TMI...and then some!

2008-02-16, 10:21 p.m.
What is it about some people which makes them compelled to share their most intimate moments?

I don�t mean You Lot. After all, with the exception of Smash and Anna , I don�t ACK-chew-ly know any of you and you can say pretty much whatever you like. I might not always agree with what you say or do, but I don�t judge. More often than not I just shrug and say �whatever�.

No, I mean Real Life people. People we KNOW! Me and BF have this friend. We shall call him Roger (although, that is SO not his name). He was at our house last week, most generously installing a wireless router so we can be all multi-PC�ed up, all over the house. Laptops at the ready we can be (variously) diarying, being a music producer, talking to unsuitable boys in a teen chatroom and playing Club Penguin. I leave it to you to work out who of the inhabitants of the Palace of Many Sins is doing what in that context.

Anyway, in payment for the wireless router, Roger was availing himself of BFs filth collection compendium of specialist art films. As we have enough *art* to last many many weeks of back-to-back (or should that be knob-to-palm?) viewing, this was taking some considerable time. We are broadminded people and were happy to offer advice on Roger�s cinematographic choices (*shriek* NOT �All Girl Annihilation!� You wont like that. Here! Here�s a nice Viv Thomas � no fake tits in this one!)

To while away the dull moments, Roger showed us some of the amusing things he has on his laptop.

He�s a single guy and (it seems) very popular. He goes out with lots of girls. The girls he goes out with seem quite happy to photograph them selves (or to have Roger photograph them) in a variety of poses. While Roger was finding the �best� pictures, he told us about a new girl he�d just met who seems very nice and whom he would be quite keen for us to meet as she�s new to the area and wants to make some more friends. We�ve met a few of Roger�s girl friends before and they all seemed pleasant enough.

Anyway the photos.

Oh, the photos.

As each new jpeg opened, BF and I got to see a variety of middle aged women. And their cunts. And some sex toys. And some more cunts. I would like to say that Roger is a shameless liar who cribbed all his photos from a Readers Wives Special in a 1976 issue of Razzle. But that would not be true. I know this as a great many of the photos included the first inch or so of Roger�s cock, while the rest of it was disappearing into an orifice of some description.

Roger seemed not to notice that we were there at all after a while and was lost in a kind of blissful reverie, scrolling through the file lists and offering little bursts of commentary:

Roger: *scroll scroll scroll* Oooh, Janice! She was a bit of a pig, actually. Weird shaped tits.
*picture opens*
Stepfie & BF: *wincing slightly* Well, to be fair to her, Roger, we cant actually see her tits from there.
Roger: No. I was shagging her up the arse. Look! There�s my cock! *scroll scroll* Oooh! Mandy! She was nice�
*picture opens*
BF: What�s THAT? Oh�..oh hang on�..thats a cucumber. I thought it was part of�..
Stepfie: We�ve got that duvet cover!

On and on. For ages. Roger getting more and more enthusiastic and BF and I trying not to meet each others gaze for fear of puking, laughing or both. Sometimes, so we didn�t get bored (!) there would be a little film (presumably taken on a cellphone or similar). Some of the picture quality wasn�t brilliant so I couldn�t really tell if it was film of a butchers shop window, or of Rogers cock and yet another up-close-and-personal vagina/buttplug/suburban counterpane combo. And all filmed in �ShakeyCam� like a gritty documentary. Or something. Occasionally there would be a picture of a smiling woman, looking coyly into the camera. Im guessing these were taken at the very beginning of each �relationship� before the �I know! Lemme stick this big dildo up your minge, you bend over that chair, and I�ll take your picture� conversation had happened. Until finally�..

Roger: *triumphant* Bev! Ive got a picture of Bev!
Stepfie & BF: *relieved* Oh! Lets see. Maybe you guys could come over for dinn�.
*picture opens*

I am not sure I really want Bev to come to dinner. Im not sure I can look her in the eye and make smalltalk about how difficult it is to find good schools and sharing my recipe for Gressingham Duck confit when I have gazed upon a 19� wide picture of her bumhole.

Seriously, dear readers. That lady�s starfish took up the whole damn screen. No face, no body � hell, not even an expanse of arse-cheek. Just a big ole bum ole.

Roger: *proudly* She took that picture herself!

Stepfie & BF: *blink��..blink��..blink*


Ive got another cold so I m feeling a bit sorry for myself today. I cooked pizza for dinner and some fearsome garlic bread, then at the last minute, decided I wanted chicken satay sticks. There was a box in the freezer of ready made ones so I figured that would save me some time and I tipped them onto a tray and straight into the oven. 17 minutes later and out they came.

D�ya know what they looked like? They were kind of shiny and pinkish brown and a bit mis-shapen and the sticks were kind of wonky and doin� their own thing. They looked for ALL the world like peeled mice. Yep, really. Lab rats. With crispy stiff tails. And a peanutty glaze. Delicious.

Lee won a leg of lamb in the meat draw at the workies, so Ive promised I will cook it for him and BF and Jooj and Treac tomorrow. Ive even got mint sauce. I fucking HATE lamb. Its disgusting. I will have to make something else just for me. Maybe one of these for dessert, too. To take my mind off it.


As a treat for BF, I commissioned my artist friend Hazel to make a tie for BF to wear on our wedding day. She came to see me this morning with four designs to choose from. I chose one right away but BF dithered quite a lot and in the end Hazel let him hang on to one of the others too before he makes his final choice. This evening he decided he wants to keep both so I guess I need to send her some more money. Meh.

Later

S
x

PS Since you ask, no, Im not a singing teacher all the time. BF kind of forced me into it when he was teaching guitar from home and kept getting asked if we offered any other kind of tuition. Every week I bitch about it and say �I haven�t got time to fart-arse about with this! Ive got a proper job!�. And then I do it and find myself writing lesson plans for the next month and all that kind of stuff. Im an OK singer. Im a pretty good teacher.

Those who can, do. Those who can�t, teach. (Those who can�t teach, teach PE)




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