I’ve been letting my hair grow since June of last year at Jasmin’s request. Well it was more like OMG dude your hair looks pretty damn cool when its longer. When I travel for Androtics I usually get about three hours notice, because Jasmin likes to keep me on my toes. I have a msg from her saved where she called up at 3:47 a.m. with some tasks and what have you and at the end, almost as if it was an after thought, she was like:
“Oh yeah, tomorrow afternoon your flying to Florida for a week. Pack your bags and yeah (with a big ear to ear grin just eating it up as only Jas can do) have fun in Florida” giggle, giggle.
Pretty much every trip I’ve ever taken for Androtics has been the same way. Even Cancun last month I got a call from some travel agent who was like:
“SteveO, you’re going to Cancun, pack your bags, you’re leaving day-after-tomorrow.”
Of course this was at 5 p.m. on Tuesday and I was scheduled for a two week trip, out of the country on Thursday at 10 a.m.. At least I had a little time to prepare 
. So like I said last I saw the jazatron she commented how good my hair looked. It wasn’t supposed to be that long (and really it was only about 2-3 inches of hair and actually a little shaggy looking), but I just didn’t have time to get a haircut. So at that point I decided, with the help of a lovely ladies smile and a wink, to let my hair grow out. I was going for the John Travolta look in Pulp Fiction. Every couple of months I had it trimmed just to keep it neat and for over a year it grew and quick too. The Gods of Follicles and Curry Goat smiled down upon me and blessed me with a perfect hair line and hair that if let unchecked would outgrow Nick Nolte’s mugshot after a tequila, burrito and Saturday night binge of Quaaludes. Yeah it gets CRAZY!
It was a good thing I had a day to prepare for my AWESOME trip to Cancun or I would have ended up in a Mexican prison charged with the transport of illegal contraband just from my hairs length. I had time to get 3 whole inches chopped. Even then I was still looking like I might have had room to smuggle 3 Chicka’s, a bag of weed, 2 midgets, some hot sauce and even a statute of Jesus made out of clay and that’s only in my hair.
I’ve always believed a good drug mule knows that the anal cavity is an exit only , of course don’t tell me that when I’m drunk (or just say that I’m drunk as an excuse) and trying to hump my girl or maybe your sister. Somehow, every now and then, I miss the entrance to all that is Pink and Squishy and try to get over with a kiss to the neck, right behind the ear, while gently rubbing in between the arm and forearm all the while whispering in her ear that everything is going to be all right. Once in a while you get a woman willing to try anything and even once I had one tell me OK, but only if she could play Super Mario while I did it.
My girlfriend however, usually firsts says in the politest way that she will be more infamous than Lorena Bobbitt, which usually does the trick for a whole three seconds. Then of course she has this wicked elbow, the same one that I have been rubbing the inside of gently coaxing her. A quick elbow to the face, chest, neck or whatever else she can muster to inflict serious injury, a Super-Fly-Snooka squirm of her tiny, but very strong frame and she’s on top, nose to nose, vicious anger, hurt, humiliation, disgust, and complete control shining in those sparkling eyes.
They shine like all the trillions of stars in our galaxy, all condensed and charged into her eyes, staring down at me. All the glory of the God of Love and Light, and the Furry of all things in my nightmares. I am frightened and shiver and my voice gets low and whispers, breaking with fear and regret that I was only joking and that I’m a little drunk and I was just off course, and that I… did I tell you I love you tonight, cause I do.
I move in for a kiss, but she glides over my chest, sliding most gracefully like a ballerina, a Gold medal performance and without even so much as a gasp that can escape my bewildered lips, my lover has my arms pinned with her knees and her love, my love is inches from my face. I can smell the sweet smell of paradise, musky and peachy, she always smells like peaches and cream, her sun kissed tan skin glistening with sweat and her natural pheromones, our natural scents mixed and everywhere, in my nose. Her smile, the radiance of a thousand suns, the kiss of a rose, the pearls of all the oceans, the warmth of Gods love for all, grows bigger and brighter as her brow narrows and her eyes glaze over with devilish, girlish passion.
She has me now, she has control and she knows what she wants. I’ve gone to far this time and now I am her captive, a captive of my own lover and she will make me pay. She gracefully slides ever closer and closer and soon my vision is slowly turned to dark, but in this darkness the God of all things Pink and Squishy is there to remind me that this is where I belong, it is my home, our home and home is where I shall feed my hungry desire fulfilling her lust, punishing me for being drunk and “missing”. I smile and mumph, mumph, ooo, mmmm, buhlabuhlabula, and know deep within myself that I didn’t miss at all, but secretly knew this is the punishment, my pain, my suffering I crave. I think she knows it too .
I was going for John Travolta in Pulp Fiction with my hair. I remember watching the movie “Blow” with Johnnie Depp and thinking my hair looked a lot like his too. I decided to do a Google search more on Johnnie and I was amazed several times that we had not only strikingly similar hair styles but I could almost see the confusion that would stir if we stood side by side. Near identical twins, the resemblance is striking. It’s no wonder why I don’t get stopped in the street more and asked for autographs. I think when people tell me I remind them of someone I always thought I bore a resemblance to Chris Farley, but I was completely off-kilter.
Thursday I cut my hair. I had my stylist, who was shocked to the core use a number two on the sides and I left about 2 inches on top. A bit like Tyler Durden in Fight Club look. Every body in the hair cutting joint, coincidentally named Johnnie’s gathered around to watch the transformation. Customers formed a circle and they all agreed I could’ve escaped the coppers by walking right by them with the new (old) do.
I went to see Public Enemies that night and holly freaking molly it was long. I usually really like Depp as an actor and with our newly discovered resemblance I was thinking the movie would rock.
It did ROCK, that is if they tied rocks to it an dropped it to the bottom of the sea anyhow. Yeah holly freaking long and more of a date movie than a shoot-em-up portrayal of the murderous, but charismatic Dillinger. Some interesting hits that night though. I was in line and a friend was buying me a ticket. A blond, with my old haircut recently cut from my head, was using a GC but they couldn’t get it to work. She kept staring and looking at me. Hmm Raw Power was being Raw, a very intriguing concept indeed. My friend and I took a seat somewhere smack dab in the middle of the stadium theater. We left a seat between us and lounged all the way back in the recliner seats. I would think that most movie theaters are like this and if they are not, please seek shelter from the impending doomsday device the Illuminati have left under your pillows. They know, just as the all seeing eye knows what my girl and I do in bed together. Really perverse, silly and twisted that would make amazing porno 
.
Blondie sits right behind me and instead of lounging back like a normal decent human turns out she had a wild side. She decided not only wasn’t she going to sit back but for the entire two and a half very boring, near sleep inducing (I say near, but it did drive my friend into a boredom induced sleep for a few minutes before I gave em a good shake), but sat on the edge of her seat the entire monstrosity of a movie. Her face was mere inches from the top of my head and I was sure she was actually huffing. Sometimes I wish the Iphone had a slide that accepted credit cards. I could get one of those head band lights the miners used to use and attach it to my head and charge for hourly head and face usage. Press a button and vroom the tongue elongates and vibrates into mind blistering speeds. I do believe though in my GF’s instance I’d be more than happy and willing to pay her. Although I do keep my tongue and humming chords in amazing harmonic rhythm and shape. Oh and let me tell you something Mr Gene Simmons, you know nothing about length. All natural baby, no tongue augmentation here!
OK so I look up and get the quick look away a few times. Towards the end I turned around just to be completely certain and I get a great big smile and a wink. Hmm maybe that’s not her BF after all, but she pales in comparison to my Country Farmers Daughter. My cotton picking, soy-bean slicking farmers daughter who hates clothing.
Movie ends and everybody leaves, but I think you’re supposed to at the end of those things. There were drool stains on everybody’s shirts from boredom induced sleep. Anyway Blondie is behind me and walking up quickly. I can smell her and it reminds me of Dr. Lector to Clarice: “I can smell your pussy agent Starling.”. LOL, she doesn’t smell like the sweet nectar of my lover though, good but not quite embracing, warm, loving, yet perverse and naughty, wicked and wanting, well maybe the wanting part. She walks by and I feel her arm on my back. A quick swatch of touch like an accidental brush up, but gliding, thought provoked, conspired. She looks back and smiles with a quick wink. The guy she is with, poor guy hasn’t a clue, puts his arm around her, with a plop. {Guys one trick: if ever you get anything from any of my posts, don’t plop, slide, glide and with passion and purpose. A lover does not plop.} They walk off into the night and what is sure to soon be separate directions. There was another hit, but nothing as pronounced as Blondie. I head on over to my GF’s apartment.
She reacts, she’s in love, we do as lovers do, we make love. Sweet love making and sweaty dirty fucking. We love each other, singing our song with moans, grunts, groans, songs of pleasures. Singing sweet songs of lust, singing our praise and worship for the God of all things Pink and Squishy For the Captain and Commander of my thing long and hard. I am blessed, but my GF is my keeper and keep me she does.
Love life
Love You
SteveO
I’m glad you’re having a great time with your GF mr.naughty 