Heavy Breathing, Continued. - The Husband

In an effort to continue the experiment with more data points, I decided I would try again today from on the job. I did sort of warn her by calling her from the cab telling her I would be at a port-a-john soon and what was she up to. (She was up to dealing with too sick kids so that didn't bode well...) I told her, "Well I'll give you a call after I have my cock in hand."

She laughed.

This is actually often the case as I attempt to zip back up withour dropping my phone where i wouldn't want to retrieve it. In this case though I meant that I would specifically have my cock in hand for the express purpose of pleasuring myself. I chose a remote port-ajohn with lots of fast and dangerous traffic nearby that discourages another operator from stopping and waiting.

It didn't work. We have these vans that shuttle operators around and one of those pulled up. i though they were waiting to use the john. (Turned out later they were just waiting to connect with an incoming piece of equipment to switch operators.) I had my cock fairly rigid and was already feeling those ripples that portend things to come. I just couldnt finish though it seemd and I began to feel silly so I gave up the attempt...for then.

Sleepus Interuptus.

Last night I got off work, updated two blogs, had a shower and called the wife. The plan as outlined below was to stroke myself, hopefully to orgasm while talking about everyday topics without her knowledge. I had mentioned updating another blog but didn't mention taking the time on this one. so I was pretty sure she hadn't read it.

In a way this is the perfect way to engage with her sexually at the moment. She gets no pressure at all, and at the moment, she is so not in the mood. Understandable because she has been sick all last week and is having heavy pre-menstrual cramps. (Just perfect by the way now that I am home for two 5 day periods a month, she syncs up on the home week.)

My hastily formed plan was to take a very quick shower and catch her after she got the kids settled but before she drifted off to sleep. I figured I had a 30-45 minute window.

I ended up spending closer to 10 minutes in the shower than the allotted 5 when I decided that my recently shaved, very smooth cock needed to be really really clean. I was careful not to finish the job there, thus making it's next assignment more difficult to complete. I rationalized that if I had a period of masturbation not quite to completion before calling her I'd be cocked, locked and ready to rock so to speak.

I think I have mentioned that my masturbatory technique (entirely self devised without any external information at all as to how anyone else engaged in any sort of self pleasuring activity) doesn't actually consist of playing a little one on five as it were but rather a bit of mattress or pillow humping. I have good privacy in my room save for thin walls but, the once a week linen service has me a bit bodily fluids shy. I am NOT leaving any of that for some one else to clean up. Thats just gross. Concerned that I might need a little friction relief I located the bottle of lotion that the wife thought to pack. I had a couple of tissues at the ready for specimen collection if the project went to fruition.

Prepared like the former Boy Scout that I am, I called.

"Hel.....lo...." she croaked. A word and a tone conveying the answer to the unasked question, "Are you awake?"

"Hi" I quietly but encouragingly voiced. "I guess I don't need to ask if I woke you...."

"Yeah...I was asleep, I am exhausted...."

"More importantly, I hope I didn't wake the baby?".......

"No, she's out hard.....and I'll be to in a minute....goodnight...Love You..." she mumbled trailing off...

"Love you too...'

hmmmm, I thought, cock in hand. Not much to work with there. I looked down at it and it had grown some but had that sections of firmness, easily bent, like a garden hose left in the sun kinked and then cooled off. I resolved to give it a try remembering the pleasurable feeling I had felt in the shower. It seemed a little silly to put it away just because my little experiment was ill fated. I found this time as in past attempts that I am just not a lotion lovin' kinda guy. The friction level is wrong. I worked the lotion in a bit and eventual reached my preferred tactile sensation of firm but gentle pressure that stretches the skin back and forth over the rigid insides.

I discovered something I had never noticed before as I masturbated under the industrial fluorescent light fixture provided in my dorm room. The veiny-ness of my cock has layers to it. You can see the veins in the actual epidermal layers, and a completely separate and distinct network that, I assume provide fluid delivery to the hydrolic system.

Fascinating I thought.

At some point I worked in some sort of imagery more suitable to masturbatory reverie involving at least my wife, and as I recall, a girlfriend of hers, and the exhibitionist aspect of the fact that I was specifically masturbating so that I could write about it and mused about who might read that.

I figure that some will be guys such as myself that are fairly gynophillic on the Kinsey scale and despite whatever open-mindedness they wish to feel, can't like I get over the squick factor of another guys cock. There might be a few that are bi and into it, I kind of doubt that a married hetero couple is likely on the regular reading list of most gay guys, so for me in my mind anyway, I was masturbating for the majority of the 27,000 visitors to our blog which I envision to all be hot bisexual coeds. That helped.

Oh, and everything came out fine.

Random non-sexual banter with a porn star.

The company put Sirius Satellite Radio in my cab overnight. I didn't actually notice because I just went by feel and as I went from remote place to remote place I pressed the scan buttons on the FM band it was on looking to pick-up any of the three stations that reach the area. For some reason the really well paid mechanics that work on these things don;t know that there is a lead from the radios that should go straight to the battery instead of through the ignition so the pre-sets are always out on every piece of equipment I get on.

At some point the control tower called me up and asked me to tune my Sirius Radio to 184. I did but was busy using the equipment to make my employer money so I couldn't actually work out the controls or what to do. Apparently the weather station (Channel 184) allows the unit to talk to Sirius and unlock something or another. I put it on scan and after a while on and off, I got stations, I thought at first that they were all coming in in Spanish. (Later I figured out some were Spanish and some French) I, for a moment thought maybe someone was having fun at my expense. Our equipment is at times left in Spanish mode by jokesters or maybe Hispanic operators, but jokesters are more likely. The first English station I came to was The Playboy Chanel. I called up the wife from the nearest port-a-john. I told her she better hurry if she wants to get "the easy one" before The Girls Next Door do. I wondered what it would be, moans and giggles or what. Can't very well do a centerfold layout over the air.

The first thing I heard was some sort of call in game show where you had to guess what word the porn star (I assume) was hinting at and whoever wins gets some prize from Hef's grab bag. These guys were noticeably excited to be talking to the girl, but the subject matter was entirely non-sexual. This at first struck me as odd and desperate. I imagined these guys watching this girl over and over again on a worn out VHS cassette till the knew every curve of her better than perhaps she did. I thought that maybe some of them can almost make themselves believe that they "know" her. In a way, they do, I suppose. At least the version of her she chooses to share in that way.

I got to thinking that it actually did make sense for them to get exuited to be talking to her. I still look forward to random stolen moments of conversation I have with my wife from plastic toilet enclosures buffeted by winds at high elevation. I was thinking that in my younger voyeuristic days, if I had thought I could in anyway keep my voice calm and get away with it I would love to have masturbated while having a conversation with one of my guilty teen-age lust-crushes.

I think that I might just try that with my wife sometime. More likely to get away with it if I try it out on her before she reads this though. Mum's the word, ya'all.

Earthquake... -The Husband

I kinda doubt she felt the tremors this morning since my pillow is located 310 kilometers from hers. It woke me up though. I need to be asleep because I have my second of eight 12.5 hour shifts in a few hours. Even the sleepy potion that comes when I, well, come didn't help.

I have mandatory training the day after my "on-week" ends, then I'll probably pick up another 25 hours of overtime in a couple of days then dash home bleary eyed. Small wonder that I seem to have less time for sexing and blogging these days.

My last week on was 8 successive night shifts. I woke the wife just about every time I called, and slept when she was awake. It was hard not being able to reach out from one of my mile-high-plus port-a-johns. Sitting a-top 16 growling diesel cylinders doesn't make for a very good acoustics so I retreat to "my office" to call her. So far, despite the surprisingly well maintained and relatively hygienic conditions of these portable outhouses, I have yet to engage in an audible sexual escapade from one, but desperate times....