I'm not sure myself... but it's a great place to be.

It's going to be a great summer. A memorable summer.

Lots of stuff to share but I just don't have the time.

If I catch a break, I'll sign back on - stay tuned.

At the end of the month, I will be celebrating a personal milestone that is so fun that I wanted to share it with all of my friends (and non-friends) here at xHamster.

I will turn eleven years old. You read that right.

Nigel Tufnel's favorite number. The eleventh hour. The number of players on a football, soccer, or cricket team. Eleven pipers piping. 10 plus one. September 11. Get a slurpee at 7-Eleven.

You might be saying "He's sniffing glue" or "What is this guy yakkin' about?" It's not often I get to celebrate my birthday so bear with me - some of you might have an idea where I'm going with this so sit on your hands. It's very easy to understand.

My birthday falls on February 29th. February 29, 1968 at 3:50 PM to be exact. My birth certificate, government-issued passport, and state-issued driver's license all list this as fact. It wasn't planned this way - I was a week overdue. I would have been content with a late February birthday but fate put me on leap year day.


All right... I'm not turning eleven. Most countries around the world will recognize my legal birthday as either February 28th or March 1st - so I get THREE birthdays out of the deal. Which means I should get triple the amount of presents and gifts... okay, it's a stretch.

I will be 44. That's a numerologist's delight (11 and 44) - let them figure out the cosmic relevance about that.

How will I be marking the occasion? Let's just say I won't be alone... Mmmhmmm!

If you'd like to add birthday wishes or add a video link to the growing number of birthday videos I'm saving in my favorites list, this would be the place to leave them.

Thanks for reading.

Last December, I got a very good, last minute, you-can't-pass-this-opportunity-up rate for a five day Christmas cruise of Alaska. I've never been on a cruise before and thought it would be relaxing to see a part of America free of wall-to-wall billboards, Starbucks, cell phone service, and all other reminders of every day civilian life.

I packed my winter gear and several borrowed library books and flew to Seattle, Washington where the cruise would disembark. I looked forward to several days travel with nothing to do but read, relax, and possibly meet some single women who could hold down a conversation over dinner. Or maybe breakfast.

For the first several days, I did the touristy thing - watch for migrating whales, explore the many levels of the ship and all it had to offer, go ashore a few times to soak in the local Alaskan color (the f****y restaurant in the former bordello location was a bonus), and relax onboard either in my cabin or on a deck chair where the sun was shining. Naps were plentiful during these few days.

Towards the middle of the cruise, I decided to mingle amongst the crowd some more. In the span of two days, I met two very different women who, as luck would have it, traveling alone. The first woman was a very charming, bubbly girl from Arkansas whose laugh was infectious. She was a wonderful person to find and we hit it off well. We exchanged numbers and promised we would call each other.

The other was a mildly reserved, very measured woman who hailed from Massachusetts. She was polished and polite and seemed to be interested. However, we shared a very nice dinner and she warmed up considerably. Her eyes cut through me (leaving quite the impression). Not to mention a dynamite ass. I was out of my league but we had a connection. We exchanged numbers and promised we would call each other.

About a week into the new year, we began to play the phone game. The game (of which I wrote the original rules for way back when) is simple: call up a prospective person you're interested in, talk to them, find out some more about them, promise to call again, and repeat the process until one or the other decides it's not worth it to return calls.

Arkansas would call me and we'd laugh about our trip but not say much more. She and I spoke the most and for a 10 day stretch, we talked about six or seven times. I'm sorry to report that I decided not to return her calls first. I tried calling a few days later and she returned the favor. Goodbye Arkansas.

Massachusetts wouldn't return my calls. I would call every third day and leave a message the first week back and got silence in return. I was about to say a Goodbye Mass when the phone rang - it was her. She apologized for not calling back and set about to ask me dozens, if not hundreds of questions about me, my life, and I did the same in return.

For the first part of January, nights when I would usually sign on to xHamster and make new friends, chat with some longtime friends in PMs, or watch porn have been spent learning about my new friend from Kennedyland.

She was born in 1970 in California, her parents were academics and moved around quite a bit as she grew up, they settled in Massachusetts in the mid-1980s, excelled in school, and went to a little college in Boston called Emerson. Got her degree in liberal arts and went to work for several companies in and around Beantown.

She's a die-hard, rabid Red Sox fan (comes with the territory), she married the ideal guy and divorced him when he walked in on the ideal guy and another girl in their bedroom, and she surprised the hell out of me when she announced she was flying to Atlanta to visit me.

I had less than 18 hours before she arrived when I talked to her on the phone! I began a mad dash of cleaning the apartment, throwing out dirty dishes and buying new ones, scrubbing everything, upgrading a piece of furniture by adding a slipcover, vacuuming, and taking out the bags of trash to the dumpster. Then the real cleaning began.

I went into the bathroom and began by trimming my nose hairs followed by a good mangroom just below the belly button - a nice trim makes everything tidy (and makes the cock look bigger). A thorough shower followed, then a rubdown of lotions on my nakedness rewarded with fresh as the new fallen snow underwear - right out of the package.

She didn't want me to go to the airport - she would meet me at her hotel room in downtown ATL. But I traveled out there anyway Saturday morning and held up a limo driver's card with a single red rose and her name on it. When she saw me, she immediately went all flush and started laughing. We shared a niceeeeeeee hug in the terminal, tracked down her luggage, and headed to the Marriott.

As she checked in, I surprised her by checking in to the hotel. I wanted to be close to her without staying with her overnight - it also spared me driving 20 minutes to and from each day. I could always get a change of clothes or two at a local store if I needed them or we could swing by my place to pick up clothes if need be. She agreed with my logic but warned that she wasn't going to jump into bed with me at any of the available places - I immediately assured her this wasn't my intention and I didn't want to overstep my boundaries - if she didn't want me there, I'd leave. Thankfully, she said to stay.

We spent Saturday in the hotel lobby and at nearby restaurants and coffee shops talking and talking about everything - the weather, at what point did "American Idol" jump the shark, baseball (she wants me to go to Fenway Park, I want to take her to Wrigley Field), embarrassing moments in high school, cruises, places we want to visit, Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly, cars, exotic destinations, and even some titillating flirts mixed in now and again.

She admitted there was another reason she came to ATL for the weekend - she wanted to see and experience the Martin Luther King Center on his birthday weekend. Lots of things to do that were probably sold out or over reserved to get in to. We started some planning on that end to see what we could achieve.

By this time, it was late and we toasted each other in the hotel bar with some drinks. We began to walk to the glass elevators in the hotel lobby/atrium. As we walked side by side, our hands instinctively reached over and grabbed the other person's hand. As the elevator rose, we shared a snuggle - the drinks were taking effect to add to the already intoxicating day we spent together.

At her floor, the door opened and I said goodnight. As she was leaving, she asked if I was walking her to her room. I said no. I was going to curb my normal desires to getting into bed with a woman immediately. I was four floors above her and I was heading to my room. She stood in the doorway of the elevator and pulled me to her. We kissed. A brief, no funny business, kiss that represented warmth and affection, not lust and desire.

Sunday morning we awoke (no one wandered to the other's room in the middle of the night - sheesh!) and met in the hotel lobby for breakfast. We greeted with a hug and I joked if she wanted to go to church. This prompted a cool discussion on the topic that's usually last on the checklist of new and emerging couples - religion. She's a non-practicing Protestant and I'm a non-practicing Catholic. She was willing to go to a Catholic service with me and vice versa but in the end we both believed there is a God, we have faith in Him, we pray to Him when we need to, and a house of worship or an organized religion can help our faith and restore our beliefs... but really isn't necessary. We'll see where this agreement leads.

With breakfast done, we headed over to the King Center and had to park in a lot nearly four or five blocks away - a nice length to walk the breakfast off. We visited the historic Ebenezer Baptist Church, the final resting place for Dr. King and his wife Coretta, and his birthplace home. Afterwards, we headed back to my car in the parking lot and started the drive back to downtown Atlanta.

It was past lunch time when we decided to find a place to sprawl out, relax, have a sandwich, and do typical lazy Sunday afternoon stuff. We stopped at a Walgreen's where I purchased a Sunday edition of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, a USA Today, and a handful of tabloids (gotta laugh at something) while she selected snack foods; microwave popcorn, fruit, cashews, cheesesticks, and chocolate covered almonds (her weakness). I grabbed some cold Pepsi, she preferred Diet Coke - our first disagreement of the weekend!

I was planning on driving back to the hotel when she asked where I lived. My apartment was about 20 minutes away, requiring some fancy driving on the freeways to get there. The hotel was closer but she insisted we do the drive. I had thought we would be on neutral ground the whole weekend but she felt otherwise.

We walked inside, she admired my taste in the antiquey items I had purchased (every apartment needs a vintage civil defense bomb shelter sign, right?), and disappeared into my bedroom closet for an eternity while I got plates and glasses for our snacks.

She emerged wearing an old shirt and sweatpants of mine - she usually lounges in t-shirt and sweats on Sundays and this would be no different. We snacked on our food, turned the football game on (low volume) and we read the newspapers, watched parts of the game, talked, flirted, and occasionally touched each other - how long could I hold out?

During this time, we both became aware of the Italian cruise ship disaster. To think both of us met on a cruise ship and now a few weeks later when we are together again, a cruise ship makes news. We both watched and read about the tragedy and talked about our cruise some; the lifeboat drills, the crew, and the like.

This led to a discussion of our first impressions with each other. I found her a little stiff at first but she warmed up nicely. She thought I was married minus the ring because single guys couldn't carry on conversations the way I did. Bonus!

By this time it was late afternoon and we were both a little anxious to do something. She helped me clean up (threw everything into the sink) and we were mulling what we wanted to do: dinner, movie, dance club, something. She disappeared into my closet again and I gave her as much time as she needed. I sat to watch the end of a football game (Giants were beating the Packers - glorious!) and noticed she was taking a very long time. What was she up to? I rounded the corner and noticed the door was open.

I entered and found her talking on her cell phone - she was speaking to her s****r. I left her to her call and went back to the football game. She reemerged and apologized for the phone call but she had to brag to someone about the great weekend she was having. I was glad she was having a great weekend. This led to our first proper kiss standing in the middle of my living room: a nice, slow, long press of the lips with a small hint of open mouth. This was followed by a even nicer, slow, warm hug that lasted for days.

On the ride over to the hotel, we decided upon a Mexican dinner. We drove to one of the few great Mexican restaurants I knew in ATL. We ate and talked about the future. I wanted to visit her in Boston (never been there before) and we made a small itinerary: Fenway Park was first, Boston Commons, the JFK presidential library & museum, her place (fair is fair), and a long weekend at her parents place out on the Cape - boating, the freshest seafood I'd ever eat, and time with her f****y.

She was looking to see if I had problems with this and I said not at all. I reminded her I was an only c***d with no immediate f****y - I'd love to meet them and get to know them.

With dinner over, we headed back to the hotel. We were both drowsy from the immense meal we just ate and decided we'd fall asl**p in a movie theater - besides, there was nothing we wanted to see at the downtown multiplex (too bad Mark Wahlberg). I suggested we head back to our own rooms, time for ourselves, regroup, think about what we wanted to do next, and call or get together in an hour. On the elevator ride, we hugged again and another long warm kiss goodbye.

I went back to my room and was totally freaking out: what was to happen next? I soooo wanted to make love to her but I was taking it at her pace - I wasn't going to press or screw this up. I decided to take a shower and chill - sat under the warm water for a good 20 minutes or so. Now I was regretting not taking the room with the sauna tub. I shut the water off, pulled the curtains back, the noise came to a sudden stand still when I heard the phone ringing. I was about to make a mad dash when it went silent. But the light was flashing.

I dried off, got dressed, and dialed for my message. Messages more properly; two. The first was "Are you ignoring me now? Where are you? Call me..." The second was: "I don't know how to operate this remote control - all I'm getting is adult movies up here. You better come and help me." Whoaaaaaaaaaaa...

I flew to her room, knocked on her door, and she opened the door. She was wearing a flannel nightgown which made her look like one of the Waltons at bedtime. I explained I was in the shower and didn't get her messages and she invited me in. I asked about the remote control and she showed me. The TV set was indeed locked up on the adult movie section where you could order movies - it wasn't showing anything provocative.

I powered the TV on/off several times, unplugged the set from all of its cables, and nothing. I finally called down to room service and asked if they could re-boot the system to make this work - otherwise, why charge the room for TV service that didn't work? That got the ball rolling - within 20 minutes, the TV set was all fixed.

I jokingly asked her if she wanted to order an adult movie - she rolled her eyes. Her ex-husband loved to sneak porn on the computer and occasionally insisted they watch porn when they made love. Ooooooo, this ain't good. We were creeping into uncharted waters here. She quickly apologized for mentioning it but I could understand her bad feelings about it.

I asked if she wanted some time alone and she said no, she just needed to vent. So I listened. Her emotions were churned up about how he made her feel during the lovemaking (I got the impression he called out his own name), the divorce, the bad way it ended, how she felt afterward. A lot of pain. I asked how I could help.

"Just hold me." That I could do. But inside I was worried. I have a jones for good porn (being single, duhhh!) and my past swinger history might work against me.

We sat on her couch and held each other for some time. She was apologetic, she was grateful she took the leap and boarded the plane, I just shushed her and told her it was okay. I could feel her melt more into my arms. I wish I could report that we got up, went to the bed, and made love. But we held each other for the better part of an hour, occasionally re-adjusting to get comfy, and not much spoken.

When she finally got up, she ran into the bathroom to dab off her eyes. I got up and stretched - yeoowww, that felt good. She came out of the bathroom and we hugged standing up this time. I must admit, hugging her form in the flannel was quite nice but I quickly checked myself.

I asked if she was okay and she assured me she was. She was concerned about how I was - "This probably wasn't the way you wanted the weekend to end - I didn't want it to end this way". I reassured her I was fine and reminded her that the weekend wasn't officially over until I dropped her off at the airport. I sat on the couch again, she sprawled out on the bed, and I began to talk about expectations.

I wasn't expecting her to fly down and see me. I wasn't expecting the wonderful weekend we had. I wasn't expecting the emotions I had witnessed. But I was glad I did. We're just mere mortals. Am I expecting to meet her again in Boston? You bet. Am I expecting to have more wonderful times with her in the future? Time will tell. Was I expecting sex tonight? No, of course, not (WTF TODD???).

She began to laugh outrageously. "I don't believe that one." I got up and walked to the bed, carefully removing my shirt before hand. She looked up at me and smiled.

"May I join you on the bed?" She nodded.


I've given you in excruciating detail how it led to this time, to this moment. However, at this point, I will stop. We made love and slept in each others arms. The following morning, we ordered a room service breakfast and made love a second time.

By now, we were running a bit late and a mad dash to the airport ensued. I pulled the car up to the curbside check-in and prepared to say goodbye when the line from "When Harry Met Sally..." came into my mind: "You take someone to the airport, its clearly the beginning of the relationship."

We shared a huge hug and a modest public display of affection kiss. I thought I'd be witty one last time and mentioned the movie line. "WOW - I was just thinking the same thing!" We hugged again and I shooed her into the terminal before she missed her flight.


This felt good. It always feels good at the beginning of a new relationship. However, we were apart again and the second round of the phone game would now commence. No ignored phone calls this time - we spoke at least once a day for the next two weeks. We didn't relive our weekend over and over, we were intensely discovering new things about each other that just made it unbearable to be apart.

We were planning a get together for April - she was going to work her network of friends for Red Sox tickets, we'd meet some of her office co-workers who were anxiously and vicariously following the progress of our relationship, and if I was up for it, the meeting of the parents and f****y.

However, I decided to surprise her. She had mentioned to me that her f****y was hosting a Super Bowl party and about 50 to 75 people would be attending. So I announced I would be flying up to Boston on Super Bowl weekend to see her, her f****y, her friends, and watch the big game together.

She was beside herself; thrilled, excited, anxious, nervous, and scared. I've met dozens of parents and f****y before of past relationships and never once was I intimidated. But her fears were so great that I began to feel the pressure of the situation. This was new. I told her it must mean I really, really like her to feel this way.

"Like?" she asked.

"More like love" I blurted. (WTF TODD???)

According to Wikihow.com, there are nine different ways to say "I love you" and mean it. I probably should have read it before opening my mouth and letting it fly with consequences that...

"I love you." she replied.

There's a scene from the Eddie Murphy film "Coming To America" where he's singing the lyrics to an old Jackie Wilson song entitled "To Be Loved" after falling in love with his future queen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqm-MjTHVYM

Now I knew what he felt.

However, there were some tense moments on the phone between then and the actual weekend. She was worried how her father would take me - her dad was old-school money, Harvard educated, still employed servants, and wondered how I would hold my own against him. Many people had tried, few had succeeded. No pressure, right?

I flew to Boston the Friday of Super Bowl Weekend and found her in the terminal holding a large poster board with my name and a single red rose. We shared a nice hug and kiss and headed off to my hotel room downtown for some patented afternoon delight.

Sorry, no details... but imagine the best porn video you've seen here and double the intensity and excitement. You'd be close.

That evening, I met some of her co-workers over drinks. I passed that board of review with flying colors. The two of us had a nice dinner and shared a quiet evening of snuggling and watching "Moneyball" on PPV - considering how passionate we both were for baseball, it was the perfect way to end the evening.

The following morning, we had breakfast (oh, forgot to mention she spent the night - bonus), and headed out to the f****y estate on Cape Cod. We pulled up to the mammoth gates and drove inside the compound. Neatly manicured lawns and hedges, no branches or dead leaves anywhere in sight. The mansion was at the end of a long driveway and expanded in size as we got closer.

We were greeted at the door by her parents. Mom was very nice and welcomed me. Her father extended his hand and said "Nice to meet you." We went inside and I was given the royal executive tour of the place. It was in the same league as Bill Gates and the Rockefellers - this was luxury above and beyond.

We sat on the terrace, bathed in sunshine under several patio heaters overlooking the Cape and made small talk as the servants rolled out the lunch cart. I was worried about my etiquette as coffee, tea, cake, rolls, donuts, and bagels were served. I looked at the old man - he was staring at me intensely. Now I knew where his daughter got the piercing eyes.

The ladies excused themselves from the table and there we sat. Mano y mano.

"Who do you like in the Super Bowl tomorrow?"

"The Giants".

"I went to school with the Patriots owner - good friends of ours."

Everything we talked about, he came back with a topper. Something to let me know about his status, wealth, and self-importance. You could tell this is how he made his millions.

We talked for about 20 minutes alone - he asked, I answered. He probed, I never flinched. I stood toe to toe with him and apparently passed another board of review.

We spent the rest of the day on the f****y yacht on the Cape with Papa fully in command. His yacht crew handled most of the heavy stuff but I chipped in when I could. The mom pulled me to the side for a chat.

"You doing okay?"

"I'm exhilarated - this is quite a life you have".

She explained that her husband was one of a kind and could be gruff but assured me he was okay (her words). I asked about her, her background, and we got to know each other. She had the same laugh as her daughter, just older.

The rest of the cruise was spent with my love. She was still nervous but as we held hands and sailed along, things seemed to melt. We had each other and nothing else mattered. As we pulled into the dock, I helped tie the boat down, only to watch the father redo my knots and re-tie them himself. Odd duck.

We repaired to the mansion and were treated to a 10 or 12 course dinner for the four of us. I mostly ate and listened to the Cape gossip between the f****y members. Ring the bell for next course, the whole nine yards.

At the end of dinner, we had drinks in the parlor. I asked for whiskey neat while the others sniffed brandy. It was a little unreal for a k** who grew up dirt poor with a single mom in a one-bedroom apartment to be drinking whiskey that costs as much as a car payment for one bottle.

We talked and talked as the alcohol soothed our bodies. The father wasn't trying to top me anymore nor boring me with stories from the good ol' Harvard days. The conversation turned to me.

After hearing my life story (http://xhamster.com/user/TMandrake/posts/13924.html), the mother was very moved. The father was half-asl**p. It was time to go - we would be right back there tomorrow for the Super Bowl. We drove home and spent an evening in each others arms just thankful we both survived the day. Her father held back on me that night - no telling how he'd be with an audience the next night.

Super Bowl Sunday was spent very much like our afternoon in Atlanta - lounging around, being comfortable, reading newspapers, and relaxing. Only this time, we were working hugs, kisses, the occasional grope, one session of oral sex, and a sex session that lasted for 2 hours (the last two details were put in to awaken those who've gotten bored).

We drove back out to the Cape and a valet parked our car. The mother greeted us again, resplendent in a Patriots sweater and matching earrings. The father wore a shirt and tie and had no NFL gear on whatsoever. He did give me a strange look as I removed my coat to showcase my replica Dick Butkus Chicago Bears jersey.

"The Bears?" he said.

"You remember, the team who beat the Patriots in Super Bowl XX? Walter Payton, Fridge Perry, Mike Ditka?" I replied. Take that!

Thankfully, several of the co-workers I met Friday were present along with their spouses and dates. The other party goers I was introduced to were all WASP-y, old school New England folk who were probably around when football was invented.

The food spread was incredible - the TV was enormous. The game was exciting.
The company I kept was great. The father even laughed at one of the commercials. We had a great time.

At the start of the fourth quarter, I sat next to the father for a bit. We talked about the game, what could happen, and the like. He admitted he was worried but confident the Patriots would prevail. I said I was sticking with the Giants.

"How much?" he wagered.

"$1000" I said. (WTF TODD???)

"Bet."

Now I was really sweating. I found my love and told her what I had done - she gave me a look that tore right through me. I apologized and was really feeling...

HUGE CHEER!

Brady got intercepted - Giants ball. I breathed again.

Giants failed to capitalize. Damn!

Brady's driving the team down the field. OH SHIT!

Twelve men on the field. Breathe, man, breathe!

Nine seconds left - one play left. Hail Mary, full of grace.

Hail Mary pass.... Giants bat it down. Game over. Giants Win!

I hugged my love like crazy - the father sat quiet for a brief moment in his chair. We started saying goodbye to people as the party began to break up. I could not believe my good fortune. This was too much to take.

We helped break down the party and I met the servants for the first time. They were thrilled I won the bet - seems they knew about it the moment I made the wager. There were some people who'd been their 15, 20 years - they knew their employer had his moments but they were sincerely happy in their work.

As we got ready to leave, the father pulled me aside and handed me a check for $1000. I refused the check.

"Let's put it towards a weekend for the four of us playing golf somewhere."

"Not a bad idea."

I shook his hand and thanked him for his hospitality and his company. I told him that I loved his daughter and would work only to make her happy from this moment forward.

"That's good to know."

After another night with my love at my hotel room (she had me speaking in tongues - use your imagination), we woke up on Monday and said goodbye in the hotel lobby. She was off to work, I was catching a flight back to Atlanta in hopes I'd make it back by 3 PM to start the second shift.



So there it is. This woman I met on an Alaskan cruise has become my official girlfriend. We're meeting again in March - not sure yet.

Where is this going to lead? Only time will tell.

Why did I share all of this here? Not sure.

Am I insane? Oh, definitely. I'm just crazy about Sharon.


I've officially switched my status on my profile - sorry, I'm taken.

About 18 months ago, I wrote a blog post entitled "Summer Cleaning - Had me a blast!" - you can read it here:

http://xhamster.com/user/TMandrake/posts/8976.html

In that post, I wrote about a strange xHamster phenomenon. When I clicked on several user names, a profile wouldn't come up - it merely read "User Not Found". The "User Not Founds" were profiles in limbo - the user merely closed or deactivated their account and were waiting for the xHamster's computer to purge them out of the system.

I'm happy to report during my Fall Cleaning, I encountered not one single missing profile - your xHamster tax dollars at work!

This morning, I clicked on the "Defriend Retired Users" button in the "My Friends" section.

(Click on "Edit Profile", find and click on "My Friends" in the left hand column under "Users", and scroll down to the bottom of your friend list. You'll find the button of which I speak along with "Defriend User")

I clicked on every friend on my list and checked when their last activity was here on xHamster. Directly below their screen name in their profile is "Last Activity".

If someone hasn't been active in the past 30 days, it's probably a safe bet they won't be returning. Found one user today who last signed in 110 days ago... and I even found a member of the "Reviewer's Club" here at xHamster who hadn't signed on in over a month!

I went from around 2000 friends to 1744 in one morning's sitting.

If everyone here at xHamster would press that "Defriend Retired User" button once a week, there'd be a lot more things the xHamster computers could do - like worm out bots more efficiently or upload more porn faster.

What do you think?

My current job has me calling Atlanta, Georgia my home away from home. And as big cities go, ATL has lots going for it right now after a prolonged slump in jobs and housing. I occasionally pick up a copy of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution to read over what's new in the area but most of this info I get from the co-workers I'm down here to retrain.

Since my job has taken me everywhere in the past several years, I get most of my news from the Internet. USA Today, Google News, and CNN fill in the blanks on most of the info I need on what's going on in the nation and world. I spend almost 20-30 minutes a morning and evening reading stories and keeping myself informed.

But there's one source that I always go back to - my hometown newspaper in Fort Wayne. As long as I can keep that one source, I feel like I've never left home. I can get my Fort Wayne Komet scores (local semi-pro hockey team in its 60th season), what's new around the area, and if any fires or burglaries occurred near my home and the other two rental properties I own while I'm away.

Today, I wish I didn't sit down to read it.

On Wednesday afternoon, a domestic disturbance turned violent. Police were called to a home and found a man and woman who were shot. The man was shot in the neck, the woman died thanks to a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. The gun was found alongside a note. It was thought at first to be a double homicide but the autopsy shows the neck wound wasn't self-inflicted.

I knew Tanya.

She was a former co-worker and a former friend with benefits. On the days I would be in Fort Wayne and we'd happen to meet, we would chat about the old days, the new days, and the days to come. She was in a relationship with the guy and I never knew how good or bad it was. We'd always promise to keep in touch (we never did) and we went our separate ways.

She wasn't the most sophisticated or the most alluring woman I've ever been with. But Tanya had a generous heart and a laugh that could shake the walls of Jericho.

I wish her f****y the peace it now needs. Wherever she is, my heart goes out to her - I'm thankful for the opportunity to have spent the time I did with her.


Rest in peace, T.

Anywhere you go on the Internet, there's a mysterious place where two people and ONLY two people can have a conversation privately. This forbidden zone where many a friendship have blossomed into relationships, where relationships break friendships, and where ships sometime pass in the night are called...

PRIVATE MESSAGES = cue flash of lightning/clap of thunder/ominous music =

Many of these messages have never been before seen by human eyes - most prefer they stay hidden out of fear of reprisal, discovery, and humiliation. However, the truth must be told - it can no longer be withheld.

The following is an ACTUAL private message that I received. I reprint it only to show the entire world that I too have been guilty of replying to these messages and to expose the damaging, hard-hitting, scandalous oral bi-play that occurs during these messages.

DISCLAIMER: By reading the following, you hereby waive all claims of litigation, any and all damages to your computer screens, your psyches, your cute, furry pets, your fat cousin Norris who only visits at Christmas, your religious organization you belong to, or any other damage we haven't listed.

You've been warned... here it is:


USERNAME WITHHELD: hey baby want to talk

Me: About?

USERNAME WITHHELD: we can talk about any thing

Me: Okay - you start.

USERNAME WITHHELD: why me i'm a shy person plz go first

Me: Why did you decide to send me a PM?

USERNAME WITHHELD: a wat

Me: A private message - where we are talking now.

USERNAME WITHHELD: do u want to talk to me yes or no

Me: I am talking to you - we just haven't found something to talk about yet.

USERNAME WITHHELD: wat u want to talk talk tell me plz

Me: Of all the people you could have chosen, why did you send me a message that read "Hey baby want to talk?"

USERNAME WITHHELD: i do alot of boys like that but sim like u don't want to talk to me

Me: What were you hoping we would talk about?

USERNAME WITHHELD: i don't know asshole

Me: Thanks - you just gave me a great inspiration for a blog post.

USERNAME WITHHELD: okay wat the fuck ever baby



Friends, I implore you to spread this message far and wide. Let it be read in every hall, clip joint, computer cafe, and poker palace. May the words spoken here and now spread to show the damaging effects these private messages do.

Lesson to be learned: please, in the name of the porn gods Ron Jeremy and Nina Hartley, when you send a private message to someone...

HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY!

Moving to junior high school is never an easy time. My class buddies and I were together since kindergarten - we knew where everyone lived, we all had loathed our 4th grade teacher to death, and we were beginning to discover the opposite sex.

Puberty and adolescence run amok when you hit 12 or 13. Then they ship you onto junior high where you meet an entirely new crop of k**s going through the same anxieties and growing pains that you were experiencing.

For me, it was the first time I discovered the wonderment of African-American girls. Watching them walk from the buses to their classes was an event; I used to bring a Pop Tart and watch carefully. Their shapes astounded me: larger, fuller breasts, ample butts, incredible hips.

We skip several years because I was a complete washout in junior high. Never attended any of the dances, never asked a girl for a date, and never had any luck even talking to any of them outside class.

Our school got a new female student in the 6th grade (I was in 8th). She was drop dead gorgeous, amazing singing voice, and blessed in all areas of her development. We rode the same bus in the morning and we became friendly, but not friends. In the hallways, we would say hello and leave it at that. She turned heads and I knew she would blossom into something special.

I had to wait two years in high school to reconnect with her. When we did, father time was on her side - she was our version of Tyra Banks! EVERY guy wanted to be with her and tried in vain to get her phone number or ask her out. But I saw her more as a younger friend than sex object at the time and we quickly became friends, not friendly.

We shared the same bus again and occasionally we would sit next to each other. How's your mother? Did you see that episode of "ALF" last night? How do you like Mr. Jones in such and such a math class? Soon enough, the bus ride would be over and we'd be on our way.

After I graduated HS and went to college, we kept in touch. During a Christmas break or two, we even got together a few times (strictly platonic) to catch up on life. She was acting in school plays and getting noticed for her singing and stunning good looks.

When she graduated HS, she left for modeling school and began entering beauty pageants to get scholarships. With her looks and talent, she succeeded amazingly - she was a Miss Black Indiana in the 90s and made the Top Ten in Miss Black America.

We slowly began to lose contact as our lives took different paths. About five years passed when one day she showed up at my mother's house with a baby girl in tow. She had moved back into the area and was looking to reconnect with some of her past. My mom called me at work, put her on the phone, and we quickly made plans to get together.

Over dinner, she related that due to some missed opportunities and a bad marriage (hence the baby girl), her dreams were on a shelf. The once happy and vibrant girl was now rough around the edges. She was going to nursing school and staying with her parents until she could find her own place.

At the end of dinner, she admitted she had a crush on me since grade school and respected me due to the fact I never tried to sl**p with her (unlike everyone else) in HS. I thanked her for her honesty and admitted that I had had several erotic dreams about her back in the day.

She asked me to describe the dreams. I told her I'd rather perform them with her.

The sexual tension began to build. We were finishing our dinner when she "accidentally" dropped a fork in my lap. She reached over and grabbed my cock; soft squeezes and one good long stroke. This had the desired effect she wanted and the erection in my pants went to critical mass. Flashing me a warm smile, she calmly went back to eating her entree.

As we were leaving the restaurant, I walked up behind her, softly pressing myself against her and the door with a good grind of my hips into her ass. Oops. I must have tripped there. She threw her head back with a laugh of delight and rewarded me with a small kiss in the parking lot. Her happy face framed her lips perfectly - it was a small dream come true.

Driving back to my apartment, she quickly put on a rock station and began moving and dancing in her seat. Her intoxication over me kept one eye on the road, one on her. As she kept telling me to watch the road, she lowered her bucket seat. Watch the road. She then unbuttoned her pants and thrust her hand down them. WATCH THE ROAD, she yelled.

The drive was coming to an end and she was in another world, rubbing herself and moaning in soft delight. We parked and I watched her melting from her own touch when she jumped up, got zipped up, and leapt from the car. We were running, not walking, to my apartment.

I quickly opened my apartment door for her and as she entered, I reached around her and finally got my hands on her tits; my 8th grade fantasy come true. We took turns kissing (with tongue and without), touching, caressing, exploring, whispering our desires and moaning in ecstasy.

We took turns pleasuring each other and ourselves; we both masturbated the other to orgasm. She loved riding my cock; grinding out orgasm after orgasm. We watched porn and even acted out the scenes, fucking the same way they did on screen. She moaned, hummed, even began singing as the magic moment neared. Simply amazing.

After several hours of intense lovemaking, we took a break. She quickly got dressed and asked me to do the same. She made me drive her home and I immediately thought the evening was over. During the ride home, she was flirting like crazy and I was trying to figure out why she wanted to stop now.

She went into her home to check on her daughter. She ran inside for about five minutes, checking in with her mom and k**. When she came back out, she was carrying a shopping bag with her. So maybe she was staying the night.

Upon our return to my apartment, we got comfortable in the living room and before anything was said, she reached into her bag for one of her sex toys.

We took turns with the dildo first. She spread her legs and worked it over her gorgeous pussy, stroking the lips that glistening, running its shaft lengthways, inserting it inside her, all the time with her eyes on me, watching my reactions.

She handed it to me and I quickly kneeled in front of her, remembering what I had witnessed moments earlier. As I fucked her with the dildo, I sucked on her clit and just about shot her into orbit.

Now it's your turn. She made me bend over the arm of the sofa and lubed my asshole well, probing with her fingers, softening the hole. She slowly began twisting the dildo inside me and owwww.... OWWWWWW... Oh. Ohhhh.

I must admit it didn't feel terrible thereafter and it's the only time a person besides my doctor has inserted anything inside my anus. Once in a lifetime is enough for me.

We went into the bedroom and she unveiled her giant, 10 inch black vibrator. She wanted to be fucked in her mouth by me while she took Black Beauty and fucked herself with it. Her orgasms were explosions of movement, sound, and intense release. Not one video here has come close to what she looked and sounded like that night.

By this time it was 4 AM and we were both exhausted. Three hours of sl**p later, we took a shower and made love one more time.

Final score: her 10, me four.

We had other nights of passion like that but never as close as the first. By this time, she had found her own place to stay and wanted me to move in with her. I was thisclose to joining her when I showed up at her apartment one afternoon early and found her with a male "friend" who was going to help her record an album. It was a bad vibe all around.

We called each other a few times more and promised to get together soon. I soon moved on to a out-of-state job, she was trying everything to be discovered as the next Whitney Houston.

Twelve years had passed. At my mother's funeral remembrance last year, she showed up with four k**s & her second or third husband. I barely recognized her.

The cigarettes, three quick pregnancies, and hard living had taken their toll. Her beautiful smile was now grilled out and she had lost her job at the stripper bar. She paid her respects while her hubby kept the k**s in line.

We shared a quick hug and a kind word. I looked into her eyes and saw the young woman I remembered from my school days. She introduced me to her hubby and k**s and reality set back in. You went to school with my mom?

I thanked her for coming and she smiled warmly (without flashing the grill). In a moment, it was the same smile she shared over dinner that first memorable night together. Her entourage departed quickly and quietly.

I've had many sexual experiences with African-American women since then but I'll never forget that moment in time with her.

Statistically speaking, Tuesdays are the most productive day of the week - more professional and personal business is completed on this day than any other. Everyone hates Mondays; productivity is down. Hump Day Wednesday; people see the upcoming weekend and have a tendency to slack off. Thursdays and Fridays are crunch days but there always the image in your mind of those days off of Saturday and Sunday.

Next Tuesday, see how much you get done at work or at home combined than in other days of the week - you'll surprise yourself.

On one particular Tuesday ten years ago, it all came to a halt.

Nothing was done except staring at television sets watching the horrific images live, then replayed ad nauseum. One by one, cable television stations began switching over to news reports or, in some cases, shutting down in grief. No one watched cooking shows, home shopping networks, reruns of old game shows, or k**'s shows. Around the country, we held our k**s as they asked "Why isn't 'Sesame Street' on today?".

It was one continuous newscast that kept topping itself with reports. Dead civilians. Heroic firefighters. Missing people. Another plane crash. Updates on the nation's security. All planes grounded. Military status on full alert. Yet another plane crash. Disbelieving newscasters. Shocked responses from everyone. Rescue efforts. New casualty figures. Frantic families. Updates from White House spokesmen. Fires raging. Emergency responders stepping up.

Everyone asking the same question: "Why?"

Everyone has their own 9/11 story to tell. Where you were, how you reacted, how it affected your community, how it affected you in the long term. My story isn't that great - I received a phone call from my mother informing me of the attacks.

I switched on my television in time to see the second tower of the World Trade Center collapse on television live.

I switched it off, drove to my mother's apartment, and sat with her for the rest of the morning, watching in disbelief.

The next day, my mom and I drove to our local Red Cross and donated $200 and two pints of bl**d. We were the only ones in line that morning. More would follow us.

In the ten years since September 11th, many, many, many, MANY stories have been told about that day - the heroism, the fallen, the victims, the survivors, the dead. We've been flooded with documentaries, TV specials, feature films, radio shows, books, magazines, DVDs, CD-ROMs, web sites, blog posts, and images hopefully we'll never see again on American soil.

One thing that many people sadly forget from this event was the unity. For an amazing period of time after that Tuesday, we came together as never before. We overlooked everything. It didn't matter if your neighbor was black or white, gay or straight, Democrat or Republican, Yankee or Red Sox fan. We were Americans. We stood side-by-side and rose to the occasion just like our grandparents did when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941.

Case in point: nearly one month later - Sunday, October 7th, 2001. The NFL had a full allotment of games on its schedule and people attending those games were edgy. Security was stepped up everywhere around the league - the first of many new checkpoints we'd all get used to. Before the first round of NFL games that day, President Bush announced that military operations had begun in Afghanistan.

In Atlanta, the public address announcer informed the crowd that we were beginning our counterattack. The stadium erupted in cheers of "USA, USA, USA". Games were put on hold as the speech was broadcast live on Jumbotrons across America. In one stadium, the owners insisted they begin on time and announced if citizens wanted to watch the speech to go under the concourse and watch it there. Fans and NFL players alike roared their displeasure until the brass decided to broadcast the speech on the scoreboard.

As the operations began overseas and cleanup at various Ground Zeroes around the United States, life - as it always does - slowly and surely returned to normal. Our unity dissipated as we resumed our lives - differences that were once forgotten began to unblur and sharpen into focus. Patriotism amongst Americans was being challenged.

Politics began to play against each other as usual. Support our troops. War is not the answer. Conspiracy theories abound. Weapons of mass destruction. Security alerts kept us fearful and were even color-coded. Daily press briefings. Remove your shoes before boarding the plane. Gas prices skyrocketed. Guantanamo detainees. Waterboarding. Abu Ghraib prison pictures. Leaked pictures of flag-dr**ed coffins. Mission accomplished.


Most of these side effects of September 11th are now history. They will be debated for centuries to come. I ask out of respect of the fallen that you share your grief, not your outrage. Share your stories but not your political rhetoric. Feel free to leave a comment about your own experiences of that day.

Any comment crossing any of these simple guidelines will be deleted. Period.

The last time I saw any footage of the towers coming down was on September 11th when it happened live. I cried that day for the longest time. Our country did too. But we're both stronger now. I plan on watching several of the tributes and crying again for the longest time. Some of you will too.

On the tenth anniversary of that Tuesday, this country will be reunited in our remembrance and grief. May the unity ease your pain and make our country stronger.

Peace.

The video was posted recently - the title was simple, the screencap looked intriguing and tantalizing, the length of the video was modest.

As the video unfolded, I watched as a woman quietly performed a sex act. Nothing violent, nothing noisy, nothing overly X-rated. It was quiet, intimate, and deeply personal which added to the smoldering eroticism that was beginning to simmer.

The person in the video was allowing us a look into her personal world of sexuality. Most of us only have one-tenth of her courage. She wanted all of us to see her for who she is: a warm, human being with a drive that only she can satisfy.

The video was so amazing in its simplicity that I found myself being in the room with the woman. I was in her time, space, and world. I wanted to turn and leave with the fear I was intruding on the woman. But she was so open and uninhibited that I discovered I wanted to stay and watch her finish.

So I stayed. And I remained mute.

Every time I watch the video, I seldom breathe - I fear she will hear my breathing and stop performing.

She made some noise in the video but it's the silence that turns me on the most. So I return the favor by being silent in return.

It's the highest compliment I can offer.

It had been a long two months. I was retraining factory workers in a small industrial town in Missouri who resented the fact I was trying to help them increase productivity. The guys who had been on the line for 20 to 30 years plus were so resistant that for the first time in my professional career, I had missed my goals (and lost out on several thousand dollars in bonuses from my job).

I needed a break.

I drove into St. Louis on a Saturday morning and got a hotel room at the airport Holiday Inn. I had the phone numbers of several e****ts and working girls and began to make calls. Ma Continue»

About a month ago, I boarded a Mexicana Air flight from Chicago non-stop to Cancun with the remains of my mother in storage next to a tourist's luggage. I was bound by her wishes to find the grave of the grandfather I never met in a place I visited only once in my lifetime. My mother had put me through many difficult times in my life - this was the supreme test.

It took me several days to find the spot we think was where my grandfather was buried. Seems a cemetery in that part of Mexico isn't actually sacred ground. Especially when your cattle need the land to graze and shit on for the local farmers. Or if a factory sweatshop is needed that makes cheap key chains marked "Cancun" for about .15 pesos that they sell to tourist traps with the markup of 8 pesos.

The s**ttering of ashes is a sobering experience. To hold in your hands the crumbs that used to be the person that gave you the gift of life humbles you immensely. I stood alone in the back country of Mexico and said goodbye to the person who was everything to me - a friend, an adviser, the only parent I ever knew. A flick of the wrist, the dust circled into the air and s**ttered to the wind, and the uncontrollable tears that sank me to my knees.

The local guide to whom I was paying a princely sum to locate this spot sat quietly in the car. He gave me my privacy and never once offered to help me in any way before this moment. After about 20 minutes, he walked over to my side and simply offered his hand to help me up.

The hand looked worn and old but it calmed me in a way. That hand that I never saw before was speaking to me - it was saying "You've done enough". I took his hand, shook it, and we drove back to the hotel.

During this difficult period, Canadian Club was my d**g of choice. I emptied four bottles of the stuff into me to temporarily numb the pain. For two days, I was comatose d***k and laid in my hotel bed when I wasn't keeled over the toilet with dry heaves and vomit. The sadness, loneliness, and pain was tempered with every slug from the bottle.

I awoke from my stupor and realized I missed not only my mother but home. My plane ride home wasn't for another three days. The rest of my time in Cancun was spent sobering up on my balcony, by the pool, and an experience that sounds good in theory - a visit to the local cathouse.

To enter, you paid $50 - cover charge. To enter the room to see the girls you MIGHT get lucky with, another $50. I was already out $100 and was probably going to be expected to fork over another $200 for actual physical contact. I spent my time talking to several of the girls and shocked the ringmasters by thanking them and beginning to leave.

Cathouse custom is physically blocking you from leaving and demand that the prices are negotiable - aren't they always? The guy did everything within his preaching ability to compromise with me, the girls were willing to flirt with me again, and the bouncer stood his ground at the door. Taking a cue from the bouncer, I remained silent, shook my head no, and avoided eye contact with everyone. Had I gotten indignant, screamed, or tried to f***e my way out, they would have beat the shit out of me and taken my money - another quaint local custom. Nearly an hour later (scary, huh?), they gave up and let me leave without paying anything else.

I headed back to the hotel and spent time speaking to two lonely female American tourists. After the cathouse, I wasn't looking to get laid anymore - I just wanted someone to talk to. They were sympathetic and listened to my ramblings. They were exactly what I needed. Thank you Julie and Karen, wherever you are.

It was time to head home. On board the flight, I was impressed with the service on the flight, no lost luggage, and some pretty cute stewardesses. We flew into Miami for a layover and actually ran into the flight crew eating at a food court restaurant. I thanked them for sterling service and told them I would book passage with them again in the near future.

"We hope so - ask us again next week..." a pilot said. An odd thing to say.

A few hours later, it was wheels up again and I returned to Fort Wayne. Looking over my mother's will, I realized I would be inheriting her home and all of her assets (some of which I needed to discuss with her lawyer's office). I had a auctioneer come in to see if the contents of the home (furniture, clothes, appliances, etc) could be auctioned off - his opinion was the flat-screen plasma TV I had given to my mother two years prior was the only thing of value among her possessions.

So I called the Salvation Army, Goodwill, and Amvets to come empty out the house while I returned to Missouri to close out my life there.

Missouri was a mixed blessing - the job was a treadmill and wasn't getting any better. My apartment complex was quiet most of the time and I met some cool people there as neighbors. The nightlife was dull, the weekends okay. The cost of living was amazingly low. Three out of four radio stations played country music - thank God for my Sirius radio player.

In the end, I was going to miss many of the friends I had made in my two years down there. Several stand up guys, some great co-workers, and many women who lived up to the standards of the "Show Me" State - in more ways than one.

Two women in particular - one was a ex-GF whom I dated for nearly a year. The sex was great, many of times we spent together were memorable. The relationship ran its course but we remained and will remain great friends.

The other woman was a fuck buddy that blossomed earlier this year. She wasn't the prettiest or shapeliest woman I've ever known but she possesses - without a doubt - the best oral skills of any woman I've ever known. A goddess with the tongue, teeth, and throat - she made me cum harder and longer with every suck and blow. Blow jobs of her variety usually command $250 - $500 dollars in Vegas - she could easily double those prices if she chose to do that. Her abilities are so rare that I will be sending her plane tickets whenever her schedule permits to fly here.

With Missouri in my rear-view mirror, it was time to visit my mom's lawyer and the reading of the will. It came as no surprise that I got her home and assets - a few signatures and it was all legal. The first surprise cold-cocked me square on the chin and left me reeling: my mother had two life insurance policies that I never knew about and as the lone beneficiaries, I was in line for a six-figure payment to my bank account.

As I was preparing to sign the paperwork for this, the words I was expecting to hear from the lawyer were spoken "There's one another thing..."

When I left for college, my mother decided to purchase a home from a f****y she knew that was moving out of the area. She went in and renovated the home and knew of several needy families that benefited from her decision to buy the property. For many years, four or five families fresh off the Greyhound bus from Mexico found a home there as my mother selflessly helped them acclimate themselves to the new area. Three years ago, she purchased another home for the exact same purpose in the worst part of the town and helped another f****y into the city.

I was now a landlord.

The first f****y in the older established rental property had kept sending in the rent checks throughout my mother's hospitalization. A quick look at the map told me the neighborhood was stable and the house was in good shape. The f****y had done a good job with the upkeep and even had sent a flower arrangement when they learned upon the death of my mother.

On the other side of the coin, the second f****y stopped sending in checks almost six months prior and were now squatters. The police were called to the home twice in the past year, the house was in bad disrepair, and the neighborhood was safe during the day, at night questionable.

As I listened to my options from the lawyer about divesting myself from this situation, a thought was racing through my mind. My mother, even in death, was teaching me what she had taught me in life. To turn my back on these people who benefited from my mother's kindness and energies would be slamming the door shut on her legacy. For a moment, she was speaking to me again.

I began by hiring the law firm to help me with the dealing I was now about to do - more paperwork. I wanted to work closely with a lawyer that spoke Spanish who would deal with the families on a regular basis (my Spanish is virtually non-existent). The firm didn't have a lawyer with those capabilities so in a Donald Trump-type of moment, I said "Hire one."

The first f****y was to be rewarded for their loyalty. I wanted the firm to offer them an option to buy the house, either outright or rent-to-own. A realtor was consulted to determine the amount and we're currently negotiating with them.

The second f****y has some catching up to do with the rent - so I came up with an idea for them to pay it off. In exchange for receipts for paint, lumber, etc., they are fixing up the home and whittling down the amounts they own. The house is in fair shape now and I think it will be a long winter with them.

One bright spot to all of this: the lawyer the firm hired to help me is bright, steadfast, and able to speak Spanish with great ease. We've met several times and we have a great rapport. Things are moving smoothly.

And SHE is cute as hell, incredibly feisty, and I really, REALLY want to see her briefs... oh man, is this going to be a longgggggg winter.

Two weeks ago, I applied for a job with a company in Chicago. Within 48 hours, I had received a phone call from them and given an on-the-spot telephone interview. I interview in person with them on Sept. 21. If all goes well, I'll have a job with them that hopefully will start around October 1st that will have me traveling around the country helping their employees retrain. The frequent flier miles will begin to pile up.





The last great silver lining to my mother's passing is many of my friends, past and present, stepped up with their good thoughts, kindnesses, and support through this whole ordeal.

This includes a great deal of people here at xHamster. Several special friends were right there for me and it meant the world that they were. I appreciate all of you, past and present, for your sympathy and support.

Maybe with this new job I can visit some of you. Here's hoping...

Thanks for reading this far. Peace.



P.S. A week after my return flight home, Mexicana Air suspended all of its flights as it went into bankruptcy. I'm convinced my mother kept it going until I was safely back home.

Miss you mom...

My grandparents were deathly afraid. Their first pregnancy after their wedding resulted in a miscarriage, their second was even more heartbreaking when the baby, a boy, had died in the womb. They were pregnant for the third time and many days were spent praying to the Virgin Mary in their church in Temozon, Mexico. After his daily morning prayers, my grandfather would spend each day from sunrise to sunset toiling in the fields as a farmer. My grandmother was attended to by nuns, distant cousins and relatives, and friends as the hours counted down to the birth of their c***d.

On July 23, 1939, my grandmother spent 14 hours in labor giving birth to her only c***d - a girl that would one day give birth to me. The c***d was given the name Trini Angelica.

When my mother was three, her father was killed in an auto accident. Several years later, a doctor diagnosed my grandmother with tuberculosis and recommended moving closer to the ocean where the sea breeze could help with her breathing. Mother and daughter headed for the eastern coast of the Yucatan Peninsula and created a new home in the town of Puerto Juárez, Mexico.

Being in a larger town gave both of them more opportunities. My grandmother made ends meet by working as a seamstress for a small military base nearby while my mother could begin school at the ripe age of seven. After school, my mother and grandmother would work for a boarding house, cooking meals, washing laundry, and changing beds. This was their routine for six years until they decided to move to America. This began a two year odyssey west as they travelled by train (when they could), hitching rides by horse-drawn wagons, but mostly by foot.

In 1953, they arrived in San Diego and made contact with distant relatives in Chicago. A benevolent great uncle sent them train tickets and a chance to establish themselves in the thriving City of Big Shoulders. Upon their arrival, they were welcomed by strangers with the faintest bl**d relations that quickly became a f****y to my grandmother and mother. These people took them in, got them educated in a hurry, and helped them with the biggest obstacle facing them - the English language.

By the time my mother was reaching high school age, she had an average command of English. She attended Chicago Vocational School and found a teacher who worked with her after school with her language, math, and science skills in order for her to graduate. It took her nearly six years to gain her high school diploma. She was able to use her education to help get my grandmother proper medical care as well as earning money with jobs in their neighborhood - babysitting, cleaning houses, helping others read, write, and understand English.

1964 was a pivotal year for my mother. My grandmother would lose her battle with TB. Shortly after the funeral, one of my mother's "uncles" attempted to r**e her and turned him into the police. This caused a huge rift within her social circle - many of her relatives believed the "uncle" over my mother and tried to coerce her to dropping the charges, further deepening the divide. My mom was soon ostracized from the people she grew up with and was f***ed out of her home. (The r**e case was dismissed and the "uncle" soon proved his innocence by raping another girl and spending more time in jail.)

One of her relatives who believed she was telling the truth helped by introducing my mother to a social worker who worked in the community. The social worker helped my mom find a job and a place to stay while encouraging her to attend classes at night, continuing her education. By the end of that year, my mom was fully established on her own.

My mother was planning on attending nursing school and continuing her education when she caught the eye of a man she had met in her neighborhood. His name was Thomas Mandrake and came from a middle-class f****y of steelworkers. He was attending business school and planned on making a small fortune in the lucrative field of insurance. They began dating in 1966, despite the attitudes of the day against interracial dating by their friends and his f****y especially.

A year later, the Summer of Love was in full swing and my parents fell under its spell. I was conceived during that summer of 1967, a hurried marriage ceremony was performed at City Hall in Chicago in November, and an apartment was quickly prepared for a f****y of three that winter. My mother spent many days praying at her local Catholic church to the Virgin Mary in the weeks leading up to my birth. Her due date was February 19, 1968. I was stubborn and didn't want to come out. She was ten days overdue when a doctor decided enough was enough - I was born by Caesarian on February 29th, making me a Leap Year k** and the third member of my f****y with the initials TM.

We spent nearly two years in the apartment on the near South Side when a great business opportunity for my father led us down the road from Chicago to Fort Wayne, Indiana. Had we stayed in Chicago, we might have had a chance to remain a f****y. We were leaving a city of over 3 million people of different ethnicities, cultures, and income levels with many opportunities for a young f****y to prosper to a Indiana town of over 175,000 people that was nearly 95% white with segregated schools, and divided neighborhoods with border lines you didn't dare cross.

Upon our arrival, the community immediately looked down their noses in our direction since we were a interracial f****y. Twice my parents were spurned in their attempt to purchase a house in decent neighborhoods. My father was constantly being told my mother and c***d were holding him back in the corporate world and the dumb fuck began to believe it. Shortly before my third birthday, my father attended a corporate function in Baltimore and never returned to our home. My mother was on her own again with a baby boy in tow.

She found more jobs and sent me to school when I was old enough. She taught me to be proud of my Hispanic heritage and told me stories of growing up in Mexico with my grandparents. She made me believe in the promise of America using herself as an example. She proved it by studying for and obtaining her naturalized US citizenship during the Bicentennial year of 1976. She soon began driving for the first time in her life and bought her first car - a 1969 Buick Electra. She got involved with the Hispanic community of Fort Wayne and began teaching English in the hours I was at school.

She attended every school play, every field trip to the Fort Wayne Zoo, and made sure I was getting a quality education. She let me stay up to watch "Hill Street Blues" well past my bedtime. She worked overtime for six months to surprise me at Christmas of 1982 with an Atari 2600 game. She found a better apartment that had separate bedrooms around the time I entered junior high - it would be the first time since I came out of her womb we wouldn't be sharing the same bed.

She encouraged me to find subjects and activities in school that I enjoyed. She disapproved of my first girlfriend in high school but let me discover on my own the highs and lows of dating. She was proud the day I made the junior varsity baseball team as a benchwarmer and attended the first several games despite the fact I was never going to play. She helped me choose a suit for a spring dance with a new girlfriend she really liked - but I didn't.

She volunteered at my old school, helping with k**s learning Spanish and teaching them about Mexican culture. She was working in the community to get Hispanic k**s off the streets and back into school. She was once threatened at knifepoint by a gang member to stay out his affairs but she never blinked or backed down. She helped to end the segregation of Fort Wayne elementary schools that finally ended in 1986 - the same year I graduated high school.

She watched me attend a local college for several years. She helped me buy my first car - a 1979 Oldsmobile Omega - that helped me deliver pizzas to earn money for school. She saw me fall in love with a girl that she didn't like but eventually warmed up to. She stood silently on the sidelines as I asked the girl to marry me. She congratulated us when we got married in 1992. She helped us move into an apartment on the opposite side of town after we returned from the honeymoon. She said nothing several months later when we decided we were too young to be married. She was at the courthouse when the judge struck the gavel annulling my brief marriage.

She gradually began to curtail her activities in the community as younger people stepped into her roles. She was thanked by many in the community for helping them find their own individual ways. She reduced her jobs down to one - working for the city of Fort Wayne as an administrative assistant for many of the city offices. She would offer her opinions when asked and held nothing back. She smoothed egos. She watched for discrepancies in statements and actions from all who held office and called them on it. She ruffled feathers.

She and I took a f****y vacation back to Mexico and showed me the town of Puerto Juárez where she played as a c***d. She told me her mother had an opportunity to buy a plot of land nearby in the town of Cancun but decided against it. She took me to the church where her grandparents prayed to the Virgin Mary. She drove out to the location where her f****y farm once stood. She discovered several of her c***dhood friends and we established new contacts there. She boarded the plane home with a content smile on her face. She told me she was grateful her mother moved to America and gave her opportunities she was able to pass along to me.

She rented a U-Haul truck for me when I left home to attend college in Chicago. She came out to visit me several times and rediscovered her old haunts. She learned the fates of many of her distant relatives and attempted to contact several of them. She offered her help as I tried to track down my father's f****y. She was there when we found out the truth about him - he had died in 1984 in a private plane crash (chasing another fortune probably). She stunned the hell out of me when she disclosed she never divorced her husband. She cried when I told her that I never needed a father.

She first experienced a health scare in 1997 when several arteries became blocked. She assured me she was fine over the phone on a Sunday evening, not knowing she had had a scheduled angioplasty for the following Monday. She was hospitalized briefly and began a rehabilitation with her doctor. She had several of her friends help her out and never troubled me once about it. She started watching her diet, attending yoga classes, and getting more active. She briefly adopted a dog named Razor and walked it every night for several miles.

She never discovered after I had graduated college I began attending sex clubs. She wondered if I was dating constantly and I never dared to tell her I had fuck buddies in several different cities. She was introduced to several of my "friends" who came to visit her. She marveled at the tattoos and piercings several of my lady friends sported. She attended one swingers summer picnic in 2002 with me at a friend's house where I was assured no funny business would happen until after my mom left. She walked into the house to use the restroom and found two of my friends in the bathtub NOT taking a shower. She reappeared outside and told me she could wait until she got home to use the toilet.

She was proud of me the day I became a college graduate. She was prouder the day I received a good paying job close to her home. She was sad when I was let go from the job and learned the job prospects for the area were slim to none. She used her contacts around the city to search for a job for me. She understood that I probably would be leaving Indiana to search for a job.

She was tearful when I moved to Maryland for a time. She was glad I was making friends out there and dating - the swinger's scene was small but definitely active during my time there. She was glad I moved to Ohio about a year later - she could jump in the car and come visit - as soon as she could get clearance from her doctor that she could drive again. She was very distressed the day I left for Missouri three years ago. She couldn't drive any longer thanks to her poor eyesight but I promised I would fly her out whenever she wanted.

She last visited me around the time I decided I was getting out of the sex club scene and found a home here at xHamster. She was having problems with her heart again and she was complaining of constant fatigue. She refused my offer to take her to a doctor but assured me she would get checked up at home. She was proud of my accomplishments in the business world and the amount of money I was making. She was pleased when I introduced her to one of my friends with benefits I was monogamously dating at the time.

She began having serious health problems shortly after that visit. She was diagnosed with diabetes and began learning how to take her bl**d sugar and insulin shots. She was hospitalized again with her heart - another blocked artery and leaky heart valves. She was discharged from the hospital one day, readmitted the next. She and I talked on the phone constantly, reassuring that our prayers to the Virgin Mary would be heard and the crisis would pass. She began to get her affairs in order and sent me copies of her will and giving me power of attorney.

She checked into an assisted living facility on her own early last year and enjoyed meeting the new people there. She drew strength from them and her spirits improved. She shared gossip with me over the phone about the people there. She was getting good care from the doctors and nurses and everyone hoped the move would be good for her physical well being. She was visited by people she knew from Fort Wayne all the time. She was happy and confident that she would be well soon.

She had k**ney failure before Christmas last year and was hospitalized again. She was told her k**ney function was at 40% and dropping. She began dialysis to remove the excess water that was trapped inside her body. She watched as her weight ballooned from 135 to 190. She suffered as the weakening heart tried to pump more bl**d. She was getting quality care but it was one breakdown after another. She was immensely tired after her dialysis sessions that were occurring twice a week, then three times a week, then daily.

She always brightened up when I visited her. She told me "no" when I offered to move back to Fort Wayne to be close to her. She said I needed to live my life and not worry about her. She asked about my girlfriend (which I didn't have) and I told her many of my friends (swingers and xHam people) were pulling for her to get well. She was so proud of me when I told her about the chance I had to travel overseas with my job. She wanted to get well so we could travel back to Mexico one more time. She never forgot her origins, her parents, her struggles, her determination to come to America.

She then told me she wanted to be cremated - her ashes to be spread in four different places. She wanted the first part of her ashes to be s**ttered as close to her father's burial spot in Mexico as possible. She wanted the second part of her ashes to be sprinkled over her mother's grave in Chicago. She wanted the third part of her ashes to be spread in Fort Wayne and I get to choose the spot. She then wanted the remainder of her ashes to be kept in a crypt until my death at which time they would be spread on the spot where I would be buried.

She would cry every time I prepared to leave her bedside. She would wish me God's blessings every time I said goodbye. She would always answer the phone by the second ring when I called her to let her know I arrived back home safely. She told me every time she would keep me in her thought and prayers as I began my new work week.

She lapsed into a coma on August 3rd, 2010. She was not conscious when I arrived at her bedside a day later. She didn't respond to my touch. She never opened her eyes as I spoke to her. She was breathing with the help of a respirator. She was unresponsive as I prayed to the Virgin Mary for many hours at her bed. She never moved as I kissed her cheek good night when visiting hours were over.


She never heard me tell her that I loved her time and time again this past week.


She lived until August 12th, 2010 when her heart and lungs decided it was time not to work. She was given last rites by a Catholic priest and declared dead at 10:38 AM. She was taken from the hospital and will be cremated in accordance with her wishes. She is survived by one son who was present when she died.



Me.





If you've read this far, I thank you.

You might be wondering why I'm sharing this immensely personal story at a free porn web site.

My mother was an only c***d with no f****y. I am an only c***d with no f****y.

My mother used to say time and time again "The people you invite into friendship and your heart are your f****y."

Maybe this is why I was involved in the polyamory / swingers lifestyle for ten years. Many of the people I met during this time I've stayed in contact with - they will be referred to this spot so they can read about the death of my mother. Several of them were praying for her recovery thanks to my friendship with them. To them who are reading this, I thank you all for the prayers and the friendship you've shared with me. You are now my f****y.

Maybe this is why I've chosen to be a member here at xHamster. I've made many friendships here, some more closer than others. One or two of you might have even offered up a good thought or a prayer for my mother. To those friends who are reading this, I thank you for your support and friendship. You are now my f****y.

Next week, I will spread several of my mother's ashes in Fort Wayne. I then travel by car to Chicago to visit my grandmother's grave. In Chicago, I will make arrangements for the transport of a small urn of my mother's ashes and myself to Mexico where I will attempt to locate my grandfather's grave and fulfill my mother's wish.

To those of you who will leave me a message below, I thank you in advance and I will respond to each of you personally upon my return.

To those with e-mail and phone privileges, just use e-mails please. If you call, you'll hear me sobbing uncontrollably and that probably won't be good for the both of us.



I wish whoever has read this peace.

I was awakened by a phone call that I've been anticipating for a long time.

My mother is back in the intensive care unit again. Her heart and k**ney function are at 15% of their normal function and weakening.

It's just a matter of time now.


I'm driving back to my home of Fort Wayne to be with her. Send up a good thought or pray to the God of your choice for her.

To my friends I've been in constant contact, I may not be around for a while. Will contact you as soon as I can.

When I joined this site close to two years ago, I signed on with the sole purpose of meeting some women. Not for cam, cybering, phone sex, D/s, or any other sexual purpose - I just wanted a simple conversation that would hold my interest. Anything beyond that is bonus.

I've added over 800 women to my list. Different regions, nationalities, sexual tastes, and ages. No matter what time of day it is, there's usually 50 or 60 of my friends online so there's never a chance of missing a chance to talk to new people. Mission accomplished, right?

Hardly.

There have been great times when I have many different conversations going on with different women - the stream of messages is unending. Many times it's simple stuff like what kind of videos they like to masturbate to, real life stuff like bad experiences with others here at xHamster, and occasionally it's stimulating stuff - both mentally and sexually; the kind of conversation that will make you stay awake past your bedtime and then some.

Then there are times when those same people you've been in contact with - the ones you think are your "friends", the ones you've had casual adult conversations with, the ones whose words you've looked forward to reading simply don't return messages. They ignore you, blow you off, turn the other cheek, because they'd rather speak to someone else, are busy pleasuring themselves to a video because it's faster, or just don't want to be bothered by someone.

This is one of those times for me.

Not sure how to take this. I have made friends that I've made connections with, spoken to at length, gotten good vibes from. And now, ice cold. Am I that monumentally dull? Can plain ordinary non-sexual chat survive on a porn site? What can I do to spice things up? Should I spice things up and be someone I'm not?

Breaking point: I met a woman here online almost when I signed on two years ago, messages sent, friendship struck, roots were pretty deep. The relationship was so strong and the trust so steady that we actually talked on the phone (both regular and sexually). We had a definite connection between us.

For the past two weeks, zilch. Nothing. I didn't think something would affect me like this but it has. It makes the silence more deafening.

The self-pity I feel will be short lived. I know the conversations will continue as the pendulum swings back in my favor. I make new friends in hopes they will pick up the dialogue again. And sooner than I think, the contacts will be made, and all will be fine in my little corner of xHamster.

To quote Anais Nin: "Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."



So leave me a comment if you're in the same boat as me. I promise I'll return your message, thus creating new worlds and friends simultaneously.

Several months ago, I noticed that I had several "retired" friends among the 750+ friends in my profile. xHamster, to their credit, added a "Defriend Retired Users" button in their Users section.

(Click on "Edit Profile", find and click on "My Friends" in the left hand column under "Users", and scroll to the bottom of your friend list. You'll find the button of which I speak along with "Defriend User" - keep reading)

However, I took this one step further.

I clicked on each and every one of the remaining friends on my profile. To my amazement, I discovered approximately 100+ friends whose profiles looked active (their AVs weren't the bunny ears) but came up "User Not Found"!

That's when I started using the "Defriend User" button and got rid of these bogus profiles. Where they came from or went isn't my concern - they don't exist, they don't belong.

When I was finished, I went from 750+ friends to around 600. So I added more friends and soon I was around 800+ friends again.

This past weekend, I decided to do this whole exercise once again. I reclicked on every one of my friends and found a whole new batch of "User Not Founds".

When that was done, I went back yet again and looked for dormant profiles (users who haven't signed on in over 30 days). Since I've been a member of xHamster for approaching two years, I had a longggggg list of people who hadn't signed on in over 100 days.

The longest was around 210 days since she last signed on. It's safe to say she probably won't be back.

Now I'm back to around 600+ friends again. But most of these friends are or have been active during the past month. So unless they go "User Not Found" in the near future, I think I'm done cleaning out my profile.

If you've read this far, thanks! I hope you'll be inspired to clean out a little of your own dead weight in your profile!

When I first signed up with xHamster, I needed an AV. I didn't want a large dick AV, or a goth/alternative symbol that would make me look dangerous or cool.

I wanted something that would make the average person looking at it smile and/or laugh. So I went on a deep search of the Internet and found an AV that accomplished that.

It's the first and only AV I've owned here... and it's gotten more compliments, laughs, or reactions from xHamster users than anything else I've ever written or done here.

Several of the people I've chatted with on a semi-regular basis give others using the AV a hard time because they identify it with me.

A female user once bitterly refused my friend request because she was terribly worried about the poor girl in the AV.

I don't know what movie it's from - I'm not sure who the actors are in it as well.


I'm quite proud of it. If it made you smile or laugh, end of story.

On a beautiful spring day in Ireland, a priest is walking down a country road when he sees Mary Katherine, a beautiful lass he's known since he baptized her as a babe at his church, walking in the opposite direction, crying hysterically.

"Mary Katherine, my darling c***d, what ever can be wrong on such a lovely day?" the priest asks.

"Ohhh, Father... I'm so sad... My husband..." sobs Mary Katherine. "My husband died last night at home..."

"Ohhh, Mary Katherine, I'm terribly sorry for your loss... Tell me, c***d, did he have any last Continue»

I signed into my profile this evening and found a private message waiting for me - always a treat since it's from someone I've met here before. Once in a while, it's even flirty!

I clicked on the message and found it to be from [NAME WITHHELD]. I had found her profile from one of her videos she had posted. I looked at her other vids, then her personal photos (tantalizing), and decided "I'll send her an invite".

Her message read: "Thanks for looking at me - please see profile, no more males."

I've sent out invites to hundreds, if not thousands of people since I became a member here at xHamster. And I've been fortunate enough to warrant permission from 600+ women who decided "yes".

Out of this great number of women, I've only gotten to know about five fellow xHam members on a personal basis. We leave each other messages and if our schedules mesh, we talk online about mundane topics like masturbation, oral sex, orgasms that last - got your attention? Good.

I can understand certain xHam female members who are so popular they cannot add any additional friends. There are bisexual women and lesbians who have profiles with "NO MEN" in bold print - I respect them for putting it right up front.

Then there's the a group of women, of which [NAME WITHHELD] is a member, that have both male and female friends visible on their friends list but request "no men". It's so contradictory and illogical. But hey - it's a free world (for now) and people have the right to do that.

What makes this even more sad is that I probably would have left a "thanks for adding me as a friend" comment at [NAME WITHHELD]'s profile and she never would have heard from me again. Maybe we could have talked down the road, left messages for each other, or pass one lone evening chatting.

[NAME WITHHELD], thanks for taking the five seconds to bang out that message to me. That's five seconds more than some people care to do - and in some cases, that's all it takes to make a friend.

Do you realize that the number of men who visit Xhamster outnumber the women by a ratio of 8.5 to 1?

I have over 200 friends - all are female. That means there are over 1700 guys waiting in the wings trying to talk to these same 200 friends of mine.

No wonder it's been lonely around here...

I decided to PM one of my online friends today. It wasn't one of those "I've been after her for a while" deals. Just one friend at random.

She described herself as someone who liked to offer "friendly encouragement" and loves to tell descriptive stories along the way.

So I began writing to her about a scenario where we'd meet in a restaurant, waiting with others at the bar, and we happened to be sitting next to each other. I smelled her perfume, she noticed my... you get the idea.

I thought "yeah, maybe we can build on this..." Possibly work up some steam.

She replies back "My normal way is to be descriptive while I watch you on your webcam. written stories tend to take too long and people can lose interest on the way sometimes... me included."

I don't cam.

"Neither do I".

Pointless to continue on.