Saw her for the third time today, and she still reminds me of Tea's mother. It's funny how I seem to lump people together in my head. Maybe by profiling them in my mind, they become easier to gauge and predict. I've already imagined about sexually engaging her, and not so much fantasised about it. Fantasy seemed like an activity from such a long time ago, where the earliest sexual fantasy for me was getting titfucked by the soft Indian breasts of a fair-skinned Miss Jayanthi back in Standard Six. I was twelve then, and the fantasy was brought on one fine Canteen Day when she offered my classmates and I a fortuitous glimpse of her generously ample cleavage while bending over to scoop us some turmeric rice. That afternoon, while my mother was having her afternoon nap and my younger brother in school, I jerked off frantically in the darkened kitchen, recalling the memories of her delicious cleavage and topping the recalled images with extended details of having my young cock tucked between the voluptuous cushion of her breasts, sliding up and down, slippery and wet towards an eventual orgasm all over the oil-stained door of the family fridge.

    But I digress. Jimmy's GF has small, slitty eyes and a wide, fish-like mouth.  Her face itself is more than a little off-putting, considering the fact that she reminds me of that someone whom I've mentioned. But sometimes, it's precisely this turn-off aspect that can make it such a turn-on. She's got a fuckface, plain and simple, and I've got a thing for imagining about treating fuckfaced-girls with sexual harshness.  

    She's also built rather physically-robust. Though The Bull highlighted her supposedly "nice rack" to me, it's her ass that I find more appealing. I can absolutely imagine squeezing and pawing those wide cheeks before sliding it up to the hilt. Mayhaps she has wondered about the possibilities too?

    It is also the fact that she enjoys, or at least, not averse to physical violence. The Bull mentioned that Jimmy has told him that she is surprisingly strong and physical whenever they get into fights.  The Bull said: "Jimmy said she fights like a man," which sounds very appealing to me.

    Well, most probably nothing's gonna happen. She seems appealing but not that appealing. Oh, and I think she enjoys porn too.

Having spoken to m on the phone last night brought back memories of this and that.  I wonder if it rekindled the same kind of memories for her as it did for me. Immediately after that brief conversation, thought of phontographing her naked body dominated my mind. Her brown chocolate milk breasts and nipples, her ass on that long-limbed body. The rising heat of a summer day and the smell of cigarette smoke in the washroom. Looking out the window I saw autumn leaves and branches against a sky of moviing clouds.

    This morning my cock feels fat, rubbery and very excitable. The cockhead pink and shiny wet, that familiar smell of cockskin. It would not do to just write a pornographic novel; it has to contain elements of longing, melancholy and nostalgia. Breasts so heavy and so full and so worthy of adoration. It is when a woman bends over that the truth of breasts is revealed. Pendulous, free swinging, or else, protruding nipples, pointing downwards. Large, full, voluminous breasts delineated by a marvellous play of light and shadow. Erect nipples and women without bras, or bras so thin that nipples stick out like brown, rubber bullets. The longish shape of m's breasts.

    I remember that day when we went shopping for her Halloween costume in Kensington Market, and how she exposed her breasts to me through a gap in the dressing room curtains, a look of feigned nonchalance as she looked me in the eye. She is always at the back of my mind even when i'm not actively thinking about her. Sometimes it feels as if I no longer feel anything for her, but when I do see her, or hear her voice, that familiar husky voice, I would realise how much I truly miss her. As it is, no one knows about the two of us. And I always say to myself: if only they knew. Sure sounds funny, but let me tell you that it was the kind of fucking that took itself seriously.  

I remember that night when we lay so close to each other, the three of us, and how I was quietly fingering her in the dimness of their apartment. She was wearing her short black DKNY dress, with only a g-string underneath. Lying beside her I grazed my hand on her thighs, and hiking up her dress, she encouraged me to go further. I slid my hand between her thighs, and felt the prickle of her sparse pubic hair and the string that was lodged between the plumpness of her lips.

    Facing away from me, and not making a sound, she lay there whilst I greased her up with the slow, languid movements of my fingers.  I maintained what I was doing with the vague hope of eliciting an involuntary moan from her. She grabbed my wrist and guided my hand forward, pushing one of my fingers into herself. I fingerfucked her this way for quite a while, pausing occasionally only to taste her on my soiled fingers.

    She turned around several times, telling me in whispers how horny she was itching for my cock, intermittently sticking her tongue into my ear. With my thrusting finger still embedded in her, we began licking each other's tongue lazily, her low breathing becoming hot and heavy.  Juices were dripping down the insides of her thighs as she clenched and unclenched around my finger. A faint scent of cunt was rising in the air, and I had wanted to fuck her that night, even if that meant risking the possibility of waking him up. Pulling my bloated cock out of my corduroys I ran it along the length of her slit and around her inner thighs, feeling her heat and stickiness as my fingers shifted their attention onto her swollen clitoris.

    When I made an attempt to slide my hard cock into her, she turned around and stopped me. Looking into her eyes I understood. She wanted it as badly as I did, but we cannot do it (even though he was snoring very loudly by then). I smiled at her and stuffed myself back into my pants. That put an end to the night's fun and frolic as we both went to sleep, each with our own intersecting thoughts.

Yanked my meat and spurted to La Famille Sans Tabou last night/this morning. It's incest-themed, in French and was supposedly approved by Mario Salieri himself. In itself, this feature is nothing to shout about, save a few scenes where the horny daughters are all wagging tongues, and helplessly turned on by their father's thick, meaty cocks. Shit, my cock's feeling a little cheer from just writing about this, so perhaps there is something to shout about.

    Funny how incest narratives turn me on, and yet I have absolutely no desire to get it on with my own mother. In my own infamous words, it is almost an inevitable fact that whenever I think of my mother, my right fist automatically clenches itself, not to fist her, but to punch her in the face. Shit, sure hope I won't get struck by lightning for saying this. But part of it is in jest. At times, when she's in a jovial mood, she says the cutest things. But when she's in a nasty one, then hey, better pack your bags and get ready to get the hell out of dodge, cos this motherfuckin storm's gonna be HUGE. 

    Well, my dear hypocritically horny readers, I shall have to take my leave now, but before I do, here's a shot of eye/cock/cunt candy for your pleasure. It's an image of my younger sister, Claire. Haha, just kidding, you fools.