Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Back From Holiday-ing

I'm home a day earlier than I thought I'd be, back in the Fuckatorium, with a big long list of new blog entry ideas, to-dos for reworking my listings, and lots of energy for phone sex. I was logged in a few times while I was traveling, but if you wanted to find me and missed me, I'm sorry to have missed you (and a reminder: send me an email on NiteFlirt or at galiana at ymail dot com if you want to request that I come on at a certain time for you - I can often accommodate).

Dancing: One night, I wasn't logged in due to going out with my sister (on anti-vertigo meds that let me do more for short periods of time), and the guy in his late 40s who dances exactly like my father (who passed away in 1993 at the age of 50). Dad was a great dancer, but had an unusual style: he kept his elbows close and liked to pop his partner back to him in this very learned-to-dance-during-the-jitterbug-craze kind of a way. My sister and I didn't remember ever seeing anybody dance that much like him before, much less someone who was probably born 20 years after Dad.

Normally I rule out vigorous dancing, even with meds, but ... how could I pass it up? I explained to his wife that he danced more like my father than anyone I've seen in 17 years, and she graciously agreed to loan him to me for his next jitterbug. I chose not to tell him that he could make me violently ill by spinning me around. So sure enough, he spun me around fast and hard - pretzels and loops and even a dip at the end! A few times I just closed my eyes and squealed like I was on a roller-coaster, which was apparently the only way in those moments that I could figure out to hang in there. Getting back to the table without looking like I was falling-down drunk was a major accomplishment (well, I'm sure I looked falling-down drunk - I stumbled into the railing around the dance floor, but I didn't actually fall, which was good), and the rest of the night was spent mumbling incoherently and trying to hold my head still. It was totally worth it.

The Room: I had a kick-ass room: my mother's apartment complex has a guest room that was clearly designed by swingers in the 1970's - the bed is raised two steps higher than the rest of the room, behind the bed is a solid wall of mirrors, next to the bed - in the bedroom - is a giant jacuzzi tub (awesome!!), and the jacuzzi has mirrored walls on two sides. It's porn-tastic.

Me facing the bed,
taking pic in mirrored wall behind the bed,
with the Jacuzzi tub all the way on the left
Oh, and there's no dining table. Who needs a place to sit and eat when clearly this room was made for mad fucking? Unfortunately, my husband wasn't able to join me, so I didn't get to have sex in the room (boooooo).

However, I did take a luxurious soaking bath. No, I didn't have bubble bath stuff. No, I didn't take pictures. It was just me relaxing in all the cheesy glory.

The Gift Call: On Christmas Day, I was pretty exhausted, but woke up about 2 a.m., intuitively convinced that I needed to be logged in for phone sex. I don't always follow my hunches, and sometimes I have them but nothing comes of them, but this one wasn't going away, so I logged on by about 2:30 (after having to reboot my computer and reset the wi-fi) and drifted back to sleep.

Just before 3 a.m., one of my earliest, best, favorite callers rung me, and his first words were, "I was praying you'd be on." I was filled with gratitude, and then filled with his flesh for intensely gratifying snuggle-sex, and then filled with gratitude again. The conversation was a fantastic gift to both of us.

My Wish For You: I hope the past eight days were everything you hoped they would be, and that your vision of the upcoming new year is full of joy, peace, and amazing sex!

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