They all start the same way "Report from the Field". All you have to do is move on by if you don't like them. I think the author has a creative mind and a talent for spinning a yarn. That's a heckuva lot more interesting than most of the drivel that scrolls across the screen.
Dearest Rebecca! (I’ll call you Rebecca, okay?)
Thanks for the IM flurry last night! Thanks for the photo of your sweet face! You’re such a babe! I’m looking forward to hooking up with you when you get to L.A.!
I can’t wait to meet your flesh! (I mean, IN the flesh! Sorry.)
And sorry I had to run out so quick last night, I got there right on time. The guy had me wash my entire head in the sink and shave so all the electrodes would stick. He had me shave two spots on my chest (so I look a bit spotty right now!) Then I got in my shorts (Thank god I remembered to bring something to sleep in.)
I sleep naked as a jaybird usually. But you’ll find that out when you get here, I hope!
Then this Hospital Guy stands in front of me and starts saying things that take me by surprise, such as: "Well, this is the last resort before surgery"... Shit like that.
My jaw drops. Huh??!
He’s rattling off a speech he must say every night.
Hell, I almost forgot about this thing! My doctor didn't even tell me he was going to sign me up for it or any details at all about what it’s for and what takes place.
I get this brochure from the sleep center saying I have an appointment. I read the questionnaire asking me if I fall asleep at work and do I ever fall out of bed.
“How did your parents treat you?”… “Have you ever wet the bed as an adult?” Stuff like that. 200 questions.
It's ridiculous that I'm going to this, I think. I'm not sure what they're looking for. Oxygen level in my blood? I walk in there clueless. I’m supposed to sleep over. Hook me up with electrodes and bells and whistles.
I sure as shit hope they can't see my dreams!
Hope I don't run in my sleep like a dog.
Hope I don't inadvertently masturbate while they watch on the monitor.
I usually go to bed at 1:30am and I'm sleeping by 2am. But these people want me there at 9:30pm. Asleep by 10:30 pm and they'll wake me up at 5am to go to work.
I'm thinking...what planet are you people from?
I usually eat dinner at 10pm or maybe go to a movie.
I think of you in your time zone. And wish I were wrapped up in your arms. Dancing maybe. Soaking in your hot tub. Kissing. Whichever: dance floor or hot tub… can we be kissing, please?
Your red hair soft on my face. Those twinkling eyes. I know only one way I can sleep better tonight and that’s in your fantasy arms! You’ve been such a sweetheart and I’ve wondered about you for so long. I know it’s a fake romance that’s all in my head but tonight I need a bit of comforting seeing that I’m alone with a robot plugging his Matrix Machine in my head. Medical zombie sucking my weakening soul. I’d much rather be making you cum as often as your reviews say you do!
I'm sitting there in my shorts and tee shirt and he starts explaining that "sleep apnea is when air can't get past some sort of obstruction in your windpipe."
He is putting electrodes with wires all over my face and bald head and chest and hands and neck and feet and a thing on my finger. Then he puts two heavy straps over my stomach and one over my chest with sensors on them all.
As he's hooking me up he explains about a mask. "This is a tool that goes over your nose and pushes air into your lungs past whatever obstruction there is. If it works for you you'll have to wear it every night for the rest of your life, otherwise you may suffocate in your sleep. But first we need to determine if you need it."
Fuck me! I think I need a Doctor that gives me a heads up on this shit.
He says he's going to let me sleep for a couple hours and if I'm breathing normally, I'll sleep through the night undisturbed. But If I'm not getting the proper oxygen he's bound by law to interrupt my sleep and put on the mask. Then he'll let me sleep with the mask for a couple hours. "But don't ask me how you're doing because I won't know yet...there will be thousands of pages to analyze. We throw out when you are awake and only keep when you are asleep."
I took all this to mean that if I see this motherfucker in the middle of the night with a mask in his hand, then I'm screwed for the rest of my life.
I’m down in the bed all wired up. I feel like Houdini tied up in a casket. Little tiny bed. A million wires and I’m thinking of all this new information. I can't sleep, of course. I didn't get dinner so my blood sugar isn't happy. It’s three hours before my bedtime. And to top it off, the faucet is actually dripping! Like a bad movie! There's some blower blowing and I can't get on my side cause I feel like I'm in a sleeping bag. You know the feeling? You have to do that flip-and-jump kind of rollover?! Well I'm scared to yank the wires off my head.
Sleep. Get some sleep for this motherfucker so I can get out of here.
So I lay on my back and try to relax and...Frankly...I daydream about you.
I wonder what you're like. I'm wondering if we can be friends. And my mind goes in circles because this is all stuff I can't figure out in my head. I can’t figure this out like a math problem.
So maybe, to protect my delicate heart, or maybe to get my mind off the "real you"... Or maybe to stifle the fear I get when I’m alone in the dark in a casket… I start thinking about the “nasty you” and have a good old fashioned erotica daydream.
You are in jeans and a green tee shirt and your breasts are bulging under the cotton fabric. You’ve got a confident look! I put my hand at your waist and you kiss me so naughty that my arches fall. Our tongues dance and you smell like the first day of autumn. You put me on my back and spread yourself on top of me like a bright red maple leaf.
I pull off your shirt and feel your tits squeeze across my chest as your tongue comes into my mouth. Your fingers wiggle their way between us and cover Little Sampson in a warm fondle. You make me hard just tasting your breath. You spread open my shirt and take my nipple with your mouth. The heat of your tongue makes three different parts of my body go as erect as stone and my hands wash over your milky skin.
You squirm your way down to my cock, pulling off my jeans as you go and your tongue dances in circles around my balls and thighs. You’re shimming out of your jeans as you lick the shaft of my prick slowly. You never engulf me in your mouth…such a glorious tease!
(continued in next post)
You slide my cock between your breasts and look at me with a delicious grin. I feel my hardness on your heart and sliding down your stomach as your face approaches mine. I can feel your fuzzy pussy against me and feel the sweat of your coochie as it passes Sampson by. Your mouth climbs up my nipples and then my lips and my bald head and your pussy slides up my chest and into my mouth and I drink all your sizzling wet cum as I lick your clit into oblivion.
God, I hope this hospital bastard isn’t watching my head too closely or else he’s jacking off in the other room all over my test results.
I realize that a couple hours have gone by and I'm still awake. So I really need to try to rest. I can’t sleep when you’re sitting on my mouth. I’ve made you cum so many times that you shudder under the sheet with me. I try to ease back and let you take control. Sucking my cock deep and long. Stroking my shaft with your throat. Running your sexy lips over the head. Making me cum so hard that I nearly fall out of bed.
“Have you ever fallen out of bed?” “Have you ever woken up at night from hitting your head on a piece of furniture?” “Have you ever been able to cum from a Minnesotan Babe Fantasy?”
It didn't feel like more than 20 minutes, I swear...but I must've dozed off. And when I woke there was the hospital guy over my bed with the light flickering on. Is it 5 in the morning? Can I go home and get some real sleep? It’s not light out. And why is he holding that fucking mask?
SHIT!
He's strapping this thing on so tight...this whole headgear thing…with a mask that only covers the nose. It's making my upper lip bend backward, it's so tight. Air is shooting through my nose and out my mouth and nothing is going into my lungs. He says, "Close your mouth as long as you are awake. Your body will take care of itself when you're asleep"
The body will take care of itself when you're asleep? No it doesn’t…otherwise I wouldn’t be in the hobby.
I'm thinking about this thing on my face for the rest of my life.
I'm thinking how it won't be easy to get a kiss good morning from some prospective girlfriend. One more superficial obstacle in the deepening bucket of bullshit that prevents me from meeting Miss Kinky.
I'm feeling sorry for myself. Getting all weepy. Which I hate. So I think...this guy's an asshole. That’s shooting the messenger but it feels good anyway. Hell, I've been living with this so-called life-threatening ailment for decades, I bet. Fuck him.
I’m suffocating. This thing is suffocating me. If I gotta suffocate to death I want it to be your pussy that does it, Rebecca. Not this machine.
I feel a jiggle from under the bed. What the heck is that? Then your red hair emerges from the deep and lights up the room. You look clean and new. You give a glance over your shoulder to make sure the guy is out of the room.
“I’ve got a car downstairs, Jockey. Let’s bust outta here!”
My eyes are wet and I quiver out a nod. You yank off the electrodes. Rip off the belts. And slide the mask over my head. You take me by the hand and we slip out of the room and escape this mental institution. We fly over the cuckoo's nest and bolt to your car. And we’re speeding up the 5 until the sun comes up north of Los Angeles.
We drive to Minnesota. Stopping only to look at the books in Wall Drug Store.
And when I see the trees and I know I’m home.
Safe.
Where all the men and women snore like bullfrogs and no one accuses them of dying. Where all the children learn to snore from their parents.
Where we learn to make love by hiding our hearts under bone until it just has to burst out and embrace the life around it.
We finally lay down in your soft bed. The one I will probably die in tonight because I don't have the machine. But the one that's big enough for two. (Plenty of room for one big guy who runs in his sleep and one gentle woman who spoons with him)
I won't know any real results for a while...I guess. The guy said something about how my Apnea seemed to be worse while I was on my back. They’ll get back to me.
All I know is you were awfully nice to be in my head last night, Rebecca. Helping me escape.
Thanks.
That’s the Report From the Field.
Jockeypants
When there was a long absence of his reporting from the field, many fans clamored for him to reinstitute his weekly musings. You're going to hear from them.
...usually taxes my very limited attention span, I have thoroughly enjoyed up to 16 lines of the Reports from the Field®. Keep 'em up, JP!
They all start the same way "Report from the Field". All you have to do is move on by if you don't like them. I think the author has a creative mind and a talent for spinning a yarn. That's a heckuva lot more interesting than most of the drivel that scrolls across the screen.