Friday 30th March, 11:18am
Boss: S? Where are you going for your leaving drink at lunchtime?
S: Don't know yet.
Boss: Well can you make up your mind cause I'm going to meet a mate and then bring him to wherever you are.
OMO: Ooooh, are you bringing a date with you at dinner time?
Boss: No! I'm bringing a mate. Don't go saying that to him cause he'll beat you up.
OMO: Having trouble coming to terms with it too huh?
Boss (ignoring my last comment): And anyway, it's not "dinner time" it's "lunch time". Dinner time is at 9pm.
OMO: You're eating too late. No wonder you're putting on so much weight.
Boss: Tosser!
Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Locked In: Part 2
(Read Part 1 here)
Right, where was I? Oh yeah, some big old ugly guy had just locked me in his house, and I was about to follow him into his bedroom to have sex with him. Normal night out then.
Once in the room he said simply "Undress". I obliged. It would have been rude not to, and my Mum taught me better than that. He left the room and I peeked around the door to see him enter a bathroom and close the door. I should have thrown my clothes back on of course, instead I thought "let's lay down on the bed". D'oh!
When he came back in a few minutes later he was naked. And aroused. The Neanderthal voice in my head said "Oooh, big cock!", and all thoughts of fleeing disappeared. I remember that he smelled very strongly of mint - funny what your mind makes notes on. He started to suck me off and I closed my eyes and thought of England. Or Burt Reynolds. Possibly Tom Selleck. When he suddenly stopped I opened my eyes to find him appraising my chest. "Hmmm, look at those", he said. And then with the most creepy, lascivious face I've ever seen, "Those tits need teasing". I can't tell you how much those words and his face made me shudder, and even today if anyone calls my nipples "tits" it sends a shiver down my spine. He grabbed both nipples and started to pull. Hard. Now, my nipples are very sensitive, Dear Reader. I can almost, but not quite, cum with only nipple play. But going immediately to pulling on them as hard as possible isn't my thing; they're too sensitive to be treated like that off-the-bat. And when he bent down and started to bite them in turn, very hard indeed, it was time to say something. Finally!
"Er... you might want to take it easy with those".
"No. Those tits love it"
*Shudder*
"Yeah, well they're attached to me and I don't"
"Just lay there and take it"
A dead-eyed smile spread across his face and he lent down and bit my left nipple, hard enough to break the skin.
"Ok, that's enough", I said and started to roll away. He grabbed me and pulled me back, then threw himself on top of me and pinned me down. "You're not getting away that easily". With his full weight on top of me he stuck out an impressively long tongue and started to lick my face. "Oooh, big tongue!", the Neanderthal voice cut in once again, before I came to my senses and started to struggle. As I did so he stopped licking my face and neck and started to bite instead. I managed to wriggle upwards on the bed a bit but this only gave him access to my chest and nipples which he bit as I struggled, his hands pinning my arms down on the bed. At the same time he'd forced his legs between mine and was pushing them apart, wide, trying to force them up and around him. It was obvious what his game was; he liked my pain and it wasn't going to stop at pinning me down and biting me. He was going to try to fuck me, bareback and lubeless, and he'd not even bought me dinner.
Now, I've always had (short) thick, hairy, powerful legs, which made me the best sprinter and long-jumper in my school, and these were my saving grace. I bought my knees up on either side of him, making him smile as he thought he was going to get his way, then bought them hard together, gripping him and squeezing as hard as I could. He let out a yelp and arched upwards, momentarily relaxing his grip. So I pushed him upwards and to one side, managing to throw him off the bed and onto the floor. Needless to say I legged it, grabbing my clothes and heading for the door and out into the night air. At my car I stopped to jump into my trousers, grabbed the keys from the pocket and into my car and safety. As I pulled away, at speed, the guy was standing in the doorway, still erect, and looking very angry. Funnily enough his cock didn't look as enticing any more.
A few miles later I pulled over and got out of my car, still only wearing my trousers. I got dressed, noticing the bite marks and the blood running down me from my nipples. And then I cried.
I stayed away from the lay-by for a while after that, but of course the need for cock finally got the better of me and I went back. I never saw him again.
Right, where was I? Oh yeah, some big old ugly guy had just locked me in his house, and I was about to follow him into his bedroom to have sex with him. Normal night out then.
Once in the room he said simply "Undress". I obliged. It would have been rude not to, and my Mum taught me better than that. He left the room and I peeked around the door to see him enter a bathroom and close the door. I should have thrown my clothes back on of course, instead I thought "let's lay down on the bed". D'oh!
When he came back in a few minutes later he was naked. And aroused. The Neanderthal voice in my head said "Oooh, big cock!", and all thoughts of fleeing disappeared. I remember that he smelled very strongly of mint - funny what your mind makes notes on. He started to suck me off and I closed my eyes and thought of England. Or Burt Reynolds. Possibly Tom Selleck. When he suddenly stopped I opened my eyes to find him appraising my chest. "Hmmm, look at those", he said. And then with the most creepy, lascivious face I've ever seen, "Those tits need teasing". I can't tell you how much those words and his face made me shudder, and even today if anyone calls my nipples "tits" it sends a shiver down my spine. He grabbed both nipples and started to pull. Hard. Now, my nipples are very sensitive, Dear Reader. I can almost, but not quite, cum with only nipple play. But going immediately to pulling on them as hard as possible isn't my thing; they're too sensitive to be treated like that off-the-bat. And when he bent down and started to bite them in turn, very hard indeed, it was time to say something. Finally!
"Er... you might want to take it easy with those".
"No. Those tits love it"
*Shudder*
"Yeah, well they're attached to me and I don't"
"Just lay there and take it"
A dead-eyed smile spread across his face and he lent down and bit my left nipple, hard enough to break the skin.
"Ok, that's enough", I said and started to roll away. He grabbed me and pulled me back, then threw himself on top of me and pinned me down. "You're not getting away that easily". With his full weight on top of me he stuck out an impressively long tongue and started to lick my face. "Oooh, big tongue!", the Neanderthal voice cut in once again, before I came to my senses and started to struggle. As I did so he stopped licking my face and neck and started to bite instead. I managed to wriggle upwards on the bed a bit but this only gave him access to my chest and nipples which he bit as I struggled, his hands pinning my arms down on the bed. At the same time he'd forced his legs between mine and was pushing them apart, wide, trying to force them up and around him. It was obvious what his game was; he liked my pain and it wasn't going to stop at pinning me down and biting me. He was going to try to fuck me, bareback and lubeless, and he'd not even bought me dinner.
Now, I've always had (short) thick, hairy, powerful legs, which made me the best sprinter and long-jumper in my school, and these were my saving grace. I bought my knees up on either side of him, making him smile as he thought he was going to get his way, then bought them hard together, gripping him and squeezing as hard as I could. He let out a yelp and arched upwards, momentarily relaxing his grip. So I pushed him upwards and to one side, managing to throw him off the bed and onto the floor. Needless to say I legged it, grabbing my clothes and heading for the door and out into the night air. At my car I stopped to jump into my trousers, grabbed the keys from the pocket and into my car and safety. As I pulled away, at speed, the guy was standing in the doorway, still erect, and looking very angry. Funnily enough his cock didn't look as enticing any more.
A few miles later I pulled over and got out of my car, still only wearing my trousers. I got dressed, noticing the bite marks and the blood running down me from my nipples. And then I cried.
I stayed away from the lay-by for a while after that, but of course the need for cock finally got the better of me and I went back. I never saw him again.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Dangerously Super-Sexy
I looked so suuuper-sexy yesterday The Boyf ended up with a migraine. I blame the rise in blood pressure. And today two people are off work, complaining of bad stomachs. But I know it's because they want to sit at home and masturbate whilst thinking about me all day. They're only human. In fact, I've only just put 2 and 2 together; yesterday afternoon Curious Clive ran off and vomitted in the toilets. It was obviously because he couldn't stomach the thought of never having sex with me. Oh, it all clicks into place now. I tell you, being this sexy is dangerous. I'm cursed, truly.
Meanwhile, my Boss was overheard telling someone "Of course I'm not prejudiced; I've got a black, a gay and a disabled in my team!". When questioned further on who the "disabled" was it transpired he meant Colin, who has asthma. Asthma I tells ya! Admittedly, he's pretty wheezey, but when was the last time you noticed special parking places for people with inhalers? My Boss went on to say "I found out OMO was gay just after I interviewed him, but I still let him work here". I wish he hadn't.
Meanwhile, my Boss was overheard telling someone "Of course I'm not prejudiced; I've got a black, a gay and a disabled in my team!". When questioned further on who the "disabled" was it transpired he meant Colin, who has asthma. Asthma I tells ya! Admittedly, he's pretty wheezey, but when was the last time you noticed special parking places for people with inhalers? My Boss went on to say "I found out OMO was gay just after I interviewed him, but I still let him work here". I wish he hadn't.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Orgasms All Round
I'm looking utterly humpy today in a new suit. Everyone thinks so. I nearly started an impromptu orgy on the Tube on the way to work, just because I look sooooo do-able. No, seriously, I do. You'd totally cum in your pants if you saw me now. I've given my boss three orgasms already, and he doesn't even like gays.
After the unenjoyment (another word I'm campaigning for) that was last week's Juicy, The Boyf and I decided to have a few weeks away from clubbing. No doubt we'll go out over Easter, but after that it'll be special nights only for a while. So, Friday night we went to BarCodeV to celebrate a friends birthday, then, when everyone was leaving to go to a club, we politely declined and headed off home, much to everyones' shock.
Saturday was spent shopping - hence the new suit. As is usually the case I ended up buying the first one I bothered to try on, in the first shop I could be arsed to enter. So it took me all of 10 minutes to find a suit, try it on and pay for it - that's how I like to shop. Unfortunately on the way out I spotted another suit tucked away in a corner. It was a pale beige - not a colour I can get away with at work. Stupidly I stopped for a moment to try the jacket on and the damage was done. The Boyf thought it looked great on me, and a Twink With Beard sales assistant offered a "Oooo, you look faaaaaabulous darling!" as he swished past, but I complained that I didn't have anything to co-ordinate with it, so ended up with 2 new shirts, 3 ties and a new pair of shoes on top. Oops, spend-a-thon!
Saturday night I did my bit for international relations - again - by hosting the Greek God for a night of debauchery. Our neighbours banged on the wall at 2am, so we must have been making alot of noise. I was top for the night so it obviously wasn't me doing all the screaming. For a change.
We kicked the Greek out Sunday lunchtime and had only just found all the condoms and showered when OBM#1 & 2 came round to pick us up for lunch. They offered a "Ew! It totally smells like sex in here, you pigs!" as they walked in. Lord knows what the neighbours must think; one big hairy guy leaving and 5 minutes later another two turning up. Oh well, one neighbour is a drug dealer and another has a string of prostitutes visiting at all hours, so we're just trying to fit in.
After consuming some rather lovely, and reasonably priced, Mexican food (Chicken Enchilada for me, thanks), Sunday afternoon was spent wandering around Greenwich with Our Best Mates, looking at antiques and assorted bric-a-brac, and trying to convince OBM#1 that he looked hot in a kitsch white PVC 60's cap. I mean, all 6 foot, hairy, Glaswegian bodybuilders should wear white PVC.
After being dropped off by the boys The Boyf and I spent Sunday evening cuddled up in front of the tv. We're getting old and we don't care. And that was our weekend; shopping, sex, food and friends. Perfect.
Right, I'm off to give orgasms to everyone in my building. A quick walk up and down and they'll be copulating in the aisles. If you happen to see me today make sure you have a tissue handy. In fact, bring the whole box...
After the unenjoyment (another word I'm campaigning for) that was last week's Juicy, The Boyf and I decided to have a few weeks away from clubbing. No doubt we'll go out over Easter, but after that it'll be special nights only for a while. So, Friday night we went to BarCodeV to celebrate a friends birthday, then, when everyone was leaving to go to a club, we politely declined and headed off home, much to everyones' shock.
Saturday was spent shopping - hence the new suit. As is usually the case I ended up buying the first one I bothered to try on, in the first shop I could be arsed to enter. So it took me all of 10 minutes to find a suit, try it on and pay for it - that's how I like to shop. Unfortunately on the way out I spotted another suit tucked away in a corner. It was a pale beige - not a colour I can get away with at work. Stupidly I stopped for a moment to try the jacket on and the damage was done. The Boyf thought it looked great on me, and a Twink With Beard sales assistant offered a "Oooo, you look faaaaaabulous darling!" as he swished past, but I complained that I didn't have anything to co-ordinate with it, so ended up with 2 new shirts, 3 ties and a new pair of shoes on top. Oops, spend-a-thon!
Saturday night I did my bit for international relations - again - by hosting the Greek God for a night of debauchery. Our neighbours banged on the wall at 2am, so we must have been making alot of noise. I was top for the night so it obviously wasn't me doing all the screaming. For a change.
We kicked the Greek out Sunday lunchtime and had only just found all the condoms and showered when OBM#1 & 2 came round to pick us up for lunch. They offered a "Ew! It totally smells like sex in here, you pigs!" as they walked in. Lord knows what the neighbours must think; one big hairy guy leaving and 5 minutes later another two turning up. Oh well, one neighbour is a drug dealer and another has a string of prostitutes visiting at all hours, so we're just trying to fit in.
After consuming some rather lovely, and reasonably priced, Mexican food (Chicken Enchilada for me, thanks), Sunday afternoon was spent wandering around Greenwich with Our Best Mates, looking at antiques and assorted bric-a-brac, and trying to convince OBM#1 that he looked hot in a kitsch white PVC 60's cap. I mean, all 6 foot, hairy, Glaswegian bodybuilders should wear white PVC.
After being dropped off by the boys The Boyf and I spent Sunday evening cuddled up in front of the tv. We're getting old and we don't care. And that was our weekend; shopping, sex, food and friends. Perfect.
Right, I'm off to give orgasms to everyone in my building. A quick walk up and down and they'll be copulating in the aisles. If you happen to see me today make sure you have a tissue handy. In fact, bring the whole box...
Friday, March 23, 2007
OMO At The Movies: "Premonition"
I forsee... a mediocre film.
Quick review for you, film fans. Last night we went to see "Premonition", on the grounds that there wasn't anything else to see that we agreed on.
So, the plot goes like this (try to read this in an uninterested deadpan voice):
Oh no, my husband is dead.
Oh, actually he's alive.
Oh no, he's dead again.
Nope, alive again.
Whatever.
By the end of the film neither Sandra Bullock as the wife, nor either of the children, seemed to care much whether Julian McMahon was alive or dead. And if they didn't care, how were we to as an audience?
The premise is a good one: what would you do if you had a premonition and knew that your partner would be killed. How could you not interfere to stop it? But what if there were other factors that stayed your hand? Hardly original though, so the film tries to up the ante by giving us a disjointed timeline.
Trouble is that there are a few plot holes, and the film's not quite as clever as it likes to think (it tries for Memento but lands somewhere near Gothika). However, it's nicely shot (muted tones), the score's pretty, and Sandra tries valiantly to revive a comatose script.
At the end of the day, it's an ok film, I just wouldn't run out to see it. But on a wet autumnal Sunday it'll be perfect sit-on-the-sofa-under-a-duvet fair.
Have a good weekend, Dear Reader.
Quick review for you, film fans. Last night we went to see "Premonition", on the grounds that there wasn't anything else to see that we agreed on.
So, the plot goes like this (try to read this in an uninterested deadpan voice):
Oh no, my husband is dead.
Oh, actually he's alive.
Oh no, he's dead again.
Nope, alive again.
Whatever.
By the end of the film neither Sandra Bullock as the wife, nor either of the children, seemed to care much whether Julian McMahon was alive or dead. And if they didn't care, how were we to as an audience?
The premise is a good one: what would you do if you had a premonition and knew that your partner would be killed. How could you not interfere to stop it? But what if there were other factors that stayed your hand? Hardly original though, so the film tries to up the ante by giving us a disjointed timeline.
Trouble is that there are a few plot holes, and the film's not quite as clever as it likes to think (it tries for Memento but lands somewhere near Gothika). However, it's nicely shot (muted tones), the score's pretty, and Sandra tries valiantly to revive a comatose script.
At the end of the day, it's an ok film, I just wouldn't run out to see it. But on a wet autumnal Sunday it'll be perfect sit-on-the-sofa-under-a-duvet fair.
Have a good weekend, Dear Reader.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Locked In: Part 1
At the age of 19 I discovered cruising areas, not realising they existed until I passed my driving test and chanced upon one late one night whilst looking for somewhere to pee. After that I started to cruise woodlands and lay-bys (aka truck-stops for you Americans). There was one particular, and very well known, lay-by about 8 miles from where I lived, and in those early days of discovering my sexuality I used to end up there almost every evening. It was a well-used stop for lorry drivers heading for mainland Europe, and I was a tramp. Simple as that.
It was always very, very dark, being lined on both sides by trees which cut out nearly all of the light, and thus it was not normally easy to tell what the guys looked like, so there was always a bit of manouvring to be done to get a clear look at the guy before venturing too far.
Late one night I was sitting in my car with the window down when a guy walked up. I could see from his silhouette that he was tall and wide, which was very much what I liked at the time. He came up to my window and asked the usual question (in a rich, deep voice), which always made me cringe; "What are you into?". Why the fuck can't people come up with anything more original for an opening line? I know we're just there to get down to business but gimme a break! Anyway, I tried to crane my neck up to see what he was like but couldn't really get a good idea, so I said "Oral. Maybe a bit more" (I mean, you don't have to look at their ugly face to suck their cock, right?), to which he flopped out a very impressive looking cock. I set to, as is my way, eliciting much moaning and groaning, but we kept getting disturbed by people cruising and trying to get in on the action, so the guy put his cock away and said "Let's go somewhere quieter. Follow me".
I'd go pretty much anywhere for a nice cock, but after 20 minutes of driving through countryside I started wondering what I was getting myself into, especially when he pulled up outside a cottage, got out of his car and hurried inside, leaving the door open for me to follow. I hesitated for a bit, and then the lure of cock got the better of me. Us gays, we're so easily bought. As soon as I stepped through the door it slammed behind me and I heard the lock turn. He'd been behind it waiting for me to come in. The alarm bells started ringing, but I threw a blanket over them to shut them up. Frankly, I don't know why I always carry them around. I turned around to face him in the light for the first time. He was in his 60's, easily, but he was a big guy alright. And not a pretty one; big, BIG nose and ears. No eyes or mouth, just big nose and ears. Haha. Sorry. So, he walks into another room and shouts through that I should follow him. Stupidly I do so. If this had been a horror film I would have been the busty blond who hears a squelchy thud in the basement whilst baby-sitting and goes to investigate even though the lights have gone out, after having sex with my boyfriend on the sofa and he's mysteriously not come back from the toilet. With lots of violins playing in the background. On Halloween.
(To Be Continued)
It was always very, very dark, being lined on both sides by trees which cut out nearly all of the light, and thus it was not normally easy to tell what the guys looked like, so there was always a bit of manouvring to be done to get a clear look at the guy before venturing too far.
Late one night I was sitting in my car with the window down when a guy walked up. I could see from his silhouette that he was tall and wide, which was very much what I liked at the time. He came up to my window and asked the usual question (in a rich, deep voice), which always made me cringe; "What are you into?". Why the fuck can't people come up with anything more original for an opening line? I know we're just there to get down to business but gimme a break! Anyway, I tried to crane my neck up to see what he was like but couldn't really get a good idea, so I said "Oral. Maybe a bit more" (I mean, you don't have to look at their ugly face to suck their cock, right?), to which he flopped out a very impressive looking cock. I set to, as is my way, eliciting much moaning and groaning, but we kept getting disturbed by people cruising and trying to get in on the action, so the guy put his cock away and said "Let's go somewhere quieter. Follow me".
I'd go pretty much anywhere for a nice cock, but after 20 minutes of driving through countryside I started wondering what I was getting myself into, especially when he pulled up outside a cottage, got out of his car and hurried inside, leaving the door open for me to follow. I hesitated for a bit, and then the lure of cock got the better of me. Us gays, we're so easily bought. As soon as I stepped through the door it slammed behind me and I heard the lock turn. He'd been behind it waiting for me to come in. The alarm bells started ringing, but I threw a blanket over them to shut them up. Frankly, I don't know why I always carry them around. I turned around to face him in the light for the first time. He was in his 60's, easily, but he was a big guy alright. And not a pretty one; big, BIG nose and ears. No eyes or mouth, just big nose and ears. Haha. Sorry. So, he walks into another room and shouts through that I should follow him. Stupidly I do so. If this had been a horror film I would have been the busty blond who hears a squelchy thud in the basement whilst baby-sitting and goes to investigate even though the lights have gone out, after having sex with my boyfriend on the sofa and he's mysteriously not come back from the toilet. With lots of violins playing in the background. On Halloween.
(To Be Continued)
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Juicy 0 RVT 1
This morning Laura Ashley was making a beautiful job of re-arranging the entire crisps display in the local shop.
OMO: Morning Laura. Thanks for the WD40
Laura: *blink* Moo!
OMO: Er... so... yeah... must dash. Bye!
Laura: *blink blink*
The way she looked at me you'd think I was the weird one. Hmmm.
In unrelated news; yes, I'm very aware that I didn't tell you about my weekend yesterday, Dear Reader. The main reason being that I wasn't feeling quite the ticket. (I'm not entirely sure what that means). I'll shorthand it for you (properly this time).
Saturday - Juicy. Too busy (Angertwinks In Sunglasses and Girls With Handbags). I've pronounced it "so last Tuesday".
Sunday - RVT. What can I say, the place is an institution, and can be relied upon to give us a good time. Oh, and I managed to swap my mojo with a sex peeg I know, so this week's game on.
OMO: Morning Laura. Thanks for the WD40
Laura: *blink* Moo!
OMO: Er... so... yeah... must dash. Bye!
Laura: *blink blink*
The way she looked at me you'd think I was the weird one. Hmmm.
In unrelated news; yes, I'm very aware that I didn't tell you about my weekend yesterday, Dear Reader. The main reason being that I wasn't feeling quite the ticket. (I'm not entirely sure what that means). I'll shorthand it for you (properly this time).
Saturday - Juicy. Too busy (Angertwinks In Sunglasses and Girls With Handbags). I've pronounced it "so last Tuesday".
Sunday - RVT. What can I say, the place is an institution, and can be relied upon to give us a good time. Oh, and I managed to swap my mojo with a sex peeg I know, so this week's game on.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Tampons Are My Future?
It seems that Laura Ashley, our local crazy lady, has precognitive abilities. You may recall that she's been known to slip things into your basket when you're not looking. Now, as much as I like things slipped into my basket - ahem - when we're talking about WD40 and tampons in the local shop I'm not so keen.
Wednesday night was a very important night for The Boyf, hence that morning his car wouldn't start, as is the way of the world. He phoned me at work in a panic, but I did my best boyfriend-calming thing - "For fuck's sake stop panicking, you drama queen. I'll fix the car when I come home. Breathe dammit, breathe!". I'm so sympathetic.
After work I diligently set to work under the bonnet, and diagnosed a jammed starter motor.
I would like to interject here that ALL of my friends are completely taken by surprise when they find out I'm actually pretty good under the bonnet of a car. Most gay men seem to have trouble just finding out where to put petrol in, but I grew up with a mechanic for a Dad, who used to push me underneath cars because I was small enough to fit. Hence, I know how they work.
So, there I am, doing my manly bit under the bonnet, covered in grease. If the tables had been turned I'd have been totally turned on by the site of a greasy man, but The Boyf prefers guys in suits so instead he was hovering around making nervous clucking noises. The word "late" kept making an appearance too, so I forced him back inside to get himself ready.
I won't bore you with all the technical mumbo-jumbo, but once I'd freed the offending mechanical item I decided to give everything a good spray with a lubricant. Hmmm, what to use, what to use.... Ah, WD40!
So you see, Laura Ashley obviously knew in advance that I was going to need it. The trouble is that I'm now really worried about what I'm going to need the tampons for. I shudder to think.
Wednesday night was a very important night for The Boyf, hence that morning his car wouldn't start, as is the way of the world. He phoned me at work in a panic, but I did my best boyfriend-calming thing - "For fuck's sake stop panicking, you drama queen. I'll fix the car when I come home. Breathe dammit, breathe!". I'm so sympathetic.
After work I diligently set to work under the bonnet, and diagnosed a jammed starter motor.
I would like to interject here that ALL of my friends are completely taken by surprise when they find out I'm actually pretty good under the bonnet of a car. Most gay men seem to have trouble just finding out where to put petrol in, but I grew up with a mechanic for a Dad, who used to push me underneath cars because I was small enough to fit. Hence, I know how they work.
So, there I am, doing my manly bit under the bonnet, covered in grease. If the tables had been turned I'd have been totally turned on by the site of a greasy man, but The Boyf prefers guys in suits so instead he was hovering around making nervous clucking noises. The word "late" kept making an appearance too, so I forced him back inside to get himself ready.
I won't bore you with all the technical mumbo-jumbo, but once I'd freed the offending mechanical item I decided to give everything a good spray with a lubricant. Hmmm, what to use, what to use.... Ah, WD40!
So you see, Laura Ashley obviously knew in advance that I was going to need it. The trouble is that I'm now really worried about what I'm going to need the tampons for. I shudder to think.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
An Office Conversation
Thursday 15th March 2007, 11:16am.
OMO (to a colleague): Yesterday, whilst you were off, the Boss took me for a romantic walk down by the Tower of London.
Boss: I did nothing of the sort. We just went for a walk to discuss work away from the office.
Colleague (to OMO): Oooh, nice. Did you hold hands?
OMO: No, but he made me do unspeakable things. I felt cheap and used at the end of it.
Boss: No...
OMO (interrupting): But, unlike most old men who want sexual favours, he didn't even bother to buy me an icecream or a bag of sweets.
Boss: You wanker.
OMO (to a colleague): Yesterday, whilst you were off, the Boss took me for a romantic walk down by the Tower of London.
Boss: I did nothing of the sort. We just went for a walk to discuss work away from the office.
Colleague (to OMO): Oooh, nice. Did you hold hands?
OMO: No, but he made me do unspeakable things. I felt cheap and used at the end of it.
Boss: No...
OMO (interrupting): But, unlike most old men who want sexual favours, he didn't even bother to buy me an icecream or a bag of sweets.
Boss: You wanker.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
The Sling-Thing Occurs
I guess I should tell you about my weekend. Er... well, you may recall that The Boyf and I were supposed to be visiting the Policeman Who Won't Stop Cumming and his boyfriend a couple of weeks ago, but it didn't happen. Well, last Friday it did happen.
Friday evening we drove out to their house, which turned out to be a beautiful cottage in the middle of the countryside. We sat around and chatted for a bit, and I hid behind a tall glass of vodka hoping that they'd forget I was there so I could just stay where I was and watch a DVD of Madonna's last tour whilst they "went upstairs". But no, the Policeman's boyfriend, who we'll call simply R, suddenly said to me "Come upstairs with me for a minute will you? I want to put on something different to wear and you can help me choose". My mind raced. I'd not played "dressing up" since primary school. Was I going upstairs to find a box full of bonnets and puff-sleeved party dresses, high-heeled shoes that were too big and feather boas?
He led me upstairs. The dressing-up box turned out to be a wardrobe full of leather gear. Ah, of course, the other sort of drag. R stipped and put on some chaps, then handed some to me. Unbelievably I'd never worn them before, probably 'cause no-one needs to see my ass hanging out the back of my trousers, but I must admit that they did feel rather nice.
As usual I won't go into the gory details other than to say that I finally got a go in a sling - in fact, as I'd not been in one before the general concensus was to keep me in it. I didn't complain. All four of us finally collapsed in a heap in front of their log fire at 3am, totally spent.
The Boyf and I stayed in their guest bedroom and were awoken at 9am by The Policeman telling us that breakfast was ready. Result! So we sat around eating a full English breakfast and looked at the photos from the night before, which was a tad embarrassing (yes, someone had decided to take photos throughout). Now I know what I look like having sex and it's not pretty. Note to self - never make a porn film.
Then suddenly R said to me: "Good job the nearest neighbour is 1/4 of a mile away".
OMO: "Why?"
The Boyf: "Yeah, he's a bit noisy isn't he?"
OMO: *blink*
R: "I'd say. Very vocal. We liked that"
OMO: *blink blink*
We parted on very good terms and agreed to meet up again soon.
Later that day The Boyf had a call from a friend of his. A friend who, I should add, works with R. There was much giggling on the phone, like two schoolgirls who fancy the same guy on the football team, and then something The Boyf said lept out at me - "Oh, he told you that did he?..... Yes, he does get very vocal..... I know, I like that too".
Great, now I have a reputation for being a screamer.
Friday evening we drove out to their house, which turned out to be a beautiful cottage in the middle of the countryside. We sat around and chatted for a bit, and I hid behind a tall glass of vodka hoping that they'd forget I was there so I could just stay where I was and watch a DVD of Madonna's last tour whilst they "went upstairs". But no, the Policeman's boyfriend, who we'll call simply R, suddenly said to me "Come upstairs with me for a minute will you? I want to put on something different to wear and you can help me choose". My mind raced. I'd not played "dressing up" since primary school. Was I going upstairs to find a box full of bonnets and puff-sleeved party dresses, high-heeled shoes that were too big and feather boas?
He led me upstairs. The dressing-up box turned out to be a wardrobe full of leather gear. Ah, of course, the other sort of drag. R stipped and put on some chaps, then handed some to me. Unbelievably I'd never worn them before, probably 'cause no-one needs to see my ass hanging out the back of my trousers, but I must admit that they did feel rather nice.
As usual I won't go into the gory details other than to say that I finally got a go in a sling - in fact, as I'd not been in one before the general concensus was to keep me in it. I didn't complain. All four of us finally collapsed in a heap in front of their log fire at 3am, totally spent.
The Boyf and I stayed in their guest bedroom and were awoken at 9am by The Policeman telling us that breakfast was ready. Result! So we sat around eating a full English breakfast and looked at the photos from the night before, which was a tad embarrassing (yes, someone had decided to take photos throughout). Now I know what I look like having sex and it's not pretty. Note to self - never make a porn film.
Then suddenly R said to me: "Good job the nearest neighbour is 1/4 of a mile away".
OMO: "Why?"
The Boyf: "Yeah, he's a bit noisy isn't he?"
OMO: *blink*
R: "I'd say. Very vocal. We liked that"
OMO: *blink blink*
We parted on very good terms and agreed to meet up again soon.
Later that day The Boyf had a call from a friend of his. A friend who, I should add, works with R. There was much giggling on the phone, like two schoolgirls who fancy the same guy on the football team, and then something The Boyf said lept out at me - "Oh, he told you that did he?..... Yes, he does get very vocal..... I know, I like that too".
Great, now I have a reputation for being a screamer.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Out Of Office
The weekend review you are looking for is temporarily unavailable, due to OMO being on an "Absence and Stress Management" course all day today. It's not a great deal of fun, although it has given him some great ideas about how to be off work without it alerting Human Resources.
OMO will return tomorrow with the usual round of sexual shenanigans.
In the meantime here's a little picture to look at...
Thursday, March 08, 2007
A View, For You - Willis and Lloyd's
It's a lovely day here in London, and I've just had to wander up to Lloyd's for a meeting. Work on the new Willis building across the road is coming along in leaps and bounds and a couple of sides are now fully glazed. The result is that we now have a rather nice reflection of the Lloyd's building, so I took a quick snap with my phone, for your viewing pleasure.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Laura Ashley, The Madwoman
Laura Ashley, the untethered barrage balloon that is my local madwoman, was wandering around outside the convenience store this morning. She's normally inside the shop rearranging the shelves and slipping things into your basket when you're not looking, like tampons or WD40. I've been wondering if the items are selected purely at random or whether she deliberates over what she feels you need in your life. Hmmm, what about me says tampons and WD40 I wonder?
Anyway, today the shop owner was late, probably hoping that she'd get bored and go back home rather than spending her entire day in his shop again (I've yet to go into the shop and find it less one madwoman). But there she was, hanging around, talking to the paving stones and the tree, in her floral dress and sequined pumps as always.
I offered her a cheery "Morning!" on the way past. Her reply...
"Oh, naaaaah! It's cold when the wind blows. Squark, squark. That's a crow".
I hurried along.
Anyway, today the shop owner was late, probably hoping that she'd get bored and go back home rather than spending her entire day in his shop again (I've yet to go into the shop and find it less one madwoman). But there she was, hanging around, talking to the paving stones and the tree, in her floral dress and sequined pumps as always.
I offered her a cheery "Morning!" on the way past. Her reply...
"Oh, naaaaah! It's cold when the wind blows. Squark, squark. That's a crow".
I hurried along.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Harumph
I know, you've been expecting the usual Tuesday round-up of my weekend activity all day. You could barely sleep last night I bet. Actually, I did barely sleep last night. Horrible dreams I had, featuring my Id, which was huge and invisible like the monster in The Forbidden Planet. It was trying to rip my home apart to get to me to have sex or something. What's that trying to say I wonder? In the end I took control of it and sent it to terrorise a man, for no good reason that I could fathom. I woke up this morning wondering where my Id had gone.
Anyway, my weekend...
Blah, blah Megawoof... blah, blah snogged someone... blah, blah mojo still not working... blah, blah got annoyed and left.
And there you go.
It's a long story, and one I can't really be bothered to tell. Suffice to say that just when it looked like my mojo was full steam ahead, instead it was dashed against some rocks and sunk with all souls lost.
I'm still sulking. Just a little.
Anyway, my weekend...
Blah, blah Megawoof... blah, blah snogged someone... blah, blah mojo still not working... blah, blah got annoyed and left.
And there you go.
It's a long story, and one I can't really be bothered to tell. Suffice to say that just when it looked like my mojo was full steam ahead, instead it was dashed against some rocks and sunk with all souls lost.
I'm still sulking. Just a little.
Monday, March 05, 2007
The Monday Morning Blogbite - Twin Peaks
The Boyf and I were rushing around London on the Tube a few days back, obviously late for something or other, when the walls in Green Park station brought us to a halt. Normally we don't make a habit of staring at the walls but they are redecorating the station and have torn down the tiling in the corridors, and it seems that they tiled straight over the top of anything that was already on the walls. How typically cheap of them. The removal of the tiles has revealed posters not seen since the early 90's. In fact, we reckon the posters date back to 1990, judging by which albums were being advertised etc.
The Boyf, being a big Twin Peaks fan, got rather excited by this...
And then we rushed on, even more late for whatever fabulous event we were attending.
The Boyf, being a big Twin Peaks fan, got rather excited by this...
And then we rushed on, even more late for whatever fabulous event we were attending.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Onetwo Fulfill A Dream
Last night I broke a 20-odd year curse and finally got to see Claudia Brucken perform live, as part of her group Onetwo.
Every time I've bought tickets to see her - in Propaganda, Act and as a solo artist - something has gone wrong and I've had to miss it. I'd resigned myself to the fact that it was never going to happen.
But last night I saw Onetwo perform a 6 song mini-gig, and then I got to meet Claudia. I actually got to meet her! I can't tell you how excited, and nervous I was. And she was absolutely enchanting, and oh so friendly.
The Boyf beforehand whispered: "Ok, just act cool. Don't gush all over her. Breathe. Just try to be normal. Don't open with "I love you" even though you know you want to. Just think of something normal to start the conversation off with"
I kept back for a bit, trying to compose myself, then finally approached.
OMO: "H-h-hello Claudia. Oooo, I LOVE your necklace".
I hear The Boyf stifle a giggle and mutter: "You're SO gay"
Claudia: "Er... thank you! That's so sweet"
OMO: "I love you"
The Boyf: "Oh, Christ"
After that I did manage to regain my composure and went on to have a nice little chat with her, and am now the proud owner of a signed CD, a signed 12", and photographic evidence that I actually met her.
Last night a boyhood dream finally came true. Propaganda, you see, were responsible for my obsession with music. Sometime I'll tell you why.
Oh, a quick plug for the Onetwo album, "Instead". It's bloody great. It looks like this...
And you can buy it here.
Go on, you'll love it.
Every time I've bought tickets to see her - in Propaganda, Act and as a solo artist - something has gone wrong and I've had to miss it. I'd resigned myself to the fact that it was never going to happen.
But last night I saw Onetwo perform a 6 song mini-gig, and then I got to meet Claudia. I actually got to meet her! I can't tell you how excited, and nervous I was. And she was absolutely enchanting, and oh so friendly.
The Boyf beforehand whispered: "Ok, just act cool. Don't gush all over her. Breathe. Just try to be normal. Don't open with "I love you" even though you know you want to. Just think of something normal to start the conversation off with"
I kept back for a bit, trying to compose myself, then finally approached.
OMO: "H-h-hello Claudia. Oooo, I LOVE your necklace".
I hear The Boyf stifle a giggle and mutter: "You're SO gay"
Claudia: "Er... thank you! That's so sweet"
OMO: "I love you"
The Boyf: "Oh, Christ"
After that I did manage to regain my composure and went on to have a nice little chat with her, and am now the proud owner of a signed CD, a signed 12", and photographic evidence that I actually met her.
Last night a boyhood dream finally came true. Propaganda, you see, were responsible for my obsession with music. Sometime I'll tell you why.
Oh, a quick plug for the Onetwo album, "Instead". It's bloody great. It looks like this...
And you can buy it here.
Go on, you'll love it.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Mojo Update
Damn it! I got home last night to find that someone had come to claim the mojo I had been incorrectly sent. Apparently it was supposed to go to Buck Angel. I did wonder why I was getting a strange tingling sensation where my womb should be.
The upshot is that the South African rugby player cancelled on us - something to do with jet lag - and then The Boyf decided to pull out of the sling-thing this Friday because he wants to get an early night! What the fuck is that all about?!
So there was I, looking forward to feeling utterly used by the end of the week, and instead I'll now just be home in my slippers drinking Horlicks. Harumph. Still, never mind, I have a mini-gig by Onetwo to go to tonight.
The upshot is that the South African rugby player cancelled on us - something to do with jet lag - and then The Boyf decided to pull out of the sling-thing this Friday because he wants to get an early night! What the fuck is that all about?!
So there was I, looking forward to feeling utterly used by the end of the week, and instead I'll now just be home in my slippers drinking Horlicks. Harumph. Still, never mind, I have a mini-gig by Onetwo to go to tonight.
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