When you mention the Pacific Northwest to people, they immediately think it is California’s hippie cousin. The strip of land from Canada to California that’s bounded by the Cascades is certainly different. Western Oregon and Washington are longstanding bastions of liberal thinking. This is where we live. You would think a live-and-let-live attitude prevails. Hippies and other flavors of liberals are supposed to believe in personal freedom. I always thought that was true. It isn’t.

There is a vocal minority of bicyclists in Seattle. They largely belong to the white, college-educated demographic. They vote Democratic but don’t act like the liberals they profess to be. These underweight, beak-nosed guys believe that they deserve private roads that they can use to pedal their way to work and recreation. On the surface, that seems like a reasonable ask.

These well-to-do people lobbied the Seattle city council to join the growing movement to paint bike lanes on city streets. These are solid, white lines that are supposed to be kept clear for bike riders. They have a small effect on traffic since they only remove about six feet of road width. They are expensive to paint and maintain, but what-the-hell the bike riders contribute to campaigns.

Typical bike lane

If things stopped there, Seattle would be another progressive city offering zero-carbon-emission transportation alternatives. But it didn’t. You should know that Seattle, like San Francisco, and Rome is built on a series of hills. These are very steep hills that are seriously unfriendly to bikes. The climate isn’t very nice for people walking or riding bikes. Seattle is windy and rainy nine months a year. Between the hills and the weather, only the beak-noses are willing to ride every day.

Since living in Seattle is expensive, the voting public is heavily weighted toward the bike crowd. For years these people worked tirelessly to make Seattle a bicycle town. There is no subway (one is under construction now for a very limited area), and bus service is, well, bus service, means that driving to work in Seattle is a fact of life for many. The bike nazis argued that if the roads were less accessible to cars, more people would exchange them for bikes. Commute times would go up, and somehow that would flatten the hills and improve the climate.

These two-wheel fascists sponsored initiative after initiative and donated to candidates who supported the tyranny of the two-wheeler. The result was the most incredibly stupid destruction of urban planning. Second Avenue, up until recently, the major route north and south in the city, was converted from five lanes (one way southbound) into two lanes. One full lane is reserved for bikes. This lane is largely empty. Only a couple of thousand cycles a day use it. Another lane is reserved just for busses. OK, that makes sense. That leaves just two lanes to serve cars and trucks.

Second Avenue now.

What the hell, the bike riders can cruise in peace. Meanwhile, pollution is up because the motor traffic is forced to a crawl due to being squeezed into just two lanes. My drive on Second Avenue went from ten minutes to thirty. That’s three times as much CO2 from each car. But hey, the nazis got their way and can cruise without dealing with cars. The destruction didn’t stop there. The Schwinn Reich closed entire east-west streets to motor traffic. They also made sure it wasn’t necessary to license bicycles.

Fascism isn’t limited to the Right. It’s a disease that infects people of all political persuasion. Seattle is a perfect example of what happens when a minority can gain control over the majority. There’s a lesson in this for all of us.

This year we promise to cook it first.

Today is Thanksgiving. It’s a day to visit with family and stuff your face. Our family lives far away so it’s just us stuffing our faces. We’re watching a dog show, marveling at all the different breeds and how much grooming some of them require. We’ll start cooking in a little while.

This morning we set up my work computer. Things didn’t go exactly to plan but, aside from plugging in an internet connection and phone, everything is working. Now I have to set up the rest of my crap to get ready for Monday morning.

We met with the dog trainer yesterday afternoon. Our dear Willow apparently thinks she’s just one of us. We have to learn how to convince her she needs to listen to us. I’m not at all sure why they call it dog training. Usually it’s the owners who need training. In this case, I’ll probably be the problem student. As you know, I’m inconsistent. I’ll give it my best shot.

Despite the lion weather report of hot, by the time we tried, things had cooled off. He was hard for a short time but I couldn’t keep him interested. Once we get the turkey in the oven, maybe we’ll try again. Lion is snoozing at the moment so he should be all rested up.

One of these days, I need to give him a “just because” spanking. He’s interrupted a few times. I haven’t growled yet. I suppose I should. I guess I’ve been too stressed by the dog and work lately. I need to make Lion more of a priority.

When I write, suspense is not giving the readers what they want, holding them off as long as possible. For me, it is the agonizing wait for release. Feeling Mrs. Lion suck or rub my cock until I’m sure I will explode and have my orgasm. I feel it coming. There’s the tingle near the head of my penis. My toes curl, and my breath catches. I’m almost there! Just a little more. Please, please!

Then she stops. There’s a little jab of pain where the tingle was before. I was so close! Then she starts again. Will I get over the top? I’m ready. I’m ready! The toes tingle and my breath catches. She stops again! Occasionally, she goes just a bit more. Toes, tingle, breath, and a slightly painful muscle pull in my right thigh. She stops, but I can’t. The same painful fall from the top, but this time it’s different. Semen drips from my penis. I fall lower and lower. I know she can’t bring me back. My suspense has ended with the indignity of a ruined orgasm.

Some men can be brought back and suffer more than one. I can’t. The ability of a male to reach orgasm is partly dependent on his semen supply. If it’s low, the first ruined orgasm empties the reservoir. Those fortunate enough to have a larger supply can repeat the process until they run out of juice.

Suspense is sensing the outcome is near and feeling a growing tension that something will happen to satisfy. Waiting is the friend of suspense. Suspense is riding up that long first hill on a roller coaster. The chain clicking the moments before you meet your fate of falling down that impossibly steep incline. Why did I decide to ride this? Click, click, click. Oh God, I have to crane my neck to see the top. It’s so high! Click, click, click. We are at the top. Time stands still. Then, we fall. I’m weightless in my seat. Only the safety bar keeps me in the car. Everyone screams! Then we are at the bottom, and we are climbing another hill. Oh, no!

We crave suspense even though we hate it at the same time. I want that orgasm. Please, please let me reach nirvana! Click, click, click. I’m almost there! Please, Please! I can see the top!

“Sorry, not tonight, dear.”

Lion after I wax his body. The only hair left is on his head and arms. Maybe I’ll wax his arms too.

In this morning’s email was, in part, the following message: “The lion weather is hot.” Mmmmm…horny Lion. I had a feeling. We haven’t done much for the past few days. We’ve both been tired, and one of us was not feeling our best on any given day. Last night Lion asked when we might have some sex. Yup. I had a feeling the lion weather was toasty.

The good news is that I have the next four days off. The even better news is that I’ll be working from home from now on, so we’ll be together all of the time. I’ve already promised Lion that he’ll be getting waxed this weekend. Depending on how much, or little, I wax, I can do both the moon side and the sunny side in one day. However, I decided it was time for Lion to be bare. I probably shouldn’t have waited for the colder part of the year to do it, but what can you do. I know Lion likes to be hairless except for his head and arms. That’s a lot of work. I think his legs look funny with no hair, so I tend to leave them furry, but I guess he can think of it as an early Christmas present. I plan on doing one side per day. Which days? I don’t know yet. I think we can eliminate tomorrow since we’ll be cooking and getting things ready for our yummy turkey dinner. The other three days are fair game.

My hard, hairless lion

Waxing has little to do with the lion weather. I do like to jerk him off when he’s all oiled up while I’m getting the wax bits off him. It gets him all hot and bothered, but I don’t edge him. There’s no real reason why I can’t. There’s no real reason I can’t give him an orgasm then. I’ll miss out on my lion cream filling, but I think I can survive without it just this once. Of course, I haven’t decided if he’ll have an orgasm then. I usually decide on the spur of the moment.

Since I know the lion weather is hot, I can have more fun deciding. Do I leave him hanging? Do I put him out of his misery? He’s only been waiting five days at this point. I don’t think there’s any misery yet. There will be. Maybe not misery, but certainly frustration. I don’t think he’ll have an orgasm until I have a chance to wax his sunny side. That’s when I’ll have him slathered in mineral oil to clean him up. It would be less fun for both of us if he weren’t horny then. I love a super hard, oily weenie.

I think Lion will enjoy his Thanksgiving weekend.