Last night i did a strange thing,something most alien to me now,i sat down and watched some television through a bottle of chardonnay,i have not really watched much television since July 1989..if i have watched more than fifty hours worth in that time warp it has been allot.
Why did i then sit down last night,perhaps i thought this new series about how Britain was built would be good for my soul,spear some calmness amongst the ghosts of the past.Britain which ever way it is dressed up was built on the backs of the great unwashed,there was to my delight a small mention on wages of those bygone days equaled out into days prices.The comparison was over the wool on a sheep's back £20 for the rich land lord one shilling a week for the man who held the shears.Nothing then, has changed since the middle ages.When the Normans invaded they sure bum fucked the peasants,and the story still goes on to day some 700 years later.
The one bright spark was that the bottle of wine was worth it,softening the anger to the point of ho-hum,which is perhaps why the government does not ban such drinks from the supermarket shelves,who indeed are the brainless,do i class myself as one..??
There was one diamond though the following programme was on the punk rock era credited as being 30 years old this year....just seeing the Sex Pistols...singing " Pretty Vacant " made me wonder where all that passion had gone,no doubt sold out to the green pound note,infact the green pound note no longer exists today...aaarhhh..i say to my self.
As i sit here now i know why i have side swiped the television from my life,for me it is purely propaganda fed by those that can...to those who have not..it is not the point of not having..but simply for me the ramming down my throat everyday of crap to keep me from crawling from under the chipped stone and saying hey..WTF'S..going on.
Down my throat i would rather have a slippery cock,feel it pumping away,feel that hot flush spurt forth into my mouth,though the last one was hardly that a sort of it's all i have,so take it or leave it, which i do not mind,or do i. Trying to find a cock to suck in my position can be a battle weary enough to fight in the front rank of the forlorn hope regiment...some where i do, not want to visit,this coming winter.
The cock i sucked some weeks back now just dribbled,a salty ball of confusion,i did hope for a repeat performance,judging by his repeated words on how good i was and it was nice to see someone who can suck cocks good..
However life does strange things to you, gives you a pinch when you want a hand full and i think why me,why am i a cocksucker,something with a ho-hum, perhaps,was i just a strike off the fantasy list of wants...
I stripped off my female attire and came home to loose myself in this machine until the "..what if..", has been diluted,to myself looking back and smiling ho-hum and saving the best bits to dwell on,there is something about feeling a mans cock grow hard in the mouth, that power one feels when the back muscles on the legs of the one who's cock you are sucking begins to buckle bringing the uncontrollable urge when his hands grip the back of your head to pump away,i suppose you could compare it to a horse race..but who is the jockey,the man on his knees sucking and controlling the depth or the man desperate to cross the finish line empty...who knows who really cares.That is the strangeness once the seed is emptied,the switch off rushes up the mountain,one minute the screen is full of deep throat,the next it is flicked to a quiz programme...aaaarrhhh yes i thought ho-hum....