You ought to be an adult 18+ to read this

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If I have not mentioned it before, I have given up on painting. That is until I feel suitably inspired to do something new. Basically I have got myself into a rut, have reached an impasse and need a change of scenery. That is in part why I am writing, it provides a bit of clear water in which to come up to breathe. Gets me out of the corner downstairs sitting on the hard chair and procrastinating. Up here in the study, I can listen to documentaries and write at the same time, I have a comfy chair and it is warmer up here. The energy is different, more abundant and free flowing. There is no stink of oil paint , or the pong of turps I have no brushes to clean up either, but I ought to clean up my language.

That is why I am going to post a story or at least part of that story. Back in April I think, I was inspired enough to write a pornographic story. Actually I wrote several but this is the first one:

Jessica is a well educated young woman from Nottingham and she is recently out of work. Having been laid off due to the Covid that has resulted in many people having to stay or work at home. Jessica has rent to pay, credit cards to clear and the gas needs topping up for the week. The trouble is Jessica is skint, she has sod all income and is now eating into her savings. This is not what she planned out for and it irks her. 

Recently a friend told her how she was making money on one of them webcam websites, where people will pay to watch you  take your knickers down and play with yourself. It’s not ideal, Jessica mused but it could make money and I like masturbating in any case and money too.   She fiddled nervously as she entered her details on the website’s portal and thought of all the filthy perverts who will be watching her undress and play with her vagina. She feels sleazy and at the same time, incredibly horny. Sister Theresa the nun from her convent education, would have been livid at such an idea. Jessica was sure Sister had been a lesbian, with her huge bust and muscled arms. Tall, Statuesque and imposing and more catholic than the pope. Many of the girls in J’s group were in awe of her and some including J even found her rather sexy. Especially when she was taking them for sport and or swimming class. Fantasies abounded in that school about Sister T and what she wore. Some speculated lingerie and black lacey stuff. Others entertained she was in a lesbian relationship with the hockey coach.

As Jessica sorted out her new webcam and arranged the room as tidily as possible. She pondered over what she was going to do in her show, what she would do and not do. She so wanted to bend over in Doggy style  and slide that big red dildo into her cunny and bring herself to a shuddering orgasm. The bed would be the best place for that, all she would need was a simple home security and webcam set up. The whole idea  started to prove irresistible and she made a mental note to look at what was available. As she explored the website , she noticed all the other performers Noting that many came from countries like Colombia and Mexico, where people did not have much. Resulting in their offering far more than just straight sex.

I have written extensively on sex, webcams and a host of other like subjects over the years. Some of it is born from experience the rest comes from a creative imagination. The characters are made up, though the names might mean something personally. Anyway, other news now. My friend J is doing well, she has a nice place to live and is thriving. Ninja the cat has been bathed and the vine has been bought, ready to be transferred to a large planter in the green house. I hope to grow grapes.

Sin and confession

Autobiographical

As many of you may know, I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church, an organisation that thinks sperm is sacred and their clergymen are not allowed to marry. We also have this sacrament called confession where we have to tell the priest our shit, like stealing our dad’s booze and looking at porno mags. This could also include behaviour like masturbation and things like having sex and enjoying yourself and or not going to church. Did I mention telling lies, smoking cigarettes and playing cards? Well they could be added in as well. In return the priest would give us a reward of lets say ten Hail Mary’s, six Glory Bee’s and a bunch of Our Fathers. It all depended on what you had ‘fessed up to. Perhaps it would depend on how the priest was feeling, I don’t know.

Many years ago I had been caught dancing with myself and my Mum in her religious fervour sent me off to see the priest. He was a dirty looking scare crow of a man and there was a bottle of Glenfiddich clearly visible on his counter top. I guess somebody thought it would loosen my tongue and provide a good confession. It certainly did, I like Whisky and I span him a whole bunch of lies instead, the joke was I did not care for religion by this time and sneezed at the idea and concept of confession. However I was living at home and my youngish mind, thought it a good idea to comply. Well to cut a story short I span him a load of stuff that would make a Madame blush, I swear the old pervert had a lip trembler going, he stank of booze and his blood shot eyes were horrid, as were his shaking hands. I think Half of that bottle disappeared in the couple of hours I was there, it was near Christmas and was piss cold outside. I have forgotten the penance he gave me, though I do remember not doing any of it.

If I was not sceptical of priests and religion before that point, I was afterwards and still am. More on that later on. I have recently been inspired to dig out some old artwork and share it again, I don’t think I have mentioned getting rid of a load of work a few weeks ago.

I am quite pleased with myself this evening, I have managed to leave the alcohol alone, despite their being a bottle of cider in the fridge. My cart Ninjas had the Scabies/Mange and is recovering well. He has been depressed and does not like being bathed and covered in ointment. Mr. Fox on the other hand, has been noticeable by his absence. I hope he comes home very soon. I love him.

Grey skies and Bach

Autobiographical

We were planning on going out for a walk in the local park today, the weather got in the way so we went to the dump instead. It was closed and we came home again. J made some lunch and we ate. Riveting stuff. Because of my fast paced and action packed lifestyle I wish to write about something relaxing and easy going now and looking through my folder (one of several) I realise that to do anything from here would require patience, time and a lot of questioning, my handwriting sometimes has a lot to be desired and that is what makes the whole thing so joyful. I really ought get done and type up more of this stuff, somebody might even read some of it.

Now that would be awesome. What if I were to publish it? Let me do the writing up of it all first, in the meantime and whilst I have a clear head I shall go do some painting and regulate my day out some more, like I had planned before J came home. There is a whole host of subjects available to work from. Everything from Alcohol to porn. (A whole load of writing on that) Erm what else? Oh Jesus, Sex dolls and their various attributes. A bunch of stuff on my former employment as a salesman, A massive missive to an ex, though I think that can wait for another day and another letter to an imaginary person written when I ought to have been smearing gravy browning on ‘Chocolate cakes’ Something else about a Govt sponsored job club I was obligated to attend, but only managed twice, cause it was shite and the third time I was supposed to g I found some magic mushrooms in the park which were far more interesting. What I am saying is I have a whole bunch of stuff available to work from even the crap poems I wrote and the two pages on immoderate language and swearing, which was another job club thing. More alcohol stuff. The electricity poem is quite good fun. (I Think it is) J would have a fine time, if I asked her to write this lot up, though I suspect half the time would be taken up with : what is this word? or who was this person?

A folder full of creative writing

Oh Jeez, my handwriting does something awful and goes very small, maybe I was saving ink. There is also something going back almost thirty years here, though that is already typed up and I can read it easily enough. Sadly and probably just as well, the poem about the Brown Trout is missing. Making things easier, I shall probably start with what’s already on the computer and work from there. There is a lot I know and it all needs to be dealt with in it’s way, most of it is quite palatable, with plentiful mentions of politics and other contentious subject matter, though topics such as sex, religion and others may well crop up from time to time. Have you been watching the US election happenings/ I tried not to but with J being American it was hard not to. I won’t wish Mr. Biden luck or anything, he has quite enough to be getting on without my meddling in his affairs. Though why would anyone ever want such a Dogawful job beats the shit out of me, though he could have done worse and wound up in retail.