The Man has gone from a one-off cameo to a regular special guest star in my dreams. And my, what sort of dreams they are!
This dry spell is doing my head in. I'm starting to understand those dogs you see trying to hump lamp posts. I'm about a week away from reaching that point myself. I don't understand how Mother Teresa could go on like this all her life! I don't even have those lepers in my neighbourhood to divert my attention to. I do have those homeless drunks but they smell. And they are known to get rather unpleasantly forward at times. One day a man who was clearly using his trousers as his personal toilet, propositioned me on the tram. By asking If I was into anal sex.
Now, I'm an old-fashioned girl. I like to be wooed first. Over dinners. By people who don't think shower is just another urban legend.
My friend say I should shag that doorman I told you about. Another friend says I should shag him. More specifically, I should shag him in every single room of The Man's Spanish mansion I still have the keys to.
But as much as I crave all the acts that the carnal circus has to offer... I can't even imagine doing anything with anybody other The Man.
We were a really good match. It's so bloody unfair. Sex is like mascara. You find a really good one that does it all; lifts, separates, opens your eyes... and then they go and discontinue it!
No comments:
Post a Comment