I have the hardest hard-on in the world. It is the kind of erection that can get a man into trouble. John is out in just over two days and my mind has slipped into the gutter thinking of the intense, dirty, dangerous, clean sex we' will have. I shiver with excitement at the thought of my cock springing free from my pants and John's slightly magnified eyes staring at it greedily through his Elvis Costello type glasses. It's weird, but after a forced absence of sex, it is once again the smaller, more innocent thoughts which seem to excite me the most.
On a separate note from John's return there is another local event which is raising some erections all of its own:
A fat bosomed woman with a bowl haircut, bible shaped shoes and a wart put that through my letterbox this morning. Apart from the 'prayer' bit, it seems tailor made for Yours Truly. Ever since winning my first goldfish in a prize draw at the age on ten I've had a kind of fetish for raffles and tombolas. And who knows, maybe even Mrs Abigail Winthrope and the Nerdettes will be there?
Whilst waiting for John I pass my time staring at screen-savers, reading ingredient lists and old phone books. I encourage spam mail and try to make friends with the spammers. I count tiles, bricks and tins of soup and enjoy the sound of lawnmowers.