Unless Jesus wandered through the apartment this morning and tapped John on the head with his two magic fingers, then his dubious paralysis has finally been exposed.

At just gone 9.32am, alerted by a trembling apartment and a 'Ooh aah Ooh aah Ooh aah' noise, I snook down the hall and found John, absolutely bollock naked, doing starjumps in front of the living room mirror. I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing!!! He was half way through his third such jump when he spotted me and crumpled like a sack of spuds on the floor. It was as if someone had suddenly removed all his bones. For a brief moment he lay there motionless, then without warning his entire body spasmed and he doubled up like a folded mattress. It was as though he had been hit in the solar plexus with a demolition mallet. After two more similar stunts he lay almost still, breathing heavily and with his eyes wide open.
“Quit the amateur dramatics, John, I saw you, you sick depraved fuckfly! So that is how you ward off muscle atrophy and haemorrhoids, huh? Aerobics! What'll it be next? The trampoline? Tightrope walking? The wall of death!!!”
“No, no, Tristy, you've got it all wrong. It's not how it looks, not at all! It was the Miracle chair! It gave me a HUGE fuckin' electric shock... must've popped 5000v or something through my chest, legs and cock. It sent me up like a Chinese Rocket! Fuck Christ, I even feel lucky to still be here!”
“Lucky?” I shrieked, staring at his penis which had all but retracted into his ballbag and now somehow revolted me. “You feel lucky?”
“Er, well yeah! Real fuckin' lucky. I mean, to survive a shock like that I must be blessed, some kinda miracle! Any lesser man would have been instantaneously roasted, or at least...”
“Paralysed!!!” I screamed, cutting him off mid sentence and upending his wheelchair. My mind was blown. Frustration, rage and anger had taken control of me. I looked like an unfinished lobotomy. For the first time ever, in relation to me anyhow, I saw John visibly scared.
“Tristy, Tristy, please! Please help me?” he blabbered “It was an electric shock, I'm telling you, a freak accident. My Easy Rider malfunctioned. And I'm hurt, terribly hurt. Fuck Christ, the pain is excruciating! It feels like my chest cavity is all burnt out...like my heart is all black and smoking, cooked! Tristy, I'm begging you, please Darling... Please.just.help.me!”

The punctuated manner in which John delivered those last four words, combined with the faint smirk I detected across his lips, caused something to snap within me which should have snapped a long time ago.

So he wants help, huh? Needs a little bit of assistance? Well, OK!

Staring at his naked body, all flopped out on the floor, I knew there was only one way in which I could help him. I was done with the kid gloves treatment, the time had come for hard-hitting action.

With my shadow shutting out the light, John became just a faceless shape; a nobody. He could even have been just a few grubby pillows thrown there for my need. I flexed my fingers, clenched my hand into a fist and moved in. This was gonna hurt (a lot), but Tufflove always does.


  1. Giggle :0
    Tristy about time too !! xx

  2. He hasn't done anything yet.

    I'll believe it when I read it.

    And maybe not even then.

  3. ya Trist, don't back down now!

  4. That is some fucked up shit, why do you put up with it.

    I expect you are going to say, 'because I love him'. If he is doing this to you, then he clearly does not love you.

  5. @ Wildernesschic: Don't speak too soon... take heed! X

    @ Abigail: You'll believe this, Mrs Winthrope.... who else but me is capable of coming out a fight with a bruised cock? X

    @ Jim: I won't... I'll give him one of my 'big muthas' just for you. X

    @ Mind of Mine: Yeah, but I Love him. X


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