Story Notes:
Disclaimer:
I own nothing but my words…or at least most of them.
Author's
note: I've never written an Office and/or dirty story before so try
to be easy on me, but constructive criticism is always welcome… Oh,
and I have no beta, so sorry about that. The title "The Blowers
Daughter" is from a song by Damien Rice and it's on the "Closer"
soundtrack.
Author's Chapter Notes:
It will get more explicit as time goes on and the dubious stuff will soon follow as well.
Pam's
Journal:
So many things have changed since the last time I wrote a
journal, diary, or whatever. I remember thinking it was too immature
for a person who was going to get married, and then that whole
married thing never happened. I showed my maturity by waiting around
for years, and that makes perfect since right? Now, I'm too happy
to only keep it to myself. I told my mom that I just wanted to bottle
it up so I can never forget what my life has become and what it feels
like to be in this moment.
Tonight happens to be the first night
I've had alone in about seven months and I'm not complaining. I
keep trying to think about ways I can enjoy being alone but
everything comes back to the fact that he's no here and the more I
think about it the more I wish he was. I'm kind of kicking myself
for the stupid comment about our living arrangements I happen to make
yesterday during lunch. I mean, I'm right, but I guess it was
really easier for him not to admit that all of his clothes and
belongings he actually uses are all at my house. He has literally
taken over most of my dresser, over a third of my closet, he's
managed to alphabetically mix all of his dvds and cds with mine, and
some how all of his dishes, pots, pans, etc. have all magically ended
up in my kitchen. Yet when I bring up the fact that he has been
paying rent for an apartment he hasn't lived in for three months he
freaks out and decides to spend the night at "his place." The
truly ironic thing is the fact that when he wakes up tomorrow he's
not going to have any bath products to clean himself with because
they're all in my shower, or clothes to wear because they're all
spread around "my" bedroom. When he shows up tomorrow morning at
five am I fully intend to laugh at him as long as he shows no signs
of taking his stuff back. I like having it all cluttered around my
apartment. I mean, I lived with a significant other for six years of
my ten year relationship and I know it wasn't perfect, but it's
nice to know that someone else belongs there. Jim really does belong
her whether he's man enough to admit or not.
I can feel my
cheeks already starting to burn. I don't actually question if he's
a man. I mean…. The silliest things give me dirty thoughts. I'll
be looking at a paperclip on my desk and suddenly be thinking about
how his hands travel up my shirt when we make out on the couch. How
the two things relate I'll never know, but it truly speaks to my
self control or lack there of. I think thinking about him like that.
I mean, since about two weeks in to when we met I've thought about
him like that, but now I actually knows what it feels like, what he
looks like, what he sounds like. The way… I don't think I've
ever imagined sex as good as it actually can be before. Whatever that
means.
We had the weirdest conversation the other day in bed when
I finally decided that watching the discovery health channel wasn't
appropriate background noise and turned it off. It's not that the
site of mangled bodies rolled into the emergency room is a turn on,
but I like watching Jim squirm in fear when the baby shows come on.
Apparently earlier that day Darryl had made comments that led to Roy
that somehow led to Jim questioning whether or not he was pleasing
me. Now that I think about it probably wasn't good to laugh at him
once he told me that, but honestly I do believe my neighbors know
that I'm pleased along with anyone else in a five mile radius. That
might be a little exaggerated. Anyways, after we got passed how
ridiculous the insinuation was we started talking about how great our
"doing it" is. I learned in high school that the best way to get
something you want from your boyfriend is to give a take certain
sexual activities and that's when I perfected my performance with
my mouth. The more blowjobs Roy got the happier our relationship,
which now sounds…it was high school. I guess, I just learned to
enjoy it back then so doing it now is just kind of fun especially
since I can see the look on Jim's face when thinks I'm about to
pull up, but with him I actually get turned on when he finishes in my
mouth. Mainly because think about me letting him do it managed to
turn him on even more, and I'm constantly trying to out do myself.
We joke that eventually I'll be able to make him come with just
thought.
I really wish he was here right now. I can already feel
myself getting more and more…ready, and I'm not really used to
"doing it" by myself. Roy used to get mad at me if I were to even
think about masturbating because that's probably the one problem
he'd be more than happy to help me with. Usually he was really good
at it anyway so it wasn't a problem. After I called off the wedding
and starting thinking about nothing but Jim I was too depressed to
try a solo project, and now that I'm actually with Jim he's
usually here helping me keep the apartment building up all night. At
this point I have to admit its gets practically impossible to not be
thinking about how hard…
Wow. I need to get away from the
computer.
Jim's Journal:
I inadvertently moved in to my
girlfriend's apartment. The worst part is the fact that she noticed
and I didn't, and now I'm stuck in a very cold practically empty
apartment with nothing to do or wear because I moved them all to her
place. I'm not entirely sure why I'm here either. I could be in a
warm bed with her warm body doing what two warm bodied people do
together, but instead I'm trying to remember the last time I
actually felt the need to take a cold shower. If I ever with her
right now I could just slip inside of her unexpectedly, she'd
giggle, drop whatever remote or book she was holding, and start to
moan. I love that moan. The moan I won't be hearing because I'm
the idiot who freaked out when he realized he inadvertently moved
into his girlfriend's apartment!
Right now when if I was with
her I could just give her a certain smile that would send out signals
telling her how much I love her mouth. How much I lover her mouth
loving me, and to be perfectly honest when she blows me I'm pretty
sure I start to register brain dead. I've never seen a girl get as
much pleasure as I do when she has me in her mouth. Granted my
experience when it comes to blow jobs is pretty limited all the same
I love watching her head move in my lap feeling her tongue on me. She
looks happy.
Thinking about it, my first blow job was a girl I
didn't really know that well in high school and she only did it
because I paid her five bucks just like every other guy in the
school. It wasn't until Katy that anyone ever blew me again, and
she was just down there for a few seconds before she got on top of
me. That's usually when I started to pretend she was someone else.
Karen didn't believe in blow jobs, because out of everything she
did want to do putting a dick in her mouth was beneath her or
something. I honestly think that was because I couldn't help her
move up in the company, so she mainly stuck to pumping me off quickly
out in the car when I was about to drop her off. Again I started to
think of someone else, but it wasn't like I was ready to admit that
at the time. Even after we started to have sex it never really seemed
like she was enjoying herself or me. It was more like a way to keep a
guy around for her and it probably really was at that point in time.
I mean, I liked Karen, but I always knew she was a rebound. She was
my distraction and safety net before I was shoved back to Scranton,
and now she's the girl that I don't think actually liked me as
anything more than her lack of other options. I really hope she can
find someone who she can enjoy sex with.
With Pam it's like
we're truly making an effort to please the other person and turning
them on only makes us more turned on. I get so hard when I think
about her getting pleasure out of sucking me off. I love watching her
do it. I have a hard enough time not watching her work all day, and
stare at her when we go home and she cooks, but when we're doing it
together in any capacity I just can't keep my eyes off of her. I
just really love her and really love watching her feel good. I mean,
watching her while I'm down between her legs the whole couple of
times a month she'll let me is probably the simply most fascinating
thing I've ever seen. I think that might be my favorite pass time.
And right now it's probably what's responsible for the fact that
I can now see my penis poking out of my boxers. I should probably
take care of that… DAMN IT! I have no soap here. Plain old cold
shower it is then.
Do I write like this every night or just nights
that I'm not already in bed with her? It's been awhile since I've
read my own journal, which is weird since I've been writing in one
ever since I met Pam five years ago. Pam… And suddenly I remember
my hard on.
To do list: Jack off, Call Pam, Get storage unit,
break lease….and only I that order!
Chapter End Notes:
I hope whoever read this liked it. Please review.