aaah... A hard-on at an inopportune time. The story of my pubescent life. 
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Craiger
JUB Addict
Boning up during a massage is nothing to worry about. It happened to me and I don't have any problem in the precum area... Charlie needs to think about MM during those times and maybe he will surprise both himself and Ian.....lol
Craiger
Craiger
B
blackbeltninja
Guest
Tuesday 1 April 2008
Fact of the day: The universe is about 16 billion years old; the Earth apparently only about 5 billion. Humans that were more human than ape (debatable, in some people’s cases) as we know them have only existed for about 200 thousand years. They reckon the earth only has about 500 million years left in it of support of life as we know it, even though at current rates the population will be close to 500 billion by the year 4000.
Things are still strained at home. Mandy is driving my mother spare over the OTT planning for her upcoming Big Birthday Bash in a couple weeks time and in turn my mom is bugging my dad, who has been crankier than usual. This is quite common for this time of year, actually. Then I overheard the ‘rentals talking in hushed undertones on Saturday morning about how “it would be really strange to have all that again after such a long time” and I didn’t quite know what “all that” was. The only thing we haven’t had in quite a long time which springs to mind is a big Sunday roast; I doubt that’s the issue, though, and I doubt I’d be terribly popular if I were to crack that one at the dinner table, either. Dad would laugh. Mom... not so much.
Then last night – they don’t realise how sound carries in the house sometimes – my mom said “and remember how weird Charley was about the whole thing” and suddenly it hit me. The other prospect – chilling, at that – is that it might mean Great Uncle Joe is coming to stay. He stayed with us about five years ago for about six weeks while his kids – my mom’s cousins, living abroad – were trying to place him in a home after Great Aunt Hilda died. He’s very old and very senile and was in need of care after her death and it was a bit of an ask with him staying with us. I don’t mean to be a poes about it, but he’s not exactly all there in his head and his thinking I was everyone from his son to his wife to you name it got a little old and a little tired quite quickly. It sounds selfish, but I was thirteen and unless you are a very specific type of kid who is good with this sort of thing – I wasn’t – you just don’t really know how to handle all that without coming off as a spoiled brat.
Then one sunny afternoon while I was watching TV I suddenly became his old army buddy who died in his arms, shot through the neck, during the defending of Holland in World War 2. Scared the living fuck out of me, that part – he just grabbed me from behind, strong for an old guy and I couldn’t get loose, and started crying in between telling me it would be okay and yelling frantically for a medic. It lasted about thirty seconds, maybe, a lifetime to the terrified adolescent I was back then, before he switched off the scene in his head completely and just stopped. I only heard about the army buddy later on from my dad, because apparently that little flashback happens regularly enough every couple of months, but I’m still scarred. Please tell me Uncle Joe isn’t coming back for an extended stay.
That aside, things at the house appear to be at the uneasy truce stage. Even Mandy seems to be more conciliatory than usual and has reigned in her die-hard feminist diatribes on my mom’s oppression by the household males – dad and me – for the sake of peace in the ol’ homestead. Seriously, that’s like the breaking of the Seventh Seal; time for all of us to worry, perhaps?
In other news, we have new neighbours. Haven’t met them yet, but my mom says a removal truck unloaded some stuff there this morning. What are the chances that they have a hot, gay son who’d love to experiment a bit? Oh, no, wait… it’s not Christmas, and at last count I don’t think G_d owed me any favours; scratch that. I’d even forgotten the previous ones were moving out, since we weren’t ever big buddies with them. As for the new ones... probably an annoying old couple with an antique, reeking, small, yappy-type dog who’ll look for any excuse to kick up a stink about everything like a pair of relentless do-gooders hell-bent on paving the roads into the 9 Circles with their intentions.
Ian… well, he cancelled yesterday’s session. They left me a voicemail during 5th period saying he had to go somewhere urgently and they’d like to reschedule if I could, so when I got there straight after 5th without checking my voicemail I changed it to tomorrow morning during 4th period, my freebie when I usually update you, Diary. Don’t miss me too much! Anyway, I wonder if it’s genuine, or if I scared him with my monster cockstand on Friday and he’s trying to get me moved to another of their physios, or booted out of the practice entirely? Don’t want to have to explain that one to my mom if I can help it… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous.
-C
Fact of the day: The universe is about 16 billion years old; the Earth apparently only about 5 billion. Humans that were more human than ape (debatable, in some people’s cases) as we know them have only existed for about 200 thousand years. They reckon the earth only has about 500 million years left in it of support of life as we know it, even though at current rates the population will be close to 500 billion by the year 4000.
Things are still strained at home. Mandy is driving my mother spare over the OTT planning for her upcoming Big Birthday Bash in a couple weeks time and in turn my mom is bugging my dad, who has been crankier than usual. This is quite common for this time of year, actually. Then I overheard the ‘rentals talking in hushed undertones on Saturday morning about how “it would be really strange to have all that again after such a long time” and I didn’t quite know what “all that” was. The only thing we haven’t had in quite a long time which springs to mind is a big Sunday roast; I doubt that’s the issue, though, and I doubt I’d be terribly popular if I were to crack that one at the dinner table, either. Dad would laugh. Mom... not so much.
Then last night – they don’t realise how sound carries in the house sometimes – my mom said “and remember how weird Charley was about the whole thing” and suddenly it hit me. The other prospect – chilling, at that – is that it might mean Great Uncle Joe is coming to stay. He stayed with us about five years ago for about six weeks while his kids – my mom’s cousins, living abroad – were trying to place him in a home after Great Aunt Hilda died. He’s very old and very senile and was in need of care after her death and it was a bit of an ask with him staying with us. I don’t mean to be a poes about it, but he’s not exactly all there in his head and his thinking I was everyone from his son to his wife to you name it got a little old and a little tired quite quickly. It sounds selfish, but I was thirteen and unless you are a very specific type of kid who is good with this sort of thing – I wasn’t – you just don’t really know how to handle all that without coming off as a spoiled brat.
Then one sunny afternoon while I was watching TV I suddenly became his old army buddy who died in his arms, shot through the neck, during the defending of Holland in World War 2. Scared the living fuck out of me, that part – he just grabbed me from behind, strong for an old guy and I couldn’t get loose, and started crying in between telling me it would be okay and yelling frantically for a medic. It lasted about thirty seconds, maybe, a lifetime to the terrified adolescent I was back then, before he switched off the scene in his head completely and just stopped. I only heard about the army buddy later on from my dad, because apparently that little flashback happens regularly enough every couple of months, but I’m still scarred. Please tell me Uncle Joe isn’t coming back for an extended stay.
That aside, things at the house appear to be at the uneasy truce stage. Even Mandy seems to be more conciliatory than usual and has reigned in her die-hard feminist diatribes on my mom’s oppression by the household males – dad and me – for the sake of peace in the ol’ homestead. Seriously, that’s like the breaking of the Seventh Seal; time for all of us to worry, perhaps?
In other news, we have new neighbours. Haven’t met them yet, but my mom says a removal truck unloaded some stuff there this morning. What are the chances that they have a hot, gay son who’d love to experiment a bit? Oh, no, wait… it’s not Christmas, and at last count I don’t think G_d owed me any favours; scratch that. I’d even forgotten the previous ones were moving out, since we weren’t ever big buddies with them. As for the new ones... probably an annoying old couple with an antique, reeking, small, yappy-type dog who’ll look for any excuse to kick up a stink about everything like a pair of relentless do-gooders hell-bent on paving the roads into the 9 Circles with their intentions.
Ian… well, he cancelled yesterday’s session. They left me a voicemail during 5th period saying he had to go somewhere urgently and they’d like to reschedule if I could, so when I got there straight after 5th without checking my voicemail I changed it to tomorrow morning during 4th period, my freebie when I usually update you, Diary. Don’t miss me too much! Anyway, I wonder if it’s genuine, or if I scared him with my monster cockstand on Friday and he’s trying to get me moved to another of their physios, or booted out of the practice entirely? Don’t want to have to explain that one to my mom if I can help it… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous.
-C
hmm-mm.... mysteries! 
Uncle Joe? Something else?
And new neighbors. Someone interesting?
Intriguing.
Uncle Joe? Something else?
And new neighbors. Someone interesting?
Intriguing.
Craiger
JUB Addict
Uncle Joe sounds like he brings a bit of spice to your life, Charley. Don't be too hard on the old coot. Also, remember, "ask and ye shall receive", so...........even though it isn't Christmas, G_d may grant your wish. Ian just needed to take a breather after the excitement of his hand touching that swollen organ. He'll be back looking for more........lol
Craiger
Craiger
B
blackbeltninja
Guest
^. ^^. ^^^ and a few more ^^'s ago - I'm glad you guys are still reading. 
-d-
-d-
B
blackbeltninja
Guest
Sorry, guys, this is a looooong entry.
Friday 4 April 2008
Things which irritate me: Having a prac on Friday afternoons while everyone else pisses off home early for the holidays.
Especially when this particular Friday is the last day of the quarter and we get a “well-deserved” week off lectures next week. Seems ridiculous if f you ask me, since we’ve only had classes for like 7 weeks, but I’m not complaining too loudly. My back is about 70% there and should be back up to full speed in the next couple of days, Ian reckons – that wank is going to be spectacular, let me tell you – so the extra couple of days to veg around won’t be bad and hopefully I can still contribute some to the football team.
I made the cut, you see – we kinda all did. You can have up to 10 players on the roster and you’ll rotate from a choice of a match-day 8 during the game. One of the guys, Rene, can’t commit since he has lunchtime tuts next semester and another one, Stewart, doesn’t want to be in the competitive side and so they are just playing socially with us, hence Paolo’s sourcing of the Gay Porn twins as cover. We went through a ream of names before deciding to go comedic and pop-culture with Dulce & Cubana while wearing hideous t-shirts with knocked off D&C logos on as our uniforms. Misspellings are intentional, btw; these are the names of two local watering holes. In addition to the Spring Chicken and The Naut, of course, and The Crowded House and The Ruby and The Pig and The Crowbar and Lloyds and Comic Strip and and and. /obvious namedropping re social life
Ian… yes. Turns out it was a genuine emergency on Monday, which is why he had to cancel, and that’s all. I have not been booted out of their practice and in turn have not been outed to my folks, thank G_d. It did occur to me later that it’s a private practice, renting space in the Sports Center and not technically part of the University at all; there was no way this was going to pop up on my academic transcript (already looking shit at the mo; can you imagine what it would say? Maths 101 – failing; Cell Bio 100 – simply adequate; Physics 104 – surprisingly good; Chem 101 – not bad; Other notes – your son is a pervert who wanted a happy ending to his physiotherapy massage so we’ve had him expelled. PS: did you know he was gay?).
More than that, before I could get my big apology out – which I’ve been practising all weekend – Ian jumped in with one of his own, saying he should have watched where he was putting his hands and everything and saying how it was unprofessional. He looked really bummed and I felt so bad about it I wanted to cry. I did manage to stop myself from saying “no, no, I enjoyed it, really!” to try to make him feel better, since even though it was true that would have just dropped me 15 feet into the shit, so I just nodded and said I barely noticed anything.
In other news, if I die today I’m on my way to Hell for lying to Ian, but I think it needed to be said. He’s still fairly new at this, currently in his first year out since finishing the course and doing the internship. So he’s only been at it for four months, and I guess it would have been his first scandal had I complained. So it’s only fair on my part to put the poor guy at ease and I’m sure you agree with me on that, right? Especially since it’s not like he did anything wrong. He’s actually younger than I thought he was at only 23; just a kid, for shit's sake.
Anyway, even though I’m on leave with the University’s undergrads taking vac, I do still have a session with Ian next Tuesday since they don’t shut down. Around that, I shall be watching tv, hanging out with some mates both from school and varsity and hopefully introducing some of each group to some in the other, hopefully hitting the beach to buff up my shoddy excuse for a tan before winter, and of course catching up on some assignments and whatnot for classes. And surprisingly I have even cracked the nod to Kim’s birthday bash on Wednesday night along with Trevor and a few of our other classmates which should be interesting. because lastly, a bit of info which is sure to become the stuff of scandalous legend – Trevor has the hots for Kim! He was asking today whether he should ask her out. I tried in vain to mention the bf, Paul, but our Trev just kinda glossed over all that and reckoned he could bring as much to the table and probably more than Paul can and is going to make a move next week, he thinks.
A word on Paul: Paul is a nutter. Paul will cut you. I’m sure deep-down he overplays all that stuff and is probably significantly brighter than he made sure he came across as to be all main-piel and big-dick back at school, like some guys do so that people don’t expect much from them and thus aren’t let down. But Paul runs with a tougher crowd than most, of bigger misfits than most. I knew a couple of those guys from Technika (a long story for another time) and in truth some of them do have hearts of gold, but in an honour amongst thieves kinda way, and literally so. Let’s meet the gang:
1: Crazy-eyes Francois.
He’s a Leo whose favourite pastime is coming across as genuinely disturbed, probably because he is. Particularly when he carves exotic pictures and words like “mame” (presumably he means “maim”, but hey) into his forearm with a rusty old compass, which he found on the floor in English, during Afrikaans class. My old mate Alistair was in the same maths class as Francois, and by all accounts inspiration would strike out of the blue and he’d do it there, too. It is surely only a matter of time before Francois kills his entire family with a home-made hacksaw-nailgun combo (my bet), and/or joins a suicide cult (Al’s bet), although I suspect he will view it as a homicide cult and not hold up his end of the bargain while generously helping everyone else to hold up theirs. According to the SA National Parks and Wildlife Board Guide to Dangerous Animals, this one is worth avoiding at all costs.
2, 3 and 4: Other Paul, other other Paul, and Martin.
These guys all had minds like steel traps and were inseparable from Way Back in The Day since they’ve been mates since they were about three. Anyway, Martin casually happened to mention one day that during break-time they’d figured out and tested a path to take which would allow them to walk right past the passive infra-red intruder detector in the main corridor of the Technika building without setting it off. They’d also worked out how to jimmy the door with the dodgy lock into the main workshop and then get into the lab there virtually undetected. Conveniently, that night the Technika building was broken into, the door was jimmied and a lot of expensive stuff was nicked from said lab. Conveniently, the alarm didn’t go off. Conveniently, among the things which got nicked was a pair of top-end digital multi-meters which both other other Paul and Martin had expressed a desire to own during our prac sessions in that lab two days previously. Co-incidence? Maybe, I suppose. Cops came in to investigate and we all got fingerprinted so they could eliminate which prints were ours; since we’re the only people who use that lab, this would easily identify which were the criminals’ prints. Conveniently they found only the fingerprints of the twenty four of us plus our two teachers all over the place. Guess the crooks wore gloves, eh?
I coached other Paul (yes, there are three Pauls in total) for physics and chem and some maths which he was struggling with in our final year; in return, at Valedictory, he told me in solemn earnestness “You’re a good guy, Charley, and I gave you a rough enough ride here at school and still you stuck up for me and helped me out and I respect that. I wish you every success in your future, and I owe you one. So if you ever need your car stolen for insurance purposes, you let me know.”
5. Geoffrey
Don’t call him Geoff, or he’ll fucking ninja-kick you in the face. Craig, one of the guys in our Technika class, found that out the hard way when we were supposed to be working and instead all twenty four of us were fucking around, like you do when you’re an unsupervised adolescent with a penis left in a room full of expensive stuff you shouldn’t be touching.
Geoffrey was fond of setting things on fire, usually with a can of deodorant and a lighter. This pseudo-arson became his thing after his phase of making pea-shooters – basically catapults which fired out a small pellet made from scrunched-up paper compacted into a tiny ball and tied with sellotape with a drawing pin put through the lot so when it hit you, it stuck and you bled. This pea-shooter phase only stopped when he stupidly shot Fat Carl in the butt with it (in addition to three Pauls, there were three Carls in the ill-fated Technika class; all quite fat, but only one was really fat enough to earn the name and had been teased about it for too long) and Fat Carl went on a massive, frothing benny and pounded the living fuck out of him. Geoffrey defended himself well at first – karate was his thing, you see; see earlier comment re ninja-kicks and faces – but Fat Carl took a few solid punches without going down, braying like a retarded rabid mule while backing Geoffrey into a corner, and then rushed him, and sat on him and it was the beginning of the end.
Geoffrey dropped out of school the following year, but from what I gather from Kim him and her Paul are still good mates. Yay!
6. Brent
Brent is of Greek descent and has the singular honour of owning the largest dick I have ever seen in person. It is fucking huge. I would do very rude things to it if given half a chance, truth be told. Those pr0n 10-inchers which are really 8-inchers are significantly smaller than the massive tree-trunk which is Brent’s flaccid, uncut Rolls-Royce of a penis; I suspect an erection must at the very least make him quite dizzy.
Realising early on that whoever was next in line size-wise was running in a solid but quite distant second, it was Brent who pushed for school showers after Phys Ed and who spent as much time as possible with no clothes on, always getting naked while were changing for PE or sports even though he could have kept his underpants on. I suppose that were I as genetically gifted I’d have done much the same sort of thing.
Unlike the rest of Paul’s crowd Brent wasn’t really a bad, scary or dangerous guy. But he did have an entertaining and largely unsanitary habit of skommeling around in his underpants during Maths every lesson and removing a solitary pube which was dropped into our unbeloved teacher’s coffee mug, onto her angora wool jersey, into her bag, or, in one case, onto her head as she bent over a desk to help another kid with a tricky bit of calculus.
7. Paul himself
And lastly there was Kim’s Paul, who picked a fight with another pupil in the boys’ toilets one day before school during which Paul stuck a pencil into the other’s neck.
Full-on into, not a graze or a wild slash at the guy, but into. Like when you put a spoon into a bowl of custard.
In. To.
How most of these guys didn’t get expelled is beyond me.
So Kim’s Paul runs with the baddest of the big dogs, and regardless of what Trevor thinks he can bring to the table he still pisses like a puppy. I suspect that, if he gives this a go despite my warnings, we might have seen the last of the poor chap and I'll need a new prac partner for next term.
-C
Friday 4 April 2008
Things which irritate me: Having a prac on Friday afternoons while everyone else pisses off home early for the holidays.
Especially when this particular Friday is the last day of the quarter and we get a “well-deserved” week off lectures next week. Seems ridiculous if f you ask me, since we’ve only had classes for like 7 weeks, but I’m not complaining too loudly. My back is about 70% there and should be back up to full speed in the next couple of days, Ian reckons – that wank is going to be spectacular, let me tell you – so the extra couple of days to veg around won’t be bad and hopefully I can still contribute some to the football team.
I made the cut, you see – we kinda all did. You can have up to 10 players on the roster and you’ll rotate from a choice of a match-day 8 during the game. One of the guys, Rene, can’t commit since he has lunchtime tuts next semester and another one, Stewart, doesn’t want to be in the competitive side and so they are just playing socially with us, hence Paolo’s sourcing of the Gay Porn twins as cover. We went through a ream of names before deciding to go comedic and pop-culture with Dulce & Cubana while wearing hideous t-shirts with knocked off D&C logos on as our uniforms. Misspellings are intentional, btw; these are the names of two local watering holes. In addition to the Spring Chicken and The Naut, of course, and The Crowded House and The Ruby and The Pig and The Crowbar and Lloyds and Comic Strip and and and. /obvious namedropping re social life
Ian… yes. Turns out it was a genuine emergency on Monday, which is why he had to cancel, and that’s all. I have not been booted out of their practice and in turn have not been outed to my folks, thank G_d. It did occur to me later that it’s a private practice, renting space in the Sports Center and not technically part of the University at all; there was no way this was going to pop up on my academic transcript (already looking shit at the mo; can you imagine what it would say? Maths 101 – failing; Cell Bio 100 – simply adequate; Physics 104 – surprisingly good; Chem 101 – not bad; Other notes – your son is a pervert who wanted a happy ending to his physiotherapy massage so we’ve had him expelled. PS: did you know he was gay?).
More than that, before I could get my big apology out – which I’ve been practising all weekend – Ian jumped in with one of his own, saying he should have watched where he was putting his hands and everything and saying how it was unprofessional. He looked really bummed and I felt so bad about it I wanted to cry. I did manage to stop myself from saying “no, no, I enjoyed it, really!” to try to make him feel better, since even though it was true that would have just dropped me 15 feet into the shit, so I just nodded and said I barely noticed anything.
In other news, if I die today I’m on my way to Hell for lying to Ian, but I think it needed to be said. He’s still fairly new at this, currently in his first year out since finishing the course and doing the internship. So he’s only been at it for four months, and I guess it would have been his first scandal had I complained. So it’s only fair on my part to put the poor guy at ease and I’m sure you agree with me on that, right? Especially since it’s not like he did anything wrong. He’s actually younger than I thought he was at only 23; just a kid, for shit's sake.
Anyway, even though I’m on leave with the University’s undergrads taking vac, I do still have a session with Ian next Tuesday since they don’t shut down. Around that, I shall be watching tv, hanging out with some mates both from school and varsity and hopefully introducing some of each group to some in the other, hopefully hitting the beach to buff up my shoddy excuse for a tan before winter, and of course catching up on some assignments and whatnot for classes. And surprisingly I have even cracked the nod to Kim’s birthday bash on Wednesday night along with Trevor and a few of our other classmates which should be interesting. because lastly, a bit of info which is sure to become the stuff of scandalous legend – Trevor has the hots for Kim! He was asking today whether he should ask her out. I tried in vain to mention the bf, Paul, but our Trev just kinda glossed over all that and reckoned he could bring as much to the table and probably more than Paul can and is going to make a move next week, he thinks.
A word on Paul: Paul is a nutter. Paul will cut you. I’m sure deep-down he overplays all that stuff and is probably significantly brighter than he made sure he came across as to be all main-piel and big-dick back at school, like some guys do so that people don’t expect much from them and thus aren’t let down. But Paul runs with a tougher crowd than most, of bigger misfits than most. I knew a couple of those guys from Technika (a long story for another time) and in truth some of them do have hearts of gold, but in an honour amongst thieves kinda way, and literally so. Let’s meet the gang:
1: Crazy-eyes Francois.
He’s a Leo whose favourite pastime is coming across as genuinely disturbed, probably because he is. Particularly when he carves exotic pictures and words like “mame” (presumably he means “maim”, but hey) into his forearm with a rusty old compass, which he found on the floor in English, during Afrikaans class. My old mate Alistair was in the same maths class as Francois, and by all accounts inspiration would strike out of the blue and he’d do it there, too. It is surely only a matter of time before Francois kills his entire family with a home-made hacksaw-nailgun combo (my bet), and/or joins a suicide cult (Al’s bet), although I suspect he will view it as a homicide cult and not hold up his end of the bargain while generously helping everyone else to hold up theirs. According to the SA National Parks and Wildlife Board Guide to Dangerous Animals, this one is worth avoiding at all costs.
2, 3 and 4: Other Paul, other other Paul, and Martin.
These guys all had minds like steel traps and were inseparable from Way Back in The Day since they’ve been mates since they were about three. Anyway, Martin casually happened to mention one day that during break-time they’d figured out and tested a path to take which would allow them to walk right past the passive infra-red intruder detector in the main corridor of the Technika building without setting it off. They’d also worked out how to jimmy the door with the dodgy lock into the main workshop and then get into the lab there virtually undetected. Conveniently, that night the Technika building was broken into, the door was jimmied and a lot of expensive stuff was nicked from said lab. Conveniently, the alarm didn’t go off. Conveniently, among the things which got nicked was a pair of top-end digital multi-meters which both other other Paul and Martin had expressed a desire to own during our prac sessions in that lab two days previously. Co-incidence? Maybe, I suppose. Cops came in to investigate and we all got fingerprinted so they could eliminate which prints were ours; since we’re the only people who use that lab, this would easily identify which were the criminals’ prints. Conveniently they found only the fingerprints of the twenty four of us plus our two teachers all over the place. Guess the crooks wore gloves, eh?
I coached other Paul (yes, there are three Pauls in total) for physics and chem and some maths which he was struggling with in our final year; in return, at Valedictory, he told me in solemn earnestness “You’re a good guy, Charley, and I gave you a rough enough ride here at school and still you stuck up for me and helped me out and I respect that. I wish you every success in your future, and I owe you one. So if you ever need your car stolen for insurance purposes, you let me know.”
5. Geoffrey
Don’t call him Geoff, or he’ll fucking ninja-kick you in the face. Craig, one of the guys in our Technika class, found that out the hard way when we were supposed to be working and instead all twenty four of us were fucking around, like you do when you’re an unsupervised adolescent with a penis left in a room full of expensive stuff you shouldn’t be touching.
Geoffrey was fond of setting things on fire, usually with a can of deodorant and a lighter. This pseudo-arson became his thing after his phase of making pea-shooters – basically catapults which fired out a small pellet made from scrunched-up paper compacted into a tiny ball and tied with sellotape with a drawing pin put through the lot so when it hit you, it stuck and you bled. This pea-shooter phase only stopped when he stupidly shot Fat Carl in the butt with it (in addition to three Pauls, there were three Carls in the ill-fated Technika class; all quite fat, but only one was really fat enough to earn the name and had been teased about it for too long) and Fat Carl went on a massive, frothing benny and pounded the living fuck out of him. Geoffrey defended himself well at first – karate was his thing, you see; see earlier comment re ninja-kicks and faces – but Fat Carl took a few solid punches without going down, braying like a retarded rabid mule while backing Geoffrey into a corner, and then rushed him, and sat on him and it was the beginning of the end.
Geoffrey dropped out of school the following year, but from what I gather from Kim him and her Paul are still good mates. Yay!
6. Brent
Brent is of Greek descent and has the singular honour of owning the largest dick I have ever seen in person. It is fucking huge. I would do very rude things to it if given half a chance, truth be told. Those pr0n 10-inchers which are really 8-inchers are significantly smaller than the massive tree-trunk which is Brent’s flaccid, uncut Rolls-Royce of a penis; I suspect an erection must at the very least make him quite dizzy.
Realising early on that whoever was next in line size-wise was running in a solid but quite distant second, it was Brent who pushed for school showers after Phys Ed and who spent as much time as possible with no clothes on, always getting naked while were changing for PE or sports even though he could have kept his underpants on. I suppose that were I as genetically gifted I’d have done much the same sort of thing.
Unlike the rest of Paul’s crowd Brent wasn’t really a bad, scary or dangerous guy. But he did have an entertaining and largely unsanitary habit of skommeling around in his underpants during Maths every lesson and removing a solitary pube which was dropped into our unbeloved teacher’s coffee mug, onto her angora wool jersey, into her bag, or, in one case, onto her head as she bent over a desk to help another kid with a tricky bit of calculus.
7. Paul himself
And lastly there was Kim’s Paul, who picked a fight with another pupil in the boys’ toilets one day before school during which Paul stuck a pencil into the other’s neck.
Full-on into, not a graze or a wild slash at the guy, but into. Like when you put a spoon into a bowl of custard.
In. To.
How most of these guys didn’t get expelled is beyond me.
So Kim’s Paul runs with the baddest of the big dogs, and regardless of what Trevor thinks he can bring to the table he still pisses like a puppy. I suspect that, if he gives this a go despite my warnings, we might have seen the last of the poor chap and I'll need a new prac partner for next term.
-C
Another good read!
It will be interesting to see how all these new characters figure into the story.
Thanks, -d-!
It will be interesting to see how all these new characters figure into the story.
Thanks, -d-!
B
blackbeltninja
Guest
Tuesday 8 April 2008
Things I like: killing time doing nothing except chilling on the beach. Except when I get too much sun
Just finished my session with Ian. It was a bitch – I might have got a touch too much sun over the weekend and be very slightly burned to a crisp; getting it massaged certainly was all pain and no pleasure at all. You couldn’t tell where my red tanline stopped and my red boxerbriefs started, is how cooked I got; thank G0d for pubes, otherwise I wouldn’t know where to pull my pants up to.
Can’t really complain, though – pretty much lived at the beach the last couple of days; went with my old mates Al, Ben and Gareth for a spot of sun, surf and sand and it was brilliant.
I’ve neglected them a bit of late, which is stupid since I’ve known them all since I was like five and they’re my best mates, and even more stupid when you consider that we all live in the same neighbourhood and although Al and Ben have opted to study at Maties up in Stellenbosch instead of the mighty UCT, they commute daily and are around and available most nights and weekends. Also, Gareth is on campus with me every day although he spends his time on the Commerce side of things at the other end of University Avenue and across The Plaza.
So I need to put in the hours with my oldest mates for a bit – seven weeks of class and I think Gareth has only met Trevor out of all the guys from class I hang with, and only once at that for about three minutes in the first week of the quarter. He’ll meet a few more at Kim’s bash tomorrow night, of course, and she’s suggested it’s an open enough guestlist to drag Al and Ben along too, so that’ll be a good start. Everyone can meet everyone and hopefully they all get along.
I’ll admit that six months ago when school was wrapping up I never thought I’d be seeing Paul’s dodgy crew in social circles, so that will be a bit weird. I’ll admit that Paul and Francois were guys I reckoned I’d never have to see (read: fear) again. Also, Kim has invited the others in our lift club; I think she was hoping most of them would decline, but nope. Not sure Victoria’s level of Jesus is going to show her a good time at what will basically just be a loud and raucous piss-up, and I know Kim can’t stand Ryan but has invited him anyway since she doesn’t want to upset him because we all drive in together and that would make things a bit weird if only half of us cracked the nod to her party. Not to mention she might find herself stranded at the university one night if he is pissed off enough by not getting invited. So we’re all invited, even though it will be rather weird.
Neat segue, though – things with Colin have got a bit weird. I saw a couple of the guys at a house party on Saturday night and Colin and I spent a little time having a quiet chat outside when he went for a smoke break and I went along to keep him company. I like him a lot. He’s extremely well read, he knows a bit about every subject in the world, and he makes me laugh. I pegged him as one of us homos right from the start, you’ll recall. And to back up that observation, he’s kinda flirty, which is weird for me since I am so not used to it, but provided he doesn’t out me it’s flattering and thus fine. To further back up my suspicion I’m also sure I overheard him talking about going to Wings, and although it’s not my bag and I’ve obviously never been there, because that would out me big time, I do know of Wings. It’s a gay club in the Pink Quarter, and from what I can see off their website it’s the mother of all gay clubs, full on, not subtle, in-your-face, doof-doof house music, shirtless DJs, rainbows-all-over-the-show, Underwear Nights, Gogo Boys, and guys-fucking-in-the-toilets-while-snorting-coke-off-the-cisterns gay club. /stereotypes. PS: I’m inferring this last bit; they don’t actually advertise the cocaine part on their website, although judging by the pictures of all those manic revellers in their galleries... not judging, just saying.
Sounds like fun, I hear you say. Anyway, this is not at all mysterious in terms of what I think I know about Colin. But the other night while we were standing outside he alluded to a mysterious One Who Got Away, called Hannah. Pretty sure Hannah is not traditionally a name given to guys.
I’m not going to claim any level of skill in body language, but as soon as he mentioned it he changed the subject and wouldn’t go back to it, and I can tell from that this was serious and that the guy is fucked up after it all ended. I do wonder, though, how the rest of it fits in. Bisexual, perhaps? I’m just not sure it’s as simple as that, in that I didn’t think bi guys came off as quite that gay. But I’m also sure he’s not just trying to feel me out and flirting, and then mentioning Hannah to cover it up if I take offence. Seriously, seems like the guy got burned, big time.
I’m no psychologist, so I have no idea if trying to draw it out of him is likely to be a good thing or a bad thing, but I think he should spit it out. Okay okay, so primarily I just want all the details – I hate not knowing stuff, or only knowing half the stuff, so I really do want the full story. So sue me.
No other real news to report, though. At least, not from home. The folks have been even more weird the last day or two than previously; a united front, from what I can gather, but something is definitely up. Is it Great Uncle Joe? I bounced the idea off my old mates since they were around when we had him last, giving my reason for thinking this. Al, being an Olympic-class colossal shit-stirrer, reckons my folks are simply getting divorced; the more I deny this allegation the louder he gets about it. Someone wants kicking in the nuts. Still, I’m sure that’s not it – they don’t fight; they don’t play no-speaks. Nothing like that. They’re just... I don’t know, sorta tense. And sorta intense, maybe, but they’re certainly not unhappy, I don’t think. Al reckons they’re obviously not unhappy, because they’ll never have to see each other again. He also reminds us that married men tend to die before their wives and poses the question “why?” before opining that it’s because they want to. Twat.
It may be a surprise to find out I’m still single, but it shouldn’t be to find that out about Al.
-C
Things I like: killing time doing nothing except chilling on the beach. Except when I get too much sun
Just finished my session with Ian. It was a bitch – I might have got a touch too much sun over the weekend and be very slightly burned to a crisp; getting it massaged certainly was all pain and no pleasure at all. You couldn’t tell where my red tanline stopped and my red boxerbriefs started, is how cooked I got; thank G0d for pubes, otherwise I wouldn’t know where to pull my pants up to.
Can’t really complain, though – pretty much lived at the beach the last couple of days; went with my old mates Al, Ben and Gareth for a spot of sun, surf and sand and it was brilliant.
I’ve neglected them a bit of late, which is stupid since I’ve known them all since I was like five and they’re my best mates, and even more stupid when you consider that we all live in the same neighbourhood and although Al and Ben have opted to study at Maties up in Stellenbosch instead of the mighty UCT, they commute daily and are around and available most nights and weekends. Also, Gareth is on campus with me every day although he spends his time on the Commerce side of things at the other end of University Avenue and across The Plaza.
So I need to put in the hours with my oldest mates for a bit – seven weeks of class and I think Gareth has only met Trevor out of all the guys from class I hang with, and only once at that for about three minutes in the first week of the quarter. He’ll meet a few more at Kim’s bash tomorrow night, of course, and she’s suggested it’s an open enough guestlist to drag Al and Ben along too, so that’ll be a good start. Everyone can meet everyone and hopefully they all get along.
I’ll admit that six months ago when school was wrapping up I never thought I’d be seeing Paul’s dodgy crew in social circles, so that will be a bit weird. I’ll admit that Paul and Francois were guys I reckoned I’d never have to see (read: fear) again. Also, Kim has invited the others in our lift club; I think she was hoping most of them would decline, but nope. Not sure Victoria’s level of Jesus is going to show her a good time at what will basically just be a loud and raucous piss-up, and I know Kim can’t stand Ryan but has invited him anyway since she doesn’t want to upset him because we all drive in together and that would make things a bit weird if only half of us cracked the nod to her party. Not to mention she might find herself stranded at the university one night if he is pissed off enough by not getting invited. So we’re all invited, even though it will be rather weird.
Neat segue, though – things with Colin have got a bit weird. I saw a couple of the guys at a house party on Saturday night and Colin and I spent a little time having a quiet chat outside when he went for a smoke break and I went along to keep him company. I like him a lot. He’s extremely well read, he knows a bit about every subject in the world, and he makes me laugh. I pegged him as one of us homos right from the start, you’ll recall. And to back up that observation, he’s kinda flirty, which is weird for me since I am so not used to it, but provided he doesn’t out me it’s flattering and thus fine. To further back up my suspicion I’m also sure I overheard him talking about going to Wings, and although it’s not my bag and I’ve obviously never been there, because that would out me big time, I do know of Wings. It’s a gay club in the Pink Quarter, and from what I can see off their website it’s the mother of all gay clubs, full on, not subtle, in-your-face, doof-doof house music, shirtless DJs, rainbows-all-over-the-show, Underwear Nights, Gogo Boys, and guys-fucking-in-the-toilets-while-snorting-coke-off-the-cisterns gay club. /stereotypes. PS: I’m inferring this last bit; they don’t actually advertise the cocaine part on their website, although judging by the pictures of all those manic revellers in their galleries... not judging, just saying.
Sounds like fun, I hear you say. Anyway, this is not at all mysterious in terms of what I think I know about Colin. But the other night while we were standing outside he alluded to a mysterious One Who Got Away, called Hannah. Pretty sure Hannah is not traditionally a name given to guys.
I’m not going to claim any level of skill in body language, but as soon as he mentioned it he changed the subject and wouldn’t go back to it, and I can tell from that this was serious and that the guy is fucked up after it all ended. I do wonder, though, how the rest of it fits in. Bisexual, perhaps? I’m just not sure it’s as simple as that, in that I didn’t think bi guys came off as quite that gay. But I’m also sure he’s not just trying to feel me out and flirting, and then mentioning Hannah to cover it up if I take offence. Seriously, seems like the guy got burned, big time.
I’m no psychologist, so I have no idea if trying to draw it out of him is likely to be a good thing or a bad thing, but I think he should spit it out. Okay okay, so primarily I just want all the details – I hate not knowing stuff, or only knowing half the stuff, so I really do want the full story. So sue me.
No other real news to report, though. At least, not from home. The folks have been even more weird the last day or two than previously; a united front, from what I can gather, but something is definitely up. Is it Great Uncle Joe? I bounced the idea off my old mates since they were around when we had him last, giving my reason for thinking this. Al, being an Olympic-class colossal shit-stirrer, reckons my folks are simply getting divorced; the more I deny this allegation the louder he gets about it. Someone wants kicking in the nuts. Still, I’m sure that’s not it – they don’t fight; they don’t play no-speaks. Nothing like that. They’re just... I don’t know, sorta tense. And sorta intense, maybe, but they’re certainly not unhappy, I don’t think. Al reckons they’re obviously not unhappy, because they’ll never have to see each other again. He also reminds us that married men tend to die before their wives and poses the question “why?” before opining that it’s because they want to. Twat.
It may be a surprise to find out I’m still single, but it shouldn’t be to find that out about Al.
-C
Aaah... got my Charley fix. Now I can sleep tonight.
I'm curious about Colin. Seems like the type of guy who appeals to me.
I'm curious about Colin. Seems like the type of guy who appeals to me.
Craiger
JUB Addict
Maybe some of the mysteries will be solved after Kim's bash. You'd be surprised how loose the tongue becomes after a few....lol However, I don't think that will clear up the parents little mystery. That all could be a Great Uncle Joe thing. Next time Uncle Joe won't even call for a medic, he'll just grope Charley and pretend it's another war buddy in distress.....lol What these old coot will do to hold onto a young man.......
Craiger
Craiger
B
blackbeltninja
Guest
Monday 14 April 2008
Things I like: five-star orgasms
Yes, you’re reading that correctly – last night I did indeed manage to fire up the ol’ firehose and drown the burning desire in my belly with a rather capacious volume of semen. Fuck me, it was good. I was left to my own devices while the family were out and about – not sure where; don’t really care, if I’m honest – for an hour or so and I just went to it. I’m not sure I should put this into too much detail because it would simply be gratuitous; however, for the sake of completeness I will make a few notes.
So I was left alone and pretty much as soon as I was sure they weren’t going to come back for something, I stripped down to just my old water-resistant watch and my new tan, and I lay back on my bed, propped up on my pillow with my knees bent and legs spread. It is a position I hope to take with another actual human on top of me at some point, preferably soon; additionally, it is a position in which I hope to find someone waiting for me at some point in the proceedings. A small tube of Nivea Visage facial moisturiser is what I use as an aid when not in the shower, since unlike Foreign Parts as discussed by people on teh interwebz you can’t just buy lube at any old store here in .za. How repressed are we as a society?
I didn’t even need any of my visual material this time around, nor even rude thoughts of MM or anyone else – it’s been twenty five days since I could last do this; ridiculous at my age. I’ve been popping a titanium-hard cockstand just doing mundane things like eating cornflakes for breakfast, so pretty much as I was unvelcroing – it is a word if I say it is – my boardies my knob was already getting up to its full 6-and-a-bit-actually-closer-to-7-really inches and making a fairly impressive tent in my undies, which I then whipped off with a theatrical flourish (and I’ll admit that I might have even sounded a small and triumphant but poorly-executed imitation fanfare) and the resultant satisfying slap of big, manly erection bouncing back up against stomach. I’ve neglected the weekly haircut for the last couple sessions, too, so I got a good look at my macho pelvic stubble while prepping with a small, pea-sized dollop of the cream all over my bits and pieces. I know it’s weird to be turned on looking at yourself, but cards on the table – I definitely was.
I was ready to really take it slow and work myself up to breaking point a few times before letting go, but I kinda overshot the point of no return on the second go already and was forced to quickly crank it up and hold off for as many seconds as I could (five, maybe; no need to get the Guinness guys on the phone) while clenching my toes and pistoning the ol’ elbow up to max rpm when it hit.
J3sus, did it hit. Pow! The first noisy wave lifted me up to an almost sitting position, the second even noisier wave nearly knocked me off my bed and I narrowly avoided being blinded by a wayward blob of flying come, fired up into orbit around my skull like it was propelled by NASA’s own throbbing six-inch crotch-rocket sitting on the launch gantry (which happens to quite strongly resemble a Batman duvet cover).
The following waves – I lost count, if I’m honest, but they were numerous – hit like a series of punches to the gut and when I had finally stopped moaning and recovered enough breath to sit up again and look at the damage, there was semen everywhere. Oh my days, what a massacre; it was like Cumageddon, which was only in the Director’s Cut of the Book of Revelation. Easily five or six times my usual volume, thick and warm and all over the fucking place – in my pubes, dripping down the shaft, all over both my hands, my treasure trail, several spermy falls cascading down both sides of my torso onto the bed below (Pro tip: Charley says be prepared and always lie on a towel, kids!), and even some up on my neck in a veritable string of gooey pearls, just like in the porn. The one which nearly blinded me had left an artful splat on the wall behind my head and was slowly metamorphosing under the inexorable effects of gravity, heading leisurely down to the carpet.
It took a while to clean everything up since there was so much of it; I was just getting done and thinking about Round 2 when there was a knock on the door. I wasn’t going to answer, but I did in the end. Quickly pulled on my boardies and went through and opened it and there was a youngish slightly older guy, probably about 23 or so, holding an envelope addressed to my mom. Turns out he’s the new neighbour and they got some of our mail on Friday so he was bringing it over. Mom has mentioned them a couple of times, but this was my first meeting with either of them – a young couple, Cecilia and, would you believe it, another Trevor (better looking than my Trevor, too!).
He introduces himself, sticks out a hand, I do likewise and as just before he takes it I notice I’ve missed a spot and before I can do anything about it New Trevor has some few million of my sperm swimming up his fingers with their tiny flagella powering them through a little bit of leftover man-jam (thanks to Cell Biology 100 for the term flagellum, a sort-of whip-like tail used as a propeller amongst a select few cell types; not to be confused with cilia, which are tiny hair-like fronds which gently oscillate in a “wave ‘em like you just don’t care!” sort of manner. There are no cilia on sperm, of course, but you knew that already).
Not sure if he realised my hand was a bit wet or not; if he did I hope he didn’t put two and two together, and I also hope I didn’t have a wet spot on the front of my nice ice-blue boardies since I was kinda freeballing at the time because I didn’t bother to dress properly when he knocked. He doesn’t strike me as the sort of guy to have ever had another man’s come on him, so there’s something he can strike off his Bucket List, eh? Perhaps I should tell him that.
Perhaps not.
Anyway, he seems like a nice enough guy. We shot the shit for a bit and he mentioned that when they get settled he was thinking about joining the gym, so I did my part and tried to sell him on mine as the better option of the two chains operating near enough to our neighbourhood – I get three free months’ additional membership for every referral, so why not? We’re going to head up there probably sometime this week, him as my guest since the gym allows you to bring someone in for a free session once a month, so he can check the place out. He’s pretty big and in pretty good nick and I presume thus that he knows what he’s doing in a gym; if we end up going together and he can help me build a decent routine it will be a plus for me, that’s for sure.
In other news, Kim’s party was largely unremarkable – disappointing, I’m sure you’ll agree; the pay-off being hardly worth the setup of a few entries ago – and proof of the pudding, assuming that you’re attempting to eat a sweetly flavoured helping of “if you don’t expect too much, you can’t be let down.” I did get to introduce my old mates to some of my varsity mates – turns out Paolo from the football side and Gareth kinda know each other already because one of Paolo's mates does Economics tutorials in the same group as Gareth so they've met before. Alas, Trevor wisely didn’t scale-up the charm after meeting Kim’s Paul, Victoria didn’t try to get all holier than all of us even though we drank ourselves into a coma, and Paul’s crew kept mostly to themselves and didn’t murder anyone even slightly. I could tell before we got there that Gareth and Al were quite nervous to be around The Crew - old habits die hard, after all - although Ben was being rather positive about it all. Other Paul did remind me about needing a car stolen for the insurance, though, but on the whole it was all a bit of a let-down.
Oh, and Brent and his penchant for showing off his monster schlong didn’t attend, either.
That aside, it’s a new quarter. Same course and prac schedule as previously for the next three months; I’ll have a few different modules and stuff in the second semester, but it’s status quo for now. And the football league starts up next week – Dulce and Cubana are looking forward to it. Thanks to Ian, I’m ready for it. Happy times!
On the minus side, no more sessions needed with Ian. Sad times.
-C
Things I like: five-star orgasms
Yes, you’re reading that correctly – last night I did indeed manage to fire up the ol’ firehose and drown the burning desire in my belly with a rather capacious volume of semen. Fuck me, it was good. I was left to my own devices while the family were out and about – not sure where; don’t really care, if I’m honest – for an hour or so and I just went to it. I’m not sure I should put this into too much detail because it would simply be gratuitous; however, for the sake of completeness I will make a few notes.
So I was left alone and pretty much as soon as I was sure they weren’t going to come back for something, I stripped down to just my old water-resistant watch and my new tan, and I lay back on my bed, propped up on my pillow with my knees bent and legs spread. It is a position I hope to take with another actual human on top of me at some point, preferably soon; additionally, it is a position in which I hope to find someone waiting for me at some point in the proceedings. A small tube of Nivea Visage facial moisturiser is what I use as an aid when not in the shower, since unlike Foreign Parts as discussed by people on teh interwebz you can’t just buy lube at any old store here in .za. How repressed are we as a society?
I didn’t even need any of my visual material this time around, nor even rude thoughts of MM or anyone else – it’s been twenty five days since I could last do this; ridiculous at my age. I’ve been popping a titanium-hard cockstand just doing mundane things like eating cornflakes for breakfast, so pretty much as I was unvelcroing – it is a word if I say it is – my boardies my knob was already getting up to its full 6-and-a-bit-actually-closer-to-7-really inches and making a fairly impressive tent in my undies, which I then whipped off with a theatrical flourish (and I’ll admit that I might have even sounded a small and triumphant but poorly-executed imitation fanfare) and the resultant satisfying slap of big, manly erection bouncing back up against stomach. I’ve neglected the weekly haircut for the last couple sessions, too, so I got a good look at my macho pelvic stubble while prepping with a small, pea-sized dollop of the cream all over my bits and pieces. I know it’s weird to be turned on looking at yourself, but cards on the table – I definitely was.
I was ready to really take it slow and work myself up to breaking point a few times before letting go, but I kinda overshot the point of no return on the second go already and was forced to quickly crank it up and hold off for as many seconds as I could (five, maybe; no need to get the Guinness guys on the phone) while clenching my toes and pistoning the ol’ elbow up to max rpm when it hit.
J3sus, did it hit. Pow! The first noisy wave lifted me up to an almost sitting position, the second even noisier wave nearly knocked me off my bed and I narrowly avoided being blinded by a wayward blob of flying come, fired up into orbit around my skull like it was propelled by NASA’s own throbbing six-inch crotch-rocket sitting on the launch gantry (which happens to quite strongly resemble a Batman duvet cover).
The following waves – I lost count, if I’m honest, but they were numerous – hit like a series of punches to the gut and when I had finally stopped moaning and recovered enough breath to sit up again and look at the damage, there was semen everywhere. Oh my days, what a massacre; it was like Cumageddon, which was only in the Director’s Cut of the Book of Revelation. Easily five or six times my usual volume, thick and warm and all over the fucking place – in my pubes, dripping down the shaft, all over both my hands, my treasure trail, several spermy falls cascading down both sides of my torso onto the bed below (Pro tip: Charley says be prepared and always lie on a towel, kids!), and even some up on my neck in a veritable string of gooey pearls, just like in the porn. The one which nearly blinded me had left an artful splat on the wall behind my head and was slowly metamorphosing under the inexorable effects of gravity, heading leisurely down to the carpet.
It took a while to clean everything up since there was so much of it; I was just getting done and thinking about Round 2 when there was a knock on the door. I wasn’t going to answer, but I did in the end. Quickly pulled on my boardies and went through and opened it and there was a youngish slightly older guy, probably about 23 or so, holding an envelope addressed to my mom. Turns out he’s the new neighbour and they got some of our mail on Friday so he was bringing it over. Mom has mentioned them a couple of times, but this was my first meeting with either of them – a young couple, Cecilia and, would you believe it, another Trevor (better looking than my Trevor, too!).
He introduces himself, sticks out a hand, I do likewise and as just before he takes it I notice I’ve missed a spot and before I can do anything about it New Trevor has some few million of my sperm swimming up his fingers with their tiny flagella powering them through a little bit of leftover man-jam (thanks to Cell Biology 100 for the term flagellum, a sort-of whip-like tail used as a propeller amongst a select few cell types; not to be confused with cilia, which are tiny hair-like fronds which gently oscillate in a “wave ‘em like you just don’t care!” sort of manner. There are no cilia on sperm, of course, but you knew that already).
Not sure if he realised my hand was a bit wet or not; if he did I hope he didn’t put two and two together, and I also hope I didn’t have a wet spot on the front of my nice ice-blue boardies since I was kinda freeballing at the time because I didn’t bother to dress properly when he knocked. He doesn’t strike me as the sort of guy to have ever had another man’s come on him, so there’s something he can strike off his Bucket List, eh? Perhaps I should tell him that.
Perhaps not.
Anyway, he seems like a nice enough guy. We shot the shit for a bit and he mentioned that when they get settled he was thinking about joining the gym, so I did my part and tried to sell him on mine as the better option of the two chains operating near enough to our neighbourhood – I get three free months’ additional membership for every referral, so why not? We’re going to head up there probably sometime this week, him as my guest since the gym allows you to bring someone in for a free session once a month, so he can check the place out. He’s pretty big and in pretty good nick and I presume thus that he knows what he’s doing in a gym; if we end up going together and he can help me build a decent routine it will be a plus for me, that’s for sure.
In other news, Kim’s party was largely unremarkable – disappointing, I’m sure you’ll agree; the pay-off being hardly worth the setup of a few entries ago – and proof of the pudding, assuming that you’re attempting to eat a sweetly flavoured helping of “if you don’t expect too much, you can’t be let down.” I did get to introduce my old mates to some of my varsity mates – turns out Paolo from the football side and Gareth kinda know each other already because one of Paolo's mates does Economics tutorials in the same group as Gareth so they've met before. Alas, Trevor wisely didn’t scale-up the charm after meeting Kim’s Paul, Victoria didn’t try to get all holier than all of us even though we drank ourselves into a coma, and Paul’s crew kept mostly to themselves and didn’t murder anyone even slightly. I could tell before we got there that Gareth and Al were quite nervous to be around The Crew - old habits die hard, after all - although Ben was being rather positive about it all. Other Paul did remind me about needing a car stolen for the insurance, though, but on the whole it was all a bit of a let-down.
Oh, and Brent and his penchant for showing off his monster schlong didn’t attend, either.
That aside, it’s a new quarter. Same course and prac schedule as previously for the next three months; I’ll have a few different modules and stuff in the second semester, but it’s status quo for now. And the football league starts up next week – Dulce and Cubana are looking forward to it. Thanks to Ian, I’m ready for it. Happy times!
On the minus side, no more sessions needed with Ian. Sad times.
-C
Oh, my. You do have a way with words.
Here are just a few of the phrases that gave me a .... smile:
«popping a titanium-hard cockstand»
«as I was unvelcroing – it is a word if I say it is – my boardies»
«my knob was already getting up to its full 6-and-a-bit-actually-closer-to-7-really inches»
«the resultant satisfying slap of big, manly erection bouncing back up against stomach»
«a good look at my macho pelvic stubble»
«I narrowly avoided being blinded by a wayward blob of flying come, fired up into orbit around my skull like it was propelled by NASA’s own throbbing six-inch crotch-rocket sitting on the launch gantry »
«it was like Cumageddon, which was only in the Director’s Cut of the Book of Revelation»
«all over the fucking place – in my pubes, dripping down the shaft, all over both my hands, my treasure trail, several spermy falls cascading down both sides of my torso onto the bed below»
Thanks, -d-! Your writing is very good! And so are your creativity and imagination.
Here are just a few of the phrases that gave me a .... smile:
«popping a titanium-hard cockstand»
«as I was unvelcroing – it is a word if I say it is – my boardies»
«my knob was already getting up to its full 6-and-a-bit-actually-closer-to-7-really inches»
«the resultant satisfying slap of big, manly erection bouncing back up against stomach»
«a good look at my macho pelvic stubble»
«I narrowly avoided being blinded by a wayward blob of flying come, fired up into orbit around my skull like it was propelled by NASA’s own throbbing six-inch crotch-rocket sitting on the launch gantry »
«it was like Cumageddon, which was only in the Director’s Cut of the Book of Revelation»
«all over the fucking place – in my pubes, dripping down the shaft, all over both my hands, my treasure trail, several spermy falls cascading down both sides of my torso onto the bed below»
Thanks, -d-! Your writing is very good! And so are your creativity and imagination.
Craiger
JUB Addict
Glad to see the family finally gave Charley some free time. Twenty-five days would give anyone blue balls. Also glad for Trevor's sake there isn't an acidic content to the man-jam or he would certainly have felt that handshake..... He still may have and we may find out when they trot off to the gym.
Sorry Kim's bash was so disappointing. At least there was a few drinks to be had. Maybe he will find it more fun when Uncle Joe comes to visit... I'm rooting for good old Uncle Joe.
Craiger
Sorry Kim's bash was so disappointing. At least there was a few drinks to be had. Maybe he will find it more fun when Uncle Joe comes to visit... I'm rooting for good old Uncle Joe.
Craiger
B
blackbeltninja
Guest
Thanks, you guys. I'm having more fun with this bit of writing than the others I've had a crack at over the years and I'm pretty amped that it seems to be getting a fairly good reception.
Jake - I write like I talk. Let's hope we get that Brazil 2014 trip off the ground and I'll bombard you with it in person for as long as you can stand it
Craiger - yeah, Kim's bash was a borefest. Alas, this part is actually semi-factual from my own undergrad days; a bummer indeed for Kim!
-d-
Jake - I write like I talk. Let's hope we get that Brazil 2014 trip off the ground and I'll bombard you with it in person for as long as you can stand it
Craiger - yeah, Kim's bash was a borefest. Alas, this part is actually semi-factual from my own undergrad days; a bummer indeed for Kim!
-d-
B
blackbeltninja
Guest
Thursday 17 April 2008
Things I can’t take seriously: Mr Questions. I mean honestly, mate, fuck off, would you?
Okay, so there is going to be some chronic excitement at home. You’ll never guess what I found in the outside bin when I was surreptitiously throwing away some unrelated stuff of my own in the big bin outside under cover of darkness? Well, I guess it was related, in a way, since... never mind. Still, I found a Home Pregnancy Test box! A bit more digging and, under a mound of not-exactly photogenic and largely rotting uneaten cat-food, jackpot – a positive test, with two dark blue stripes. I’m guessing my little Ms Goody Two-Shoes sister – not Miss, note; it’s Ms – Mandy is up the duff! A bit of a surprise, really, since as far as I know she’s not seeing anyone, but you hardly need to be in a relationship to get yourself accidentally knocked up. So much for her massively feminist/pseudo militant lesbianesque stance on the uselessness of men, since I’m pretty sure she can’t go to a sperm bank at almost 17. Of course that latter assumption also raises the preposterous notion that she wants a kid while still at high school, and if that’s the case I’ll eat my hat. We’re not stupid, my family, with a long history of being fairly bright and if Mandy is indeed preggers then it’s a fuck up in every sense of that very useful, ubiquitous, and wholly appropriate phrase.
The trick now is keeping mum while trying to find out a bit more. I think it might be time for some Facebook stalking. Unfortunately the ol’ FB will be overloaded this coming weekend, since it’s her 17th birthday on Sunday and if I know teenagers and Facebook... On that note, I supposed I’d better go get her a gift. Fortunately I managed to save a bit from last month; waiting tables being not always lucrative and my not-quite-excessive-but-also-not-quite-not partying being a deadly combination when you’re not exactly swimming in money. I guess a Congrats! You’re Expecting! card instead of a birthday one will be more than a touch off-side, although it will be extremely fucking funny.
Thinking about this a bit, I should probably be more empathetic at this point than I actually do feel; currently I’m more amused than anything else and I’m not sure that’s a rational response to something of this nature. I mean, potentially I’m only a few months away from being an uncle; and more than that, it appears that even my predictable, dull and uber-conservative younger sister has had more sex than I have. How about you let me catch a break, Mr G_d, huh? Yeesh, this has got beyond ridiculous. I’m this close ---> <----, just nanometres away from auctioning my virginity off on eBay, offering a cut of the money to charity to buy myself a smattering of redemption in the process.
Last practice for D&C today with our first game next Tuesday. We’re the last match of the day on the roster, kicking off with just 15 minutes of Lunch period remaining and I will have to hustle to get to the prac afterwards. We’re playing another group of newbs called Meads United; I can tell they’re new too because their current log position from last season is, like ours, a one of these: – Anyway, it will rule. And hopefully we don’t get prison-raped; although at least that would be sex of a sort for me...
Mr Questions – my G_d, what a freak. It’s 2008, for shit’s sake, when did anyone last take short shorts out in public as their preferred choice of workwear? I do most fervently hope and pray that he’s not getting any sex here at varsity, because that would be hideously unfair and prove that G_d himself likes nothing more than a good joke and enjoys pointing and laughing at all the rest of us. In Chem today we were asked a question, and with this Prof every question is possibly for one of his magical bonus-1%-at-the-end-of-the-semester vouchers, about the densest element known to man. I guess mercury, but not aloud. Prof gave some clues and I realised what it was; I say “osmium” under my breath, which is correct. Mr Questions practically came in his pants waving his arm around trying to give his answer.
When Prof continually overlooked him, he resorted to calling out “over here, Professor” in a taunting, sing-song manner; it was simultaneously the funniest, scariest and saddest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You could feel the collective pity (girls) and disdain (guys and Prof) mount in the air; real, proper resentment, like the type you reserve for bible-bashers who knock on your door when you’re trying to watch porn and beggars who surprise you as you take your cash from an ATM so you can’t pretend to not have any money on you. I don’t think any male in the room was not envisaging putting their fist through his face at that point.
Eventually, determined to not take the hint, Mr Q blurts out “I say iridium!” and looks around at us, all bright-eyed, chest heaving, triumphant and conquering and looking like he was waiting for all of us to pay homage and lay the spoils of war at his feet while sucking his notably-uglier-than-mine winkie (did I mention mine was nicer than his? It is, you know. Much nicer). You could hear the smug satisfaction in Prof’s voice as he politely replied “you are wrong, sir” and, I shit you not, a loud and obnoxious titter went around the room. Oh, what a beautiful morning it was! I don’t even feel bad for gloating, such is the overwhelming power of Mr Q’s twattishness.
Finally Kim says “is it osmium?” and Prof beams at her and then decides it’s worth it and hands her one of his gift vouchers, redeemable for an extra 1% for her end-of-course mark! I didn’t even think that was allowed, but apparently I’m wrong, and now that heifer has my extra 1%.
There's a lesson in that, somewhere. I think it's probably carpe diem. Right... excuse me while I stand on my desk for a second.
-C
Things I can’t take seriously: Mr Questions. I mean honestly, mate, fuck off, would you?
Okay, so there is going to be some chronic excitement at home. You’ll never guess what I found in the outside bin when I was surreptitiously throwing away some unrelated stuff of my own in the big bin outside under cover of darkness? Well, I guess it was related, in a way, since... never mind. Still, I found a Home Pregnancy Test box! A bit more digging and, under a mound of not-exactly photogenic and largely rotting uneaten cat-food, jackpot – a positive test, with two dark blue stripes. I’m guessing my little Ms Goody Two-Shoes sister – not Miss, note; it’s Ms – Mandy is up the duff! A bit of a surprise, really, since as far as I know she’s not seeing anyone, but you hardly need to be in a relationship to get yourself accidentally knocked up. So much for her massively feminist/pseudo militant lesbianesque stance on the uselessness of men, since I’m pretty sure she can’t go to a sperm bank at almost 17. Of course that latter assumption also raises the preposterous notion that she wants a kid while still at high school, and if that’s the case I’ll eat my hat. We’re not stupid, my family, with a long history of being fairly bright and if Mandy is indeed preggers then it’s a fuck up in every sense of that very useful, ubiquitous, and wholly appropriate phrase.
The trick now is keeping mum while trying to find out a bit more. I think it might be time for some Facebook stalking. Unfortunately the ol’ FB will be overloaded this coming weekend, since it’s her 17th birthday on Sunday and if I know teenagers and Facebook... On that note, I supposed I’d better go get her a gift. Fortunately I managed to save a bit from last month; waiting tables being not always lucrative and my not-quite-excessive-but-also-not-quite-not partying being a deadly combination when you’re not exactly swimming in money. I guess a Congrats! You’re Expecting! card instead of a birthday one will be more than a touch off-side, although it will be extremely fucking funny.
Thinking about this a bit, I should probably be more empathetic at this point than I actually do feel; currently I’m more amused than anything else and I’m not sure that’s a rational response to something of this nature. I mean, potentially I’m only a few months away from being an uncle; and more than that, it appears that even my predictable, dull and uber-conservative younger sister has had more sex than I have. How about you let me catch a break, Mr G_d, huh? Yeesh, this has got beyond ridiculous. I’m this close ---> <----, just nanometres away from auctioning my virginity off on eBay, offering a cut of the money to charity to buy myself a smattering of redemption in the process.
Last practice for D&C today with our first game next Tuesday. We’re the last match of the day on the roster, kicking off with just 15 minutes of Lunch period remaining and I will have to hustle to get to the prac afterwards. We’re playing another group of newbs called Meads United; I can tell they’re new too because their current log position from last season is, like ours, a one of these: – Anyway, it will rule. And hopefully we don’t get prison-raped; although at least that would be sex of a sort for me...
Mr Questions – my G_d, what a freak. It’s 2008, for shit’s sake, when did anyone last take short shorts out in public as their preferred choice of workwear? I do most fervently hope and pray that he’s not getting any sex here at varsity, because that would be hideously unfair and prove that G_d himself likes nothing more than a good joke and enjoys pointing and laughing at all the rest of us. In Chem today we were asked a question, and with this Prof every question is possibly for one of his magical bonus-1%-at-the-end-of-the-semester vouchers, about the densest element known to man. I guess mercury, but not aloud. Prof gave some clues and I realised what it was; I say “osmium” under my breath, which is correct. Mr Questions practically came in his pants waving his arm around trying to give his answer.
When Prof continually overlooked him, he resorted to calling out “over here, Professor” in a taunting, sing-song manner; it was simultaneously the funniest, scariest and saddest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You could feel the collective pity (girls) and disdain (guys and Prof) mount in the air; real, proper resentment, like the type you reserve for bible-bashers who knock on your door when you’re trying to watch porn and beggars who surprise you as you take your cash from an ATM so you can’t pretend to not have any money on you. I don’t think any male in the room was not envisaging putting their fist through his face at that point.
Eventually, determined to not take the hint, Mr Q blurts out “I say iridium!” and looks around at us, all bright-eyed, chest heaving, triumphant and conquering and looking like he was waiting for all of us to pay homage and lay the spoils of war at his feet while sucking his notably-uglier-than-mine winkie (did I mention mine was nicer than his? It is, you know. Much nicer). You could hear the smug satisfaction in Prof’s voice as he politely replied “you are wrong, sir” and, I shit you not, a loud and obnoxious titter went around the room. Oh, what a beautiful morning it was! I don’t even feel bad for gloating, such is the overwhelming power of Mr Q’s twattishness.
Finally Kim says “is it osmium?” and Prof beams at her and then decides it’s worth it and hands her one of his gift vouchers, redeemable for an extra 1% for her end-of-course mark! I didn’t even think that was allowed, but apparently I’m wrong, and now that heifer has my extra 1%.
There's a lesson in that, somewhere. I think it's probably carpe diem. Right... excuse me while I stand on my desk for a second.
-C
Is that turmoil at home on the horizon? 
Thanks, -d-, for another good installment.
Thanks, -d-, for another good installment.
Craiger
JUB Addict
Sounds to me that Charley has had quite a nice day. Well, night and then day. That is except for the fact that he is still desperate for that tumble in the hay. Maybe Mr. G_d will show some mercy soon...
He better be careful in gloating too much as being an uncle may mean the dreaded "baby sitting." It will be interesting to see how the family reacts to the joyous news...
Craiger
He better be careful in gloating too much as being an uncle may mean the dreaded "baby sitting." It will be interesting to see how the family reacts to the joyous news...
Craiger
