Jackhammer Jesus
It was Sunday breakfast again. I am certain this neighborhood pub will forget to unlock their doors on Sunday mornings in the future.
Hugs, the usual exchanges and then we shake off the constraints of society and return to our familiar selves. There is unparalleled loyalty within our tribe, granting us the confidence to be oneself completely.
Bourbon B is two-fisted and somehow The Princess is seated next to her again. I find myself wondering which one of them arrived first? Is The Princess somewhat of a masochist herself or just horribly unlucky?
A couple of the husbands have tagged along. Unfortunately, The Reverend has no choice but to attend our rituals as he is my pilot. Do the other spouses show up for The Reverend, not wanting him to face this group alone, for the entertainment or were they simply bribed with food?
The waitress has a pained expression when she greets us.
The conversation started fairly lightly and quickly took a demented turn to dildoes. Bourbon repeatedly remarked about something called "Jackhammer Jesus", while occasionally making mention of some of her other favorites. The Reverend volunteered to consult a trustworthy search engine to investigate what has Bourbon so wound up, and I took this moment to segue into the contents of a recent Rat group text.
I share with everyone that during a seemingly normal text among friends, Herb slipped into the conversation that she wanted Bourbon and myself to think of her hands on our necks when we were next having sex with our men. I immediately replied to Herb that I would, in no way, be able to get-off with her soft hands on my neck, as she can be a bit of a pussy. Herb continues to insist that she is simply a gently tigress and not a pussy.
I then shared that somewhere else within that same Rat text, Herb confessed to previously being choked, receiving bites, slaps and spankings, and not liking any of it. She also coyly mentioned that none of those were received in a sexual manner; however, she was certain that she would not enjoy such activity in the sack either. Her husband confirmed, commenting that she wails if he tilts her head back too far during their marital relations.
We laughed excessively, as we always do, while the volume of our strange and honest conversation seemed to leave other patrons uncomfortable and blushing.
In my time on this planet, I have encountered a multitude of people and have called many of them friends. I am forever thankful for their roles in my ever-changing life. Each of them valuable. All of them added to my being and some of them took something necessary away.
If you are familiar with the title of this entry, you understand why I cannot, in good conscience, post a photo depiction of "Jackhammer Jesus". Like the moments before having this dildo conversation and viewing the photo The Reverend found of this disturbing adult toy, I will never be the same. Since meeting these women, I am now aware of a unique kinship that can be found among a diverse group of solid, yet vulnerable, women.
I am getting stronger now and I am gaining some peace in this journey because of the legion of people currently walking with me. Each adds to the delight that is my present life. So with endless echoing laughter, and all of us with our own version of Jesus in tow, we march forward.
