Does Dick Jewellery Make Your Tiny Cock Look Bigger?

Missy meowing as I moved around to get more comfortable in bed this morning was her saying, “keep still,” rather than good morning, cats being what cats are. I was a little surprised that she is still on the bed. I contemplated bumping her off for the attitude, but then if you bumped your cat off the bed for attitude you wouldn’t have a cat in the first place.

I dreamt that my brakes went on my car, heading down a street in the city that was a decent down a hill. I can still feel that feeling of the pedal going all the way to the floor and me pulling on the steering wheel as if that was going to pull me up. It was a beautiful built up area filled with ornate Victorian shops built up two or three stories. It seemed very cosmopolitan, like Victorian Melbourne would have been. I rolled into the side of the road and hit the gutter to stop. I was all the way across town from my mechanic, and my main thought was that if I could still drive the car there. I got out to check my brake fluid under the bonnet. But the car wouldn’t keep still, the hand brake seemed to prove ineffective, despite it working to help pull me up just moments earlier. I couldn’t keep my car still, every time I leant on it, it moved away from me. And cars came and parked next to me crowding me in, blocking me from the street. Suddenly, I am in the middle of a sea of cars.

Then I woke up. I rolled over and Missy meowed at me. Sideways look, almond eyes.

My feet are sore as I get up and go to the toilet. My feet being sore, seems to be a common complaint these last few days. I wondered why? Could it be a result of my recent regression into smoking for two weeks and the consequent cessation of that dreadful habit? Did my circulation do a flip flop and now was readjusting to the drop in carbon monoxide? Or something. What do I think?

I had to go to the super market as I was out of coffee and I wondered about driving because of the cold and the expediency and my need to be slothfully comfortable? I pulled on my tack pants and my red woollen jumper straight over my pyjamas, which consist of a white t-shirt and underpants and my beanie just for good measure, negating the need to look in the bathroom mirror, as I was fairly sure of the horror I would discover if I did.

Then I realised that I hadn’t put the rubbish out last night, so I was busy in the middle of doing that when I looked up and Guadalupe was standing in the open doorway.

Damn!

I was hoping I could get to the supermarket, get home, make coffee and get back into bed before she arrived.

“Oh… hello?” It took me all my strength not to say, oh… it’s you.

So, where I was a little half hearted about my trip to the supermarket for coffee before the bloody cleaner arrived, now I was striding down my street in the direction of Woollies before I knew what I was doing.

Coffee, yogurt, milk and I was home again. I told Guadalupe that she didn’t need to bother with my room as I was going back to bed, as soon as I had brewed some coffee. I could see the glint in her eye as soon as I said it. She was determined to get up there and poke about, as if to spite me.

“Just vacuum then? Ay? Mr Christian.” And then she was gone, before I had a chance to respond.

Damn you woman!

I got my food and coffee together and I hightailed it up the stairs, but she was done by the time I got there. She’d vacuumed, pick up the dirty dishes and was out again before I got a chance to shut the door on her firmly.

As I would realise some time later, she had even managed to get her grubby little hands on my water glass, as I leant over to enjoy a savouring sip of H2O. Damn her again!

I wrote all day. My journal, which now becomes my blog, even if Sam thinks it is a waste of time.

The cute well, built, wog boy with the tight pants with the bulge in the front and the nice arse seemed to be the receptionist/PA to the company execs. Short hair, good ears, nice smile, slutty eyes, or was that just my imagination?

I could see him doing favours to get what he wanted, to get to where he’d got to. That sexy round arse would come in handy. I could imagine him on his knees with his suit pants around his calves, his stripy jocks stretched out of shape across the backs of his knees, his tie around the side of his neck and his shirt unbuttoned down to his belly button revealing his hairy chest. That round arse glistening with lube, the black hairs up his crack smeared flat with lube crystals, the edges of his cheeks turning red from the friction of the bosses relieving their tension inside him.

I saw his name as Anthony, although it would only be his Italian mother who would call him that, ever since he was a baby when she used to rub baby lotion over his balls and cock… Now the men call him Tony, with a handful of lube. The golden balls of an Italian son, the sexy arse of an Italian man… rumpy pumpy, head down, as the men rub lotion up his hairy split, with long curved fingers, just before they slide their digits into him as he grunts like a stuffed man pig,

Sam’s Samsung tablet arrived by delivery. I was expecting it to. He’s been talking about this tablet for weeks and weeks, humming and haring about whether to buy it or not. The delivery man said, “I have to confirm the name and get you to sign here.”

“That’s not me, does it matter?”

“Is this not for this address?”

“Yes, it’s for this address. It’s just that I’m not who it’s addressed to. He had it sent here instead of his own house, because someone would be home here.”

“There isn’t normally anyone home at this address when I deliver here.”

I was taken back, just a little. “Well… I’m home today.”

He was talking about Shane’s dick jewellery. Shane has been buying various pieces of alloy to slide into the piercing in the end of his cock. Prince Alberts and metal bars and what have you. I think he thinks it makes his small penis look bigger. No, I’m sure that is what he thinks. I’m not really sure if the logic stands up though. If you have quite a small cock, surely hanging things from it, which are bigger than your willy is, it would only prove to make your tiny wiener look even smaller? Anyway, each to his own. That’s the packages that the delivery man is talking about, anyway.

Sam came over after work and we went to YimYams and ate dinner.

Mark called and we chatted. He’s loving Hanoi again. He’s been out in the main square handing out fliers for his restaurant and it has been getting people in to eat. Bums on seats. He’s very pleased. He was heading out again tonight.

LouLou Brown 7.59 PM

Hello Chrissy Boy, Are you keeping warm? L x

Christian Fletcher 8:02 PM

I'm keeping warm. How about you?

LouLou Brown 8:23 PM

Very cold in my house, except for lounge, i feel like i may as well cocoon myself in here with kettle and teabags and see the world in Spring!

Christian Fletcher 8:32 PM

LouLou, LouLou, I think that sounds like a good strategy. I'll come and wait out the winter with you, we can have never ending cups of tea.

LouLou Brown

Yippee!! Bring flannel pj's, see you soon, couch awaits you!

Christian Fletcher 8:41 PM

can I bring me boyfriend too? I promise I'll dress him up in flannel jarmies and make him look adorable

LouLou Brown 8:43 PM

Of course... the more the warmer!!... Is Sam happy with tea?

Christian Fletcher 8:47 PM

He's very good with tea, much better with tea than coffee, actually

LouLou Brown 8:49 PM

Good, you won't have to stop at the shops on your way here then.

LouLou Brown 8:58 PM

Good thinking, I guess with 3 of us we might need extra supplies.

Christian Fletcher 9:01 PM

Sam is an amateur, of course, but we can never have too much, I suspect

LouLou Brown 9:06 PM

Well he's in good hands, we'll teach him to see that bad habits are a bliss!... Talking of bad habits, i'm just off to make tea.