Friday night. Summer. Hot. Living at home…still. Twenty-five years old. A failure. A drunk. Criminal record. Working as a slave. Cutting lawns for a living. Sweat all day for THE MAN. Making just enough money to go downtown on Saturday night and live my fantasy. Drunk. Drink. Laugh. Sweat. Fuck. I became a Prince on the weekend. lived for the weekend. Lived through a week of societal shit. Wasting my life away. Cutting lawns. Watching shit tv. Reading shit newspapaers. Now it was the weekend. SATURDAY NIGHT. SATURDAY NIGHT HAD FINALLY ARRIVED. I called Rob to make sure he was into going downtown. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. Started to worry. “I need Rob to be with me. I always need Rob. Where is he?” His Mother answered the phone. He’s Italian so he was living with his parents as well. At least he had an excuse. “Hello.” “Hi Mrs. Bianchi. Would Rob be there?” “No..he’s still working. He should be home soon though.” “Okay. No problem. Can you please tell him that Chris called.” “Sure I will.” “Thanks Mrs. Bianchi.” Rob not home. Working construction. Getting late. Seven o’clock. Saturday night. I was ready. Not Rob. I had showered. Shaved. Wiped my zit cream off. Fluffed up my hair. My long hair. Balding but hiding it very well. Rob balding but unable to do anything about it. Ready and waiting. At home. My Mom’s home. Looked in the mirror. Again. Still trying to convince myself that I was handsome. Getting restless. Rob always late.
Turned on the tv in the tv room and flicked channels. Flicking. And flicking. Not knowing what I was looking for. Girls everywhere. Young girls. Old girls. Fat girls. Skinny girls. Underage girls. Dead girls. Wrinkled girls. Smooth girls. Pretty girls. And ungly girls. My right hand started tickling my tummy. Lightly tickling. Nobody home. Tickled. Lightly tickled. Flicked some more. Right hand now moving past my tummy to my penis. Tickling my penis. My penis inside my jeans. Not for long. Dick growing. Getting hard. Touching. And touching. Growing and growing. Excitement. Horny. Can’t help myself. Now my right hand is inside my pants. I pull out my hand and undo my zipper. Stroking my penis. Gently. Use both hands to pull my pants down slightly. Underwear still on. DO NOT WANT TO GET CAUGHT. LISTENING AND STROKING. I calmly pull my pants off. Place them on the floor. Stroking is harder. More fierce. Pants off. Underwear off. FASHION TELEVISION ON. Stroke and stroke. Sweat and sweat. Stroking harder. And harder and harder. Imagination overload. Tingling. Stroking. Sweating and BOOM. Explosion. Quickly bring the cum from my left hand to the bathroom. My mom’s bathroom. Turn on the tap. Make sure it flows down the sink. Into the sewer with all the other cum and shit and piss and toilet paper. Got rid of the evidence and quickly put my clothes back on. Phone rings. I think. It was always hard to tell at my Mom’s house as she only had one phone and that phone was downstairs. Running downstairs to catch the phone. Answer the phone. Three rings. Four rings. I grab the phone with my right hand. The one that I just stroked my penis with. “Hello.” “Hey bro. it’s me. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” “Cool.” I responded. Rob is ready. The night was about to begin. SHAKESPEARE IS SHIT.
A loud honking sound outside. I look out the kitchen window. See Rob’s Grey Jetta. Run down the stairs and jump in the car. Front seat. Cooler in the back. It always is. Filled with beers for the ride down. I opened one for me and one for Rob. We “cheersed” each other and drove downtown. Cult blaring on the stereo. Electric album. One beer. Two beers. Three beers. Going down quickly. Hot. Rob’s car always HOT. Laughing. Drinking. Driving.
We arrived at Amsterdam, the bar, not the place, and walked in. It was 9pm. Last call 2am. Five hours of drinking and hunting. One by one they came in. young. Hot. Old. Ugly. Fat. Skinny. Stuck-up. Friendly. Drunk. Every type of women possible. We were in heaven. If there was such a thing. Music blaring. Lights on a little too bright. “AMSTERDAM IS ALWAYS SO FUCKING BRIGHT,” I yelled to Rob. Rob just smiled and laughed and chugged his double Rye and Gingers. I chugged my draft. Standing at the bar. Half drunk. Two more in our hands. Periodically going to the washroom to throw water on my face. Always so fucking HOT. The bar became busier. We became drunker. Me more than Rob. Always. Beautiful girls walking by hardly noticing us. Fat girls in the way. Always in the way. Stopping and smiling. Me looking over thinking, “would I fuck that? Would I fuck that?” Of course I would fuck that. I would fuck anything female. I’m not going to blow a hundred bucks and not get a piece of ass. Any piece of ass I can get is better than going home alone and jerking off the next morning. 10pm. 11pm. 12am. The hours were disappearing quickly. Not drunk enough yet. Never drunk enough. Order two more beers. Two more double Rye and Gingers. Chug them down. Order a couple of shots. Finish them. Sweating. Horny. Really horny. Getting desperate. Need to conquer. Need to fuck. Looking at everything now. One hour till last call. The desperation reaching desperate heights. Face becoming redder. Sweating more. Laughing more. Drinking more. Blondes walking by. Brunette’s. long hair. Short hair. Soooooooo horny. Trying to catch someone’s eye. Wanting to sniff someone’s pure panties. Problem? Order two more beers. Two more double Rye and Ginger’s. Desperate. Desperate. Desperate. 1:45am. Fifteen minutes left. Chug. Chug. Chug. More shots. More beers. On fire. Ready to explode. It’s either going to be a woman or a man. A fuck or a fight. Always one or the other. Excitement? Alive. LIFE. Then we saw THEM. Older. One white. One black. They kept looking. Need to make move. Only ten minutes left. I smiled at the black one. I love black chicks. Dark skin against my pale white skin. Hard bodies. Love to fuck. I continued to smile. The white one was looking over. Looking hungry. Looking desperate. We decided to approach. Now only one drink in hand. “Hey, what’s going on?” I asked. “Not much Jim”, the white one responded. Both girls staring and smiling. “Jim?” “Who’s Jim?”, I asked. “You Jim. Jim Morrisson.” Obviously referring to my long wavy hair and brown vest. What a terrible look I had. I laughed. Rob laughed. Both drunk. So were they. Lots of small talk. “How’s your night been? Where are you from? Where do you live?” All the same usual bullshit talk. Not listening. Just talking. I asked them their names. The white one responded. “My name is Jane and this is Lisa.” “What’s your friends name Jim?” Not caring that she keeps calling me Jim. “This is Rob”, I answered. “What do you guys do?” Jane asked. “I own my own construction company.” Rob responded. “What about you Jim?” I paused. Thought. Looked at Rob and then answered with confidence. “I am an architect.” The girls smiled. They liked that one. Always do. It beats cutting lawns for a living. “What about you girls. What do you do?” asking but not caring at all what they do. “I’m a …and Lisa is …” I’m sure Jane said something but I didn’t listen. I had one thing on my mind and it wasn’t work. We continued to talk and laugh. 2am was almost here. We ordered one more round of drinks for last call and then the lights turned on. Bright. Brighter than before. Jane older than I thought. Lisa hotter than I thought. She might not have been hot but I love black chicks. We talked a bit more. Laughed a bit more. Touched. Hugged. Flirted. “NO MORE BOOZE.” I said. “Last call is done.” I was drunk. Then Jane said, “let’s go back to my place. I have some booze there.” “Perfect.” We all jumped into Rob’s car. Moved the cooler out of the way. Rob turned on the car. Turned on the stereo. Cult blaring once again. Singing. Laughing. Jane now rubbing my leg. Rubbing. And rubbing. Getting closer to my balls. My dick growing hard as rock. Horny as hell. Whatever that means. Lisa sitting in the front. I WANT LISA NOT JANE. LIFE ONCE AGAIN.
We arrived at jane’s apartment. Yonge and Eglinton. We got out of the car and went into the building. Up the elevator and into the apartment. A few more drinks. Tunes blaring. Me wanting Lisa. Me getting Jane. TIME TO FUCK. Jane and I left the party and went to her room. She kept calling me Jim and loved that I was an architect. “My sister is an architect. Maybe you can meet her tomorrow. We are having a family dinner. You should come.” “Oh yeah. That would be great. I would love to meet your sister”, I responded. I HATE FAMILY DINNERS. We started kissing. And touching. More kissing. More touching. Clothes quickly coming off. My dick now HUGE. It is small when soft but HUGE when hard. Who cares about a big soft dick? Jane was stroking. I was fingering. Sucking tits. She was wet. I was hard. Not worried about blowing my load. Never blow my load when drunk. I stuck it in Jane’s big cunt. BIG WET CUNT. “Wonder what Rob’s doing?” Stuck it in and pumped. PUMPED AND PUMPED. CONQUER. ALIVE. STRONG. FUCK AND FUCK. MOAN AND MOAN. Bed shaking. NOISE. Jane moaning. Me pretending to moan. “Aahhh. Aahhhh. Aahhhh…you’re so big. So hard. I love your big dick. So nice. So hard.” Women always say such stupid things when they are fucking. We kept going. Harder and harder. Kissing. Sucking. Fucking. Biting. Then Jane said, “stick it in my ass. Stick it in my ass.” “Sure”, I responded. “Where’s the vaseline?” “In the bathroom”, she said. I quickly jumped off Jane and walked down the hall naked to the bathroom. Saw Rob and Lisa, the black chick. They were fucking on the floor. “Why did Rob have the hot black chick and I have old Jane?” I thought. Arrived at the bathroom. Turned on lights. Looked in the mirror. Looking good. Looked for Vaseline. Saw the big tub of vaseline sitting on the counter. About to grab it then saw the DEP HAIR GEL. The pink DEP HAIR GEL. Looked at vaseline. Looked at DEP. Laughed in the mirror. Grabbed the DEP HAIR GEL. Walked out of the bathroom naked and down the hall. Looked at Rob. He looked back. Showed him the DEP HAIR GEL. We laughed. Gave each other a high-five and then I was back in the room. Slapped the DEP HAIR GEL on my throbbing cock. Jumped into bed. Stuck my sloppy dick into Jane’s ass and pumped away. PUMPED AND PUMPED. MOANING BECOMING HARDER. DEP HAIR GEL BECOMING STICKIER AND STICKIER. LIFE IS GREAT. Jane having the ride of her life. She finally orgasmed and we fell asleep. Her in my arms. LOVE.
The next morning we awoke. Blurry. Head pounding. Horny still. Jumped on Jane. Still wanting Lisa. Started fucking her again. Ten thrusts and my load blown all over her belly and bed and ass. Smelly. Sticky. Sweaty. Pasty. Dirty. Loved “morning after fucks”. We talked a bit about architecture and family. Getting together again. Head still pounding. Not sure if she even knew my real name. giggled a bit. Fucked some more. Still sticky. And sweaty. And sloppy. Jane was old. Thirty-four. Used up. Lonely. Desperate. JIM MORRISSON WAS STILL YOUNG. Horny. Alive. Full of hope. Full of energy. We put our clothes on and walked out to the living room. Rob and black Lisa were awake. Dressed. Fully clothed. “Rob’s lucky”, I thought. We all chatted. And laughed. WHAT A NIGHT. WHY DIDN’T WE ALWAYS DO THIS? “Are you girls hungry?” I asked. “Starving”, Jane replied. “Do you want to go for breakfast?” she continued. “Why don’t Rob and I go to McPuke’s and pick up some food and bring it back?” I responded. “Sure”, the girls said. Rob and I put on our shoes and walked to the front door. Took the girls orders. Wrote them on a piece of paper. Put it into my right pocket. Checked my wallet for money. NO MONEY. “Do you have forty bucks I could borrow Jane? I will pay you back”, I asked. She looked at me with a smile and gave me forty bucks. We walked out the door. The door closed behind us. Rob and I laughed. We got into the elevator. Got out of the elevator. Walked out the building. Jane’s building. Walked down the street. Past McPuke’s. “Where are we going? We just past McPukies.” Rob asked. “Let’s go home”, I replied. “Let’s just go home.” Rob laughed. I laughed. Jane and Lisa sitting at home. Waiting. JUNGLE JANE AND BLACK LISA. ROB AND JIM MORRISSON. DEP HAIR GEL in Jane’s ass. Probably hard now. Stuck. Ass stuck together. Architects. Going home to my Mom’s house. Head pounding. Sweating. No money. Monday fast approaching. Cutting lawns. Six days till next Saturday. CAN’T WAIT. Bye Jane. I LOVE YOU.
notanotherphony. 