Of course, to pass help her pass the time, Adrienne masturbated. She scooted her chair back so she would have some extra leg room. Sometime between her second and third orgasm, Jeremy knocked on the door.

"Come in!" she yelled As he entered, Adrienne took her empty bowl of sticky, gooey mess to the sink and washed her hands. "Hey, what's up?"

She turned only to find Jeremy studying what was on her computer screen. "Porn again?"

"yeah, so what? Want a soda?" Adrienne glanced through the refrigerator.

"Sure, I'll have one. NOthing, it's just that you look at porn more than any girl I've met before. What's this?" Adrienne handed him a cp of water.

"I don't have any soda left," she said, sipping on her own soda. "and I don't think there's anything wrong with a member of the female sex looking at pornographic materials."

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it. I'm sure lots of girls look at porn. Not as much as most guys do, but I'm sure there are some. Like you, for example." Jeremy bent down to peer closer at the the computer screen. "Is that man licking that other man's balls?"

"Yes he is. Actually in the first picure, that guy," she pointed at the ball-lickee, "rubbed his balls in cheese and powdered sugar before the other guy started licking." Jeremy made a disgusted face. "What? Some people find that erotic."

"Not that, the cheese and powdered sugar. Sounds awful." Adrienne nudged Jeremy away from the computer and sat down in her computer chair. "Anyway, to finish my thought, I do think that most girls are not as open to talk about the whole porn issue,let alone just leave it on the computer screen for anyone to see."

"It's not like my parents just walked it. It's you. I don't need to hide my porn-ness from you."

Wordcount: 316
Total Wordcount: 2108
Notes to self: I just can't concentrate today. Maybe I'll break a wall with the next post, but today... meh.

She laid there rubbing between her legs with her fingertips, just relaxing and doing what she's done almost every day since she was... well, since puberty. It wasn't hard to learn. The trick to masturbation is just doing what feels good. Rubbing a little faster now, her breath became quick. Her stomach and leg muscles tightened while she rubbed faster and faster. Her eyes squinted and the heat rose to her head, faster and faster until...

Adrienne let out a huge sigh and let her body relax. She played with herself, waiting until she was ready for another one. Her hand found its way to her mouth. She smelled it. The smell of a woman post coitus isn't like anything else. It smelled raunchy and randy. It smelled like sex. She licked her fingertips. Its taste didn't really taste like anything to her. She had been told by various partners that her smell and taste were intoxicating. Adrienne didn't get it. Ah well, to each her own. Adrienne followed her ritual three times more before she settled back in the throes of satisfied self-love.

Adrienne awoke four hours later to the faint jingling of a dog collar. For a minute, she wondered what the hell a dog was doing outside the door of her fourth floor apartment. "Wait," she thought to herself, "I know what that is.... Damn. That's not a dog collar." As she heaved herself out of bed and scuffled across the cold floor, she realized had slept away the whole afternoon away. The light in her room was becoming more orange and the shadows on her floor were becoming more opaque. After narrowly missing the thrift store coffee table, she made it to the front door, reached down, and took out her cellphone.

"Hello?" Adrienne often wondered why she said "Hello?" when she knew exactly who it was from the tiny screen in her cellphone. She should've said, Hello Jeremy, since that was who it was.

"Hi, Adrienne? It's Jeremy." His voice sounded like he wasn't sure who was on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, I know who it is. Why do you sound like you don't know who I am? My phone number is saved in your phone, right?"

"You sounded like you didn't know who it was first. Besides, it's a habit."

"Yeah, I know. One day we'll be able to answer our cellphones like we know who is on the other end of the line, because we actually do know who's on the other end of the line."

"Right. Okay Yoda." Adrienne could hear Jeremy's sarcastic grin."Anyway, I'm coming over."

"What, now?"

"Almost. I'll be there soon."

"How soon is "soon" Jeremy?" It always perturbed Adrienne when Jeremy said "soon" because it usually meant sometime within the next eight hours.

"Like in an hour."

"Okay. I'll see you when you get here. Bye." Adrienne fwapped her cellphone closed, dropped it back in her bag and headed toward the kitchen.

Four hours. It was dusk and she was hungry. Jeremy said he'd be there in an hour, which for Jeremy meant between one and three hours, so Adrienne figured she had time to eat. Eating is usually a good activity to take part in, especially regularly. However, the only food stuffs she had in her larder that were even remotely edible were a box of Corn Pops, half a bag of stale marshmellows and a stick of butter. So Adrienne made the only thing she could with those ingredients. Ten microwaved minutes later, Adrienne turned on the TV, and sat down in front of her computer with bowl of sticky, sweet, crunchy mess and a fork.

Adrienne had a report to do for her Human-Computer Interaction course, but she had events and issues that were much more pressing to attend to. There's something about sticky, sweet and messy that gets a girl all set for an evening of porn. She opened a browser to her favorite gay porn website and listened to whatever was on the TV behind her. What was on didn't really matter as long as there was noise in the background that wasn't so obtrusive that she had to pay attention to it. As the woman on the television proclaimed the wonders of Diamonique brand "diamonds", Adrienne studied the male gay porn page by page on the Internet. Various ads of young men in tight clothes flashed in the side bar of the webpage, but she was more interested in the movies and the picture stories.

Wordcount: 757
Total wordcount: 1785
Notes: 1785... it was a very good year. Don't forget where you were going with this. Also, in case anyone is wondering. Whenever I get stuck, I've decided to write some porn. Other upcoming porn topics... hand jobs.

It was a cold day. Adrienne clutched her coat around her body and adjusted the shoulder strap of her comfortable leather messenger bag. Most people have messenger bags made out of canvas, or vinyl. Never leather. Leather is a heavy material. It's hardly ever used for messenger bags, because the weight, in addition to whatever it is carrying, is a huge load on a person's shoulder. Leather is also easily scratched. It doesn't look good for very long, before it starts looking very old and beat. After a while though, after it's been worn and softened, after the stiff leather has been broken in by countless hours of holding objects and bumping into walls and tables, the leather bag becomes comfortable. The leather becomes tanned and thin, less stiff. The scratches become buffed into a supple matte finish. The bag becomes a fixture. The bag becomes part of you, and you hardly realize it's there. Adrienne didn't even realize she was adjusting her bag. Her mind was too weighed down with her daily introspection to be concerned with the thirty pound weight hanging across her body.

"I've spent a lot of my life wondering what the heck I should do with my life. How lame is that? Shouldn't I be living my life? Doing stuff? Instead of wondering about what to do?"

Adrienne walked from her bus stop, continued down the street past the strip mall that she walks past every day, and entered her apartment building. Her keys jingled like tin cans as she dropped them back into the pit that is her leather bag. As soon as she dropped them though, Adrienne cursed to herself. "Fuck. I do that every day. I know I'll need my keys as soon as I get to my door, and I always drop them in my bag. Fuckity fuck." She swore even though it wasn't a huge inconvenience. Adrienne had done it dozens of times before, and she had cursed herself about it dozens of times before, but that didn't stop her hand from unconsciously dropping the keys in her bag before she got to her door. As she approached her door, her right hand instinctively slid into her bag, rummaged around until it found her keys and slid the key into the lock with a loud, jarring crunkle.

Adrienne's apartment was small, but it was perfect for her. As she entered, she dropped her bag onto the top of a small footstool just inside the door. It was the bag's home when it wasn't with her. She strode across the original hardwood floors, past her futon, through the french doors and into her bedroom. Built in the 1930's, the apartment building she lived in was nothing to look at from the outside. Stained brick and acid rain-erroded gargoyles crowned the top of the building like a black toupee on a red-faced man. Her apartment was a gem; a diamond in the rough. Actually, it was a diamond in the very rough. The neighborhood wasn't the safest place to live in, which is part of what made her apartment so affordable. Only five weeks ago, the convenience store where Adrienne buys her ice tea was held up buy a masked teenager. The kid made off with twenty dollars and a handfull of Airheads and Slim Jims. Her parents, Mumsy and Dadums as she so lovingly, sarcastically refered to them, were concerned about her living quarters. They said they were worried about her safety, but Adrienne believed they were more worried about the emergency credit card in her wallet that was tied to her parents' account. Her parents were also five hundered miles away, so who cared what the hell they thought. Mumsy and Dadums advised her to get some mace and a rape whistle. Since one cannot beat up an attacker with some travel-sized mace and a plastic whistle, Adrienne carried a pair of miniture nunchaku in her bag that she bought from a pawn shop two blocks away. She wasn't trained in the art of nunchaku, but when she felt the need to up the badass quotient in her life she spent time flailing them around like crazy. She wasn't afraid of the possibility of hurting herself with them. The nunchaku were made out of a hard plastic anyway. Any time she accidently whacked herself in the arm or back, it only left a small bruise, if any at all.

"What to do, what to do." Adrienne thought to herself as she threw off her jacket and shoes and flumped down on her bed. After class, there wasn't much. She laid in her bed feeling the cold air coming from the cracked window on her face and listening to the neighbors upstairs walk around their place. She didn't know what they were doing, but she did know that whatever it was, it required a lot of walking, because she could tell exactly where they were above her from every floor creak and step they made. She rolled to her side and clutched her pillow. She always slept with three pillows, one for her head and one on each side. It was like sleeping in a pillow boat. There's something confining and protective about sleeping with symbolic walls around a person. It's almost like having a fort or a castle. "Well, I could go see Jeremy. He's probably not doing anything." Jeremy was Adrienne's best friend. He didn't go to community college, like she did, but he knew what he wanted to do. What he wanted to do wasn't much, but at least it was something. Adrienne laid in bed, hugged her pillow to herself, pulled the covers over her body and closed her eyes. Half in a daze she pulled off her pants. Then she turned on her back, took a cleansing breath and let her hand find its way to its purchase. "Just a couple times, then I'll get up and get something done." Adrienne wasn't ashamed of pleasuring her self. She used to be, but she got over that very quickly. What's a girl who lives alone supposed to do to pass the time? Sew a quilt?

Wordcount: 1028
Note to self: What have I gotten myself into?