Your loss. My gain.

So first up: for those who saw my last post, know now that I got that dream job at along last! Huzzah! 10/10?

Next: why you should write your blog posts when you have the idea, and not put it off for weeks like I did.

As most of us undoubtedly know, being blown off, for legit reasons or otherwise, sucks. From the usual "I'm busy tomorrow night." or "I've already got plans." to the more obvious "I'm going out later. (And you don't get invited, naturally) ). They all bite. And while I will admit to feeling like I have been blown off lately, this isn't why I'm posting this. And no, it's not someone I mentioned in my last post, either. Yes, it ivolves sex...again.

Anyhoo. There have always been times when you've been involved, in whatever manner of intimate relationship it is, with someone, and there comes a time when you're told there's no nookie tonight. This is either because you maybe misbehaved, or you picked a bad time, or there's just no interest at the time. (Or you got hurt the last time you did, and really would like time to recover. Ow!) Like it or not, it happens.

During my second encounter with my current fuck buddy...sexual partner...friend with benefits (A terrible term if I ever heard one.), I got an interesting story about being blown off.
Now in my neck of the woods, there's a god-awful sport called football (soccer to most of the rest of the world) that the majority of the country is obsessed with. A bunch of overpaid shits kicking a leather ball around a field, faking injury is someone so much as farts on them,  fights between fans, overly-excited commentators, and group hugs for successful goals. Yes...very macho indeed. I hate the sport with a passion.

So it didn't come as quite a surprise when, during said second encounter with the aforementioned fuck buddy, that she told me someone she was supposedly going to be hooking up with about a month after we first met, blew her off so he could watch a shitty local game of football on his TV at home.

Really? Yes. Really. A guy, who should consider himself lucky, turned down the chance to have sex for a 90 minute game of football. I wish I was making this up, but I'm not. I mean, how do you come to such a decision? Sex or football. It's a pretty clear cut choice, if you ask me.

Whatever. I guess I shouldn't complain. It worked in my favour, after all. Now she's all miiiiiine. At least, until I leave for my new job and all that. Boo!

So the next time you decide to forgo the chance at sex with a fine young lady, to indulge in some manner of other activity, sporting or otherwise, think about what that's going to do for both your chances, and those of someone else. ;)

The year in review...so far.

Or at least, the fun bits, anyway.

 Gosh, it's been so long since the last post! And it was mine as well.

So yes, as the title suggests, this post is all about the year of yours truly, up to this point, in review. Why? Well because the last one was one mess after another, and it'd be nice to know this year is at least moving towards me in a better mood. Why exactly was my last year so bad, you might ask? After all, what was all that in my last blog post, if not sweet things?

Well, try being less than a week from the final test that'll get you into the career you've been fighting bureaucracy, administrative fuck-ups, and power-tripping idiots in charge of your file to get into, only to be told that 1) your girlfriend is dead. 2) Due to the way things were (her being the only one who knew how to contact you), you had no way of knowing, so missed the funeral. 3) Then finding out a couple of months down the line she'd planned to propose sometime in the future after said career was all set into motion.

I couldn't do it. Saying it felt like my spirit had been shattered into a thousand pieces doesn't seem to cut it. So my application was closed down and I had to take a crappy job in a home insurance call centre, earning crap money, listening to people whining on the phone all day, most of whom only do so because you're telling them what's spelled out in the policy wording that they didn't bother to read. Sorry, but if you're paying for something, you should at least educate yourself on what you're paying for. It saves you getting all angry, and me having to take time out of my day to tell you what you should already know. Idiots....
So I plodded on through the rest of the year, distracting myself in order to avoid entertaining a nervous breakdown, among other things, and hoping for a second chance.

So let's get to the good part. This so-called review.


1) Starting the New Year with a "bang!"

By the time new year rolled around, I was sober enough to maybe do some socialising. A friend of mine suggested we go out to the next town (the one I live in has a terrible nightlife, see last blog post) and see the new year in at a nightclub. having been to this club with other friends a few years before, I was all too happy. As a bonus, he'd arranged a pair of rooms at a small, cheap hotel literally 50 yards from the clubs front door. Better! The downsides? Said friend has a history of going to nightclubs and sitting in the corner all night, doing nothing. Bu wait! He's going with this girl he met just that day, so he's totally going to dance with her, he says. Okay...whatever. I'm going anyway!

So after checking into the hotel, dumping my coat and taking all I needed for the night with me (the room was actually nice. It seems almost every 'single' room has a double bed now....), we hang out in a small bar waiting for the club to open at 10pm. To keep this short, as there's plenty of stuff left yet, we meet his friends, exchange greetings, etc. We get ourselves a seating area at the side of the dancefloor and get settled. It's not long before I make my first loo break, but also get a little warm due to the shirt/t-shirt combo I'm wearing, so I take said shirt off, hand it to my friend to watch, and bugger off. I come back to find some friends of his friends have joined us, one of whom has taken my shirt and decided to put it on for herself. Thanks, pal, but whatever. It's funny. Time wears on, booze flows aplenty, and we're all dancing around the table, and attracting a few other strays into the group somehow. The aforementioned friend of mine is practically having his arm pulled on by his ladyfriend to get him onto the dancefloor with her. he's not moving. So I (shoutingly, naturally. It's a nightclub) tell her it's no use, before trying to ahve a go at him myself, to no avail. Whatever. His loss.
Midnight rolls in, they smoosh. Despite the numerous members of the fairer sex being present, none do the same for me. Damn.... Then at some point, my friend disappears unannounced, leaving me baffled and his friend confused and slightly offended (long story short, she catches him texting 'someone else' later, and dumps him. Naughty)

So I get onto the floor and start shaking myself in some manner of vague dancing motion on this stage at the top end. because the main floor was getting crowded and humid as hell. I spend most of the night shouting "Happy New Year!" to strangers, dancing with many for a good while, getting photos taken with them by the club photographer (they now drift around said clubs facebook page. Oh dear....), and generally having a good time. Also, upon a brief return to the group to see if I could get my shirt back, please, I take off my t-shirt to a chorus of clapping hands and chanted "offs." Well, who am I to say no to a group of young women? That'd be rude.... So I oblige for about 10 seconds, and still don't get my shirt back.

About an hour until closing time (It closed at 3:30am) I get my shirt back (she was going to give it back to me anyway, so at least there's that), and am now pretty much on my own. Or I already had been, so whatever. I realise I'd not had anything since before midnight, and was actually sobering up. So I nip across the dancefloor, weave and half dance my way through the crowd and make it to the bar, stuck behind about four people across its length. perfect....

Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I see this really attractive young lady smiling back at me. And, shock and horror! not wearing a dress several sizes too small, but actually really nicely dressed. She's either there to ask me to take a photo of her and some unseen friend (though that could be my tired, drunken mind not seeing everything), get a drink for her since I'm at the bar and could nudge my way in, or wish em happy new year, as almost everyone had done by then, it seemed. Nope, instead, after having to practically scream in my ear if I'd like to dance with her, she leads me onto the floor and we start going. And quite hands-on too, I might add. Awesome! It's been so long since I've had a partner to go dancing like this with. Now apparently she had seen what had happened to my shirt earlier (hard not to, given it's bright blue and white), and decides to take it off of me and wear it herself. So we get things on and have a good time, between being nudged and bumped into, before the lights go up.
My heart sank, naturally. It'd been a pretty sweet night, and as any of you readers who go to/did go to clubs will know, it always sucks when it ends and it's time to leave. Before I get the chance to say my inevitable goodbyes and thank yous for the dance, she takes my hand and leads me to the queue for people getting their coats back. She asks me, as you often do when stuck in a seemingly unmoving line, where I was from, now we can hear each other speak. So I filled her in on where I was from, and fumblingly told her I didn't actually have a coat to pick up, thinking that's why she'd dragged me along (I'm really not the type to pick up in clubs. Honestly.), and told her it was back in the hotel, handily just outside the club. So we stick together and finally get her coat back. She meets up with some friends at the door, leaving me feeling a bit awkward as she whispers something to one of them before coming back to me and asking me if I'd like to take her back to the hotel with me with an all too obvious "You'd be retarded to say no, and you'd not get your shirt back either." look.

So we did. And despite being worn out from the night...morning...whatever, and being 3:30am, we had some awesome sex. As good and rough as it can be in that state. (Oh come on, I'm not going into detail for a long post like this!) Morning rolls around and we get up, give each other verbals shoulder pats, nurse sore spots, and make use of the room's shower, free tea and coffee on the table, before heading to the lobby to meet up with my friend for checking out and car ride home. We decided we'd both just leave it at that (she lives in another town out of the opposite side of the city anyway.), not bother with number exchanging or names, as it seemed, and went seperate ways.

 My friend then told me the thing with his ladyfriend crashed and burned, and told me why. I gave him my condolences, but I think the look on my face and tone of my voice said it all. I was all too happy to fill him in about my night on the drive home.

So...yeah. 2013 was off to a pretty good start. 10/10.


2) My second chance!

Yep, I got it! A second chance to get my desired career and get out of my current dead-end call centre job! Okay, I had to go through the medical, fitness tests and interview again, but hey, I'll do it if it gets me what I want!

So I do. Medical comes up fine. My body is still in good nick, everything works as it should, I prove myself actually willing and able to go for the job, and blow the fitness test away over the space of three months.
And it's about time.  But really, do I have to tell you about my time in high school? A period of my life now 9 years ago where I did nothing but go to school?

Fine, whatever. 7/10, but only because it's not over yet.


3) There's a second time for everything, I guess....

So in preparation for said career, I need to get fit. So i go to the gym as often as my terrible job allows. (36 hours a week between monday and sunday, with shifts of 6-9 hours between 8am and 9pm ><) So I head for the gym one day and get on with things. I'm in there, minding my own business, working my way from the weights room, back to the cardio area to do some push-ups, sit-ups, and go on a few machines, when I catch a glimpse of an oddly familiar face that I'd not seen since NYE. But she's not even from around here. And if she's in the area, why's she at the gym, of all places?
So after trying to convince myself I must be wrong, and giving her a look over from behind, I go over and see her face just in time to say "Hi" knowing it actually is her. Holy crap! Awesome! But wait! We'd decided not to do anything. it wasn't meant to go any further! Should I be speaking with her?

Well whatever unspoken rule exists for this, it didn't matter here. She was happy enough to start talking with me, even if we didn't have a lot to say. So I hop on the neighbouring machine and get to work. it was a cross trainer, so it was easy enough to make small talk and find out she was in town seeing some friends, and was staying with them for a couple of days. Etc, etc. I feel like I'm rambling here.
To cut the story short, she asked if I was going to be much longer. I wasn't, so she asked me to let her know when I was done. So I head off, finish up what I was planning to do, and did as she asked. We head off to get changed and I met her back at the front door.

We set off back into town and I decided to ask her if we should go grab lunch or something. She declined, but told me she was going back to the friend's flat for lunch, and asked if I'd like to come along? Sure, why not?
Then she pulls out her phone and makes a call to someone who must have either been there on NYE, or who otherwise knows, since her conversation generally ran along the lines of meeting "That guy she met on NYE." telling them we're going back to the flat for lunch and asking, more interestingly, if they were going to be there for the next little while.
What happened next? Well there was no lunch, but things got eaten. *wink wink* But not before I got treated to a sexy naked massage, followed by plenty of sex. Noisy sex, too, I might add. And all without the fog of alcohol this time around. Yes please!
So we go through the usual routine of getting showered up and changed. We exchange names this time, but remain strictly a one-off thing, despite everything that just happened. Eh, fair enough. We got to have sex.

So another good day, with a chance meeting you rarely get to have. 10/10. Because....


4) Burning up the dancefloor!

So it was a call from my friend again, asking if I'd like to go back out clubbing again, just in a different club right next door to the one from NYE. Okay, sure. Why not? He sets up the rooms again and we go through. By now, I'm wondering why he's bothering, and even bet him (sadly no money was laid down) that he wouldn't dance. He tells me he will this time (He didn't.), and I ask him what's going on. He tells me he's met someone else and her and some friends are coming out with us.

Now I know it's going to be the same as last time. And it was. But better. Okay...not really. But fun no less. We get to the club at 11pm this time, after being at a small bar where I'd downed 6 watered-down vodka/colas and barely felt an effect, and find a seat before we get some stronger drinks.

I looked at the dancefloor and was surprised to see nobody was there, even after 11pm. The hell? it's friday night! Screw this. So I tell my friend to mind my drink, not as if he was going anywhere, and get onto the dancefloor. I start shaking things around and shuffling about the space, drawing looks from...pretty much everyone there. But I don't care. As someone once told me, and I agree, it's usually better to look like you're making a fool of yourself and laughing about it, than actually trying to dance like a pro, in a nightclub. Though mileage varies. Coming onto the floor, picking the guy up, spinning him around and putting him (me) back down, is not cool, as some mug found out when security hauled him off the floor for it. Hah!

By now I'm getting warm and drawing attention to myself, seeing someone pointing an iphone at me, clearly snapping photos and/or recording footage. But whatever, I've at least had the balls to push my discomfort back a bit, get up and make an effort, rather than sitting about looking awkward than the other people milling awkwardly about. Of course, my credibility didn't get any better when I stuck my tongue out at the guy and gave him the Vs for his cheek.
Getting warm as it was, I head to the loo, go back to my friend still in his seat, remove my shirt, and down the last of my drink, before getting back onto the (still empty) floor. Finally, as if I had enacted some manner of charm or ritual with my strange movements, people start coming onto the floor, a group of people gladly joining me. And then more, and more and more. I felt awesome! And though my friend thought it was funny, he never came on to join me.

This night, unlike NYE, there were no hookups. Though as if to make up for it, I instead found myself getting my ass pinched by a lot of random people. Women, thankfully. So at least I know I'm not attracting the wrong attention. A bit rude, yes, but eh, we're all there to have a good time, so I took it in good humour and carried on. Stranger of all, however, is the amount of people coming up to me with cameras and, rather than asking me to take pictures of them and their friends, were handing the cameras to their friends, throwing an arm over my shoulder or whatever, and getting pictures taken with me. I have no idea why. Maybe they saw me at the start and thought it'd be fun? Or something else? I dunno. I counted about a dozen incidents, and not once did they then just go after someone else and repeat the process. And no, it wasn't to steal anything from my pockets either. Everything was there when I left.

Oh, and there was a sombrero doing the rounds too.

At some point, my friend's friends showed up, having been in early enough to see me on my own. Laughs all around when I finally made my way to them to make introductions and down some manner of shot in a plastic tube. Okay.... Then it was off to the loo again. I found my friend waiting outside, telling me he was leaving. Apparently his new friends had told him they were going out for a smoke and to do some coke.

"Really?" I think. "Doesn't one of them have a kid? I'm pretty sure they're messing with you."

"Regardless, off he goes. At least he took my shirt back, since I'd left it on the seat. So I get back onto the floor, working my way around, going up on this little podium thing a few times, and having a good time. Then his friends find me and ask what had happened. Since I didn't know what was really true or not, I just shrugged and told them he'd gotten bored and went back to the hotel. Sorry pal, but even if it were true, just tell them that you're leaving, at least.
So they decide to stick with me for the rest of the, actually short-lived, night. Though I was stuck with them, since the one he'd met earlier was dragging me about by the hand. Apparently she thought I was a crazy dancer and a really nice guy. Well, why wouldn't I be? 2am rolled around and it was closing time. I found myself waiting in the queue with them, helping stop some arrogant pricks pushing ahead, before finally getting out, a hug goodbye, and back to the hotel by myself.

9/10 Since I got to prove the theory on looking silly while having a good time, rather than sidling up to people looking like a perv, usually attracts people to you, be it to join you in some manner of jig, take photos with you for no good reason, or pinch your bum.


5) New York!

The title says it all, really. I took a trip, by myself, to new York for seven nights. After all, I have a job, money, and am in a situation that, though not wholly desirable for various reasons, allows me to build up a nice amount of savings. Sweet!

So I headed off! And two flights later, I was there. Stuck waiting in customs, 11pm at night, waiting in a queue to hand over a fucking form and grab my bag from the carousel. Even having been warned how bad it was, it still sucked balls.

Among other things I did, I got a chance to meet my fellow blog contributor and resident author of smut, Jentastic, introducing me to the wonderfood that is sushi. (Do yourself a favour and only eat it freshly prepared in a proper restaurant! Store bought is nasty.)

So I hopped about the museums here and there, spending 7 hours in the MET one day, took the subway a few times, went to some of the shops on 5th avenue for a nosey (and to grab some requests from folks at work). I didn't do a lot of sightseeing, but it wasn't my main aim. If anything, I felt I needed a holiday. A chance to get ut of the country following everything that had happened last year. An escape.

And in a way, I guess I was fulfilling a wish of sorts my late girlfriend had made. Though we'd planned other holidays of our own, closer to home as well, this was one she had expressed an interest in a few times. So why not? And it gets me a chance to go somewhere with no language barrier, and the chance to meet someone I consider a good friend. Works for me. Plus the climate's more tolerable. Win win! Though it didn't stop me from feeling a tad melancholic when thinking about how long I'd have been stuck in Bloomingdale's were my girlfriend still alive today while I was pottering around in there.

Also, for those unaware and planning to fly into JFK airport: the yellow cabs charge a flat rate of $60 to and from JFK and a city destination. And though not wholly cheap, are better than the guy at the door who asked me if I'd pay him $125 "plus tolls and fuel" for the same thing. Hahahahaaaano fuck off! You'd need to be an idiot to fall for stuff like that. So yeah, always get cabs.

So I went. I snapped over 100 photos, saw a few cool things, got to be by myself for a good while, and such. Plus I got to see the icon that is the shopping mall (Holyyyy shit! That's big!) and also had my idea of good pizza destroyed by trying the proper stuff. Eh well. I can die knowing I've lived well now. ;)

The return trip could've been better. Stuck at JFK for 3 hours due to an aircraft fault after waiting in departures for 6 hours already, a turbulent ride home, a rearranged connecting flight, and a meandering trip through heathrow's terminal 5 after being sent in the wrong gate.... At least I got home in the end!

10/10. Because it was an awesome time had. Simple as that!


6) How'd you get my numbe-oh wait.... Yeah, that makes sense. But why?

Two days ago (yes, we're finally there), I was making my monthly trip out to the town where my girlfriend is now buried. I don't know when I'll stop going, only that she deserves my respect after everything she both did for me and had planned for our future.

In order to make this trip, I take a train from my town over to the next town, change there for a train to a smaller place a bit further out, before getting off there and either taking a bus or taxi the rest of the way to the coast, popping to the nearest florist for the flowers, and trotting out to the graveyard on the western outskirts, stopping to see her parents if they're in when I head back to the town.

Now I know you'll have probably read all of the above and formed several opinions that probably make what I do here seem insincere. That I don't really care.Nothing could be further from the truth. As of today, I still don't feel like entering into a relationship with anyone. What I do know, is that when I do, it'll be for the very long term, and only that. And whoever does has some massive shoes to fill.

But at the same time, I know she'd only want me to be happy. To get myself lifted up, get this career of mine started (I'm now at the final stage as I was last year, due to take that final test in the next 3 days) and just make sure not to forget about her.

So perhaps it was my mental state at the time that made the next part awkward for me. it was a bloody cold day, and here i was, now on the return trip, waiting for the connecting train back to home to arrive, when an unknown number comes up on my mobile. odd, but okay, people change numbers. Who is it?

Turned out it was her again. From NYE...and the gym. How did she get my number?

Turns out she'd simply fished my phone from my jacket during our last encounter while I was showering afterward, dialed in the command to get my number, and put it back in my pocket.

Okay.... So why do that?

Well it turned out she enjoyed our meetings, and wanted to make sure she could call me if she was in the area again, in case I was interested in seeing her, and was afraid maybe asking me for my number would've seemed a bit too clingy. I'm guessing this si her first sexual relationship type thing?
She told me she was going to be in my area the next day, staying at her friend's again, and wanted to know if I was interested. I was in no mood to decide at the time, so told her I'd need to check and see, first. So long as I got back to her by the evening, we could sort something out.

So I debated with myself for a while. I already knew what i was going to do, but I guess I wanted to at least make sure of it. After bouncing the proposal off a friend, I realized it was good to go, so long as I considered her relationship material, which I do, regardless of whether I'm looking or not. After all, why lead someone on when there's no possibility at all? It's only fair.
So a hastily made phonecall later, and it's on.

I met up with my dancefloor shy friend the next afternoon. Among other things, I was looking for an excuse to drop this on him. So we ambled on in conversation, and I find an opening by asking him if he'd heard from the people he'd met on our last night out. Turns out he was in touch frequently. More than that, it turned out they did inf act, do coke. Heh...okay. Not a lot, you say? Oh my dear friend, you need to stop with these random people of questionable character, especially if you're not actually getting into a relationship with them. So after airing my doubts, I gleefully tell him he can keep her, because I'm the one who's getting laid tonight!

oh he did not like that! Though he kept it well hidden. He'd seen her the first time, hear about our last encounter, and now it was happening again! Tee hee!

So...who wants to hear what we got up to? Genuinely? Because it gave me the idea for the review theme here. Okay, read on!

So we get things all sorted. In the evening, I make my way to the flat, now vacant bar us, and we get to work. And how!

There's a saying someone told me once. "It doesn't count if you don't feel it in the morning." I think this counts for certain. And probably most of all. Ouch! I'm glad I'm not having sex any time soon.... Okay, I'm not in any major pain, but let's just say things were a bit rough. Really rough. But also so, soooo good! ^_^

And the review stuff? Right. Well while we've all had praise and compliments on various sex-related things, I've never heard so many in one day. And I'm speaking as someone who had a foursome once!

It all started when I was asked to give her a massage of my own. She was more than happy to tell me I have a really soft touch as I did what was really more me running my fingers over her body, trying to find where she liked it most, with plenty kissing and such.
So this went on for a while, and in the end this is probably the most foreplay I have ever had/done ever, before we decided she better roll over before things get too comfortable. Apparently the reasoning behind the whole massage thing is to heighten the sensations? I dunno. Whatever. It's fun, though apparently not as fun, for her, was what followed. Plus, I'm now officially out of the ass camp and into the boobs camp. Why? Well it's as simple as experimentation. While it's no small fact that people vary in responsiveness, and in various ways, you know when someone starts squirming, breathing excitedly when you're chewing on said boobs, that you've found a good spot. And she was happy to tell me she's never had that before, or felt anything like that from similar before. Score! I just helped someone discover something about themselves!

What's next? No, I'm not talking about how I started fingering her, moving to giving oral, before getting it returned on me, that's just the natural progression of things in foreplay. You'd think after having had a couple of serious relationships and some sexual relationships, I'd have at least been made aware of how I generally...measured up? Well, no, actually. But apparently I score good. Or she needs more practice taking deep. Whatever. She apologized for not being able to do it properly this time, but apparently I'm a bit thick. Given how I feel now, 24 hours later, I'd say this is true. Didn't help she was a tight fit, but ow! She was all too happy to hop on top, and it wasn't long before she'd gotten us both off. Yay! And while being loud about it...and gushing on me...yay? Well, she did say she could feel me throbbing inside her as well... Yay!

And apparently I've got nicely defined, broad shoulders. Or so she said while lying behind me, playfully running a finger over my back.

Hey, I wasn't going to complain. And it was an awesome time overall. But this blog entry's simply too big to go into detail. Maybe next time. But maybe now you know what I mean by the whole review thing. And funnily enough, we both toyed with the idea of, not only meeting again, but also maybe just doing it while her friends are in anyway? because...why not? She said they could always play some loud music to cover it up. Maybe we'd find out next time, if music has any effect. And if not, her friends get to listen in.
So yeah, I guess now I'm officially in some manner of sexual relationship again. We intend to do this again, though when is another question.Though I'll need to have words about maybe not being so hard on me. Scratch marks I can live with, but I like my dick enough, more so now, that I'd like to keep it.

For now, I guess...thanks for the review? Maybe I should make a form for-yeah right. No! The noise and compliments are good.

Oh yeah, 10/10 for this day as well! Huzzah!

Winter Warmer

So it's probably time I actually posted something here. On suggestion from Jentastic, I wrote up something I'd told her about (or what she'd demanded I tell her about), so that I might post it here. So here we go, the story of my 25th birthday.

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It was a cold Saturday night. It was coming up for six o’clock, but already people are heading out into town to begin their various nights out. In this town it usually means the middle-aged or older singletons crowd into the various pubs scattered about the place, while the younger people crowd into the expensive nightclubs and wait for the dancing to start at around ten. Looking at it this way, there’s almost no difference, is there?

But enough about that. That’s not why we’re here. Though I am close to one of the more expensive clubs at this point. But that’s not where I’m going. Cutting off the main street, I head down a passage that leads me to another road, which I also cross before heading down another short passage and onto the home stretch. Funnelled by the small space, a cold blast of air hits me, piercing right through my jacket and sending a shudder through me. Though I have to admit to having already been shivering a little in nervous excitement since I set foot off the bus.

Why? Well it’s simple enough. For the past three months I’d been seeing someone. Not something special to the casual observer, nor was the fact it had been a little over four years since my last relationship. But given how we’d gone from being complete strangers who just met in the street to serious in three weeks, I felt this was something different.

Coming out of the passage and crossing over a car park, I quicken my pace as I see the block of flats ahead of me, just across a road at the other side.

You see, it’s my birthday today. And for the past six weeks or so, Sarah, which is her name by the way, had been constantly asking me when my birthday was. Until the morning I scribbled a note and stuck it to her fridge door, that is. Not that I was any less guilty of asking all the time, myself. But how could I help asking her what she had in mind for my birthday when every time I did, all I got was a shake of the head, a giggle and that cute little toothy smile which I’ll always remember from the first night we slept together, when she told me it was “time for bed.”

Scurrying over the road, I fumbled the cold iron latch on the gate and pushed it open, shutting it behind me as I entered the little court at the back of her building and made straight for the buzzer. After a delay, my button pushing was answered by a ‘hello’ over the speaker.

“Hey, it’s me.”

A loud buzz answers as the door unlocks. I head inside and make for the stairs, keen to finally find out what was in store for me. It’s been about fifteen years, maybe more, since I last celebrated my birthday. So the fact that someone I’ve known for only a few months is willing to do something for me? What more reason did I need to get excited? All I’d been told was to come around for six and get my dinner.

The funny thing was, if someone had told me exactly what was going to happen, I doubt I would have believed them anyway.

I pressed the doorbell, hearing hushed footsteps approaching from the other side as the chiming faded out, the lock clicking as the door finally swung open.

“Hi!” With a warm greeting, she welcomed inside and shut the door. I’d barely unzipped my jacket before she took over and pulled it off before hanging it up for me. “Sooo? How does it feel to be twenty-five?”

“Almost like twenty-four, actually. Maybe a little dizzier too, what with going around the sun one more time.”

“Well, let’s hope it stays that way.” She gave me a hug and a kiss. Feeling how warm she me against me made me realise how cold I’d become in the time it took me to get there. “You know, I can feel your cold hands through my top, right? How long were you out there?”

“About five to ten minutes, maybe. Not long.”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say I made the right choice not arranging for us to go out tonight. And you say you’ve been out in weather like that for days at a time?”

“I think I’m used to it by now. Plus I wear more clothing when I do.” And now that I was in out of the cold, I could finally smell things properly, an inviting aroma wafting from the living room door. “Something smells nice.”

“That would be dinner. I’ve been working on it almost all afternoon. I’m glad I managed to get today off, or I wouldn’t have had the time for it.”

“So what’re we having?”

“Ah! Wait and see.” She playfully batted me on the chest. “Nice shirt, by the way. You should wear it more often. Oh, yeah. Are you wanting that other shirt back? I think I got some paint on it, but-”

“No, it’s okay. You keep it. It was actually getting too small for me, anyway.”

“Hmm. All that time at the gym paying off? I should probably go, some day. Remind me the next time I’ve got a day off.” She stoppped playing with my collar. “Wait. You’re not allergic to anything, are you? Food-wise.”

“Nope.”

“Great. I just…never thought about that. Heck of a way to ruin a birthday, if you were.”

“Do you need a hand with anything?”

“Nuh-uh. Not tonight, mister.” Stepping around behind me, I remember her clapping  her hands on my shoulders and walking me into the living room. “It’s your birthday. So you’re going to sit right here….” She eased me down onto the couch and headed for the kitchen. “…And I’ll get everything ready. It’ll be about ten more minutes.” Pulling an apron from its place on the wall by the door, she puts it on and starts working, a chorus of tinkling utensils, pots and pans spilling out of the room. I see her rushing past the door to snatch a crumpled piece of paper from the worktop before going back to the cooker. “So how was your day? Did you get up to much? How’s the drawing going?”

“I finished one a few days ago, actually. Just toying with what to do next.”

“Any luck with the job hunting yesterday?” She shouts back over the sound of something being tapped on a pot.

“Nothing in the papers or the jobcentre. Same as last week.” Speaking to her about job hunting and how it had been going for me always made me feel like I was slacking off as far as that went. Here I was, almost exactly one year out of work with just one interview under my belt, and here she was, three weeks after moving to this town and she already had a job working in a bank. She’s even doing a home study course to give herself some extra qualifications.

“How’s the Christmas thing at your voluntary job going? Goodwill, right?”

“It’s doing okay. We got a couple of nice donations from people on Thursday, but none of the volunteers showed up on Friday, so I had to do a load of packing myself.”

“Oh, poor you! Packing all those bags while some of us are slaving over hot stoves….” She peeks around the door and sticks her tongue out at me. “Just apply a bit of guilt, if you have to. That’ll get people to help.” She stops what she’s doing and comes back into the room to lay some place mats and cutlery on the table.

“So how’s work been?”

“Well I’d say hectic, but I got a text from Liz earlier telling me today was even worse. She says ‘happy birthday’, by the way.” I watch as she starts setting the table.

“All I seemed to get yesterday were the moaning sods who want you to fix all of their problems. Now I can understand it’s their money we’re talking about, but if you’re not going to take the time to read the small print, then it’s not my fault. Plus it’s really annoying when they keep staring at my chest while complaining. Makes me want to reach over the counter and slap them so hard sometimes….”

At this point I wasn’t sure if it would have been wise to make a remark about how she had a good chest anyway. Besides, she already knew that. And the last thing I wanted to do was get her in a bad mood when she’s already clearly busting her ass for me. “So…how about that other guy at work? The one who was hitting on you on your first day? I didn’t know it was him that time I met you for lunch, though it explains the shifty looks he was giving me.”

“He was actually really sorry for what happened. Said he’d never been more embarrassed in his life after I told him I was already taken. He told me after lunch that day that he was afraid you were going to have a go at him. Apparently he just about crapped himself when I told him I saw you coming.”

“Well, it was an honest mistake, I suppose. But at least he apologised, rather than try again. Then I might have done something.”

With a laugh, she headed back into the kitchen, returning with a little basket filled with bread before pulling a seat out from under the table. “Okay, park your bum here and I’ll get the first course.”

A couple of bowls of soup are brought through and put on the table.

“It’s carrot and coriander. Homemade, naturally. I wanted to try that bacon and broad bean soup you told me about a while ago, but I only found a recipe for it this morning and with everything I had to do today, I wasn’t sure if I’d have had time to soak the beans and make it. And that’s if I could find the beans in the first place. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh no. That’s fine. I’ve not had this one in a while, anyway.”

“And if you don’t want the parsley I stuck on top, just pick it out.”

“Ah yeah. I forgot…. I’m actually highly allergic to parsley.” At this point Sarah gave me a really weird look. “Ok, that was a bad joke. I’ll…stop now.”

She tore off a chunk of bread and drowned it in the soup. “I wonder if people can be allergic to that sort of thing…. I guess it’s out there somewhere.”

Ok, since there was little but small talk and such between the eating, let’s just skip ahead a bit. After soup came the next meal; a plate loaded with roast beef, some mixed vegetables, a ton of gravy and a pile of sliced red cabbage, something we apparently share the same love for. Seriously, try it. It’s awesome if done properly!

After all that, Sarah began clearing the dishes from the table. Amazingly, I was allowed to help this time. Not that we did much but pile them by the sink, anyway. “Right. This way.” Taking me by the hand, she led me back to the couch. “Sit. It’s time for cake.”

She went back to the kitchen and reappeared with a small box in one hand and a fork in the other. With a cheeky smile, she plonked herself on my lap and opened the box to show a small cake inside. “It’s just a small sponge with some frosting on top and vanilla icing with jam in it.”

“Why does it have ‘congratulations’ on it?”

“Yeah…I’d hoped we’d be celebrating you passing your entrance exam tonight. I should say I actually had this made for the occasion. But I suppose it’ll just have to be a ‘good luck on your test’ cake now. And…congratulations on reaching twenty-five?”

“I guess so. It’s a lot better than being fifteen…or five for that matter.”

She giggled and showed me that cute smile again. “You have a lot more fun at this age anyway.” A wink follows before she loops the arm holding the box around my neck. “And I know it might not help the nerves so much, but you’ll be fine on Monday, okay? Think of it as more of an idiot filter.” She cleared her throat before the smile came back. “Now, enough of that. Open wide, if you don’t mind.” Stabbing at the cake with the fork, she pulled a large chunk out. “Woops. Guess that’s a bit big. Oh well, open wider!”

Naturally I obeyed and had it shovelled in, the loose crumbs retrieve from my shirt and dropped in after the cake. The cake was actually quite nice. Though homemade is always better, since this one had been made for the occasion, it went down quite well; though I was glad I had Sarah to share it with. That was a lot of frosting, never mind everything else in it!

So the evening wore on, I got fed cake and watched as she took some for herself, often two bits one after another, batting my hand with the fork when I tried to take a piece from the box myself. We didn’t talk a whole lot at the time, what with one of us usually eating and being too polite to talk with a mouthful of cake.

At this point I barely remembered the world outside. The cold weather, the bi-monthly trips to the jobcentre, my impending test with the air force, everything that weighed on me, forgotten. Today I still wonder if this was why Sarah did all this for me. Always doing things for me, leaving me to keep up and return the favour each time. While there were times she clearly did things just for the sake of them, or on some bout of impulsiveness or insane happiness, this was something different. Here we were, only three months down the line from having first met and little over two months into our relationship proper, and here she was, taking the day off work to cook me dinner and now feeding me cake by hand on my birthday. As someone who will often do things for other people because I want to, can, feel they deserve it or even a combination of the three, I couldn’t tell what it was that drove her to do this. I didn’t care. Not at that moment, anyway. As a friend of mine said when I told them I was seeing someone, I deserved it. Self-entitlement isn’t something that’s encouraged a whole lot, and rightly so, but I knew I deserved this much. For now, everything was perfect.

The only snag was with Christmas about six weeks away, I was going to have some serious thinking to do. Because if this was anything to go by; I was going to need to come up with the goods.

“Aww. Looks like that’s the cake finished.” Scraping up the remains of the cake for herself, she set the box down on the couch beside us and cuddled into me. In a way, I was glad the cake was done, feeling her pressing on my stomach reminding me how full I was. If I had another meal, I think food would have started coming out of my ears.

Everything went so quiet from that point. We just sat there, keeping each other warm and enjoying our company. There was the occasional muffled sound from the flat below, but being in a top floor flat, we heard little else that intruded on our peace. I just remember hearing her breathing, more than anything. At one point she was so still I thought she was actually asleep, but didn’t move my head to look and see in case she actually was and I ended up waking her. Then again, as entitled as she would have been to a nap at this point, I knew she had more than enough energy to keep going. A whole lot more.

Turned out she wasn’t. She pecks me on the cheek before getting up and heading for the kitchen. “Think I’ll pop the kettle on. You want tea or coffee?”

I asked for tea, naturally, as some of my friends might say. The kettle rumbled as it began boiling the water. A look at my watch showed it was around half past nine, if I remember right. Three hours since I’d gotten there. How long had we just been sitting there?

I heard the fridge door shutting in the kitchen. “Uhh…hey, Andrew? Would you mind nipping to the shop and getting some milk? I’ve barely got a drop left.”

Wait, what?! “Me? At this time of night?”

“Could you? It might still be open. And I’d prefer to have some for tomorrow morning. Please?”

As strange as it seemed I was being asked to do this, I guess I at least saw her point. Plus I preferred it was me who went out there instead of her, gentlemanly and all that. “All right then. I’ll go. I guess it’ll only take five or ten minutes.” Taking some loose change she offered me, I grabbed my coat before heading outside, wishing I’d thought to bring a hat or scarf with me as the cold bit into me again.

The trip wasn’t far. Crossing the road, over the car park, another road and up the passageway took me to the street it was on. Excited and/or drunken screaming and shouting welcomed me. The night was still early, but people were already staggering about, absolutely plastered.

I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard someone repeatedly calling my name. While it could easily have been any other Andrew, I recognised this one and remember almost cringing when I turned to see someone from my college days staggering over to me, drunk out of her mind. I saw a couple of people who were obviously with her, watching us, and another on a cycle. She drunkenly threw her arms around me, and I could hear one of the others speaking. “Marie. Who is this guy?”

I shall make this part easy, save myself the need to type drunkenly. She starts going on about who I am and how I was apparently her boyfriend in college, something I flatly deny. Hell no I wasn’t! We sometimes hung out, but she already had a boyfriend of her own, who turned out to be the guy on the bike. Yay…. Telling your boyfriend you had another.

Surprisingly nothing happened. She admitted to being stone drunk, and was kind enough to fill me in on her life up to that point. How her boyfriend and she now had a kid and now she was trying to get him to give her money to support her. While drunk…. You know when someone’s in an abusive relationship with a drunken, unemployed moron that’s so painfully obvious to their own family and everyone else, and also hanging out with someone like me and being told by said family and friends that she should dump her boyfriend for me, that it’s probably best to drop them. Especially when, as a friend of mine told me, “you can do better than her.” And I had. I just wish it had been sooner.

When she asked me what I was doing out in town, I momentarily pondered whether to be truthful or not, in the end settling on “nothing. Absolutely nothing,” as my response. Her other friends, obviously trying to keep her from trouble like I tried to do once or twice, came along and urged her, practically having to drag her away with them, telling me she has to get going. I gladly let them take her away and hurried along the street to the shop, actually amazed to find it open for another half hour until ten. I let myself in and headed straight for the cold food aisle, grabbing a carton of milk and heading for the till, already wishing I could be back at the flat sharing a hug with Sarah, not helped by the meeting with Marie. Oh how cruel life can be to some. Yet given her scatterbrained tendencies, I got the feeling she was almost oblivious to how things were.

But I honestly didn’t care. Nope. A look at my watch showed me I had already been gone close to fifteen minutes, if not more. Pissed off that I’d turned a five minute trip into something much longer, and needing a couple more to get back to the flat, I hurried back, eager to beat the cold and hoping Sarah wouldn’t be worried I’d been gone too long.

I decided to rush up the stairs to the top floor, if anything but to warm myself up in the process but also to see what she had up her sleeve next. Getting to the door, I decided to try it before ringing the bell, assuming Sarah had left it unlocked, which it turned out she had.

Hanging my jacket up and pulling my shoes off, I head for the living room, realising how quiet it had suddenly become. Well, not exactly, since it was when I had left. But I was surprised to step into the kitchen to find she wasn’t there either. A faint smell wafted up my nose, and I recognised the smell of incense, probably being used to cover up the various smells of cooking in the kitchen and living room. Though if I’d been paying attention, I might have noticed the smell was strongest when I first came into the flat.

“Hey, Sarah. I’m back.” I pulled the fridge open and stuck the milk inside, hearing the hiss of a door being opened over carpet coming from the hall, the front door lock clicking shut as I stepped back into the living room. “Sorry it took so long.”

“Oh, no problem. It gave me more time to get ready.”

“Get ready for….”

That’s the sound of someone stopping dead in their tracks, like I did when I saw her standing in the doorway in an outfit I will never ever forget as long as I live. Okay, there was another, but that wasn’t for a while yet.

Leaning back against the door frame, I saw her casual clothing had been exchanged for an amazingly short black satin nightgown, while black stockings covered her (amazingly awesome!) legs, the tops of which I could just make out before she stood from the frame and turned to face me, letting me see the gown’s belt had been exchanged for a length of bright pink ribbon tied into a bow at the front. It certainly didn’t take me long to realise what she had in mind for the rest of the night after seeing that. The symbolism was all too clear.

My face must have been a picture, given the smile that spread across her face at that moment. I wanted to say so many things at once, so many reactions wanted to come out at that point as my eyes wandered aimlessly over her, even if the gown was pulled up close at the top. From shy blushing, to laughter and some other manner of excited noise. I think by that time all I’d managed was a hushed “Whoa. Holy shit.”

“So you’ve, um, changed.”

She cocked her head and began twirling her hair around her fingers. “You noticed the makeup?”

It wasn’t until then that I actually noticed the lipstick and mascara she’d put on. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I mean the gown. It’s…nice.”

“Oh...this.” She looked down at herself as if it had always been there and then back to me. “I got it just for your birthday, from that shop in South Street. Do you like it?”

“What’s with the ribbon?”

“Well it is your birthday, isn’t it? Presents sometimes come wrapped up. I bought this for you, so I thought a ribbon was only proper.” She crossed the room and came within kissing distance of me, letting me get a lungful of the perfume she had on.

“Do you want to pull the ribbon?” She asks me, her voice dropped to a quiet hush. “See what else I got for you?”

Do I want to pull the ribbon and take your nightgown off? Of course I do! You’d have to be insane not to want to do that at this point! I saw the small toothy smile appear as I reached for the bow and pulled the ends until it opened along with the gown, showing me the form-fitting basque she was hiding underneath, unashamedly holding her boobs up to make them look bigger, more ample, which is really the point, anyway.

She looked me in the eye, and I couldn’t help but just stare back. At that moment I remember thinking something along the lines of “So this is what they mean by the art of seduction….” And it was working. So many feelings welled up in me, that it was all I could do to keep them from going out of control, grabbing her and dragging her off to the bedroom. Or down to the floor, for that matter.

“So, um…you did this just for my birthday?”

“That’s right. I could never have done anything like this in my last relationship. My ex couldn’t even last five minutes. One time I think we didn’t even get to fuck before he blew his load all over the bed.”

“Right…him. Sure was an asshole….” Hey, I never said everything was perfect! Give her a break.

Sarah obviously realised what she was saying. “But forget him. He’s not the one who’s getting laid tonight.”

I remember how her smile broadened slightly, a quiet laugh coming through her teeth, her eyes half closing as I slid the gown from her shoulders, barely hearing it whisper as it slid from her arms and fluttered onto the floor at her feet.

She answered by looping her arms around my neck and bringing herself in to kiss me, playfully biting on my bottom lip before we finally did. It was the first time anyone had ever done it to me, and it just about drove me wild!

I don’t remember if we stood there for five minutes or five seconds, I just remember that we stopped when my hands finally found their way to the zipper on the back of her outfit. Sometimes I wish I had more hands. Sometimes I felt I could have just run them all over her for hours on end.

She stopped and broke our kiss, taking a small step back from me. She didn’t say anything, just smiling that wicked smile at me, a gleam in her eyes as she took me by the hand and led me off to the bedroom.

If I were a religious person, I would have been thanking God, or whatever deity, at that point. And looking back, I feel an apology would’ve been owed to the neighbour downstairs, whoever they were. Because the last thing I remember before going to sleep that night, after we were finally done, is that the clock read some time after 3am. And boy, were we loud that night. Not all the way through, but plenty enough….

Happy birthday? Yes indeed.

Movie Review: The Piano

We'll kick off our revival with a movie review. Disclaimer: I WTF-ed through a LOT of this movie. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to even attempt to form this into a cohesive narrative, or just touch upon points that were significant to me. When a movie involves Harvey Keitel stripping his clothes off to clean the piano, yet he bathes in a river with his shirt on, the standards for the aforementioned cohesive narrative shouldn't be too high. 

Okay. So. Holly Hunter's inner monologue introduces the movie to us. (Note: It takes place in the 19th century.) She hasn't spoken since she was six years old, but she makes noise with her piano. She and her daughter, who seems about 7-8 years old or so, are sent to New Zealand because her (Holly Hunter's) father has arranged a marriage for her. The piano goes with them, and they all get plopped on a beach. 

Husband and his friend, Harvey Keitel, come to collect Holly Hunter and her child and her belongings the next day. (Yeah, they spent the night on the beach.) They bring along some Maori to help. Holly Hunter wants the piano, Husband says no, she gives him the Angry Eyes in an effort to argue, and loses. The piano stays on the beach as they go traipsing through the forest while the natives carry the other stuff she brought with her. Back at Husband's house, there are a bunch of older women, and these minor characters made so little of an impression on me, I can't really tell you anything about them, and this is probably the last time I'll mention them.

Holly Hunter and her daughter go find Harvey Keitel at his house and ask to be taken to the piano. He says he's too busy, so they sit outside his door and stalk him for a while. Eventually, he relents, and they go back to the beach. Holly Hunter gets into her musical groove, and Harvey Keitel sprouts a boner watching her while the daughter frolics in the sand. Sure. I like music. I love my piano. I can dig it.

Something happens and I guess I missed some of this dialogue, but the piano winds up in Harvey Keitel's house and he tells Husband he wants piano lessons from Holly Hunter. She initially wants no part of this, but she's a woman in the 19th century, so she has no choice. She and her daughter stomp through the forest, and she leaves the daughter to run in the woods unsupervised and play with a random dog while she goes inside the house. Gooood parenting. 

Harvey Keitel tells her he doesn't want lessons, he just wants to listen to her play in his house while he "does things that he likes". I interpreted this to mean "fapping", though it is not explicitly shown in the movie. Holly Hunter doesn't go for this right away, but he makes her a deal - she can earn back her piano by visiting him and playing. One visit = one key. Eh, alright, I can go for  some piano math. Soon, the deal gets more complex: she can earn multiple keys in one visit by doing stuff such as hiking her skirt up, taking her jacket off, and lying next to him in bed. She agrees to bargain for the piano in this manner. 

While she plays, he does stuff like kiss her neck, touch her back, lie under the piano to look up her skirt, and in one very drawn-out scene, touch her skin through a hole in her stockings. He also does some creeper things like smell her jacket, and (in one HILARIOUS - to me - moment) disappears behind the curtain designating his bedroom, and when she goes to find him, he's naked. She is rather put off by this at first (and rightly so!), but he wears her down.

I gotta be honest, I'm not really seeing the path from Point A to Point B here. Obviously, this woman's already got some issues going on, with the whole mute thing, and even though this movie was two hours long, I thought the romance aspect was a little rushed. Anyhoo, he eventually offers her ten keys for lying in bed with him naked, and they do that while the daughter spies on them. She seems more fascinated than repulsed. I guess that's accurate? 

There's a whole subplot in here with the Maori getting restless, and them not liking some play that was put on, and I guess they're supposed to be a subtle dangerous threat or something. I have no idea. I'm going to ignore it.

At one point, Harvey Keitel realizes that he's kind of made Holly Hunter into a whore, and tells her as much. (Yes, he used that word.) He kicks her out, telling her that she shouldn't be there if she doesn't have feelings for him, and gives the piano back to Husband. She returns to him, and then he knows they're really in luv. Aww. How smooshy. 

Husband eventually grows suspicious. The daughter tells him that Holly Hunter actually isn't teaching piano lessons, she just goes to play. I thought this was just a naive little girl thing to do, but my opinion changed later, and you'll see why. Husband goes to Chez Harvey Keitel and, like the daughter, spies on the people inside. 

And they are getting it on. Seriously. This is one of the most explicit sex scenes I have ever seen outside an actual porn. I suppose I have to give the actors major props - even if they were wearing something to actually prevent the touching of their genitalia (and if they did, it must have been tiny, as I didn't see anything), there is no doubt that their naughty bits were right up against each other. Next moment of honesty: despite the "wow, are they really doing that?" cinematography, I've found other sex scenes to be more *ahem* exciting. 

Husband is not pleased by this. He confronts Holly Hunter in the woods and practically rapes her right there in the leaves because he's annoyed that she wasn't giving it up for him, but the daughter interrupts. At least she was finally good for something. They all go home, and Husband forbids Holly Hunter from seeing Harvey Keitel again.

I guess guilt overtakes Holly Hunter, though it's hard to tell because she doesn't fucking talk. She goes to Husband's bed a few times and touches him suggestively. I thought the first time was implying sex, but then he says later that she doesn't let him touch her in return, so I guess not. The second time, there's one really long bit where she's touching his ass and starts dipping between the cheeks, and he can't decide if he likes it or not, but then stops her. I guess he was afraid of the surprise!finger in his butt? I don't know what that was all about. Weird.

Holly Hunter pulls a key off her piano (and not even one of the stupid ones at either end, she picks one, like, right smack in the middle) and engraves a love note to Harvey Keitel on the side. Really. She brings it to her daughter and instructs her via their sign language to deliver it. The daughter wants none of it, but when you're that age, you can't really disobey your mom, so off she goes. 

Then. Then. THEN. That fucking back-stabbing cunt of an ungrateful child delivers the piano key love note to Husband. I couldn't believe that little bitch. What a fucking whore. Husband is not happy. Oh, and when the daughter found him, he was out working in the fields with a hatchet. I should have known this wasn't going to end well. 

Husband storms home, ranting and raving. Holly Hunter doesn't apologize because, you know, that whole not talking business. Husband starts attacking the piano with the hatchet, and Holly Hunter goes all Mama Bear on him and tries to pull him away. Considering how her actual child just fucked her over seven different ways from Sunday, I'd start showing maternal preference to the piano, too. They struggle for a bit, he tosses her up against the wall a couple times and tells her how angry he is, and then goes for the piano again. When she tries to stop him, he yanks her outside, where it's now raining heavily for some reason.

They slop through the mud as she tries to escape his grasp, but he succeeds in dragging her over to...the woodpile. Uh oh. Oh no. Please don't go here, movie. Husband still has the hatchet, and he puts Holly Hunter's hand on the chopping block. Please don't go here, movie. I'm begging you. Husband asks her whether or not she loves him. FUCKER, SHE DOESN'T TALK. When she doesn't answer (DUH), he OH HOLY MOTHER OF GOD HE JUST CUT HER FINGER OFF I AM NOW GOING TO HAVE NIGHTMARES. The blood splatters the daughter's dress, and while she kind of deserved that, THE HUSBAND JUST FUCKING CUT OFF HOLLY HUNTER'S FINGER. 

Okay, next moment of honesty: I couldn't watch too intently, so I thought it was her hand until Husband tells the daughter to bring it to Harvey Keitel and tell him that if he ever tries to see Holly Hunter again, he'll cut off another, then another. To my knowledge, Holly Hunter doesn't have a third hand (though if she did, she'd be a really awesome pianist!), so that's when I figured out it was her finger. Anyway, the daughter does what she is told (fucking finally) and goes to see Harvey Keitel. When she gets there, she's practically in hysterics and has trouble telling him what happened. Good. You should be crying, you bitch. This was all your fault. He eventually sees the finger and displays his angst by banging his head against a tree and swearing to bash in Husband's skull. I can't argue with that. 

Husband tries apologizing to the bedridden Holly Hunter, whines about how she never gave him her sweet sweet pussy, and then asks her if she's feeling better. 1) For the last time, she doesn't talk, you dolt. 2) YOU JUST CUT OFF HER FUCKING FINGER. (Note: "fucking finger" makes me think of a finger that fucks, and at this point, I think she should rape his asshole with her bloody stump. Bastard deserves it.)

Husband wakes up Harvey Keitel by pointing a gun in his face, but then they have a heart-to-heart about how awesome Holly Hunter is. I must have zoned out a bit here, because it's apparently decided Harvey Keitel can have her. They go back to the beach/boats to leave New Zealand, and the natives paddle them away. It's a narrow canoe-type thing, and the piano is actually balanced on it, which looks pretty ridiculous. Holly Hunter gets it in her head that she doesn't want the piano anymore because it's ruined and asks via her daughter for it to be pushed overboard. They argue with Harvey Keitel about it for a while, but he relents. The guys rowing the boat push it over, and for some reason, there's a long rope attached to it. Impulsively, Holly Hunter decides to stick her foot in the loop of rope and she lets the piano pull her overboard.

Cue long scene of her sinking with the piano and struggling for air. At this point, I really thought the movie was going to end with her drowning, and I actually didn't care either way. I don't know if that's more of a reflection on me or this movie. At the last minute, she kicks off her shoe and swims to the surface. Her inner monologue returns (we haven't heard it since the beginning of the movie) and gives some inspirational speech about how her will chose to live.

The happy family gets to wherever they're going. Harvey Keitel buys Holly Hunter a new piano and makes her a prosthetic finger so she can teach piano lessons. She also decides to re-learn how to talk, but she's shy about practicing in front of people. That's okay, she'll just make out with Harvey Keitel (which they do). More quotes and inspirational lines, and we fade to black. Yeah.

I don't even know what I'm going to judge this movie on. The music was good, Holly Hunter's rack was maybe slightly above average, the minor characters were stupid and pointless, and I guess the plot was all right. Eh, have some random boobs anyway. We deserve them:

Five boobs for mediocrity. 

We're back, bitches!

It's about time we revived this thing! Vlad Pantyhose and I have talked about bringing this blog back to life here and there, but he was super busy with school, and I was busy with school and kickstarting my writing career. It's time to stop making excuses, though, and return to our awesomeness.

To help share our heavy loads (haha), we've made the Shirtless Wonder another regular contributor. He'll add some more filthy-minded posts, all while remaining shirtless, because that's the rule. Enjoy! 

Guest Post: Three's a Crowd, What About Four? Part 2

*Jentastic goes to pout in the corner. The Shirtless Wonder has all the fun. <_< *

Was that it? Far from it. Louise shuffled over to the edge and sat next to me; I remember her stroking my hair, asking if I was ok. “Having fun yet?” I said I was. “Not broken you, have we?” I just laughed. She assures me we’re just getting started before she gets her panties back on and heads for the kitchen to get a drink. I decided to get my shorts back on and follow her, but not before I headed for the bathroom first, leaving Sue and Jean to themselves.

It was now some time after half twelve. Interesting that we’d been at it as long as we had been. But time flies when you’re having fun, or so they say. Pity. I was in the flat’s small kitchen with Louise a glass of water as I tried to freshen my mouth up at least a little. I certainly think it was one of those more surreal moments. Standing in a kitchen in nothing but your underwear, having an almost casual conversation with someone you’d just been screwing while listening to the sounds of it coming from down the hall. You know, just having a break from all the sex…

I wasn’t exactly tired. Just a bit worn, really. Well there was the fact that my neck was still smarting, but you show me someone who hasn’t been hurt while having sex. This was nothing. Good thing too, because I was pretty much ready to go back in at that point. Any inhibitions or worries that I’d had about the whole deal had long since disappeared.

A phone on the worktop rang. Louise answered. The call lasted only a few seconds. Turned out her flatmate wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, rather than the evening as expected. I asked if her flatmate knew about what exactly we were up to, which she told me they didn’t. Not that I had a problem with it. It wasn’t as if we were trashing the place after all. People can be so strange about these things.

So it was back to business. Louise clambers onto my back and has me carry her back through. We get in to find Jean and Sue carrying on fine without us, the former giving her friend oral.

Louise hops down as Jean stops. Sue asked why the phone rang; glad we now had the rest of the day to ourselves. She took a bottle of the oil from the cabinet and lay down between them before she started to dribble the stuff over herself, the other two rubbing it in for her. I would’ve joined them myself but I saw Sue looking up at me. She handed the bottle to one of the others, shuffled back to the edge of the bed and stopped.She asked me to come to her side and drop my shorts as she hung her head over the side and told me she wanted her mouth fucked.

So naturally I did as I was told. She opened her mouth and devoured my cock like she was depending on it, even pulling me right into her so she took it all in, and almost gagged as a result. As if that wasn’t good enough, I saw the others abandon oiling her up and start to finger her, much to her delight. And they didn’t hold back on her either, getting a couple of fingers in each, stopping every now and then to tongue her as well. It was a heck of a sight, that’s for sure. I watched them while they fingered and licked at her and made her moan, they watched me force my dick down her throat and make her gag. It was like something straight out of a porno and between the three of us; probably because Jean had warmed her up for us before we got back, we managed to bring her off before long.

But no rest for the wicked, as they say. Jean was the only one who hadn’t been fucked to completion by then and she knew it. The look on her face said it all. Or in her words: “My turn now!” She gets up, comes over, leads me around to the cabinet, grabs a condom and sticks it on. She clambered onto the bed on all fours and told me she wanted it doggy.

Happy to, of course, but Louise and Sue had other ideas. Though she’d had her fun, I think Sue was a bit disappointed she didn’t get to finish me off before her friend just stole me. I thought for a moment there was actually going to be an argument over this, especially when she forced her onto her back.

But no. Turned out she just had a better idea. She straddled her friend, facing me and told me to lube myself up before getting me to lift Jean’s legs up for her. It was an odd moment of teamwork for sure. I remember seeing Louise scrambling over to the other side and making herself at home on Jean’s face by this point.

Sue held her wide open for me, pulling back on her to get her ass up off the bed for me and telling me to go up her ass instead.

Whoever it was that came up with lube is a genius and deserves a thank you for making things like anal sex that much easier. Jean seemed to love it as much as Louise. Maybe more, though it was hard to tell since she had her mouth full at the time. Sue holding her open for me made getting right in easy, though it was still a tight fit, the lube at least made it easy to get a rhythm going. I was glad Sue didn’t lose her grip at any point while holding her squirming friend still. That’d have been the end of the day’s activities right there. Ouch! It was only made better by the fact that she was watching as well, saying how she couldn’t wait until it was her turn. I caught her looking at me, chewing her lip as she watched. I don’t know any “looks” but I assumed she wanted to do more than just hold her friend’s legs open for me. I put my hands on Jean’s heels and took the strain, watching as Sue wasted no time getting her fingers in, two from each hand and burying them in her soaking cunt. The sound of Jean squealing as she did might have made anyone outside think someone was being murdered. But if anything, it was just an excuse to try and make her louder, which we did as Sue slid a couple more fingers inside and told me to fuck her harder. I did, but I felt pretty sure my dick was going to be stretched a bit longer after all that anal. If only…

By that point, between all the moaning, the tight ass my cock was jammed in and the sight of her being fingered was almost too much for me and I had to hold on quite hard to make sure I didn’t cum early. While it would’ve been easy enough for the others to finish her off, I prefer not go first. I prefer the giving. I locked eyes with Sue as she worked her harder, seeing a twisted smile appear as Jean’s muffled scream finally reached our ears, stopping myself as I felt her fluids running out and onto me before I pulled myself out. Sue reached down and slid the condom off as she joyfully licked the mess from her fingers.

She invited me onto the bed with her and lay me down before going straight for my cock, swallowing the whole thing like she had before; sucking like it was a straw and slobbering all over it in the process. By then I was already primed and ready to explode, so when I looked over to see Louise licking up her own mess from Jean’s face before sharing it with her, the combination of that and the feel of Sue’s blowjob (an awesome one if I may say so) along with everything else up to that point pretty much shot me over the edge. The feeling of her sucking harder on me only made me cum harder in the end. Louise shuffled over to her and waited for her to finish what she was doing.

But rather than suck me herself, Sue decided to share the spoils of the blowjob with her and I watched as a stray drop was licked from the chin before they kissed, the two of them watching me as they did it almost deliberately, letting me see them enjoy the moment before they swallowed the lot.

I decided just to lay back for a while. Now I was tired. And why not? I felt awesome regardless. Each of us had been satisfied and I’d only had to cum twice. Not bad for a foursome, I suppose. Not that I knew any better. But I didn’t care.

I remember hearing either Louise or Sue saying “Uh oh. I think he’s gonna to fall asleep on us.” Which, for the record, I did not. I had no intention of it! Why stop there? It was obvious enough they didn’t intend to call it a day with all the free time we still had, with or without me. So I was in until they were done.

Now sex is good and all, but sometimes you’ve just got to stop and recharge. “Who’s hungry?” Was Louise’s next question. Something you don’t normally expect to hear then. But I suppose you can’t really exist on semen alone, can you?