Sometimes When I Look Up
You know, what with all this blog re-writing that I am doing – I’m now up to June 2011, I’ve re-written 2009 and 2010, the first six months of 2011, now – it gets kind of confusing coming back to current day. Spookily.
And sometime when I am slurping down on Ben's big cock, like it is the latest flavour from Messina, I can look up and my life can flash before my very eyes, all the people, all the guys. Steve, James, Matthew, Tim. A succession of beta males. Nothing wrong with beta males. Ben is an alfa male. (I laugh to myself, whatever that means?)
It’s trippy.
I try to do it, when I look up at him, catch myself off-guard, you know, deliberately, squint an eye, will it be Steve, will it be James, will it be Matthew, will it be Tim, will it be Ben, stupid isn’t it. But sometimes, it works and he turns into the most interesting people, momentarily, in a blink of an eye. Who’d have thought I’d want to suck his cock.
“You know, like Gavin Christmas.”
Ben laughed “No one would have been left wondering with that one.”
“What are you saying?”
“Gavin Christmas, Gavin Christmas, Gavin Christmas.”
“I do not.”
“You should just get it over and done with,” says Ben. “Make him an offer.”
“I don’t talk about him that much?”
“You do,” says Ben.
“Really?”
“When you have had too much pot, you do.”
Too much pot? Too much pot? I wondered what too much pot was? It meant nothing to me.
I eat porridge. The milk drips off my chin. Ben checks if Butch’s bum is clean. I try not to think about Gavin Christmas.
And sometime when I am slurping down on Ben's big cock, like it is the latest flavour from Messina, I can look up and my life can flash before my very eyes, all the people, all the guys. Steve, James, Matthew, Tim. A succession of beta males. Nothing wrong with beta males. Ben is an alfa male. (I laugh to myself, whatever that means?)
It’s trippy.
I try to do it, when I look up at him, catch myself off-guard, you know, deliberately, squint an eye, will it be Steve, will it be James, will it be Matthew, will it be Tim, will it be Ben, stupid isn’t it. But sometimes, it works and he turns into the most interesting people, momentarily, in a blink of an eye. Who’d have thought I’d want to suck his cock.
“You know, like Gavin Christmas.”
Ben laughed “No one would have been left wondering with that one.”
“What are you saying?”
“Gavin Christmas, Gavin Christmas, Gavin Christmas.”
“I do not.”
“You should just get it over and done with,” says Ben. “Make him an offer.”
“I don’t talk about him that much?”
“You do,” says Ben.
“Really?”
“When you have had too much pot, you do.”
Too much pot? Too much pot? I wondered what too much pot was? It meant nothing to me.
I eat porridge. The milk drips off my chin. Ben checks if Butch’s bum is clean. I try not to think about Gavin Christmas.
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