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!

Brainwave In The Morning Star

Earlier Aloysius instructed me to meet him in The Morning Star. I arrived early an ordered a Guinness and took a seat at the bar. Two seats away on my left a phlemic old man sat all shrivelled up hacking away. After gargling with his own bile for a bit he took a deep quick breath and it suddenly felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room in a prolonged explosion. A stream of bile and Smithwicks gushed out of his wrinkly old mouth and splashed across the bar like a vomit wave breaking on a mahogany shore. Kimba arrived just then and immediately on sight of the boke gagged herself and had to run out into the alley to be sick. When she came back in I took a good look at her up and down. She was as usual a fucking site. She had decided to wear her leopard print leotard with a pink ra-ra skirt over it and a pair of lipstick red knee high boots. She wore her green corduroy blazer with her multicoloured ribbon pin badge in the lapel that she’d years ago forgotten the meaning of or what it represented,
- you dress yourself like a blind hooker – I told her
- fuck’ah – she replied. – where’s that fuckin’ space cadet Ali’ishis anyway, fuck’s sake –
- we’re early. He’ll be here in a bit.
- How long you say he kipped for? 6 days. Fuckin’ hell. Is he on the diazies?
- I don’t know – I told her.

While we waited for Aloysius to show, Kimba told me all about her girlfriend the mistress. To illustrate the Mistress’s ‘ferosh’-isness Kimba told me a story about something they did to a guy years ago who used to live across the hall from them. After fully seducing him over a course of weeks they one night invited him into their room. She told me that night her and the Mistress give him the best triangle workout they’d ever given any ‘bitta meat between the baps’ and after a while he couldn’t stay away from the place, just as Mistress had intended. - Then she turned fuckin’ mental on him – Kimba said.
- first it was wee silly things she did to him, like whip his bare bum with rulers and her cat-o-9-tails, gently like, then one night he got him to beat her after handcuffin’ herself to the bedpost. He did this wee gay flick of the wrists to begin with, like just brushed it along her back, and she kept on goin ‘harder, harder’ so he got rough with her and really want for it, and she kept on sayin then ‘right put me down. Start givin me abuse’ and he went through it all, you’re a cunt you eat shit etc and god love him he went though all the insults he could think of which took him all of five seconds then he yelled ‘ YOU’RE LOWER THAN A FROG!’ and both of us, me and mistress cracked up. But that was when he thought he was in control then and mistress made sure of it when she told him afters that he was an accomplished dominant lover. But see the next week, me and mistress did all sorts of things to him. Tied him to the bed and put feags out on him, slapped him about, poured bleach on his skin, shite on him, in his mouth and all, then she put glue down his japs eye and up his arse and she was done with him. We still saw him goin in and out and all but mistress wouldn’t let me talk to him and she didn’t herself.

- That thing you did with him, with the glue, I’ve heard of that bein done on nonces inside – I said pensively before thinking over and over in my head ‘honeytrap, hoenytrap, honeytrap’. A honeytrap where I’d employ violent sexual abuse to illicit information. Then I thought ‘Scientologists’. Then I put my earphones in to drown out Kimba's tripe and listened to this song to calm and focus my mind on hatching a plan.