Anyway, go check out Jane's World. And if you go to the "about the artist" page, let me just say that I have told Paige to put in a current photo, because she grew up to be rather a hottie, and that picture of her as a little girl just doesn't convey the babeliciousness that was Paige Braddock the last time I saw her before she moved to California.

She's probably all hooked up with some monogamous girlfriend now, but I still say there's nothing wrong with using a little hunky butchcake action on the web page to bring in more subscribers.

After lunch at Ru San's I swung by the pet store and picked up some diet food for Molly, like it does her any good, and then paid a visit to my barber to get my hair back in flattop form. Oh, yeah. It's back to a nice, crisp quarter-inch on top again.

Came home, had a date. Went from date to hot tub, then from hot tub to a fun evening at Anat's new place where we ate some kick-ass lasagne and met a bunch of adorable, and oh-so-young and energetic, drag kings who will be performing tonight at My Sisters' Room (if anyone wants to go catch the show). I'd love to go, but the show doesn't start until 10 p.m., and that's a little late when I've got to go to work in the morning.

After stuffing our faces and hanging out with the notorious kings, we went over to the new bar in town to hear Herb, a friend of Sara's, play. He's a fireman and arson investigator. You know those beefcake firemen calendars they sell? He could be in one of those. The bonus is that he's really nice. Single. And he can sing and play guitar. I can honestly say that any one of the four of us would do him in a skinny minute. I would happily climb on board that man and ride. Ungh. Jake invited to come soak in the hot tub.

And who did we run into at the bar but our fabulous neighbor Stella. Stella, who, when she saw Herb sitting at our table, came over to say hi and, within three minutes had done a whiplash-capacity hair flip and made it known that she was straight. Can't blame a girl for trying.

Sara and I played with Joe and Sara last night for the first time in a long long time. Joe had the driving citizenry of Atlanta get on his last nerve and needed to unwind in a big way.

Sara suggested that he pretend she was the nastiest, bitchiest woman he'd pulled over all day long and take it out on her. Turns out there had been a huge bitch who'd held the palm of her hand out at Joe to tell him to wait while she finished her cell phone call when he had her pulled over. That didn't sit well with him.

Joe: What if we said I'd followed her home to her apartment and came up behind her as she was letting herself in?
Sara: What if she'd thrown her ticket out the window as she was driving away?
Joe:Why, then I'd just be doing my duty to return it to her.

So, we're Joe and Sara acting out a scene of their own. The bitch Sara was playing was named Amelia Peterson. No idea where I got that name. To start the scene, Sara had me bring her the cordless phone, then I was supposed to wait and minute and then knock.

So that's how we started out. I had to knock twice before she answered the door. I had a mock-ticket in my hand. And she was on the phone, telling someone about the cop who'd pulled her over. She answered the door and said, "Oh, god," in an exasperated, condescending tone, "Speak of the devil."

I plowed right through the door, which is at the bottom of the stairwell to the attic, snatched the phone out of her hand and turned it off, grabbed her by the front of her overalls and started pushing her up the stairs in front of me. She was railing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Let go of me! Get out of my house! What are you doing here?" She kept coming up with more indignant, threatening, bitchy stuff as we went up. She was really good at it. I got to the top of the landing and kept pushing her backward. I threw the phone to the floor and pushed her down on the bed. She was threatening to have my badge by this point.

All this time I was telling her that she had carelessly dropped her ticket out of the window of her vehicle, thereby endangering my life by forcing me to retrieve it on the highway. I was letting her know that I had come by to return it to her and to see if we couldn't work on her attitude toward the law.

I grabbed her by the hair and brought her to her knees down on the floor in front of me. I started unbuckling the snaps of her overall shorts, and she started fighting and trying to get away. It was hard to get the overalls off, but I did. She tried to grab at my balls (and actually got some thigh) during the struggle, so I told her we'd add assaulting an officer to her charges. I sat on her while she was face down, trying to crawl away from me, and handcuffed her.

Oh, man, was she a smartass hellcat by that point. I kept warning her that her mouth was going to get her into more trouble than she already was, but she seemed to have no fear. I would've fucked her face to shut her up, but I was afraid she'd bite through my dick. I rucked her shirt up to her armpits to get at her tits.

I threw her around a bit more and Sara had to call yellow because the cuffs hurt too much if she was lying on her back and, at her job, everybody knows what handcuff abrasions look like, so we couldn't really risk that.

I tried to pull her shirt up over her head while she still had the cuffs on, but the neck hole was too small. I pulled out my knife and placed it under the fabric in front as if I were ready to cut it off. "If you say please, I won't cut it off of you." She stayed quiet and I moved my arm like I was going to slice it up the center. "Please don't cut it. Please." I had her bargain to get out of the cuffs. She had to call me "sir" whenever she addressed me, and she had to promise full cooperation. As I was unlocking the cuffs, which I need to get smoother at, I told her I knew she was lying about the cooperation part, but that I thought my knife might keep her in line just the same.

It was fun making her call me sir as she was pleading for me not to hurt her with the knife. But then she'd get bitchy again. I gagged her with a bandanna. She didn't like that one bit.

I forced her down on her belly and started carving lines into her back. She was rigid. She was trying to talk through the gag. It was impossible to understand at first, then I started guessing, interpreting for her.

I asked if she was married, and she emphatically nodded her head, yes. I asked why her husband hadn't given her a ring. She conveyed to me that her husband would be home any minute. I said he was going to get an eyeful when he walked in and saw his wife getting fucked by a cop. She struggled some more, and then I started to cut her panties off of her body.

From that point on, I fucked her until she wasn't fighting it anymore. She was participating. I suggested that maybe she'd been trying to get someone to punish her. Eventually I took the gag off.

When Joe and Sara came out of the scene, he was all relaxed and mellow again, and Sara had done her part to keep an officer from going ballistic on the highways of Atlanta for one more day. She wasn't done with him yet, though, so we kept going.

I don't remember how it came up, but Sara jokingly mentioned how hot it would be to have Joe and his partner Toine (short for Antoine) gang up on her at the same time. Joe asked how she would feel if he told her that Toine had already asked him once about the chances of that happening. That Toine had told him he wanted a piece of Sara. And that Toine's wife was a pretty liberal thinker. Sara just about jumped out of her skin.

I love doing that to her. We wrapped things up soon after Deb got home and headed to the hot tub and then out to Anat's new swinging bachelorette pad.

Casualties: 3 condoms, two towels, one bed pad, t-shirt, sheets.

This morning after breakfast, I went upstairs with Sara to tuck her in and have a bit of date before she went to sleep. Ungh. We talked about who we want to play with for the next couple of days, but we didn't do any scene characters. Just us again. But it was intense. Not highly athletic or anything. Just me and my hand and my mouth working on her, but she was having fierce orgasms and splashing hard, and we're both so crushed out on each other right now that even "standard" lesbian sex feels incredible. And what I realized this morning is that we've been having remarkable sex with each other for five years now without the fun going out of it.

That's pretty damn special. My life is so amazingly good right now. She told me to come up and play with her while she's sleeping any time today. I am to treat her like the fuck toy she is and have my way with her all I want. What a woman. I told her she is my own personal action figure.

Casualties: 1 bed pad, 1 towel, t-shirt.

*Items of clothing and linen listed as casualties needed to be laundered as a result of the particular date in question. The number refers to the number of times said item(s) had to be laundered. So, for example, when you read "T-shirt: 3," you could translate that to mean, "We have trashed the t-shirt I was wearing during sex three times." The exception is panties, which, if listed as a casualty, were shredded by a knife.

Moving on - 12:11 p.m. , 2007-08-14

Where the hell have I been? - 12:10 p.m. , 2007-02-19

Holy shit! - 2:24 p.m. , 2006-01-11

Stuffing recipe - 6:17 p.m. , 2005-12-13

Good Life Update - 10:22 a.m. , 2005-11-11