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Sunday 1st July 2007: Mid-week our washing machine decided it had done one wash too many and died mid-cycle, the repairman failed in all efforts to resuscitate it so I ordered a new one, a machine I mean not a repairman and on Friday duly waited in all morning, as pre-arranged, for the new machine to be delivered and plumbed in, but did it happen did it shit! I tried phoning the shop I’d bought it from only to find the number permanently engaged. The bloke finally turned up at six o’ clock on Friday evening; apparently he’d had a difficult day, well boo-hoo. I told him that a phone call to say he was behind schedule might have been nice to which he retorted that he wasn’t fucking married to me and while he might have to put up with that kind of nagging from his wife he didn’t have to put up with it from me. I lost my temper and told him that if he took as long to come in the bedroom as he did to come and do his fucking job his wife must be one happy lady either that or bored out of her skull. Okay, I admit the remark was overly personal and well out of order, but still there was no need for the bastard to throw a punch at me, I saw it coming and kind of stepped back so that I didn’t get the full force of it, still it was hard enough. Shane arrived home to find the old washing machine still in situ, the new one dumped on the drive in the pouring rain and the houseboy trying to stem a nosebleed with a tea towel. He was not pleased. I can’t say I was too chuffed either, especially as the blood from my nose was all over a favourite white t-shirt of mine and there I was machineless, I was even less chuffed when Shane gave me a bollocking for making what had admittedly been an annoying situation much worse with my wilful inability to control my temper and my mouth, one does not make personal remarks like that to anyone let alone tradesmen BEFORE they complete the fucking job you want them to complete and it was about time I grew up. Now, it’s no secret that I like dominant men, but you know dominant men who insist on dominating when you’d really rather they didn’t because well, it’s just not convenient, can be very difficult to cope with. I was due to go out with Lee on Friday night, I haven’t seen him in ages and we’d arranged to meet up. Shane grounded me. I was furious and argued with him. Arguing with Daddy is bad enough, turning your back on him and storming out of the room when he is explaining his decision to ground you (not that he has to explain anything) is beyond the pale and a challenge to his authority that can’t be ignored, and it wasn’t and that’s as much as I’m saying, there are some things that happen between a boy and his Daddy that are just too private. Shane called the shop on Saturday morning and an hour after he set the receiver down our new machine was in place and working and the old one had been taken away. I told Shane that I didn’t want an issue making of the punch, looking back I could see that fed up and frustrated at being kept hanging about all day I’d helped hype the situation up and hadn’t really given the bloke much chance to do anything but go straight on the defensive as soon as he arrived on scene. I finally got around to checking my emails today, I go through phases when it all seems like too much effort to open my inbox and have a look, oh come on I hear you say, how hard is it to press a few buttons, well actually it can be very hard depending on the weather and my mood. Talking of hard, one of my emails was in search of my advice asking me, “Gilli, how long should I use MegaDik Pills?” Well Alex, that’s a very difficult question to answer, I mean I suppose it depends on how Mega you want your Dik to be, just simply adding the letter ‘C’ might give it all the extra length you need. However, if you’re talking so Mega that it requires a wheelbarrow to trundle it around then really I have no clue, just keeping the tablets until it gets to the size that suits bearing in mind that it might just explode and not in a good way if you take too many. Junk mail eh, don’t you just love it when it finds its way out of the bulk folder into inbox, its usually the Viagra ones that do it, the Spam folder obviously isn’t big enough to contain such monsters. Dick once broached the subject of Viagra with Shane who sweetly said, “ I don’t fucking think so, there are days when we have to beat you off with a stick as it is, if you take Viagra I’m moving out and I’m taking the baby with me.” Christ, he wouldn’t need to take me I’d be a few hundred yards in front of him, well away from a Viagra loaded Dick. The fantasy of a shagging marathon is all very well, but I suspect the reality might not be as half as appealing. Among other things I’d end up with brain damage from my head thumping a frantic tattoo against the headboard. It’s actually stopped raining this afternoon, though for how long is anyone’s guess and it’s July already, the summer will be over soon. Dick and I are off to the cinema this afternoon to see The Rise Of The Silver Surfer. Shane is above such ‘inane’ comic book frivolity and has declined to accompany us. I love going to the pictures with Dick, mind you I’ll have to be strict with him when it comes to the pick and mix counter, too many ‘E’ numbers and it plays havoc with his libido, the silver surfer won’t be the only thing that’s rising if he gets his hands on too many sweeties. Saturday 7th July 2007: The post was really early this morning, the postie must have pissed her bed, either that or she was clearing her workload so she could knock off early and travel down to London for the weekend to lead her double life. Plain postal worker by day, hot lesbian by night, honest I’m not kidding. Lynn, the post lady in question, comes from one of those big extended families that seem to live in each other’s pockets and all know each other’s business, only what they don’t know is that Lynn is gay and she wants to keep it that way, them not knowing I mean, obviously she intends to keep on being gay, it’s not something you can switch off that easily. Whenever she can she trots off down to London to meet up with gay friends and lovers and embrace the gay lifestyle and scene, then she comes back up North and delivers the post and gets on with being Lynn, daughter, sister, auntie, cousin, the one still looking for Mister Right, only there is no Mister Right and never will be, not unless he chews his nuts off and has them implanted as breasts. I asked her why she didn’t just Come Out and she said that she didn’t want to, she’s more comfortable being her true self well away from the friends and family she grew up with. I suppose we all have to find a way of being ourselves in a way that feels comfortable to ourselves. Anyway, the personal life of post people aside (Dick loves the fact that I get all the gossip on everyone, he said before I came on scene he thought he and Shane had elected to live in the dullest place on earth among paragons of virtue with only he and Shane sounding a different note when in fact he and Shane were almost conservative compared to some. Shane says if I spent less time gobbing to all and sundry I’d get more work done) Lynn, in her capacity as representative of the royal mail delivered a package to me from the Isle of Jersey this morning and no, it was not a porno movie, how dare you, I am a chaste lad and beyond such depravity, beside I get all the porn I need online and at home. No, it was my latest online musical acquisition a cd by a band called Enter Shikari. I slipped it in the player, as you do, something I regretted as the vocalist tunefully bellowed at several million decibels: ‘SHIT!’ “What the HELL is that?” said Shane cordially once he’d finished choking on his breakfast, followed by, “at least the singer is honest, it is shit now turn it off and keep it off.” I must admit to being slightly taken aback myself by the intro and wisely complied with Daddy’s request that I turn it of. If I thought my quick compliance followed by a sweet apology and a fresh cup of coffee was going to sweeten his nibs I was mistaken, the shock to his auditory nerves had an unfortunate knock on effect and he deemed the time right to have a few words with me regarding some concerns he had, namely my single handed quest to keep postal workers in employment, as rarely a day went by without some parcel or other or several thudding onto the doormat and it was getting beyond a joke. I stiffly pointed out that how I spent my hard earned money was my own business and it wasn’t as if I was dipping into the household account for personal use. He stiffly pointed out that in this house I had no ‘own’ business and in his capacity as my Daddy he wanted to see my personal bank statements and accounts forthwith. It didn’t take him long to conclude that I was currently spending my hard earned cash several weeks ahead of having actually earned it, while the ‘crap’ I ordered online, most of which I didn’t need, steadily cluttered the place up. Result: I have to ask his permission before I buy anything for the remainder of this month and if he doesn’t deem it necessary I won’t be allowed to buy it. I wasn’t best suited and complained bitterly to Dick who hugged me sympathetically but said: ‘it’s for your own good honey.’ He wasn’t quite so blasé when Shane forbade him to play golf because he has a cold coming on and it was raining. I returned the: ‘its for your own good’ comment, getting a swift whack on the arse for being a clever clogs. Poor Dick, he couldn’t even sulk to his satisfaction because Shane confiscated his nail buffer, he was reduced to sitting on the sofa rubbing his nails against his jeans as he scanned the pages of The Guardian. Mind you, by this afternoon he was feeling and looking the worse for wear as his cold gained a rapid and savage grip on him and he didn’t protest when told to get off to bed. Shane asked if I still wanted to go out for dinner, but I said no I wasn’t much in the mood. We ended up just having smoked salmon sandwiches and a couple of beers; it was nicely informal in front of the telly with me cuddled on his lap while we watched a bit of the Live Earth concert (which to be honest I think on the whole and as viewed so far, has been extraordinarily tired and dull) Shane has gone up to comfort Dick in his misery and I’m writing this while chatting to Lee who is in the middle of a relationship crisis, he hasn’t got one, and is fearful that his cock will wither and die if it doesn’t get some live action soon, either that or file a lawsuit against his right hand for assault. I’ve told him, if he’s desperate for a straight woman then the best place to go is to a gay bar, because he’ll find plenty there, hiding out, thinking they’re safe from the advances of straight men while they enjoy themselves, he’s not convinced, he says with his luck he’ll end up groping a frock with a cock under it. I’m feeling tired, I’ll be off to bed myself soon I think. Saturday 21st July 2007: The doorbell rang at eight this morning, it was the signal for all hell to let loose. There was an undignified scramble as we each fought to be first out of bed and then there was the crash of footsteps on stairs as we raced to be first to open the door and thus be first in possession of the final Harry Potter book, which has been on order from Amazon since before Rowling even finished writing it. Naturally, being smallest, lightest and most agile, I, despite all sabotage attempts and dirty tricks, made it to the front door first. Shane tried to pull rank and demanded I hand the book over or he’d thrash me to within an inch of my life (Lie detector says OKAY you’ve pushed this far enough you mendacious houseboy, tell the truth) Oh alright, I won the race to the door because I was the only participant in it. I admit, I own up, I am, after initially being a scornful sceptic, one of those sad adults addicted to Harry and his struggles, possibly because I can identify with him: the put upon lad constantly battling the force of the Dark Lord, or Lords in my case. Dick and Shane are not HP devotees; the broomsticks featured and ridden aren’t of the type to engage their interest. Shane’s only input was to yell at me to put some knickers on as I scrambled over his body to answer the call of the bell. That said, he did actually demand that I hand the book over, but not for the purpose of reading it, but rather as an ad-lib tool with which to smartly tap an admonishment onto my bum when he came downstairs expecting to find breakfast and instead found me entrenched in the Deathly Hallows with not so much as a pot of coffee perking in the background. He ordered me to set the book aside until I’d carried out my obligations otherwise he’d confiscate it indefinitely. He can be a ruthless Daddy. Dick isn’t quite as immune to HP hysteria as he pretends to be and I caught him having a crafty flick through the pages with the intention of reading the last few to find out what happens, so he could loftily impart the ending should the subject come up anywhere. I grabbed it out of his hands and told him it was MINE and he couldn’t read it before I’d read it and he wasn’t to touch it again or I’d tell Daddy of him and further his chances of having his wand serviced by me would be negligible. Clapping a lordly hand to my arse he denounced me as a possessive little bastard and then went off to play Muggle Top Quidditch, or golf as it’s often known. He wasn’t out long; the ubiquitous rain dampened even his ardour for swiping at small balls with a stick today. He ended up lying on the couch playing golf on his psp instead and if you think he’s any less competitive on that than he is on the Green then think again, he mutters and grouses when it doesn’t go well, then Shane starts rumbling because it really gets on his nerves when Dick, or I for that matter, takes gaming, of any sort, too seriously. I’ve been quiet lately I know, first off I managed to catch Dick’s cold it was horrible, a really heavy one, I was sniffing, snotting and hacking for days on end. I just couldn’t shake it off. I’d get up one day thinking I was better and then next day I’d feel just as bad again if not worse. I’m still a bit snuffly, Shane slept on his own for a few nights because he said Dick and I were driving him mental with our coughing and when we weren’t coughing we were snoring due to having blocked noses. I also managed to incur Shane’s wrath and as Chief Warlock in charge he duly penalised me with the dreaded banishment and confinement curse (if you’ve got a theme, go with it, that’s what I say) In other words he banned me off the computer all last week and in addition sent me to bed early for the duration when he discovered that despite his instruction that I ask permission before buying anything online I’d gone ahead and bid for something on ebay, and not only that but paid well over the odds for it. It was last Saturday, I was surfing around looking for a copy of a comic, I’m a bit of a fan of Marvel comic books and very recently got into reading a series called The Avengers United which were among a batch of comics I bought from a car boot sale (Shane rolls his eyes and says its like living with a fucking 12 year old. Dick on the other hand sneaks them into the loo to read, he thinks I think it’s constipation that keeps his arse pinned to the seat for so long of a morning, but I know different) Anyway, I was missing one crucial edition and there it was, the issue of my desire, on ebay and I wanted it and with the current bid at 99p I was going to have it, so I put in a bid, a staggering £1.00, confidant that the mag would be mine, but some bastard outbid me, £1.25, I immediately cast a reckless £1.50 into the pot, but again was outbid. I was livid; it was probably some snotty 12 year old with unlimited pocket money. I had a strategy. With only something like eight minutes to go before the auction ended I was certain of my chances of winning by biding my time before sticking in a bid of £2.75 in the last few minutes. The little shit came straight back with a bid of £3.95. The heat was on. Bidding on ebay is addictive and really quite exciting, don’t you think, especially when you really want the thing you’re bidding for and the end of the auction is closing in. My competitive nature went into overdrive; I no longer cared about the item, in fact I lost sight of what it actually was, I just wanted to win and got totally carried away in the desire to beat my invisible opponent/s, I swear I broke out in a sweat as I confirmed each bid as the seconds ticked down. I won, but it cost me a tenner plus p&p. The adrenalin surge that came when I got notification saying I was the winner caused me to punch the air and utter sounds of a loud and triumphant nature, which were my undoing really as Shane wanted to know what I was cheering about. My elation was short lived. He’s a stickler for protocol and as far as he was concerned nothing excused my breach of it. It was my duty to obey and I hadn’t, he didn’t care if it had cost only 10p the fact was I’d infringed previously imposed discipline about buying online without his express permission and he wasn’t having it. To add insult to injury as well as a computer ban and early bedtime he coolly pointed out that if I’d put common sense into play and phoned or emailed the company that distributed the comic I probably could have got the back copy I wanted at the normal retail price of £2.50 plus p&p. Damn, I hadn’t thought of that. Comprehending my idiocy was more of a punishment than the punishment for breaking the rule. Oh well, being a bit dim and impulsive from time to time is part of my charm. Sad to say that being dim, impulsive and idiotic wasn’t just an isolated incident last week, the ebay farce paled into insignificance compared to what I did yesterday morning. As a consequence I ended up flat on my back on the hall floor with my legs up in the air as Shane spanked my buttocks and thighs like a man possessed. Christ, it really hurt, he was so angry and it showed in every slap he applied to my bare skin. I’m writing it up as a very brief chapter for my autobiography, I think it warrants a place and who knows maybe writing it will kick start me into doing more. I’ve found writing in that style hard lately, my interest just seemed to wane maybe because I’ve been preoccupied with other things. Worry blunts your mental capacity and makes everything seem like an effort too far. I started a chapter about my mother and our holiday together, but I just couldn’t get anywhere with it because it upset me to write about her even though she’s actually doing great at the moment, she’s away on a few days holiday with fuck face Frank, I shouldn’t say that really, he is her husband after all. I’m being called; it’s time to go. Click here for: A Short Train Journal, Or, The Derailment Of A Houseboy. Monday 23rd July 2007: I’ve linked the train passage up now; it just shows that you should never do things online when you’re pressed for time like I was on Saturday evening. I didn’t get chance to do the link ups before I had to sign out. I was busy yesterday; busy avoiding Dick and Shane that is so I could read Harry Potter in peace. I finished it yesterday evening. I’m not going to give anything away, but I’m telling you, don’t expect many belly laughs. It’s raining again, it’s so demoralising, the gardens are a mess the grass is desperate to be cut, but it’s just too wet to get the mower out, everything is bedraggled and muddy and my knot garden project looks to be doomed for this summer. I’d better go do some housework, Shane was grousing about the place being a mess and I suppose I have let things slip a bit over the weekend. Tuesday 24th July 2007: My skin has flared up again today, which is a bit depressing, for me anyway, I fully acknowledge that my having spots isn’t a tragedy on a world scale, it’s just a bothersome personal inconvenience and yes I ought to be grateful that the only current tragedy in my life is a face full of pimples, and I am, and yet still, for me, it’s upsetting, sometimes life’s little personal hurts seem more terrible than all the real cruel tragedies taking place in a world shrunk to a microcosm by modern communications…sometimes the sanest thing we can do is just accept our own little selfish tragedies, because we can do fuck all about the bigger, real ones that are paraded before our very eyes day in and day out via the TV etc. C, forgiveness, just found your song email; how I missed it I have no idea, right now, roses, a pick up truck and a 12-inch dick seem appealing. My two are currently otherwise engaged. Dick is working; he’s got a deadline pending and barely stopped to eat dinner this evening. Shane has hardly been off the phone with his sister Penny; she’s worried about their dad again. My mate Lee is in angst, he’s waiting to hear back from a woman he chatted up at Zanzibar (a nightclub) last Saturday night, they exchanged emails, mobile and landline numbers (i.e. he shoved a pre-printed card with all his contact details on it into her cleavage before the rush for last orders at the bar swallowed them up and they were separated) She is, he claims, ‘The One.’ Yeah, heard that one before Lee. Seriously, I hope she gets in touch with him. Lee’s a nice lad and he deserves a nice lass. Shane is off the phone and has just told me I have ten minutes to conclude whatever I’m doing, so I guess this is goodnight. Friday 27th July 2007: Just for a change it pissed down all day yesterday, it was torrential and the back garden ended up under water. I felt sorry for the birds, they needed flippers and a snorkel just to catch worms, and our resident rough robin took to cruising his territory in a little motorboat rigged with a machine gun. I watched helpless as he brought down two starlings, a pigeon, next door’s cat and an albatross that had strayed off its usual course (Lie detector gives me a certain look) okay, of course I jest, there’s no way an albatross would stray so far inland and of course a robin couldn’t possibly control a motorboat, it was actually in a rowing boat powered by some little sparrows that it had violently coerced into being galley slaves. It’s a feathered villain, I’ve reported it the RSPB and it’s had a couple of ASBO’S (anti-social bird orders) slapped on it, but to no avail, it snaps its beak in the face of authority. Leaving all inane joking aside, I had a very embarrassing experience yesterday, I’m blushing just thinking about it and I still haven’t got over it. It was Dick’s fault. He had a slow day at work, which consequently brought on a kink attack and he began texting me some very sexy little messages. Being cooped up in the house because of the rain meant I was also having a slow day and a bit of kinkiness seemed very appealing, so I responded, thrilling as he periodically text salacious details involving what he would be doing to me if he were in the same room. He then issued an order for me to don a cock ring, which being an obedient houseboy I did. It wasn’t too long before I got to a state of excitement that demanded release and text Dick, a message begging that Master call me at the very earliest opportunity and dirty talk his devoted slave to orgasm. He liked the idea of me cumming in his ear so to speak and told me that he’d call in due course and I wasn’t to touch myself until he gave me permission and instruction over the phone. I passed time looking at tasteful gay art on the net, which upped my excitement to the point where the gun was ready to shoot without a finger being laid on the trigger. Just as I thought I couldn’t last out a second longer the phone in the hall rang and I hurried forth, snatching up the receiver and panting into it, ‘about time too, I’m so hard my cock is ready to explode on its own,’ or words to that effect. My cock didn’t explode, but my heart just about did as a slightly shaky voice said, ‘its Sheila Forrest from the library Mr Brown, the cookbook you ordered has arrived.’ Shit, Jesus, Fuck, I nearly passed out with shock, all sexual heat passed from my loins and spread over the rest of my body, I just about went up in flames. Burbling an apology for my unconventional way of answering the phone and something about Mr Brown being out I slammed down the receiver and doubling over crammed both fists into my big gob in order to stop screams of horror erupting. I’d just given an elderly lady librarian graphic details about the state of my dick; I’d get disbarred from the library, either that or filed under P for pervert. I could never show my face there again, no one would look at it anyway, they’d be too busy staring at my groin and wondering if it was going to explode and whether they’d need to evacuate the library. God, I nearly melted away into a pool of mortified sweat. Before the blush had even receded from my body my mobile rang and it was the man himself, the master of kink. My erection, despite the cock ring, had gone west at that point and I was in no mood for sexy chat. Dick tried to be sympathetic and soothing, but he could barely keep the laughter out of his voice saying it was my own fault as I might have guessed he wouldn’t call the house phone. I was really cross with him. I really enjoyed poking around the shelves of my local library and now I’ll have to find another one and join it under an alias because the staff in my local one would always be wondering what I was poking around the shelves with thanks to him and his corruptive influence. He brought me flowers and chocolate when he came home from work yesterday evening, but I wasn’t won over and refused to be his honey, his baby or his love. Shane told us both off for sullying the airwaves with our smut, but he was amused, after sweetly complimenting me on dinner, he then innocently asked if I’d been getting a new ‘cockbook’ from the library. He and Dick then collapsed into laughter, bastards! It’s actually a nice day today, just the odd spit of rain and I suppose I ought to be out in the garden tidying it up, but instead I’m sitting here stuffing my face with mature cheddar and red onion chutney crisps, which should taste nice, but in fact are disgusting. I was going to meet up with Lee tonight, but he called to say that Wonder Woman, she from Zanzibar, had got in touch and he had a date and did I mind? Of course I said no, but in fact I do mind, but that’s just me being a selfish bastard. Shane is away on a business trip, he went this morning and won’t be back until late and Dick has been summoned down south, he’s going straight from work so I’m stuck in on my own with no one to cater for. Still, taking a look on the bright side, I’ll be able to sit and squeeze my spots in peace without Dick or Shane nagging. |
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