recognize how important they are until someone moves away. The following morning I was sitting at the breakfast table, savoring some coffee, before heading off to work. Our back yard borders against homeowner association land, which is actually a restricted flood plain area that is left to nature. I sensed some movement in the woods, and lo and behold first one, then two and then three deer came into view. It was a marvelous sight watching them graze, oblivious to the cars that traveled a nearby road. They felt safe and secure nibbling on the wildflowers and undergrowth. Watching me think about a deer's life? What is their major concern? Finding food? Caring for their young? Staying out of the headlights? Speaking of marvelous views, my Wednesday morning was completely made while I weaved my way around a detour on the way to work. I was minding my own business, trying to follow small detour signs through a residential area. Sipping on my Starbucks, I resigned myself to the slow-moving traffic. A school bus stopped, children entered and took their seats, and we all moved on. Nothing special, the beginning of a normal day. It has been said that timing is everything. I suspect that is true. School bus gone, I slowly drove down a tree-lined street before turning onto a larger, well-traveled road. Traffic moved a bit faster, but was stopped more often by traffic lights. At one of those red lights I thought better of beating the yellow and pulled to a stop. Casually looking to the left, I noticed a red Toyota, vintage 1990. A long-legged girl stepped out of the driver's seat, and my eyes gawked as I realized she was in a maroon and gold cheerleader's outfit. She appeared to be a college student, and she was talking to another girl on the other side of her vehicle. She walked back to the trunk, which she had popped open, and I couldn't help myself. I stared as she bent over and reached deep into the trunk. That reach presented me with a perfect view of first her legs, then thighs, then a marvelous view of the maroon panties that graced her pretty behind. The girl pulled out a box from her trunk, and stood, still talking to her friend. A horn sounded behind me, and she quickly looked my way, catching me in the act of undressing her with my eyes. She gave me a "bad boy" look as I quickly turned my head and hit the gas. No harm, no foul, and I drove to work with a smile etched onto my face. In retrospect, there are dozens of small, inconsequential acts, thoughts or visions that made life a pleasure. Little things can and do mean a lot. Sure, winning the lottery might change one life, but winning the lottery is a one in fourteen million shot. Life's little pleasures emerge out of the blue when least expected, brightening a day, bringing a smile to one's face, and putting the reality of the world's problems, at least for a brief moment, out of one's mind. Thank God for the precious little things in life. (Epilogue: Remember that errant golf ball. Well, it didn't make its way back to the person that struck it in perfect shape. There was some goose droppings near where it stopped, and my friend Jack moved the ball over and placed in the middle of the foul stuff.) Life's Little Pleasures We had an intense relationship for lack of any better words. It was the kind of relationship that set me on fire; it was all I could do to not jump you every time I was near you. The way that you looked at me, that you touched me, every little thing that you did brought out the most sexual -- and sensual -- parts of me, and all I could think about was all of the things I wanted you to do to me and the even more extensive list of things I wanted to do to you. So, one day, as I usually did, I came over to your house after work. We would usually curl up on the couch or in your bed and watch a movie, study, or do whatever it was that we needed, or wanted, to accomplish that day. Today, however, was not like so many of those other days. I had had a rough day at work and wanted more than anything else, to please and be pleased by you, so I did something that you never would have expected. When I walked in the door, you barely had time to shut it behind me before I was wrapped around you, pushing you back against the wall and kissing you with such zeal that you were left trying to gather your thoughts, wondering what had gotten into me. When we finally paused, you had the opportunity to at least begin to gather your thoughts, and I began to work towards what I wanted most. I pulled back, reached down and started by unbuckling your belt. I pulled it loose, and handed it to you. I un-buttoned and unzipped your pants, dropping them to the floor. I let out a gasp as your half-harden form sprung towards me. I had been expecting you to be wearing boxers that I would have been able to steal later. Since you weren't wearing any, you made my job even easier. I knew what I wanted, but I wanted it for selfish reasons. I had always loved pleasuring you, and after the day I had had I couldn't think of anything that sounded better. I couldn't get you out of your pants fast enough, but as soon as you were, I took you in my hand and began to slowly massage and play with growing member. I was trying to make up my mind as I played with you as to which method I wanted to employ to achieve my goal. I finally decided that I wanted to just go all out, so I stopped trying to make you hard with the manipulations of my hand. I sat you in a chair, knelt between your legs and lowered my lips. I had once been told that feeling a man come to life in your mouth was one of the most rewarding experiences and I knew from the experiences that we had had together that this was completely true. Since you were already wall on your way to being fully hard it wasn't like starting with a soft cock, but as soon as my lips touched your tip, I relaxed. The frustrations of the day melted away as my tongue began to slowly swirl around your cock, finding each of the little places that I knew appreciated the attention. I lightly grazed my teeth over your ridge as I slid down your strong cock. I didn't force myself even as far as I had gone previously, but I just went far enough to give you the sensation of being deep-throated without having to actually do it yet. I remembered that I was forgetting one of your favorite parts. I slowly, careful, and seductively withdrew your cock from my mouth. I dropped my head a little bit more and slowly sucked one of your balls into my mouth. I lightly sucked on it, teasing it with my tongue, before gently releasing and focusing my attention on the other. After doing this a couple of times, I licked up your shaft, massaging it with my tongue before swallowing it hungrily. This time, I took it down farther than I ever had before. You took my hands from your body, and maneuvered them behind me. I could tell that you were overjoyed with my actions when you wrapped your belt around my wrists behind my back, and took my head and my hair in your big strong hands. You skilled hands began setting the pace for me. It was a complicated set up and rhythm that we had going. It seemed to be somewhere between you taking my face as your own and me willingly and passionately using my face for your pleasure. You were such a careful master that you never intentionally made me cough or gag and when you did you only assisted me in getting past it, you didn't force it. I couldn't believe how much better I felt or just how much I was enjoying it. It had started out as me taking the control and now all of the sudden; I was kneeling at your feet in your total control. I was giving myself up to you to use in any way that you liked, and you didn't disappoint, though I couldn't recall a time in which you ever had. Up until that night, you had never cum into my mouth. It hadn't necessarily been my decision for you not to, but you had always felt that it was easier or better on me if you pulled out right before you did. You would always give me a taste, but I think you were trying to give me time to get accustomed to the taste so you didn't overwhelm me with it. Yet, on this night, that is not what you did at all. Since you had me tied up and were practically doing my face in the same manner you wished you could do other parts of my body, you forced your cock down my throat as far as it would go. I could feel it twitching as your body prepared to bless me with its seed. I was doing my best to not cough and gag around it, as you pulled back on my hair extremely hard, and furiously pumped your cock up and down my throat. In any other circumstance I might have screamed with how hard you were pulling on my hair, but with everything else that was going on, all it did was cause my wetness to flood down my thighs. About this time, you remembered the remote stowed in the breast pocket of your shirt, and amped up the vibrator buried deep within the fire already blazing inside of me to high. Then with another flip of a switch, I felt the plug you had so purposefully placed in my ass start vibrating\ as well. I had already been so aroused by everything I was doing to you and having done to me that the vibrators were quickly throwing me over the edge. So I began to suck harder and even more passionately than before, if that was even possible. I knew I wanted you to come first and I knew that if I had any control over it what so ever I wanted to show you just how good of a little cock sucker I was by swallowing and loving every drop of your precious juice. However, I also knew that if you didn't come in the imminent future, I was going to have one of the most mind blowing orgasms known to man without finishing off the one that this had all been for in the first place. And, like always, you had impeccable timing. Just as my orgasm hit, your cock finally let loose, and I sucked and swallowed as if my life depended on it, which miraculously seemed to prolong my orgasm even further. Once I had milked every last drop from you, and cleaned you with my tongue, I thanked you for the gift you had bestowed on me. You pulled me to my feet, steadying me, as you kissed me, enjoying the ability to taste yourself on my lips and tongue. You then proceeded to pick me up and carry me into your bedroom, since we hadn't made it past the entry hall. Once you had deposited me on the bed. You began to slowly remove my clothing, teasing me about the mess that I had made. All I could do was laugh and tell you how it was all your fault. We both knew that it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't texted me earlier insisting that the vibrators already be installed before I walked through the door. I had to admit that wearing a skirt had made that a lot easier to comply with, but then as I lay there, allowing you to sensually undress you I remembered about the text and that it had occurred only after I had shared with you my stress and desire to thoroughly unwind. It was only at that moment that I realized that I had unintentionally screwed up any plan that you had had to help me unwind and pleasure me, but when I questioned you about it, you promised that though I had forced you to have to change your game plan; I hadn't completely derailed your plan. You gave me a very stern look and told me that my complete disregard for your plan would result in punishment. You suggested that sixty-nine would be a good number of strikes to make sure that I would never repeat the mistake again. However you must have thought better of that because you then smiled and said that since it had only been slightly derailed by one of the most pleasurable experiences you had had in your life, and because your plan could commence just as soon as my punishment was finished, you would settle for having me bend over your knees and spanking me 21 times, instead of anything harsher. After that, you did exactly what you had been planning on doing all along, but that, my friend, is a story for another day.