Breathing my Mind into Your Face

Here I sit full of joy. I like to have fun. I will not take this life too seriously even if it is the only one I’ve got. Having fun is what created all my best memories. I just listened to a Ted talk in the hot tub about how having fun is the secret to a healthier life. I’m sold on that shit. Every morning I tell the boys to have fun and be nice to people. That about covers it. That’s why I want to perform jokes in front of people and do shit that scares me. It is so fun. I’ll take some chances because I’ll die anyway. What’s the worst that could happen? Homelessness? That could be fun. I always liked camping when I was a kid.

In the spirit of fun I got naked while in the hot tub and masturbated to past memories of sexual fun. I’d prefer having my wife in there with me doing the underwater suction thrust. I love it when she isn’t worrying about shit. Usually when she’s had a couple glasses of wine. When we first met she wanted to make out all the time in public, it was scary but also fun. In the hot tub as I struggled to keep my cock solid my mind flickered back to my first bj where I got so excited about what was about to happen as she kissed further down my chest that I exploded as soon as her mouth covered my cap. It brought back great memories of when I first discovered masturbation in my childhood hot tub as I looked through the kitchen window at my mom washing dishes prior to my first non-dream induced ejaculation. Doing scary shit is my secret to fun. Not abiding by the boring ass expected ways and means of doing life. 

That’s probably why my dad liked to hit up the nudist camps. That initial euphoria of dropping trough and letting it all hang as he walked toward the pavilion to mingle. Like a Naked and Afraid reunion. I’m sure my dad shared some body heat with people that weren’t my mom. I don’t care about that. I must be a sinner, big deal.