Lydia Aswolf

My youngest son got both a mother and daughter in bed with him a week ago.

I realize I should have blogged about it sooner.

But I wanted to see what he might do next, with such ample bosoms and opportunities around him.

I should mention at this juncture that my youngest son will turn seven in December.

As most of you know, I’m visiting my best friend, Suzanne, and her family in Texas.

She and her daughter are extraordinarily attractive specimens to be found among the female gender.

So, Reilly started wooing them shortly after arriving on their front doorstep.

He moved at a fast pace, first giving Suzanne’s nipple a friendly hello with his finger.

I have no doubts at all he wishes to give his other fingers a introduction to Suzanne’s other nipple.

I’m sure he’ll find a opportunity.

Reilly was, shortly after his introduction to Suzanne’s impressive bosom.

To be found in bed with Suzanne’s daughter, Alaina…under the covers, no less.

As of this date, Reilly has tried to no avail to actually spend the night in Alaina’s bed.

His intentions are clear that she is to remain in bed with him.

But you know how women are, Alaina just won’t be ordered around.

Reilly still lives in hope and can be found trailing Alaina with a confident grin in place.

He believes confidence is the key to wooing women, and I’m not at all certain he’s wrong on that point.

His headiest victory to date is the getting the mother and daughter in bed.

I suppose it’s fair to say the saga begins with Reilly donning a batman costume.

Six pack muscles and nippled shields are included, but alas, no codpiece to be found.

Not that lack of codpiece distracted or upset a real man like Reilly.

Confidence being key, he settled down, mask in place, to watch a movie with Suzanne and Alaina.

Reilly was enjoying the movie, when true inspiration hit.

He requested that Alaina and Suzanne move a bit closer, as he was uncomfortable.

Both complied, and not one to think his luck will lack at any date or time, Reilly then made another suggestion.

Why not lie down in bed together?

Suzanne and Alaina complied yet again.

Unfortunately, they had made a mistake.

They were both beside one another.

This was a situation Reilly felt capable of dealing with.

Gesturing in his batsuit, nipple shields shining in the light from the tv, smile firmly in place.

Reilly instructed Alaina to lay on one side of him, then Suzanne the other.

Unbeknownst to Reilly, who had inadvertantly got caught up in the Spongebob movie playing.

Suzanne and Alaina were smiling over him at one another.

After all, they had seen all that Reilly flaunted in front of them before.

Perhaps it was unwise of me to rush headlong into the story without mentioning that when it came to donning the batsuit Reilly had discovered.

He simply stripped all his clothing off in full view of Suzanne and Alaina.

As his mother, I can vouch that he has nothing to be ashamed of; if he did, I most assuredly would confess to it.

Nor was this the first time Suzanne and Alaina were stunned by a naked young man in their presence.

Reilly had the endearing or digusting habit, depending on how one looks at it.

Of stripping completely as soon as he enters a door.

Any door.

He’s not a fan of underwear, like all the males in my family.

Sadly, he’s not ashamed, nor is he aware that normal social etiquette requires that one NOT remove every scrap of clothing in the presence of females.

Believe me, I have tried to convince him otherwise;  his having confidence in this case is not a good thing.

I suppose he feels both Suzanne and Alaina are important.

Of course, I feel the same.

I’m already scheming with Suzanne and her husband to set up an arranged marriage between either Liam (turning eight in October) or Reilly to Alaina.

Either way, I’m finally related to Suzanne, even if by marriage, so which son marries her matters not one whit to me.

I’d ask them to share, but I think even they would frown upon that.

But I digress.

Reilly was in heaven.

He had already experienced the graciousness and run to get whatever he, the man, wanted that Suzanne and Alaina display on a continuing basis.

It’s not behavior his sorry ass will see at home, believe me.

But life improved rapidly while he was watching Spongebob with two of the three most important women in his life (of which goddammit, I am one, no matter what that little bastard tells you).

Reilly’s next request of Suzanne and Alaina (during a commercial break, of course) was a bit more graphic.

He turned to Suzanne, then to Laini, and gently yet expectantly.

Asked them if they wanted to stroke his muscles.

When this true tale was relayed to me, I warned both women that so long as he wasn’t asking for them to stroke the muscles under his waist, they’d be fine.

Reilly hasn’t donned the batsuit since.

Oh, it wasn’t that Suzanne and Alaina didn’t gingerly stroke the six pack on the batsuit.

It’s more along the lines of Reilly’s thought process, which I can both understand and appreciate.

Once you’ve had two women in bed with you.

Not just watching Spongebob…which is necessary for any woman to appreciate in Reilly’s mind.

But also stroking your manly bat muscles.

Donning the suit will never be the same again.

So it is I find myself compelled to say to my youngest son.

Reilly.

You are my kind of Super Hero.

It started with two small red circles on my calf.

They were flat, didn’t itch, and didn’t look in danger of exploding, so I forgot about it.

When I woke up the next morning.

After showering, applying makeup, and having my morning iced tea.

In the midst of my morning smoke, I glanced down at my legs.

I was wearing capris, and noted with mild alarm that both calves were entirely covered in red spots.

Again, no raising, no itching, nothing but the spots.

To my alarm, Suzanne, who I am staying with on my working vacation in Houston Texas, had them too.

We have always joked that we are twins, but this was the most alarming sign yet.

Suzanne didn’t itch either.

The next day, we noted with relief that they seemed to be fading.

Unfortunately, on the fourth day, I noted with real alarm that they were swollen, and I itched.

Oh my god, did I itch.

Poor Suzanne itched too.

She spent a great deal of time on the internet, searching for whatever the hell had gotten to us.

I saw no mosquitoes swarming me.

Hell, I saw nothing.

I’m sure you will understand that by this point, I was paying a great deal of attention to my calves.

Most of that attention came in the form of my fake fingernails scratching said calves.

At no time did I see any bugs on the march up, on, or around my calves.

Suzanne and I were becoming…not panicked, but tired of incessant hours itching.

I mean hours.

Suzanne had contacted several of her family members begging for a solution to our torture.

To no avail.

We had tried tea tree oil, chiggerex, caladryl, and other concoctions.

I did find, to our shared amusement, that layering all three of these topical medications apparently made Suzanne’s cats high as a kite.

They kept coming over to sniff the combination on my legs, head butting me (ouch) and rolling around on the ground in obvious joy.

I envied them mightily, but we had reached the conclusion that our suffering occured from chigger bites.

So we decided, after making the diagnosis.

To head to the pharmacy and show off our battle wounds.

I wasn’t thrilled about the proposition of raising my jeans to show the horrors beneath.

But I was also crazed with itching…and pain.

The bites had started to hurt…badly.

So it was, we carefully waddled to the local pharmacy.

We waited in line.

I didn’t notice Suzanne twitching uncontrollably, but I sure as hell was.

We finally got up to the pharmacist.

She advised us to use several remedies.

All of which we had tried.

Undeterred, Suzanne and I marched on.

In desperation, we looked at the remedies the pharmacist had advised.

We excitedly compared (loudly, might I add) percentages of lidocaine and hydrocortisone.

We opined over jock itch medication, psoriasis topical treatments, and yeast infection suppositories.

We opined with raised voices and at length, not noting at the time that we had attracted the attention of several employees.

We wandered every aisle, picking up diaper rash cream, A&E ointment, and even considered pin worm treatment before casting it aside.

We left total carnage in our wake.

Every aisle we left was littered with a ointment we had put down, while we picked something else up.

In the baby oil aisle, as we perused yet more diaper rash treatments.

With employees following us closely.

I exclaimed loudly (( know no other way to exclaim) “Ooooooh, Butt Paste!!!”

Whereupon Suzanne collapsed into the diaper section (soft landing) laughing uncontrollably.

This did not endear us to the employees standing and watching in disapproval.

Then again, the fact that I had haphazardly thrown three bottles of assorted pain relief sprays on their shelves might have been responsible.

I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.

Suzanne, having recovered, had a flash of inspiration.

She called her younger brother, who happens to work in a pharmacy.

She inquired if there was anything over the counter that could help.

Suzanne and I aren’t fond of doctors…or their bills.

Her brother informed her of the same remedies that we had thusfar heard.

I asked her in full view and hearing of a couple employees if her brother did steroids.

When she asked, he changed subject, which we both knew was evasion.

I asked again, this time more loudly…so that he could hear the desperation in my voice.

I then stated I’d not mind if I had to drop trou and let him administer a steroid shot in one of my considerable buttocks.

All I heard was hemming and hawing, and then Suzanne got off the phone.

A couple things we’d not tried might work, according to her brother.

So we threw all our assorted armful of topical ointments, sprays, and creams onto the nearest shelf, and rushed for the correct aisle.

Right as we neared it, the manager of the pharmacy stopped us.

He politely asked what we were looking for.

He then ran to ask the pharmacists what could be done to assist us (get us the hell out of his store).

We made for the correct aisle, grabbed the product Suzanne’s brother said would help a bit.

Turned to make a hasty retreat, and there was the manager.

Smiing widely, he pointed out a box, which was covered entirely in Spanish.

Suzanne and I know some spanish, but are not exactly what you’d call fluent.

Before I continue.

You must understand.

Suzanne and I had literally spent whole nights itching, praying to various Saints, God, Buddha, whomever could or would help heal the godforsaken bites.

We were loopy, exhausted, and tired of reading fine print.

So, when I turned the box over and saw the familiar pinworm medicine phrase in English on the back.

I turned to the side while pushing Suzanne roughly towards the manager.

I was trying to be polite, though Suzanne and manager didn’t get that.

I buried my head in the tampon packages and laughed helplessly and as quietly as possible.

I laughed for a very long time, tears pouring down my cheeks.

In part, I laughed because I had spotted on the pinworm medication package that one need not take a laxative to get those nasty pinworms out.

After I got over that induced merriment.

I laughed because there was total silence behind me.

Suzanne didn’t know what to say, and the manager didn’t know what to think.

I finally got it out of my system, while both waited patiently.

The manager, eyeing us carefully, got the hell out of the aisle after we thanked him for his assistance.

We then walked to the pharmacists to double check that he’d gotten things right.

Nope.

Wrong thing.

But we had what we really needed to help us, so we went to make our purchases and flee.

I had little difficulty in making my purchase.

As I stepped away, I heard the cashier ask Suzanne if that was all.

She said “Yes.” and he again inquired if she was certain that was all.

She replied “Yes, thank you.”

We made good our escape, and as I fastened my seatbelt, Suzanne, who had been a few steps behind, opened the suv door.

She threw in her purse and it was then I saw the paper towels cradled in her arm.

I had not seen them before.

Suzanne looked at the paper towels in her hands with utter disbelief.

Looking up, her eyes widened in alarm.

She hadn’t paid for them.

She started to turn back to the pharmacy.

I stopped her.

Looking over my shoulder nervously in case the manager, or full contingent of pharmacy employees come charging out at us, I advised her to leave.

I reminded her she’d paid for lots of prescriptions there, and that the cashier obviously let her walk out of the pharmacy knowing full well she was clutching a roll of paper towels under her arms.

He must have thought she really needed them.

I don’t blame him, given our general demeanor while in the pharmacy.

We made it home without police pursuit.

 Wearily regarded one another over Suzanne’s dining room table.

I noticed the purloined paper towels in front of me.

As my eyes wandered over the package, a prominent ad on the packaging caught my eye.

“Try Us Risk Free”

Suzanne and I now regret not having been pursued and caught.

We haven’t recovered, you see.

Had we been caught and imprisoned.

Free health care would have been provided.

We aren’t planning to repeat our dastardly dash and theft at the pharmacy again.

That said, neither of us have taken that option off the table.

We might make the national news yet.

Stay tuned.

Wanted to get my ass in gear and post, been too long, but I’m visiting Suzanne and family in Texas. We went to see the Houston Aquarium today in a heat index of 105. I’m telling you, I RAN to the shower upon reaching Suzanne’s house, and used the coldest water the shower could provide me with.  Will post pics soon, but have more places to go and things to see.

Interesting sidenote here..i HAVE finished my first book, and will be submitting to publishers after my own private editor gets through looking over my final draft…so that should be pretty goddamned exciting!

This IS a working vacation, so meeting clients in between museum visits and fucking Chuck E Cheese, whom I hate with a passion…but must endure as a parent.

Will post pics as soon as i can. Posting pics might possibly involve fighting Suzanne to the death, so I figure I’ll try and defeat her with some paralyzing, incapacitating drug, then post before she can maim me…she isn’t a fan of pics taken of her, anymore than I’m a fan of pics taken of me, but what the hell, might as well show off my glasses, LOL!

Have a good one people, I’m gonna suck on some ice cubes and hope the temp drops by half tomorrow!