Jingle Bells

This time of year is a hectic time for all. I’ve been away. I’ve been busy. I’ve been sick.

These few days I have been and will be wishing the Best of the Season to all the incredible women in my world. They have made this year, again, another very special 12 months. A thrill to be alive and enjoy what this revolving orb has to offer.

And to all my wonderful readers a safe, happy holiday! Your willingness to come here and read, continually pleasantly surprises me.

However you celebrate it, may this holiday be a joyful one! And one with peace for your soul.





The Ski Break … Part (1)

The recent Marty-replay I did with a story about Marcie stirred some old memories. It brought another story to mind.

One winter she told me that her company was having a business week’s retreat at a small ski resort about a day’s drive from where we lived.  I knew this resort well as I had spent a lot of time there across the seasons a few years before. And it struck me I was ready to take a ski holiday, so I told Marcie I was going to book a room there, ski during the day, then fuck her brains out and have her perform for me at night after her company’s evening activities were done. Marcie thought this was a marvelous idea; her girlie juices began to flow just at the thought. She reminded me, though,  since spouses and companions weren’t allowed, I’d have to be incognito the whole week. Now this really sounded like fun!

I left very early on the Monday morning to drive, while Marcie and her colleagues flew in to the resort late Monday afternoon.  They arrived a few hours before I did. I was in the dining room having just begun my supper when Marcie and her group came in after having finished their welcoming reception.

She spotted me right away. And I her. And we both caught the other’s slight smile. I was horny already.  I wondered what her group had on for the evening after dinner, and how long it would last. I finished my dinner and went up to my room, anticipating a highly sexed evening, but a bit annoyed because I had no clue as to the timing.

Shortly after 8:30 the phone in my phone rang. It was Marcie!

“All done,” she said. “Can I come up?”

“Get your pretty ass up here, pronto! ” I said.”You know what’s waiting for you.”

“Mmmmmmm,” Marcie panted. “I’m on my way!”

90 seconds later there was a light tap on the door. I rose from my chair, quickly went over and opened the door.  A big smile on her face, Marcie stepped into the room.

I put my arms around her slim, taut body, pressing my already full erection into her and kissed her deeply.

Let the fun begin I thought.



I’m A Swashbuckler

Some have called me a swashbuckler. A cross between a pirate and a spy. I revel in that, don’t you know?

Sometimes my relationships are a give and take. Requiring a parry and thrust. They can be a real duel. I like my women to be my equal. Fast and ready.  Sometimes the unexpected happens. Sometimes clothes are shed. I need to be ready, too.



I Am Petulant

petulance[1]Today is not my day. Neither was yesterday. My patience has evaporated. I’m trying to keep my mouth shut but  I spoke harshly this morning to noisy people in the hallway. A brother angers me.

My physical training sucks big time.

I slept poorly last night. And the night before.

I’m not getting what I want. I’m not having what pleases me. I am showing my spoiled nature. I always eventually get what I want. That’s just the way it is. And I want my way. Now! Or I will take my ball and go home.

Sometimes, later on, I regret taking my ball home. So I’m fighting doing that. Then again, other times it works out well in the long run. That’s the dilemma.

I am little boy petulant. Wild tantrums are possible. Stay out of my way.

I need a ray of sunshine. I don’t see that headed my way.


Absolutely nothing is wrong. In fact the world seems headed in a very good direction. But everything I attempt doesn’t work the first (or second, or even third) time. Events seem to conspire. Yet they are all such minor annoyances. They are easy to dismiss.

Why are my antennae twitching? All my sensors on overload?   Just about everything says I should ignore the feeling. Something says I shouldn’t.

From Us to You

At this time of your year, I can only think of two things to say to you wonderful people who visit here …

From everyone on the Red Planet

-space-art-red-planet--fresh-hd-wallpaper[1]To all you very special people on that marvelous Blue Planet of yours

Earth Globe

May you all have Peace in your lives and Good Health to carry you forward

— Marty

Whither Shall We Go?

“The Road goes ever on and on

down from the door where it began.

  Now far ahead the Road has gone,

and I must follow, if I can,

  pursuing it with eager feet,

until it joins some larger way

  where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.”

– J.R.R. Tolkien

We are unfinished. We are a work in progress.

I know what I know. I feel what I feel.

We are what we are. You show what you will.

The ghosts linger.

I will not fight them.

Whither now?

The Sailor and the Skiff (Part I)

I knew of an old sailor.

Though old, he was skilled, experienced, and very brave. He piloted a small skiff, often into new unknown waters. Like the sailor, the skiff was old too, but had been built well and solidly by master craftsmen from a bygone age. The sailor and the skiff were long time comrades. They had explored many seas together, sailed to far off lands through pleasant times, and also much stormy weather. Heavy weather that would have sunk many boats mightier than the skiff. But no storm could outmatch the well built skiff piloted by the knowledgeable old sailor. They were like hand and glove, champion rider and horse, so attuned to each other’s vibrations that they could overcome any tempest they encountered. Though perhaps unremarkable apart, together they were a work of high performance art.

One September day they ventured off to explore an unknown Sea. There were no charts to guide the sailor, no maps to assure him of his way, only ancient myths he had heard and tales on parchment he had read. The myths told of beautiful lands surrounding the Sea, with high rocky cliffs, abundant forests, lush meadows, and snow topped mountains.

The tales promised a land where he was welcome to rest his weary ancient frame, renew his sapped energies, and sooth his fragmented mind. A land where even old mariners could dream, not thought of as foolish, and relive their better days again before the final hour. Where sturdy oaks grew and could be hewn to replace wanting timbers in a trusty skiff.

At last through pluck and good fortune the sailor found the narrow strait which served as entrance to the Sea. It was a well hidden passage. The Sea protected herself and her lands because she knew she was like no other sea, her lands a treasure to be enjoyed by only the few, the canniest, the most fearless, the most determined. Those who would face and overcome her perils.

The straight was long, but not straight at all, with twists and turns and false creeks and deceptive inlets. Only the most resolute could fathom the way through the maze the Sea had erected to guard her secrecy and protect her lands from the unworthy.

The sailor prayed he was worthy.

The Summer

I have been thinking about this post for some time. I’m rather a slow thought processor these days. In any case, my post was inspired by Gardener. Specifically this post. It was indeed a wonderful summer for me.

From my window I watch the dark oak leaves swirl in their descent to the lawn. The yellow hued maples beyond the oak cling tightly to their leaves as they deftly sway in the coolish breeze. I day dream a bit, thinking about this summer past. What it has meant to me.

This most recent winter was my worst in memory. No need to go into detail. More than one incident drained me of all joy to life. I hadn’t felt such despair in decades. And it was all safely corked inside. Not an outward sign of the inner turmoil coursing through my veins.

The weather across the North East was bad! it was the harshest winter we have had in a long time, and we never got a break in the cold. This didn’t help the bleakness I felt. I had had a European trip planned which I knew would help ease some of my turmoil, but that had to be cancelled because of other considerations. Luckily I had exchanges with many of my women which did help keep spirits up.

But time crawled on. Eventually spring did arrive, albeit late and slowly. And as the buds, then leaves began to appear on the bushes and trees, a love returned to my world and life.  At first hesitantly, then with more vigor, later completely and committed.

The summer was bright and beautiful in all its givings. Its memories will endure. I will never forget this summer. How could I?

And now autumn is here. The hot sun and humid evenings have given way to less intense heat and cooler breezes. But the late evenings have become chill.

There is no question. This glorious summer in my life is quickly winding down. It will soon be but a wonderful memory. But the fall is no downer … emotionally I’m just as high.

Certainly there are changes in the offing.  There is no stopping the seasons. The tides roll in as long as the moon circles the earth. Time does not relent.

Relationships must not stagnate.