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I would so love to reblog your pics. But there is to much text. Sry

Mo felt her text was more important than the pictures because she felt the pictures were a dime a dozen but words and thoughts are what made her unique. That more closely reflected who she really was.

Today is the original day that Memorial Day (Decoration Day) was observed and Mo felt strongly about it. So, in her honor, I am posting one her past posts from this day, in her memory.

Though she received criticism for it on occasion, Mo was intensely patriotic and she held servicemen in the highest regard.

I believe she tolerated me because of my time in the service albeit it being nothing compared to what many endured. I was one of the luckiest.

Mo had extra special regard for those whose lives were in terrible peril. Her reverence for those that gave their lives for the country were deeply embedded in her heart.

Memorial day was a day she observed with the greatest solemnity and I would be remiss were I to not follow her lead in honoring their ultimate sacrifice.

I appreciate all those who would join me and Mo, in her absence, in taking a moment to remember all the men and women who selflessly answered the call.

——in digging around, I found a few more of the things Mo wrote but apparently never posted. Here’s one. Just an example of her thought process.

——friend

Back to the topic of “The White Lotus.”

(Ha. You thought it was over. No way, mon frere.)

I try to see inside each of the characters.

Try to find their motivations. Their wants and desires.

And then I play the game, does this match me or is it my antithesis?

I try to divine the motivation of the writer and see if this character was supposed to meld with me or revolt me.

So many shows, most of them, have no impact that way on me.

Most of the old movies, the noir movies that I watch, many with Buddy, have no emotional impact on me, at least to this depth.

It is what separates, at least to me, something meaningful and everlasting from the “have I already seen this? I don’t really remember”

These wonderful gems will be with me.

Hopefully forever.

The lady next door

Another of Mo’s tops for entertaining. While it couldn’t be termed demure, it allowed her a narrow band of interest, as you can see, the mildest was really only suitable even for good friends and to a further extent for more serious attention. All modes she loved to explore.

Mo, when she was at home by herself, like to hang around in an old T-shirt.

She felt her new neighbor appreciated the image seeing her walking around in the yard like that or when he came over to visit for coffee or whatever.

Over the course of an evening or during the day, she would send me a note that said “wanna see?“

And she would pull the front of her T-shirt down and give me a picture of those beauties.

She knew what I liked.

I sure did.

I’m certain the neighbor did, too.

Mo was a stickler for tradition.

This weekend is the day currently assigned for commemoration for Memorial Day.

I know. The day was moved to this time to accommodate working people and maximize time off. I suppose that’s fine. That’s all well and good.

Mo did not agree with that.

Especially for a day with so much importance and meaning.

Other important days, if you want to move them around, no problem. Mo thought you could put Arbor Day any place you darn well pleased.

But for this day, Mo thought it should be held on the day it was meant to be, regardless of where in the week it falls. She felt it should be held inviolate.

So in light of her thoughts, I am going to channel Mo‘s traditional Memorial Day thoughts and post her thoughtful picture on the actual day she thought it was supposed to fall on.

So, today you just get plain old Mo.

Thinking a lot about Mo today, I just wanted to post another picture of her. Just another picture of Mo being Mo.

I know Mo told you something about how we began so many years ago. I don’t know what all she told you. So I will attempt to explain from my viewpoint.

I do some woodwork. Some welding. A little painting. I used to build kiosks for people needing that sort of thing. Tables. Stands. The advertising company that Mo was with at the time hired me to do some displays for them. In meetings with them, I was introduced to Mo. From the beginning I was intrigued by the way she thought. Her openness, humor and frankness. Refreshing. And, to me, very entertaining. Being in groups, we would include lunches in the meetings and Mo and I sat with each other on occasion. I would try to make that happen as deep conversation with her was constant. There was never a loss for words. I built up quite an admiration for her. I began hanging out after meetings to chat with her and we had some of the most entertaining conversations. I looked forward to being with her. As Mo, at the time, tended to disguise what Jackie Mason in “the Jerk” described as his wife’s ‘pulchritude,’ I finally began to notice that Mo was hiding a very nice rack, just camouflaged so as not to attract unwanted attention. Being a confirmed breast man, I was intrigued. One time around then the group went to a small Italian restaurant for lunch and I got to sit on the side of the booth with Mo. As Mo did, she had to excuse herself to visit the facilities, so I slid out to let her out and when she returned I stood to allow her back in but when she slid past me, I have to admit I ‘accidentally’ brushed the back of my hand against her breast. She was wearing a very soft grey and black sweater and my hand innocently pressed in to that amazing delicious mound.

Believe me, I used that that night and many nights thereafter accompanied by my increasing observation of the physical Mo. Before my eyesight began to wane, I was a big reader as was Mo. We compared things we had read and talked about our favorite bookstores and I told her of mine.

Mo was devious. Wonderfully devious but devious nonetheless. I mentioned that I was going to go to that store the particular night when were in a meeting. And I did.

I was perusing their collection of British Napoleonic era Naval fiction, a favorite at the time, and who should appear as I crouched to scan the bottom shelf, a pair of long legs. I looked up and saw a view I was to appreciate for many years. Mo with her amazing underboobs (sadly totally clothed at the time for obvious social reasons but much less so than her work image) and I was probably speechless.

Awkward greetings completed, light chat and we both completed our purchases and she asked if I would like to sit in her car and chat a bit.

I was always eager to chat with her, and her bosom, far better displayed away from work (and as it turns out totally for my benefit) cemented the idea.

We sat for 20 minutes or so and I said I was going to watch (again) the movie “Brazil” for the umpteenth time.

Somewhere in our frequent conversations, we had both mentioned our love of those old pneumatic systems that department stores used to use to route sales paperwork from the point of sale to the accounting office. Odd thing to share a liking for, but that was Mo.

I told her they had a bunch of pneumatic tubes in “Brazil” and would she care to come to my house to watch the movie? I don’t believe there was the slightest pause between the question mark at the end of my sentence and her eager positive reply.

I said great. I was going to give her my address and she told me she knew where I lived (even though she lived in a different town… I told you she was devious.)

We arrived at the same time, went inside and I put on the tape (it was THAT long ago) and we sat on the couch.

She sat on my right but up against me. I loved that. The movie started and I put my arm around her and she snuggled a little closer.

The movie had not progressed far when my right hand found the beautiful large firm sideboob bulge and I was powerless not to fondle it. Here is where Mo’s phenomenal personality erupted. She pulled away from me, leaned forward and pulled her sweater off over her head (as Kismet works, it was the same grey sweater) and without a pause, reached behind her, unhooked her bra, had that off and on the floor and she sat back against the back of the couch and sat there and looked at me expectantly.

The thing I remember most at that point, and the thing that probably defines my basic tastes was that I absolutely loved her nipples.

Sorry, I use the word nipples to include the areola. To me it is all one amazing thing and I am totally smitten with ‘nipples.’

To this date, I remember thinking to myself, goodness gracious those are some great nipples.

I had more previous situations than I care to think of getting to that point with a young lady and her nipples just did not meet my expectations. Mo’s absolutely did.

Things progressed rapidly.

A lot of breast fondling, nipple play followed by extensive nursing. All during this time, Mo was investigating the changes that had sprung to life in my lap as my hand had also slid into her shorts/panties. Apparently this inspired Mo to go to that for which she was so well known. Her vocal abilities to carry on an enchanting conversation was supported by an oral skill for which, to me, has never been matched. Brazil was long forgotten.

The room was forgotten.

Breathing was forgotten.

I do not believe Mo breathed either, although her asphyxia was for a different reason.

She did it.

Oh god she did it.

And about sucked me inside out. The universe exploded.

But it was Mo’s turn and my innocent little foray into her panties became an earnest intent to repay her kindness to me.

And then I found out something else about Mo previously unimagined. It took no time, no effort, only tender and dedicated administrations with what Mo forever called the most talented fingers she ever met, focused on Mo’s sensitivities and she let out the loudest most amazing utterances, the likes of which I was totally unused.

And she kept going.

Invoking deities.

Announcing forthcoming events.

We both lay back on the couch, glowing.

As I have long been guilty of gluttony, I couldn’t stop there and in a matter of moments I wanted to see what more Mo would do, so I began again ministration to her sensitive parts in earnest which was rewarded by an even more intense explosion within mere moments.

I didn’t want to stop and repeated effortsl produced increasingly earth shattering results, greater than the last.

More and more. Over and over.

Until, and I lost count as that would not be gentlemanly, she went somewhere into the ether.

She certainly was not there with me. But she soon returned and that began the most amazing amazing friendship that lasted a lifetime. Thank you, Mo, for giving my life substance. In so many ways.

Mo really enjoyed being hostess at my house when guys would come over. And she was very affectionate with some of them, especially ones that treated her well. Two in particular that she “let into her inner circle.” She told you about them, endlessly. Jimmy was one she was totally enamored with. He was one of my best friends who absolutely hit it off with Mo. That is why she elected to invite him over to her house to enjoy conversations on more of a one on one basis. It hurt her when Jimmy moved away. And I lost a good friend as well.

After Jimmy moved, Buddy stepped in and Mo found him equal to Jimmy in every way and they enjoyed a great time. I loved seeing Mo so happy and fulfilled.

You may remember Bud, not to be confused with Buddy. Bud was a god to women, and he knew it. He used to do work for me. One of those things was he would take pictures of Mo for me when I was busy. Mo used those pics for her blog as you may have seen. But, being with Mo when she was often totally exposed, Bud made assumptions about his access to Mo. She did ‘entertain’ him a few times to satisfy her curiosity, but when he began making unwarranted assumptions about it continuing, expanding or progressing, she kicked him to the curb and he left the outskirts of our circle.

Buddy, on the other hand, was definitely right in the center of her circle. I think Buddy (and Jimmy) and Mo were fulfilled with those friendships.

She sure smiled a great deal after her movie nights.

It’s Friday.

A holiday weekend is forthcoming

I am not looking forward to this. I do not know if my bros are going to be of much help this weekend.

It would probably help if I drank or took drugs. I don’t have those to rely on.

I should get out of this self-pity mode and brace myself up.

It is just that I have been sitting looking at a couple thousand pics of Mo and that always has multiple impacts on me.

They certainly generate both memories and fantasies.

I can’t help it.

Since I have time on my hands and this huge stack of pics, why not share a couple? Maybe you might like to see them like I do.

I don’t know if you have any memories or generate any fantasies like I do. If you do, that would be amazing. Mo would have loved it.

She always got a nice rush when she was appreciated both in person and remotely.

Have a great weekend.

—Mo’s friend

While Mo enjoyed a little exposure around a few of whom she deemed worthy guys at my house, she was almost never totally without clothes. A lot of the pictures I rotated in the frame on my bar were of Mo in the all together, but she didn’t sit around like that. Sometimes she just had on a robe over her lovely nakedness and that gapped open occasionally but she didn’t sit around totally exposed. There was one type of occasion she was totally bare when some guys were around and that was summer when she liked to swim in the pool. She would jump in naked. That’s the way she grew up and she was very comfortable that way. On occasion, someone might jump in with her in the same uniform. If it was one of Mo’s personally approved guys, I couldn’t say one way or the other, but I got the impression that those bathers followed a paraphrase of the old adage: ‘what goes on underwater, stays underwater.’ I do believe Mo made the pool a little more popular than if she had not been in attendance. And, besides her special beaus walking a little slower afterward, she would have a nice glow about her when returning inside, even on an overcast day.

I may be guilty of giving you the wrong impression about Mo. She was not wanton or acted scurrilously. She did not perform acts in pubic or in groups. Sure, she did show a bit more affection within a group if she liked a guy, but if she wanted to carry things to a point where moisture was involved, she always handled that in private. She had no problem with affectionate touches and she was not shy about giving a guy she particularly cared for a little rub, and she did not avoid similar motions on the part of her partner at the time, but if it looked to be going to a conclusion, she would either postpone it until a more appropriate and private time or adjourn to a more private locale (and hopefully more soundproof as Mo was, let us say, not shy about loud vocalizations with approaching finishes.)

I told you how Mo enjoyed the guys at my house who, on occasion when she deemed the guy to be nice and kind enough, found that their hands and fingers may have casually gravitated to her.

I know she enjoyed it, but she was also well aware of how me seeing that really turned me on. And she definitely took advantage when the time was appropriate to exercise her wiles on me in my heightened state.

I think every one of us won greatly from as much repetition of that as could be handled.

This first pic was how Mo usually dressed when one of her “fans” was over at my house.

She was not constantly more exposed, like she liked showing you.

It didn’t, however, take much to talk her into sharing more when she liked a guy and he was complimentary, polite and kind and friendly.

And she got a kick out of how they would sneak ways to “accidentally“ touch her.

She absolutely loved having attention paid to her nipples.

I have to admit I got a big kick watching that part. Almost as much as my own participation.

I used to love how Mo was “careless” around the guys that hung around my house. And I enjoyed the tension it created.

A few more of our dear giving Mo.

She was so sharing and convivial.

Sorry to have been incommunicado.

I’m not as consistent as Mo.

I will attempt to do better.

In the meantime, some Mo.

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