It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.
Back to the grind. Sierra is back from break, I’m back at work. We were texting this morning regarding my soiled office chair.
You have to look closely, but I'm thinking some of those white stains are never coming out 😘
[Image of Office Chair]
Oh, and did you rub your vagina on anything else?
There seems to be a crusty film on a couple of items here that I didn't notice before, no matter...
Your inability to keep a clean work station is not my concern
She asked me if I wanted to get lunch. I’d packed my lunch (as usual), but I offered to share. I generally only eat half of my sandwich anyways since I tend to make them big. I pick her up and while we are driving downtown she manages to eat the entire thing.
Pretty sure she must have been stoned today (seems this blog is mostly about cannabis these days). Every time we drove down a new street she would call out a new place she wanted to go to get some snack or beverage item and such. All the college students I know spend money with such abandon, I know, I used to be one of them. Starving college student stuff is a myth as far as I’ve ever seen. I worked my way through college while living with my parents too; they didn’t give me a dime besides room and board, but, with low cost of living and no wife and kids, that was enough for me to always have money to burn. I never worried about being able to afford going out for drinks and dinner with friends, movies, concerts, coffee, snacks, or whatever else struck my momentary fancy. Sure, there were limits, but it was a much more carefree time with the purse strings.
When Sierra and I have gone out, I either order nothing or something small while she’ll blow $10-30 easily on random things. One, I need to save money, two, I’m hiding everything on a secret credit card (my wife monitors our joint checking account like a hawk so cash isn’t easy to come-by), if the payments go up a couple-three dollars a month no biggie, but not much more than that or eyebrows will be raised. We finally settled on a place downtown that serves boba tea then sat down on a street bench to people watch. We’d point out people for compliments or criticism as they walked by.
“I just love this city, everyone wears sandals and shorts all the time, even in winter.” She said, commenting at an old lady waiting at the crosswalk with a large bag, shorts, and what appeared to be a pair of Birkenstocks.
“Yeah, it is perfect, that’s why I’m here,” I sigh, “That’s why you wanted to go to school here?”
“How about this guy, nice beard,” I offered.
“Nah, I wouldn’t touch anything with more than a 32 inch waist,” she sneered.
“Why’d you see me then if you thought I was 300 lbs from my selfie?”
“I could tell it was a just a shit picture.” She giggled.
We talked about school, marriage (I applaud her decision to wait even if it is just to make sure her hair is long enough for wedding pictures), family, getting stoned, TV. I find it interesting that I find Sierra’s vanity and conceit endearing. She’s one of the few girls I find that wears it openly, and with such brazen confidence. The opposite of my wife, and I think even Anne. Sierra has no problem sitting there, taking selfie’s to post to her hundreds of followers on Snapchat and Instagram. She’ll talk about her waist and her ass like they are a gift to the male race (I’ll attest that they are). In another context, I’m sure it’d bother me, but given our relationship and how quirky she is, it seems to fit.
It was a pleasant hour detour, but by the time we got back to the car and drove to our spot, we discovered it was inundated with workers today, we didn’t have enough time at this point to go looking elsewhere for a discreet place to bang. So we ended up spinning donuts just like before and getting the car covered in dirt and dust and mud, but this time with an audience, some of them pausing to look disdainfully from beneath their hardhats, others cheering as we recklessly drove by, tearing deep tire tracks in the dirt and mud. The attention was rather motivating to Sierra when I let her take the wheel. We stopped and made out a few times but we didn’t dare go past second base with all the potential eyes around.
“When will I get you inside me again?” she asked as I kissed her neck, she seemed somewhat frustrated.
“Soon, I hope.” I’m sure I was even more frustrated.
We also offered to pick up a not-too-filthy transient walking down by the tracks and let him join our little roller-coaster but he surprisingly rebuffed us.
“Well fine, fuck that guy then,” Sierra said as we drove off, wheels spinning.
Later, she sprayed me with the hose at the self-service car wash (I don’t know what I was thinking taking her there), and I tried in vain to adequately soak her back half as bad as she got me. Seems the other customers using the car wash (all men) were more apt to help a pretty girl than me in a water fight. Luckily, I made it to my desk without attracting any attention or questions about why I was soaked from head to toe. It was fun, but I think I’m going to have to keep our rendezvouses shorter since it took most of the afternoon when I was supposed to be at work (don’t want my boss to start catching on, besides I’d like to do well at my job, at least I can make up the time by skipping lunch and breaks). I feel I don’t have a good handle on what she wants most of the time. I know she wanted to have sex, but she also seems to have a short attention span and always wants to do some crazy activity or another which eats up some time. I enjoy hanging out with her, but I suppose I took a terrible risk just to fool around today. I feel it would have been more worthwhile and fulfilling if we had fucked, but all the same, it was a good day.