Kiss my blissfully happy, frequently laid, lesbian, feminist, ACLU supporting, pro-choice, agnostic ass.

I'm back from the land of the numb now. With lots of stuff to report. I had an amazing date with Sara last night, and an offer I can't refuse from Jake this morning.

First, the offer. We were sitting around the breakfast table reading the Sunday paper. We'll often read aloud something that we think one or more or the other would find interesting. Sara reads that if a smoker quits "early", their chances of avoiding lung cancer are much better. The news clip says that by the time he/she reaches 70, someone who quits at 50 will have lungs equally healthy to people who never smoked. You know I can't pass up a straight line like that, so I yell, "Woo-hoo! I've got 14 more years to smoke!" Everybody at the table gives me the "we love you and we really want you to quit" eyeballs of death. But they knew I was going to say that.

So Sara starts in. "When are you going to quit?" I tell a story about the president of our company having to quit because of flip remark he made one day: "I'll quit when such-and-such a company sponsors the blah-de-blah." Well the company sponsored it, and now he has to quit by the end of the year. My story is a diversionary tactic. It doesn't work. Sara asks again. I hedge.

Then Jake throws down the motivational gauntlet, "If you quit smoking, you can have sex with Sara every day for a month."

Oh ... my ... god. I can't pass that up.

Sara adds that I don't get the sex until I've quit for six months.

Jake throws in that I can have TWO months of daily sex when I've given up the smokes for a year. And that if Sara can't handle the load by herself, JAKE will fill in. Oh, man. Now, I want to have sex with Jake just about as badly as the rest of you do, but I never thought I'd get that offer again. Holy shit.

So I have to figure out when to quit. I'm thinking March of 2002. That gives me a while to prepare. Cut down a bit. Find some sort of ritual that can fill in for the rolling of the cigarette and the quiet break from work or the world. And if I use some cessation treatment again (like patches or Ziban), I'm definitely going to listen to the tapes that come with it this time.

I tried to quit smoking when my dad died, and I think I made it about three months. Then things got really hairy at work and I started again.

So if I quit in March, my six months will be up right when it's time for our annual vacation in Florida, which will be a reward in itself, and also a test of whether I've really quit because my favorite thing to do on vacation is sit on the deck smoking, reading, and listening to the surf. And soon after we get back, we can start the big month of sex!

Sounds like a plan.

Oh, and Sara and Deb said this offer was okay with them, too.

And speaking of addictions, I wanted to show you another episode in my obsession with cookware. On our way back from Florida, we stopped at the Le Creuset outlet store in Lake Park. They're preparing to close the store, so in addition to the outlet prices, there was an additional 60% off. I went into the store planning to buy maybe one thing that Deb wanted. But then I was hooked again.

We ended up with an enormous stove-top pot (identified by the store as "bouillabaisse") that retails for $250 for $46.

You could easily stew my head in this thing. Deb's making soup in it tonight.

I also bought a 2 qt. pitcher, a 3.5 qt. pot, 6 ramekins (those little individual casserole or souffle dishes), and a bag full of lesser stuff. It's a good thing my wife can cook.

And now to the date report.

It may seem inappropriate to some people for me to talk about my sexual adventures so soon after the Sept. 11 attacks. But sex is cathartic. And continuing to share intimacy with my family is crucial.

Before the dates started, Deb and I spent some time on the front porch, she with her wine, me with a rum and Diet Publix Brand Cola. We talked, hugged, laughed, watched amazed as we witnessed five planes departing from Atlanta in the night sky�something not even worthy of comment last week. The air was crisp. The night was clear. It was wonderful. Sara finally arrived around 9 p.m. She'd had a late day at work and needed to shower and eat dinner before we started.

We played with Misha and the Lord Colonel again last night. It's been a while. Misha is the extremely young wife of a man who has several. This was her second "date" with him. They were great characters to play with, because there's no real rough stuff between them. He's patient. She's nervous, but anxious to please.

The hardest part of the evening was getting started in character. I'd had a dream yesterday afternoon that Sara was kissing me like there was no tomorrow. It was a beautiful dream. Incredible passion. So when we got upstairs together, it was hard to stop holding her and kissing her long enough to get the scene started.

She wore a purple nightie with no underwear. If you can believe it, it took me about 10 minutes of kissing and groping to realise that she didn't have on panties. See, sometimes I start kind of slow take my time before I go tearing off clothing. Really.

Anyway, I had fun asking Misha mundane questions about herself as I caressed and kissed her while she knealt on the bed. She had to call yellow to let me know that her ankles were hurting from kneeling. I'd be such a bad slave master; I always forget to check on her ankles when she's doing that pose.

I teased and embarrassed her. She was extremely wet by the time I finally let my hand slide around her thigh, behind and between her legs. Mmmmmmm.

I fucked her and held her. Explained that when I pinched and bit her nipples, I wasn't punishing her. She hadn't done anything wrong. I introduced her to bondage. I tied her hands, positioned her on her hands and knees, and fed the free end of that rope between her legs. I tied her ankles together and wrapped that rope around her twice: from her ankles around her left side, under her left shoulder, across the back of her neck, under her right shoulder, down, behind her knees, and around again. I tied it off back at her ankles.

I talked to her, gently coaxing her to relax, to accept the embrace of the ropes. With some lube and patience, I worked one finger into her ass until she was taking it easily. Then, with my other hand, I added two fingers to her cunt. Sara loved that. Misha was a little more reserved with her admission of pleasure.

I unwrapped Sara and we ended our date in the usual way. Exchanging our gratitude, expressing our enjoyment, saying I love you, and talking about regular stuff from our day.

I hope everyone found some joy of their own this weekend.