Cleanliness is Next to Godliness.
(Start at Chapter - 1 8/11)

I sit and wonder how all this has come to be.  My artistic endeavors have made some big swings lately.  My painting has regressed to the point of a ten year old pre-adolescent girl.  Last week I was painting hearts with smiley faces on them and now this week I'm writing porn.  (see www.love-works-art.com) Artistic ADD or AADD for short gotta be the answer, if not the blood clot in my leg that has laid me up for the week must be currently lodged in my brain.  Then again the steady diet of vodka, beer, and sesame seed sticks might have something to do with it. I hear that sesame seeds have some strange side effects when eaten in large quantities. I have to keep reminding myself lately that I am The John Dog, Eccentric Outsider Artist.  I am not Charles Frigging Bukowski. Quiet Hank, I'm trying to write here. I never bothered you while you were trying to write. FUCK OFF, get out of my head.

AADD is a serious disorder.  Not many artists survive as long as I have enduring this condition. It has doomed me or blessed me into Outsider Artist status long ago. Hold on a second, Tom is calling from the closet. "What? You want me to call the Burrito King and order you a couple beaners?" yea, will do soon as I'm done with this blog. I'm going to keep going on this thread for as long as it lasts.  But who knows when the clot will move again or the AADD will kick in or worse. Mortality is a bitch. God bless America. God bless Mickey Mantle who died just ten years ago today (liver cancer). Better enjoy this stuff while you can, might not be another post tomorrow.

Met a great lady on friendster, D.  She's a writer and a self-proclaimed coffee house whore with the sexiest red shorts. She has the alluring charm of the alienated with that certain mystique of ennui which is such a turn on, but without the affliction of malaise which often comes with it. The girl got spunk.  Damn good scribbler too.  Hank says I ought to put on a Jack Black record and do her rough and hard just like in the song.  Damn, Waites is hollering again. "Yea, yea, I'll get you a large Pepsi too. yea, there's still some J.D. left."  Waites has two more days in the closet. He was a bad boy. I caught him drinking cleaning products.

Enough of this dribble. The house is finally empty and Rosita the cleaning woman should be here any minute, any hour, any time now. There's the bell.

"Hola, mamasita."
"Hola, fucking ugly old gringo, I'm third generation Californian don't give me that mamasita crap."
"Baby, you know I love it when you talk dirty to me."
"Looks like somebody been having some fun. (crosses herself) You better ease up on all this partying and carrying on.  You gonna drink yourself to death then I'm gonna have to find me another grumpy old fart to clean up after."
"Keep up the chatter babe you're making me hot."
Rosita ignores my comments and starts picking up empties. I love it when women play hard to get.  I know she wants me bad.

Shit I'm loosing my train of thought here, must be the AADD, the blood clot, or Rosita's tight lime green spandex pants with that hint of camel toe showing.  Or maybe I should have put more vodka in my coffee this morning to counter act the large dose caffeine.  My little mama ain't so little. She's built for comfort not speed. She's about 45 and has the triple 'D's that I love in a woman. I can't resist the 3 'D's, dark hair, dark eyes, and dark complexion. Her rack isn't bad either. She looks mighty fine with her white shirt tails tied in front exposing her ample form.

Ah, Rosita, she's right, my life does stink, this apartment stinks, and Christ I stink too.   I'm too distracted. Can't finish this blog at the moment. So I call the Burrito King, order some food for Waites and myself.  I ask Rosita too, she orders 4 tacos and a chicken burrito and a large side order of guacamole.  The total comes to $14.59. I jump in the shower and try to wash the stink off my soul before the chow arrives.

I come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around myself feeling a whole lot better about the world. Rosita has just finished vacuuming and proceeds to put a few dishes on the table for our meal.  The burrito boy arrives. I pay him and get the grub. I put Tom's meal in a bag, get him his Jack, and take his lunch to the closet.  I toss it in and slam the door.  Waites will manage eating even with his hands tied.  If he can wank off in the closet than he sure as shit can eat a burrito in the dark. Rosita has set a nice table and has divided up our portions. I complement her on her cleaning and her table setting abilities, "Damn, the place almost looks civilized."

I've known Rosita for four years.  She holds the all time world record for putting up with my shit.  I knew a bit about her past, her dead husband, the senseless tragedy of it all. She first came to work for me after her husband was shot by some madman.  He was picked off on the freeway by a loony with a rifle. Ever since I've known her she has worn black. Today was different. So I mention delicately as we crunch into our tacos, "I see you're not wearing black." Well, she says you know the story. I was married to my Julio, God rest his soul, for four years, yesterday was the fourth anniversary of his death, God rest his soul. Enough is enough. Life goes on. I could see that she was holding back a tear. I got up and went to the fridge for some beer. I popped open the two tinnies and put them on the table. I spot some sour cream on Rosita's lip. I take my clean handkerchief out of my pocket and wipe it off. That's when the flood begins.

Latin women sure can sob and I'm a sucker for it every time.  We embrace, she gropes, I grab, we kiss, tongues darting in and out like guppies in a pool. We knock into the table, beers fall on the newly cleaned tile, burritos and tacos fly in all directions. Four years of pent up sexual angst, sexual frustration, sexual desire unleashed in my kitchen. Next thing I know we are on the kitchen table naked as the day God put us on Earth. Actually, she's on the table face down half hanging off and I'm standing there trying to do her from behind. I'm pounding away like a brut, but she is barely responding. I say, "What's the matter baby?" She says, "Do you have to be so rough, Julio, God rest his soul, was never so rough and he is the only other man that I've been with. Please, be gentle with me."  With that I roll her over and start nibbling the taco sauce off her breasts, the beans off her belly, the sour cream out of her mound of pubic hair.  She seemed to like that.

Between nibbles we kissed and caressed.  She was starting to loosen up but wasn't getting real wet.  My cock was erect for the moment but at my age who knows for how long that would last.  I found the side of guacamole and dipped my fingers in. I began rubbing the guac generously into her pussy paying special attention to stimulate her clitoris. She responded and I attempted re-entry. It was a tight fit but mission accomplished, I got my big burrito in.  I mounted her high and started long slow deep thrusts.  The table was rocking.  It was getting slippery down there and it wasn't just the molé.

I was getting nervous about the table crashing to the ground, so I quickly eased her over to the carpet in the living room.  I snatched a pillow off the couch and put it under her bottom.  I went back to work, this time speeding up the rhythm.  She shook back and forth with the intensity of the pleasure, fighting against it.  I held down her arms and drove home with determination.  I was intent on bringing her to orgasm.  I could hear Waites yelling in the background for more hot sauce. I ignore him.

Rosita's spicy Mexican-American vagina tightened like a soft taco squeezed in the grip of a hungry sailor and I knew she was getting close. I took a chance and pulled out, she gasped, I plunged in, she moaned. She wouldn't let me loose now. She clung tight and hung on hard.  A wave of spasms pulled me in deeper.  I let go of her arms and she wrapped them firmly around me.  I held her face kissing her lips passionately. She dug her nails into my back. We climaxed together my warm semen entering a dark place that had been dry for many years. We collapsed there and lay motionless.