you naughty necrophiliac you (in three sordid acts)
Act 1
At least I've never gone to Inquisition, and met a hot guy (or so I thought at the time) on the dance floor whom I thought my age (26 at the time). We pash for, I don't know, 30 seconds, five minutes, half an hour - when you're that off your chops it's easy to slip into a worm hole, or a K hole, or a myriad of other holes, and time means shit. (Earlier in the night I enjoyed a group of men walk past, all without heads. The heads levitated about ten metres behind following the men. I also saw the devil on the dance floor, and at one point every one was covered in head-to-toe tattoos.) Anyway, because of this, that and the other, Hot Man and I have to separate but we make arrangements to meet at his house at 8am, quite far away but who cares, he's worth the cab ride. Until 8am, when somewhat more with it, I stand at his door, and he's quite possibly twice my age, or at least in his late forties. Despite whatever he might think, the bong in the living room doesn't make him appear any more youthful. He offers, I decline, and somehow we end up in the bedroom. The passion of only a few hours before is all but gone - in me but not him, unfortunately. He's very much up for it; ten inches up at least, in fact. He's not a foreplay kind of guy, either. It's just that if I only wanted a thick, long vessel up my arse, I'd go with a cucumber and be done without the small talk, quite frankly. Citing headache, I suggest a nap before getting down to business. And the wait begins. Half an hour later he's finally asleep and I manage to crawl from behind him in bed, gather my clothes and get into the stairway, completely starkers. I accidentally bang his door and bolt. Of course I gave him my number, I'm not that smart. After a month the unanswered phone calls finally cease. At least I've never done that.
Act 2
At least I've never almost fallen off an elliptical runner when my personal trainer, whom I accidentally had sex with six or so times, tells me his age and it starts with a five. At least I've never done that.
Act 3
At least I've never googled the oldest person I ever slept with, when I was 19, and the man was, I don't know, mid-fifties, early sixties? I was horny, and omnivorous, at the time. Now, some 14 years later, at work, I cannot believe what appears before my eyes. I'm generally a quiet type of person, but I snort-laugh when I see this:
[photo deleted to protect the near-dead. or the recently passed, as it seemed... if you missed it, tough shit.]
And unfortunately I have no doubt I have hit the jackpot here, despite the passage of time. Or because of it, whichever the case may be.
At least I've never done that. Ok, yeah I did, acts 1 & 3, with 2 coming courtesy of my partner-in-drinking-crimes, N. Who actually has featured here once before, too. August 7, 2007, to be exact.
Community shervices... We'll have that down pat when the time comes.
At least I've never gone to Inquisition, and met a hot guy (or so I thought at the time) on the dance floor whom I thought my age (26 at the time). We pash for, I don't know, 30 seconds, five minutes, half an hour - when you're that off your chops it's easy to slip into a worm hole, or a K hole, or a myriad of other holes, and time means shit. (Earlier in the night I enjoyed a group of men walk past, all without heads. The heads levitated about ten metres behind following the men. I also saw the devil on the dance floor, and at one point every one was covered in head-to-toe tattoos.) Anyway, because of this, that and the other, Hot Man and I have to separate but we make arrangements to meet at his house at 8am, quite far away but who cares, he's worth the cab ride. Until 8am, when somewhat more with it, I stand at his door, and he's quite possibly twice my age, or at least in his late forties. Despite whatever he might think, the bong in the living room doesn't make him appear any more youthful. He offers, I decline, and somehow we end up in the bedroom. The passion of only a few hours before is all but gone - in me but not him, unfortunately. He's very much up for it; ten inches up at least, in fact. He's not a foreplay kind of guy, either. It's just that if I only wanted a thick, long vessel up my arse, I'd go with a cucumber and be done without the small talk, quite frankly. Citing headache, I suggest a nap before getting down to business. And the wait begins. Half an hour later he's finally asleep and I manage to crawl from behind him in bed, gather my clothes and get into the stairway, completely starkers. I accidentally bang his door and bolt. Of course I gave him my number, I'm not that smart. After a month the unanswered phone calls finally cease. At least I've never done that.
Act 2
At least I've never almost fallen off an elliptical runner when my personal trainer, whom I accidentally had sex with six or so times, tells me his age and it starts with a five. At least I've never done that.
Act 3
At least I've never googled the oldest person I ever slept with, when I was 19, and the man was, I don't know, mid-fifties, early sixties? I was horny, and omnivorous, at the time. Now, some 14 years later, at work, I cannot believe what appears before my eyes. I'm generally a quiet type of person, but I snort-laugh when I see this:
[photo deleted to protect the near-dead. or the recently passed, as it seemed... if you missed it, tough shit.]
And unfortunately I have no doubt I have hit the jackpot here, despite the passage of time. Or because of it, whichever the case may be.
At least I've never done that. Ok, yeah I did, acts 1 & 3, with 2 coming courtesy of my partner-in-drinking-crimes, N. Who actually has featured here once before, too. August 7, 2007, to be exact.
Community shervices... We'll have that down pat when the time comes.
posted by fake adult @ 4:49 AM
4 comments
