The Threshold Carry: #AmusedBy #MuseHotRod #Muse#20044002

SPLAT.

………and then there was that time that #HotRod, #MuseInmate#20044002, couldn’t get his dick hard.

Let’s break the melodramatic nigga-monotony a bit.

It was summertime. I was about 25 years old. I stayed in some apartments called Arrow Woods. Funny, I drove past these apartments recently and noticed they are in the proverbial “Under New Management” strange space that apartment complex’s often land in, as neighborhoods start to change and in some cases, decline.  They’ve renamed the apartments and it’s a fancy one.  “Flats @Meridian Hills”? Ohok.

*cue cockface *

Ummm….you can add a new manager and a tag a ‘Meridian Hills’ to the end if you want to, but um, that’s always gonna be ArrowWoods, just like Brendan Way will always be Brendan Way and not Cottages of Fall Creek.  Cottages of Fall Creek sounds like bad things don’t happen there. So does Flats at Meridian Hills. Bad things do happen at both these places. When I was living with an ex in Brendan Way, the name hadn’t changed, but complex was headed in a downward spiral, which was a horrific sight because those are some truly spacious and beautiful apartments.  We had a tri-level with the basement.  I had such high hopes for turning that townhome into the place love was located. It ended up being the haven for my suicidal thoughts, but that is a completely different blog, different muse, different apartment name-change situation.

We are talking about ArrowWoods, ehem, Flats @Meridian Hills *giggle*

And about Sir #HotRod.

We went to school together and never knew each other in school. But it was one of those situations where you saw each other enough that you recognized one another as alumni after school ended.  I saw him one day in CVS and we exchanged information. I had always thought him to be a cutie in school and at this time, I was 25, single and free (Arrow Woods was the first stop after I freed myself from the clutches of the Cottages-Brendan Way). So, we started talking and hanging out with each other. I liked him in a ‘Just Cool’ manner. He liked me in a girlfriend manner. He was a good guy, but he was kinda boring to my taste pallet. I was 25, young and carefree and I was fresh out of a horrible relationship and all I wanted to do was go out, have fun and laugh and smile. And that is exactly what I had been doing.  Me and my best friend were staples on the Broad Ripple night life scene….very specifically at The Vogue. I almost think that when we walked in, people knew the party time had officially begun. We would go in, find an area on the stage in the front and dance until the night turned into house lights on.  We’d sweat and drink Corona’s and I would get drunk and dance some more; never allowing anyone to dance WITH me, as I was always dancing in my own world. If someone stepped to me and tried to put his waist-hands around me, I would politely and without eye contact, dance away until the point was made. I would hear the music and see the lights and it was like everyone around me was gone and I was just up there smiling, jamming and showing cleavage. Yeah, I did that.  I was actually having the time of my life so to speak.

But #HotRod had declared he had already done all of that. He was only two years older than me, but I respected that his time for doing those things was up.  He didn’t club, he didn’t really like to go out at all unless it was dinner/movies/etc…..he wasn’t a drinker anymore and didn’t do drugs and didn’t smoke weed. You like how I separated that? ;)   I was fine with his secular-free lifestyle, but for me during that time, he was kinda boring. But I hung out with him sometimes anyway, not really doing much but me smoking and watching tv, us talking about the whatevers of the world. Nothing fancy although I knew he liked me.

One night, he came over. It was a Saturday night, summer time. I admit that I tried to date him. I tried him on me as far as going out to eat and hanging out like we were ‘talking’, but again, I was just bored by him.  On this particular Saturday night, I was on chill mode that weekend and he wanted to come over. I let him. He got there and I started smoking shortly after his arrival. It was pretty early in the evening; maybe around 8/9ish. I don’t even think it was 9pm. 

*WARNING: incoming desire to fit in about to drop*

Now remember, #HotRod did NOT do drugs of ANY kind. Clearly, I had a different type of war on drugs happening. Once I started smoking, he expressed his desire to smoke with me. I reminded him of HIS facts: that he was not a marijuana user. That in fact, it was something he had done before, stopped because he didn’t like how it made him feel.  But on this night, the young man who had taken a special liking to me and could probably tell that I didn’t like him in the same way, wanted to fit in with me. Just my opinion.  He wanted to be ‘down’ with me. I can’t help but think that he just wanted to see if smoking that blunt would make me take to him differently. It wouldn’t have done that. But it DEFINITELY would end up aiding my like, or lack thereof, of him.

Still, he insisted I pass to him. Hey, he’s an adult. He knew what weed did to him better than I did and if he says he wants it,  * shrug *  So I passed it. We went back and forth a few times until he tapped out. Weed in a funny drug. If you are sitting down and haven’t smoked in a while, one of two things can happen:

1) You will get real high, real quick and know when to say when.

OR

2) sitting down becomes a smoke screen and you keep smoking and passing because you don’t realize exactly how high you really got and how quick.

I’ve experienced both. The latter is the tough mudder. If you don’t realize how high you are, then you will keep smoking. I was the type that would stop smoking after I got high (preservation of product).  But if you don’t know where you are at on the high-scale, you might stand up one blunt later and fall into a rabbit hole you weren’t looking for.

#HotRod fell into the rabbit hole.

….well, er…., uh, actually, * giggle* , he never fell into a hole at all.

So he eventually stopped his portion of the rotation. It was dark in the living room, as I only had it lit by the television. I had cable at the time and remember the tv being on BET.  In his highness, #HotRod found the freedom to go for it.  He moved into kiss me and in the moment, I didn’t reject. I ignored my not-the-same-kinda-like for him and his bald spot that my bestie had pointed out several times before and obliged his advances. My drought had been real at the point anyway, so I figured, what the hell. * shrug*  We kissed and fore-played around a little bit on the couch. It was the first time we did this. Again, the entire apartment was illuminated only by the living room television.  So it got heated.

It was time to stand up, separately and walk into the bedroom. ..as individuals.

And this is thus begins the rabbit hole detour.

 There was a hallway from my living room to the only bedroom I had in the back. The hallway wasn’t long so to speak, but it was enough to be a hallway. Plus, my living room and dining room were onc massive room, so from the area where the couch was located to the backroom and bed, it was a walk long enough to be miserable if situations allowed misery to exist.

They did.

Exist.

The Situation DID allow misery to exist.

Remember, #HotRod liked me. I think he wanted to impress me that night. So he smoked the weed to show me he could still get down if he wanted to.  And then, he wanted to carry me to the threshold to make our first time having sex be as close to a fantasy as possible. 

* Question marks ensue *

So he tried to carry me.  Now, allow me to note that he NEVER gave up on this mission.  He did, successfully (term used loosely), carry me from the couch to the bed. It was scary, miserable and I ain’t like it. I think I’ve been picked up maybe three or four times in the ten years since then. I don’t like to be picked up because of that. LOL! There is something to be said about being off your feet and scared that at any moment, you might be on your ass, against your own will/choices. I’m not a heavy girl, but I’m thick enough that I always feel umcomforable when men who are not body builders try to pick me up. Its foolish…..why I even participated in this stunt baffles me and sets the tone for what else was to come….or not cum? IDK how much #HotRod weighed, but he was NOT a muscle man. He wasn’t a skin-n-bone, Whiz Khalifa type either, but um, he should have left this shit alone. #JustSayNo

#HotRod carried, stumbled, struggled and flip-flopped his way through carrying me to the back. My feet were hanging off one end of his arms and I’m almost positive that they almost hit the wall as he carried me towards the hallway. He started off trying to kiss n carry, but quickly realized we would both be seized by the Fall if that were to continue. The entire hot air balloon ride lasted less than a couple of minutes, but it felt like forever. It felt like I would fall. I expected to fall. He was high, I was high but I smoked enough on a normal basis to be a conscious high person.  There was nothing I could do and blame on ‘being high.’  I was pretty much still aware of my surroundings and decisions.  But this was one good time I would have preferred for the room to start spinning and for things to bounce up and down uncontrollably because maybe this field trip would make more sense?

 I wondered if he knew he was struggling, which I think he did because I think it’s why we didn’t just stop that farce on the way to the bedroom. Pride.Men.Egos…..But whatever.

By the time we got to the bedroom, I breathed a sigh of release after landing safely on the bed and finally out of the arms that I vowed to never allow myself to be propped up in like such again. O.o

Back to foreplay again. This threshold carry-debacle had traded his hard on for frustration. So we laid there, kissed and undressed and stuff and I fell back into the zone and stuffed that memory into the repressed files. There we were…naked, laying and ready.

 And then,

Nothing.

-_-  …..his dick wasn’t hard. After all that mouth dancing and touching, his dick still could have been poured from a dairy queen fountain and called a soft serve cone….

But his ego wasn’t about to give up so easy.  So for the next, idk, 30-45 minutes, we were in the bed working on his dick. None of this work included my lips. It was all handled by his hand and that illustrious ugly jacking motion men do to increase the blood flow down there. Nothing was working. We were kissing, touching, all that jazz. Nothing.

*For the first five minutes – I thought there was something that could be salvaged there. I was still consciously apart of the making out. I was high.

*For the next ten or so minutes – I started to think it was me. Did I stink ? No I was sure I didn’t stink. I stay in the shower just cause I love it and being disease free helps maintain the clean. What was wrong with me? Was I really being dick-rejected? Good grief…my high was lowering….

For all the time afterwards – I lost my high….had been requested to change positions many times and obliged. I think at some point I just wanted to see wtf the outcome COULD possibly be.  I had gone dry, lost my high and was laying on my stomach thinking about calling my best friend Gabby and how hard she would be laughing as I recalled this situation to her.  From there, I got hungry.  Yup, the munchies kicked in and he was still back there jacking and touching and staring. I had started to clench up, legs were welded together, the river was now a Mojave.  It was pure Tom Foolery.

The moment had long passed. I had started playing with my fingernails and trying to think of what I was gonna cook. I remembered I had chicken tenders in my fridge and started picturing myself frying up some quick tenders and how great they would be with the ranch off to the side and perhaps a simple veggie and some mac n cheese.  Yeah, that was perfect…..

And yes, he was STILL back there, jacking and looking and kissing…..there were a couple of times when he sorta got hard-ish and tried to hurry and assume the position but in the seconds that passed, it went back down. He would keep saying stuff like ‘I knew I shouldn’t have smoked that weed’

*** blink blink***  Oh!

Of course it’s the weed. YOU DON”T EVEN SMOKE !!!! SMH….

30-45 minutes later and long after I had mentally given up on this challenge, I got up. I quit playing the game I was really no longer involved in and jumped up, threw on my sarong and a little shirt and told him as I was walking out of the bedroom that I was hungry and was about to make me something to eat. I wasn’t really frustrated with him, I was just irritated. I thought he should have given up a long time ago and I knew he was embarrassed and had a bruised ego, which was why I kept trying to wait it out with him but um…….

FTS.

I left out of my bedroom….and this story STILL carries on….

My bedroom vs kitchen had a special positioning. The entryway into my bedroom and edge of my bed sat in a way that it could be easily viewed from the kitchen, which could be accessed from both the living room and the hallway closest to the bedroom. You could walk out of my kitchen and cross into my bedroom. The kitchen sink sat on the wall furthest from the bedroom and the stove sat on the other side. From the stove you could look OUT the kitchen, into the dining area.  From the sink, you could turn around and see into the bedroom.

I walked in the kitchen and saw that I needed to wash dishes first because who can accurately cook in a kitchen full of dirty dishes?? So, I started washing dishes with my back turned to the bedroom.  #HotRod, who I assumed was getting dressed as he could see I had clearly moved on with life, had done no such thing. Its funny because I stood there creating what was happening behind me and was COMPLETELY wrong. I expected him to come in the kitchen with the puppy dog defeated look on his face, fully dressed, saying his goodbyes.  At some point, I turned around and to my confused horror; this muthafucka was sitting on the edge of my bed, butt ass naked, with some tube socks on AND pulled up,

Legs cocked wide open

Dick in hand

Still.fuckin.jackingaway. o.O 

He was STILL trying to get it hard, AS IF!!!!!

I mean, wth was he thinking??? IF he was FINALLY successful at getting hard, what the hell was going to happen from there?? I said I was about to cook food. I was currently washing dishes, had chicken sitting on the counter & water running, like what the hell would happen if he was able to get his dick hard??? It was unbelievable and this was all an hour and a blown high after we started this messcapade. 

I just turned my head back to the sink and kept washing dishes.

I wish this blog would allow me to do the motion of him jacking himself into hardness, on the edge of my bed, butt naked with some tube socks pulled up. It helps drive the point home. Perhaps I will try to video myself and post it later. It was the most ridiculous act of 'bravery' (i guess) mine eyes had ever turned to see a man doing. AND IT WAS AN HOUR LATER ! !!!!! Suddenly, I remembered his bald spot and couldn’t envision my hand caressing it in a moaning, spontaneous feel good session.  I was sooooo turned off.

I give him a cool point for resiliency, but the idea of fucking was over for me, so it was unacceptable to think that it was still possible….. 

Well…..this dude was NOT GIVING UP!!!!!

Halfway through me washing the dishes, #HotRod runs from that corner of the bed, still butt naked w/tube socks pulled up past thy ankles, dick STILL in hand and guess what??!!!!!

He had gotten it hard…. -_- 

He ran up behind me and requested with a not-so-humble and quite urgent tone of voice that I move my skirt to the side. I never turned around. I kept washing dishes and I’m sure I had rolled my eyes as he came up behind me……he took immediate notice to my non-conforming attitude and said words I will never forget: 

“You not gonna let me put it in baby”? 

Shit sounded like one word with a bunch of syllables.

I stopped with a bowl in one hand and a dishtowel in the other and humored this nigga for the time being because at this point, I already knew how this would turn out. If he did bust through the hoops, I would have bet my fried chicken that it didn’t last long. I reluctantly scooted the split of my sarong to the side and guess what….

That dick went into deflation. Now….i might have let that give me a complex, but for the fact that over an hour later, he should have been rolling another blunt, drying dishes or preferably going home….anything other than still playing around with his flaccidity and blue balled desire.  ….but he was still trying and if I was his chaffing dick, I would have refused to work as well…..as a matter a fact, after he went back down and he took his embarrassed ass back to his cornerstone bed spot… I think at some point when I went back in the room to grab something (my phone maybe), he mentioned that he was giving up ….

because of chaffing o.O 

 I don’t even remember the last of our interaction that night. I’m positive after that, he put his clothes on and left and promised to call me (as if I was looking forward to that) later that week and how he hoped that he would have the chance to make up for this, sans hitting the blunt.

And from there, I started frying my chicken and called my homegirl up on the phone with a story that, to this day, she never fails to find ROTFLHAO type of humor in.

As for #HotRod…I will admit that I talked to him again. Hey, I was 25…..if this were today, that nigga would have been cut five minutes in and for good. We are still cool people to this day. But I don’t think he reads this blog ;)

I hope it wouldn’t be considered disrespectful to tell this story….

There is a light in it.

The light being, ……well….idk what the light is….

But my apartment that night was lit up only by the glow of my tv.  …..

So its no wonder I would end up in the sexually uncharged Twilight Zone.

jY

#AmusedBy #MuseHotRod #MuseInmate#20044002