Beat Me Outta Me

After a night of cheap vodka and bad coke I woke up this morning with a headache so heavy, deep and painful that it made my eyes water. Luckily I had to counterbalance this a big stiff hangover horn hard-on, and as soon as I was fully awake I stared stroking it long, slow and smoothly, long, slow and smoothly – so smooth from spitting onto the palm of my wanking hand, as lazy lube.

Afterward, having conjured this girl I were bucking from back when I went to tech, I laughed to myself when I remembered how after the first time I sliced her she wanked me back to hardness and she goes, gripping it like a joystick: Danny Pongo, its so beautiful, and big – you go right up in me, so deep and far I can nearly feel it in my stomach…it’s soooo biggg! --- And I waited a while, let the comic timing stretch for pace, and say: We’re gonna need a bigger boat ---

I rub me semen into my skin, as it’s supposed to be good for it, then get my little Tinkerbell vanity mirror out and put some in my hair and style it how I like. Short of gel, there’s nothing holds like semen.

I go out for some Rice Krispies and in the grocery store nearly have a cry when I go to the cat food aisle for Boke the Cat. But after paying the girl I distract myself from sad thoughts of mourning by having a lightbulb moment concerning my personal hygene and ideas of self preservation.

Now, my thinking on this matter followed this course: I have a lovely, spunky wank this morning…it goes all over me, I rub it all into my skin and put it in my hair, and I leave the house without washing my hands…I pay the girl in the grocery store for my shit using cash, and inevitably our hands might touch (which they did) and now she’s gonna have traces of my semen on her. The problem is then if she’s say raped or murdered by an opportunistic crazy, the pigs are gonna examine her corpse afterward and find my seed on her. The chances of this happening are not completely remote, either her being murdered or me being caught. She has a few stalkers alright. Such a sweet fresh wee thing, still in school, but legal for sure…for after all, as Party Time observed: Old enuf tah sail Thah San, Old enuf far wan app Thah Bam!

So, yeah. Lesson being wash your semen off your hands before you leave the house. Pigs will work harder to pin it on you than to find the culprit. Less work that way. But sometimes they go all out to find a patsy, cos they gotta, cos who really did it can’t be done – usually due to the perp’s standing or for other esoteric reasons.

When I got home I found Rhonaldo in the kitchen doing the dishes. He was in nothing but a pair of tight little day-glo green cotton boxers. I sat there and put one leg over the other and watched his full round arse point and jut and tense while he squelched away in all the soapy suds with all the plates and cutlery clanging.

And I pulled out another one, a sneaky one this time, imagining that soft young arse of his rise up before me, full and round and plentiful as a rising sun. Then I imagined that sexy wee bit from the grocery store joining us as well and us all having a sexy, sweaty dirty threesome.

And I proceeded to beat me outta me!