happy fucking new year

as i count down the final hours of 2012, i’m reflecting on what a wonderful year it’s been, and how i’ve shared some wonderful tales of debauchery with you all.

nah, i’m not reflecting on anything….
i just wanna get pissed, kiss a few strangers, get a blow job in the back of the taxi from my best mate’s girlfriend, and then pass out in the gutter in front of my house.

happy new year, you diirrty pervs 😉

risk of poetry

you switched off the lights so that only the Christmas tree lit the room. i felt hot from the beating that the day’s sun gave me, yet the southerly change chilled my skin, enough to have me welcoming the warmth of your breast on my chest. the sounds of the city wafted in from the streets below, but not enough to distract me from the sound of your kisses, as you now move to your knees on the carpet in front of me. when you take me in your mouth, we both instinctively know, and acknowledge this with a shared wry smile, that the risk had been worth it. worth it for this, and what lies ahead for the rest of the night. you’re perfect, and you have me all wrapped up in your lustful web. as my climax builds, i think about how we could possibly write together, of these poetic moments.

the Rebecca flirtation

I wasn’t sure if I’d write about this, and if I did, how I’d write it. I guess, I’ll just write it as it happened.

As many of you will know, I get out of town a bit, and I’m quite fond of the experience of air travel. The whole vibe of travel is just something I don’t get tired of. I love the buzz in the airport, the anticipation of take off, the feeling of being so high in the air, and the final landing knowing that you’re finally where you need to be. Of course, a friendly air hostess has fuelled many of my writing fantasies.

Something you probably see all the time, but it’s beautiful, right?
photo 4-1

Last week, I had the opportunity to once again travel interstate and this time I was able to do so for business and pleasure. Fortunately, the business part of my trip was only short and I was able to spend several days catching up with friends and family before Christmas.

After a busy few days, I boarded my flight to return home and I recognised a hostess from the flight just a few days before. I caught her name from the tag on her jacket – Rebecca. She honestly was a girl next door type. She had long blonde hair, pulled back in a simple pony tail, and wore plain pearl earrings. Slim without being skinny. Around 5′ 9″. In fact, almost everything about Rebecca was nice without being stunning, except her smile. Her smile was goddam perfect.

During the pre-flight safety demonstration, I was messing about by reciting the words as they came over the PA system. I glanced up at Rebecca while doing so and I caught her smiling at me, and then she looked away. This happened several times, and I was enjoying the attention. As the flight went on, Rebecca passed me several times, but only occasionally looked my way. I thought the fun was over. If I were to try to grab her attention again, she might think I was creepy.

As meals and drinks were being served, her cart stopped a few rows before mine. I looked up from my book to find Rebecca looking directly at me. I smiled, and she returned her goddam perfect smile right back at me. We held eye contact I guess for only a few seconds, but if felt like a lot longer.

Eventually, the cart made it’s way to my aisle and I ordered a white wine. Of course, Rebecca was charming and friendly but no more than any other hostess. Again, thinking that I might have overstepped the mark, I settled back and enjoyed my wine.

photo 2

The remainder of the flight was fairly uneventful. I was glad to be getting home in time for Christmas, and I was glad to have had a fleeting flirtation with the lovely Rebecca. I pondered how I might write something diirrty about her, and conjured up a fantasy about grabbing her long blonde pigtail in my fist as she sucked my cock. I think she would have kept her hostess uniform on, but her jacket and blouse would have been unbuttoned.

As the crew were clearing rubbish, I noticed something on my napkin as I went to wipe my mouth.


Adrenaline raced through me as I read her note. I had not misread the cues. I had not overstepped the mark. This was actually (surprisingly?) the first time a woman had handed me her number, out of the blue. I could not believe my luck. There’s a first time for everything I suppose, but an air hostess with a goddam perfect smile? My heart pounded a million miles an hour as I anticipated our final contact as I exited the plane. Unfortunately she was at the back stairs, and I had to exit at the front. Goddam!

Last night, I sent her a simple text.
You have the perfect smile.

This morning, she replied.
I like your smile too. When’s your next flight? Coffee? Merry Christmas.

versions of grabbing

the art of fucking involves grabbing. i will use my hands on you, and there are two ways it can go.

if you’re curvy, i’ll find a pound of curve for each hand to grab, and i’ll use it. the proverbial ‘love handles’ will have me working you out.

if you’re trim, i’ll wrap my palms around the bones of your hips and fuck you like a demon. you’ll think that i’m fucking possessed.

file this away… we would both prefer version two of this story.

he didn’t care

as his hand wrapped around his hard cock, and he saw the Tag Heuer that was wrapped around his wrist,

he realised

that it was worth more than the trailer that he stood before, watching the fat white trailer trash, fucking, fucking, fucking, through the open window,

but he didn’t care.

they were disgusting, he knows
but he didn’t care

he could get caught, he knows
but he didn’t care

he just didn’t, didn’t, didn’t, oh, fuck, he just didn’t, didn’t, didn’t fucking care

diirrty santa

well, it’s not long until christmas and diirrty santa has just realised he doesn’t know what all of you naughty girls out there want stuffed in your stocking!

so, imagine you’re sitting on diirrty’s knee right now and we’re having our photo taken by my lovely assistant in the red corset and fuck-me pumps. you whisper in my ear what you really, really want for christmas….

what is it?