Chapter 5: A night to remember

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic

Reads: 49

1st January 
I had a really interesting conversation with Jim.  It was interesting, but a little disturbing, with too many home truths for my liking.  It started off with his declaration that I was a submissive, and kind of went downhill from there.  He referred to my lack of self-esteem, my desire to please others, and the death of my father when I was a teenager.  He was very persuasive and he ended up convincing me that he was right.  I can think of a hundred examples that I would have dismissed in the past as examples of not being egotistical, or self-deprecation, or putting other people first, which somehow now make sense  Jim also maintained that submission was responsible for my confusion over sex.  According to him, I just fancy anyone who is ready to use me sexually, regardless of who they are.
I kind of disagreed at first because no one has ever forced a ball gag into my mouth, or handcuffed me to a bed or anything like that.  On the other hand, it’s only because I have trust issues, otherwise I wouldn’t really have any objections to that.  There are only so many things a man can do to you sexually, and most of them have already been done to me.  Letting other people make decisions and relinquishing control isn’t a problem for me.

2nd January 
But I was explaining about Jim.  New Year’s Eve and there was no music, no champagne, no dope.  We were waiting for his dealer to arrive at eight.  Reminded me of being a teenager again.  Eight o’clock came and went, and there was no sign of the dealer.  You know the Lou Reed song: I’m waiting for my man?
Jim had got a bottle of scotch and some ice.  He was drinking it like Charles Bukowski.  I’d added some coke to mine and we were talking and waiting.  About ten o’clock a couple of friends turned up to join in.  They weren’t even very talkative, and were just there to score some dope.  They had cans of beer and were just waiting too.  Their names were Tom and Pete.  They were in there thirties, Tom was reasonably good looking.
Eleven o’clock came and went and a certain desperation set in.  Jim received a text from his dealer to say he was on his way, but we had the problem of seeing the New Year in with a group of uncomfortable, disappointed, strangers.
At twelve o’clock we all shook hands and kissed. I was fairly merry by then and flirting with all the rest, I was enjoying being the centre of attention in a way I find nauseous when I see other women doing it.  Jim was very drunk and slurring his words. Tom and Pete were vying with each other for my attention, hanging on my every word. 
Twenty to one Jonas and his girlfriend showed up with the stuff.  Jonas was just young, a swaggering fop, full of his own ego.  Kristen, his girlfriend was a little older and rather sour.  They both looked me up and down, Jonas with an easy smile which was not without charm, his girlfriend with a certain disdain.  It was obvious they’d been somewhere more important, and here was just an afterthought.
And then we got down to business.  Money, drugs, music.  There was a point when everyone was rolling joints.  Not cigarette sized endeavours but elaborate constructions packed with bravado.  Jonas had something that involved sticking three cigarette papers together and an overhanging tab which he licked and incinerated with a deft flick of the lighter. I don’t know what Jim was doing.
I was doing my best but I’ve never been good at this, my fingers are too small.  Kristen wasn’t even bothering, nor was she drinking.  Maybe it’s a man thing-huffing and puffing, making the biggest joint you can possibly manage, rolling up a little cylindrical cardboard roach and trying to poke it into the little hole at the bottom.  A bit like sex I suppose.
It didn’t matter anyway, by the time the first joint had done the rounds I was blasted off into another realm, the background music had changed into a fascinating soundscape,  a veritable kaleidoscope of colour and images as I shut my eyes and rode the roller coaster.  Time passed, and an elbow nudged me and I accepted a joint from Jonas, a more mellow elegant construction, which was prised from my shaking fingers once I had hogged it for some time.  Kristen was sleeping the rest were still upright zombie-like engaged in the ritual.  There were two joints going around, Tom passed me another.
We had been chatting to each other happily less than a half hour ago, but now conversation was awkward and stilted, layers of normal interaction had been stripped away.  I looked him in the eye and smiled, quietly communicating everything I could with a single stoned look.
“Thanks Tom,” I said.  And the emphasis on his name showed that I knew who he was, and saw our children in his eyes, and the semi-detached house in the suburbs, and the church wedding in springtime.  But I didn’t want it.
I passed it to Jim with a smile.  We knew each other in this strange world, this disjointed time zone stripped of small talk.  His desires were as evident as they had always been.  He took his pleasure where he could, from whoever was available.  His talk earlier was a kind of play, an intellectual explanation of why his sexual invitation could not be declined.  But I didn’t feel in the mood.  Not with him.
I had entered a zone where conventional rules of time and convention no longer applied, and sex in these situation follows its own rules.  Pete was looking at me too.  He was nice, considerate even, but didn’t really know what was going on.  He was a little bit dense, and the worst thing about it was he didn’t even know it.  He smiled at me, and it was the smile of vain hope and frustration. 
But Jonas was still on the vibe.  Rolling the next joint with his conceited swaggering grin. With Kristen unconscious, I was the next best thing going on.  He was leering at me quite unselfconsciously.  And with all this attention, I felt a sudden surge of energy.  Looking at my attempts to roll my first joint, I redoubled my efforts, and set to work. 

3rd January 
It marked a development in the evening as we took things to the next level.  I poured myself a glass of scotch, there was no coke left, but what the hell?  I drank a little, shuddered, and put it down.  The bottle of scotch was by Jim on a low table. He was slumped nearby on the sofa. He kind of grabbed me as I walked by begging me to stay with him.I didn’t exactly push him away, I snogged him briefly and then pushed him away.  Talk about mixed signals.
“Patience,” I said.
I was staggering, it was no more than ten feet, but I was waylaid.  This time by Tom. I don’t know what he was doing, but I thought he was trying to kiss me, so I kissed him first. I wasn’t going to have his kids, but he was a nice kisser.  I stumbled away towards Jonas sitting at the main dining table.
“Awesome,” he said.
Jim’s flat is large open plan, a couple of bedrooms coming off the main kitchen and dining area.  Pete came up to join us at the table.  Tom crawled towards the toilet.  Jonas offered me some of his grass to put in my joint.
“Nepalese Temple balls,” he said.
“Fuck.” I said.
It was getting to the stage where that was the standard of conversation.  I managed to roll my joint.  It was narrow and symmetrical but I’d no idea how much grass I’d put in it.  I’d forgotten the roach and the back of my throat felt like it was made out of sandpaper, but it was an easy smoke.  Pete’s was lop sided and was impossible to draw on.  I took it over to Jim when I’d finished.
“This is for you.”
“Baby,” he said pulling me onto him.  He tried to kiss me and grab my tits.  I struggled out of his grip and pushed the joint into his mouth, but he still had hold of me.
“OK Jim,” I said, “but this is the last time.”
I reached into his sweat pants.  His cock was already hard and sticky.  At first I tried to be discreet about it, and tried to jerk him off.
“Let’s go to bed.  I love you Maddie,” he insisted.
“No,” I said, and I gripped the shaft of his cock at the base tightly with my right hand and pulled it back and forth.  He groaned a little, trying to unbutton my top, squeezing my left boob and pulling at me, but the situation was under control.  I simultaneously cupped his balls with my left hand, allowing my index finger to snake between his legs and slip into his bum.  I pushed my index finger up to the knuckle, squeezing his shaft as hard as I could as I frantically jerked him with my other hand. 
It was at this point I realised everyone was watching.  Tom had a joint in his hand and his mouth was hanging open, Jonas was grinning at me, Pete was puffing out smoke like a steam engine.Time seemed to stand still as Jim’s body stiffened.
Discreet it wasn’t, but what could I do?  I pulled down the top of his sweat pants inside which I had been doing all this work and went down on him.  Cum didn’t exactly shoot out of his cock.  Jim is old and it sort of seeped out or oozed, and I was able to pucker my lips and vacuum it off the bulb of his cock employing the same sort of technique used by a professional wine taster.  About five seconds later my mouth was full.
I didn’t swallow. I got to my feet and faced my audience. I was a bit disheveled, my top was undone.  They were all looking at me, but I wasn’t really concerned with what they were thinking, it was more what I wanted from them. I looked at each of them in turn whilst I pushed Jim’s cum around in my mouth with the tip of my tongue, like some seedy extra in a porno flick.  Tom was looking unhappy.  Pete was excited.  Jonas was amused.  And in that moment I knew what I wanted.
 I picked up the glass of scotch that I’d left on the table, and raised it to them in a toast.  I swallowed down my mouthful of cum and followed it with the scotch.
“Who’s next?” I asked. 
4th January 
Sex doesn’t always make us happy.  Sex is not always something we should do.  But if we don’t we tend to regret it afterward as an experience which has been lost which will never return.  I think it was something Tom was wrestling with as I led him by the hand to the spare bedroom.
I’d already kissed him, I did fancy him, but he was a bit reluctant.  I thought he was going to turn me down altogether at one point.  Imagine that?  Offering a guy oral sex with no strings attached, and having him turn you down.  How humiliating is that?  Well I started to undo his shirt buttons and ran my hands over his chest, and leaned into him whilst looking up at him, so he could kiss me.  And he looked pained and unhappy.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”  I said.
“It’s not that, I want to.”
He struggled with his conscience I guess.  “But we deserve better.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” I said. 
 It was a lie, I’m not sure what was going on with him other than suspecting he was another bloody Christian.  But I kissed him and whatever it was disappeared in the hot haze that followed, as his cock first disabled his brain and then went into overdrive.  It was really nice.  I sat him down in Jim’s old leather armchair with his trousers around his ankles and took my time.  He took off my top and my bra, and smiled at me sweetly and told me how nice my boobs were.  OMG!
Now I’ve written plenty on this subject of fellatio and I have no desire to repeat myself.  I’m an artist as you know, and an artist applies their artistic sensibilities to everything they do, whether it’s selecting clothing, or writing a diary, or in this case, sucking cock.  Eventually Tom was just lying in the chair with his eyes closed, groaning and quivering and his cock was literally throbbing.  It doesn’t usually happen to me, but he caught me completely by surprise.  I was taking a breather, casually running my tongue over the tip of his cock, when he suddenly gasped and started sputtering like a machine gun, shooting out cum like he’d been saving it up for months.  I just had time to open my mouth and position it over the line of fire, before the first volley struck the back of my throat.  I gasped and closed my mouth over the top of his cock but it was too late.  There was just too much of the stuff and I wasn’t prepared.  I started coughing and choking, and cum was dribbling out of my mouth and running down my chin.  As a girl who prides herself on her technique, it was an abject failure.
My next effort was hardly better.  Pete was lucky to be in the right place at the right time.  He hadn’t even been properly invited, but he was knocking at the door and it was something he was desperate for.  What occurred to me was that for Pete,  it was maybe a once in a lifetime opportunity, and maybe when he was middle aged and looking back at his life he would  remember the New Year’s Eve party when he was incredibly stoned and an uber-glamourous blonde agreed to suck his cock.  Or maybe it’s my whorish submissive ways anxious to seek approval and please others sexually regardless of my own desires.
Whichever, Pete was a bit of a handful.  He was big for a start, and had ADHD or something and was unable to lie back and let me do my thing.  Instead he was trying to suck my tits, and poke his fingers into my knickers.  His cock was difficult to manage too because it was so big and I would so not want to be fucked by that monster.  I reckon Pete had gathered his experience purely from watching porno movies and girls who had mastered their gag reflex.  After dealing with Pete, I can only admire their commitment
He did this thing when he was holding my head and trying to rut in out of my mouth, face fucking me.  At one point I thought I was going to die of asphyxiation, as he pushed his cock so far down into my throat I was choking on it.  It was downright nasty.
I was almost glad when he became bored with my efforts and decided to take the matter in his own hands.  Kneeling in front of him as he pulled his foreskin back and forth, his face contorted in a grimace of pleasure, I dutifully opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue, and tried to look interested.  I was largely superfluous to proceedings I thought, and it was more about the relationship he had with his own penis than with any partner.  I leaned forward encircling the tip of his cock with my lips as he continued to masturbate, grunting and groaning.  My open mouth could just as easily be replaced with a bundle of tissues I decided and my svelte nakedness with a lap top screen.  I was just a fool who allowed herself to be used by everyone.
It was my last thought before his cock exploded.  In that last moment he pulled it away from my lips and pointed it at me like a fire extinguisher.  He could have aimed it at my tits. Or even at my mouth, but instead he pointed it up in the air.  It shot up my nose, into my eye, and all over my hair.  I shrieked in horror, it was my worst nightmare. 
5th January 
I rushed out of the bedroom and straight for the bathroom.  I acted without thinking, ran in without knocking, only to discover it was occupied.
 Kristen was sitting on the toilet crying.
“Oh my God sorry,” I apologised.  “Are you OK?” 
She nodded her head blubbering.
What must she have thought?  A topless woman with a face covered in cum?I hastily grabbed a wad of toilet roll and fled.
Back in the bedroom, Pete had left and Jonas had taken his place. He came prepared with another joint.
“You are one horny woman,” he said.
I tried to wipe the cum out of my hair with the toilet tissue.  I certainly didn’t feel like it.
“Kirsten was in the toilet crying.” I said.
“I know,” said Jonas.
He lit the joint and inhaled, shutting his eyes as though he were trying to balance on a high wire.
“She’s pregnant,” he said.
“And are you….?”
Jonas shook his head, and passed me the joint.
“She’s just a friend.”
“Oh OK.”
I sat on the bed and inhaled.  It was smooth, fragrant, I wasn’t even sure it was marijuana.  I lay back, stretching out my hand, passing it back to him.  Jonas was busy untying my shoe laces.
“Hey did I say you could do that?”
Jonas grinned at me, showing his white teeth. “Sure you did.”
I smiled at him.  “That’s all right then.” 
I unbuttoned the flies of my skinny stretch jeans, as Jonas began to tug them off from the bottom.
“You realise I need a new dope dealer?”
“I would be honoured.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Jonas was certainly not without his charms.  I accepted the joint back from him as he began to undress.  When he was done, I smiled at him sweetly, and opened my legs. 

9th January 
Spent so long writing about my New Year’s Eve, that my New Year is passing me by.  It’s like being at a café and chatting so much on your phone, that you forget who you’re having coffee with.
Tanya and I finally sorted ourselves out.  Our relationship is a little strange, but at the moment it suits us both.  We are kind of like an old married couple, and sex has become an extension of our friendship.  I don’t think either of us wanted to have sex with the other, but we agreed that we would, until something better came along-we are sort of lukewarm fuck buddies.  For Tanya it’s a chance to gain some experience before she makes a move on Mandy, and for me something of an antidote to a sex life which was really getting out of control.  It has none of the passion of my brief fling with Darcy, but it is really nice.  It’s like having a nice box of chocolates instead of a night of drunken debauchery.
Tanya is trying to practice cunnilingus and is pursuing her new found interest with real dedication.  We spent quite a lot of time perusing the sex toys on Amazon.  Naturally they arrived when I was out and instead of leaving them in the porch like I’d suggested they left them with a neighbour I do not get on with.  I received the message when I was at work, and spent about two hours having a panic attack thinking of them opening up a ‘Body Efficient Personal Massager in Bedroom, Bathroom, Home-Energy(Purple)’  and a  Wireless Remote Control Butterfly Vibration Toy,12 Speeds Waterproof Body or even the surprising Women's G-Point Finger Cover Stinger Crystal Set Finger Sleeve. Especially since they sent them in a giant box!
We spent our first weekend together watching films, drinking small quantities of white wine and sort of hanging out.  The sex was like our first time, nice and gentle and soft and soothing.  However the first time Tanya went down on me, I fell asleep.  It was late, it’s true, but it definitely showed a lack of concentration on my part. 

11th January 
Now Jim, has been phased out.  I’ve spoken with him briefly after my New Year’s Eve fiasco, and we’ve agreed we are going to be friends.  I think that is code for we are not going to be friends because we were never friends in the first place.  It’s a shame because he’s intelligent and interesting, and it’s only because sex got in the way.  However that’s the marijuana.
Jonas is the only one I’ve seen since New Year.  I didn’t really explain how it went, but Jonas is great.  He’s so cool, and he’s fantastic in bed.  On the other hand he is permanently off his head, and if he straightened out for five minutes he would probably be dreadful.  He has natural rhythm and awesome staying power.
That first night I wasn’t really expecting much at all, Jonas was just another man who was having me.  I opened my legs and he pushed into me slowly.  I was wet enough, so although there was some small resistance at first, I could feel myself open up as he pushed all the way inside me with a few careful thrusts.  He established a slow rhythm sliding in and out with long graceful strokes before building up speed.  He reached a stage where he was hammering into me with short quick jabs when he suddenly stopped, holding himself inside me and breathing deeply.  I thought it was all over, but it wasn’t.
He lent over me, found my lips, and kissed me.  It was tender, teasing, and unexpected. He reached over me, grabbed the joint from the ashtray.  He passed the joint to me, then slowly began again.
That’s what I call pampering.  Smoking a joint whilst being fucked.  The second time when Jonas stopped I was almost there.  He was slick with sweat but still grinning, I was dizzy, groaning.  He nibbled my earlobes, raked his fingernails over my chest, and tweaked my nipples.  And then he slowly began for a third time. 
At some point I just let go, allowing my orgasm to build and crash over me. As far as I’m aware Jonas didn’t even cum.  I learned afterward that Jonas claims to be a ‘follower of the way’ and a member of some sort of Taoist order who believes in free love and conservation of the seed. 

13th January 
Melvin is back too, though we haven’t got anywhere.  I had more coffee with him, and we had an interesting talk about time travel.  Thinking about it, we actually talked about my gallery and art too and he had this incredible idea for me to increase my page views by doing some computer thing which he explained to me at the time but I’m a little bit hazy on.  Just in case I suddenly shoot up to fifty thousand page views or something, you’ll know what’s happened.
We did have quite an intimate and earnest discussion and he did kiss me, but he is going off to California for six months and doesn’t want to get involved in a serious relationship?  Well, it sounded nice at the time but I’m not convinced reading this back to myself in black and white.  I don’t know if I was being given the brush off.  I didn’t mention Tanya, or my New Year’s Eve gang bang even, but it’s possible he might have heard something from Anne-Marie or worked out what a slut I am.
According to Melvin there was a particular scientist called Tippler who devoted himself to the theory of time travel in a bid to solve its problems.  There’s the time paradox for a start i.e. what happens if you go back in time and kill your own grandfather?If you think about it, if you killed your own grandfather, his children would not have been born and you would therefore cease to exist.  Since you didn’t exist you wouldn’t have been able to go back and kill your grandfather in the first place.  So there’s the paradox.
Then there’s the problem of the carbon atoms.  The carbon atoms you are made of, are already present in the past you travel back to in some different form.  This is due to the carbon cycle.  So how can a carbon atom in a protein in your brain simultaneously exist as the carbon in a CO2 molecule flitting around in the atmosphere, or in plant, or wherever?  It can’t.
Then there’s the distance involved.  Since the earth travels around the sun if you traveled back six months in time you’d find the earth was in a completely different place to where you thought it was on the other side of the sun.
So there are lots of technical difficulties and paradoxes beside the actual difficulty of time travel.  When Tippler wrestled with them he concluded that time travel in the conventional sense was impossible.  However, computing power was increasing exponentially, and in the future it would be possible for the earth and its history to be simulated in perfect detail.  This simulation would be indistinguishable from the reality which we take so much for granted.  In those circumstances,  a would be time traveler reasoned Tippler could enter the simulation and travel backwards and forwards in time in much the same way as you can fast forward to a particular scene in a movie.  With the increase in computing power it was inevitable that this simulation would be created and would one day exist.
The only problem that concerned Tippler, was whether it had already happened. 

17th January 
Getting very frustrated producing work that I cannot show anywhere because it is too rude.  I was permanently banned from this site for doing just that and my other site has removed all its adult content.  In discussions with others I’ve started uploading some of my naughtier works onto my Stash which I will show to anyone who sends me a note and asks, (send me a note I’ll send you the link).
I have this thing at the moment too with a guy who sends me five notes a day.  I had this really nice night with him writing notes.  I encouraged him to masturbate, and he sent me a dick-pic. It’s not unusual, it’s the sort of thing I have done many times before.  However, I have discovered that even casual on-line liaisons have a habit of degenerating into possessive relationships.  I’m not saying it has in this case.  It’s just that when it’s reached a certain stage there’s nowhere to go with it.  I suppose I once regarded it as an opportunity to have some fun and amuse myself, but usually men confine themselves to notes and their own sexual needs and aren’t even aware or interested in art, or of my interest in art.  So I’m writing notes to reassure men, or help them masturbate, to their fantasy of what I’m like.  And you’ve probably got some idea from what I’ve written, that I’m highly sexed and neurotic, attractive and submissive, a total slut, whatever, but really the real me is so much more.  And one of the reason why I’ve kept myself largely anonymous is so I could have the freedom to just speak my thoughts, and do these sorts of things and not care what anyone thought.
Or maybe need just gets projected subconsciously onto the object or person who helps the emotional or sexual release.  So a woman who might once have experienced orgasm when she was spanked under very emotional or unusual circumstances, might engage in the same activity again under different circumstances to re-experience the same emotional heights and sexual outcome.  And maybe there are intelligent and sophisticated men who are nonetheless lonely and unloved who can share freely offered spiritual love and use it for sexual release and maybe experience an orgasm which is a divine flowering of consciousness.
Maybe there’s a generic piece I could write which I could send to my most dedicated followers for them to worship me by spilling their seed as part of some sacrament to me as a digital goddess.  Now there’s a thought.

21st January 
Officially the most depressing day of the year, Monday morning.  People have yet to be paid, Christmas is far enough behind us to regret the food we ate, and the things we did. The weather is miserable and the spring is still a long way off.  I don’t know whether it’s just the day or the whole week, so fingers crossed.
I’ve been sorting through all my old work, either putting it onto my page, or stashing it away depending on whether it meets the guidelines of acceptability. 

 25th January 
Still trying to sort out my stash pictures.  Anne-Marie is apparently now engaged to her rich banker boyfriend.  I assume he’s a banker.  For me I am too much of a class victim.  I am educated but poor.  I’m cultured but not effete.  I’ve always had to fight.  That’s probably what I am most, though you might not know it. I could never have a relationship with someone who was rich, certainly not just because he was rich.  It’s something about Anne-Marie that kind of disgusts me.  I’d do anything for love, but never for money.  Or maybe I’m jumping to judgement; one of my first relationships was with a man who was wealthy and powerful.  I’ll come to that at some point I’m sure.
I was asked last night if I’d ever had a gang bang.  The answer I gave was, yes, maybe a couple of times, and then there was a discussion about what a gang bang was.  The guy I was chatting to had the idea that it necessarily involved a large number of people at the same time, double penetration, or a cock in every orifice, and being covered in cum etcetera.  So many men, especially young men seem to get their ideas about sex from internet porn.  In fact I heard recently from a medical professional that many young girls are contacting their doctors complaining of eye infections and eye problems, only to learn they have contracted chlamydia from, wait for it, their boyfriends shooting cum in their faces.  Anyway, I always thought that if you had one guy after another that was what a gang bang was.  And you could suck one guy off, or jerk off another or full intercourse whatever. 
Now it seems that in order for a girl to have a gang bang she got to fuck a whole football team at the same time.  I really don’t think there’s any chance of that happening to me, though I suppose a girl can dream.

28th January 
Monday morning.  A quiet weekend just gone.  Tanya seems to be having a wild time at the moment.  She and Mandy and Valentine disappeared off on Friday night and didn’t emerge until Sunday evening.  She won’t tell me what went on, so I’ll have to wheedle it out of her later.
Been doing a spot of drawing and writing.  I’ve been doing a picture called ‘the gift’ which I want to attach all my stash pictures to.
I also want to attach a piece of writing of the same name I have also done.  My idea is that men should request the gift, which is a powerful piece of erotic writing.  When I was writing it, I was so turned on I ascended to new heights of sexual arousal and achieved an orgasm which was off the Richter scaleIf that happened to me, then maybe that could happen to other people who read it.  I figure that when men look at the gift, it should result in some sort of sexual resonance.  I want to encourage them to use this to masturbate for me, trying to derive as much pleasure from doing so as I did when I wrote it for them.  In my theory this will generate a mushroom cloud of psycho-sexual energy which will permeate the digital ether and link us all together in a strange psychic event.  It’s emerged from the germ of an idea I had on 17th January.  I really hope you enjoy it. 

29th January 
Nearing the end of January.  It’s really cold here, but at least there are the first signs of light returning.  Just trying to finish everything off.  Tanya’s coming over tonight, but I don’t know what to expect.  Got a bottle of Prosecco in the fridge and a few tasty nibbles; an Amazon box filled with sex toys, and ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ on the TV.  Kind of worried that she’s going to break up with me 
31st January 
Coldest night of the winter so far.  Tanya and I argued about religion, and we didn’t watch the film.  I drank the bottle of wine and my Amazon box remains unused.  I found out what had been going on with Tanya and Mandy and Valentine.  It’s quite juicy, but I’ll tell you tomorrow when I’ve got a little more time.
For today it’s about ‘the gift’ and a psychic explosion- a divine flowering of consciousness.
Please note me.

Submitted: July 29, 2021

© Copyright 2021 tanglewood-jones. All rights reserved.


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