“Have sex with The Postboy, are you kidding?” were my first words to John in almost three days.
“Well, no, it doesn't have to be sex, nothing's definite. He comes around, we heat things up a little  and see where it all leads. If something happens, it happens, if not and we just end up talking or wanking into paper cups that's fine too. There's no rules and NO pressure. That's the great thing about Sex Slaves, they're completely at your whim.... you can rape and kill them or just have them spoon feed you ice-cream all evening. The only limit is your credit card.”
“Sex Slave! I don't want a sex slave! I want you and no-one else. Don't you get that? For £0.89p I could fuck the wino outside Morrisons, every thing's an option, but it's not what I want. And paying for it? I hope you don't imagine that we'd pay Brian for his barely legal wares? Oh no, no way!”
“Of course we wouldn't pay Brian, he's not a whore, but a very sweet vulnerable boy who's willing to offer it up for free. Yes, he'd get something out the bargain too, that's kind of like his kick at the moment. Well, not really a kick, he says it's more like therapy. And it could be that for you, too. With me pulled up lame at the moment, a bit of release may do you good... stop you being so fucking frustrated all the time. You could see it as fucking your way back to sanity. More than anyone it's for you.”
“Oh, how considerate of you, John! How fucking considerate. And stop with all that “pulled up lame” talk. I'll walk out off this conversation if you persist with that. I can't bear it. As for Brian, well, if he's for me I say “thanks” but “no thanks!” I don't want or need any of that. It could only do us further harm. ”
“Ah well, it was just a suggestion, a possibility... something that came up. But any way, if it doesn't appeal to you, what can I do? What can anyone do? You're right, it could do us harm, but it could equally be the extra little bit of stimulation I need to get my blood flowing through the correct tubes again. Have you thought of that? I mean, watching you in action, staring into your abyss, even if it's only from a passive position, would at the very least  allow me to have a kind of mental orgasm, a brain climax. Phwew, just the thought of you giving Brian the ol' what-for is so fucking hot, no?”
“Brian?! There couldn't be anyone further from my tastes than him! In fact, he's the only person I can think of who'd be worse than fucking myself! No, what this is really about is you... YOU want to fuck Brian! It's obvious and it hurts. No, I will absolutely not do it!! Not as things stand. It doesn't feel right.
“Oh well, another window of opportunity slams shut, John gets it in the fucking face again! I can't say I'm not pissed of and disappointed, I am. I mean, You, Brian, who-knows-what-else, it could've been like my own private visit to Lourdes, the miracle 'something' that lured me out this fucking chair and gave me my life back. But of course no! Tristram Spencer doesn't like the idea of a seventeen year old sex slave with a prick one could play baseball with... surprise-fuckin-surprise! And that's it, haven't you ever stopped to maybe think why I don't want your cock in my mouth? The reason why a tart like me has neutralized you sexually? Well, it's because of for what you represent... for the endless months of boredom and unrelieved hard-ons I endured. Outside of the first month you was the most boring, systematic fuck in the history of fucking. You're too inhibited, that's your problem, and now it's also mine. “Love, love, love!” that's all I hear from you, well there's more to sex than love, and maybe one day, if you'd just let go for five minutes, you'll realize that. But don't worry, first thing tomorrow I'll phone Aristotle and tell him Monday's off... that Tristy doesn't feel right with it, OK?”
“OK,” I whispered sadly, a thousand thoughts, reflections and hang-ups now running through my mind “And John, I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ever brought my miserable existence into your life. I'm sorry I robbed you of your happiness. I'm sorry I have disappointed you so very, very much.”


  1. 'There's more to sex than love'.

    Indeed: procreation.

    Why don't you call their bluff?

    Leave John outside the door one morning, with a pink ribbon tied round his chair and a note for the Postboy: HE'S ALL YOURS

    Works for me with the nephew every time.

    All those sob sisters who whine about the poor guy in the wheelchair and how he's not receiving enough stimulation soon change their tune when they're incarcerated with them 24/7

  2. Tristram,
    I think he's right,
    you should go for it.

    Take it sleazy,


Tristram's Birthday: Sunday 3rd October

Tristram's Birthday: Sunday 3rd October
Cheap jam sponge or something a little more exciting? How will Mr Spencer celebrate his 32nd year in hell?

Trolley Dash August 2010

Trolley Dash August 2010
Did Tristram accidently pick up a REAL bargain?

Brian the Postboy's gift to John: an ankle bracelet inscribed 'Super Dong'

Brian the Postboy's gift to John: an ankle bracelet inscribed 'Super Dong'
Scrap metal or has John been 'tagged'. Is Tristram Spencer really the only fated man in town?

The Dangerous Dandy by Barbara Cartland

The Dangerous Dandy by Barbara Cartland
Will Tristram finally be brought to account for his love of Babs? And: is 25 years hard labour enough?

An Influx of Pigeons

An Influx of Pigeons
Is there still some hope for the fated Mr Spencer?
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