Sex and Socialism

SMS. 7.03. How’s about a visit today Miss?! – Tom

I hardly saw Luke at all, as he had to work today and was gone before I got up.

I told Ab to forget about the money she owed me. It seems unfair to ask her for it when she’s broke and I’m not. It’s my little part of socialism. besides, it would go around in circles, we'd both hate each other, in the end, because of it and it still wouldn't have been paid. It's easier just to cut the loss now and be done with it. $650

She said she couldn’t even suck my cock.

“You said you liked (boyfriend) Rob’s legs,” said Aby. “I could get Rob to do it.”

“Wouldn’t cut it. Straight boy,” I said. “He’d have fear in his eyes.”

“Not if he was lying on his stomach,” said Ab.

“Pants off?”

“Of course.”

“Could I stick things in his arse?”

“Plastic things?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Nah, he’d tremble. It would bounce off his teeth, probably not ideal.”

Ab agreed.

SMS. 13.39. On my way miss. See ya in an hour – Christian

SMS. 13.39. Okay :-) – Tom

I was still in the driveway.

SMS. 13.49. (Ab) Jacob (Ab's other gay friend) could suck my cock in place of Rob – Christian

Oh, that post breaky joint was just kicking in and my mind had really run with Rob doing the deed, gorgeous Rob. But somehow, I got onto Ab’s gay friend Jacob, truthfully, he was a bit girlie but as Mark says, they all butch up when they’ve got a cock in their mouth. Oh, it just made me laugh. 

I shouldn’t send texts like that, as Ab is not privy to my full thoughts. It amused me, the thought of Ab forcing Jacob to suck my cock, to pay off her debts. She put Jacob in one of her movies. "I made you a star!" she'd wail.

I got to Tom’s by 2.30, stayed to 5pm. Tom’s looking better, his bladder water is more yellow than red. It's almost a nice safron, with a pink tinge, we decided.

I got home about 5pm, just in time for the drug deal, smoked joints continuously, as I studied the Fletcher Family history.

Tim and Nicholas went out for pre-whatever drinks.

I rolled a few joints, put my feet up. Day done. 

At 7pm the phone rang. “Christian, I’m locked out,” said mum on the other end. The people who live next door with the key are away, or dead, or out, or something. I decided just to go over there, just not think about it. Stoned off me bounce, I set out in the rain.

I got there no drama. There she was, sitting on the front step, my beautiful mother, diminished capacity. Forlorn. There is a twinge of sadness in a life lived so well coming to this, really there is. She was pleased to see me, of course.

I got back without a problem. (Long time pot smokers have no trouble piloting a car)

Nicholas and Tim and Sophie and her boyfriend, Adam, arrived off their faces at 9.30. I did lines of speed with them and head out at 10pm.

The Market was jumping by midnight. He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned has so many friends, we note while the private party is on. Sylvia and I wondered if we knew as many people as who seem to be there. We couldn’t decide. Then the two of us laughed. Sylvia has that gorgeous tinkly laugh. Chatting to her is worth it just to hear her laugh. We didn’t care.