Geek out

It was at some ungodly hour of the morning when hands roughly pulling at flesh awoke one. There might have been several small squeaks of protest, but they were soon muffled by the pillow as one landed face down and arse up. A position that allowed Him to stuff small orifices with fingers and cock as it amused him. When He had finished one lay there before that annoying oozing sensation forced one to get up briefly before going back to bed and sleep.

Several hours later one woke up once more, to stumble out in the search of coffee and breakfast before tackling the joy of laundry. That joy was short lived as He needed to nip out to the comic shop. It seemed that some little faction of His army was incomplete. You know just as an observation miniatures (affectionately known as minis) may be small, but they sure seem to take up a lot of space... most every flat surface at this stage.

It is probably worth mentioning also that nipping out here has a very different meaning to most anyone anywhere else in the world. The comic shop is clear across town... a drive of over an hour and some 40 odd km each way. Needless to say when we arrived it turned out to be a long visit... it will be oooh at least a fortnight before He goes back... rolls eyes quietly. The time did allow one to wander round listlessly looking at comics and merchandising.

The shop is run by some level nine geeks... they all have different areas of speciality. Unfortunately not one of them majors in cleaning and everything is covered in dust. To the point that rather like an archaeological dig, you can estimate the age of the stock by the depth of the dust on it. It makes shopping singularly unpleasant for a woman... none of the males in the place seem to notice the issues at all as they paw through boxes of comics and cards and minis in the quest to find that one needful thing.

In fact one suspects that it is one of the subtle ways of keeping women out of what is generally a predominately males space. Gods know that it has taken several years for them to get used to talking to one small slave without twitching, shuffling or blinking nervously. The only one that seems to have well developed social skills is the senior staff member and one suspects that is because he... peers around and whispers... self medicates. On the upside of all of this, in amongst the rack of new t-shirts, one did find this little gem.

It seemed a kindness to take it home... she was set for a very lonely existence otherwise J