I've just taken a phone call which had me reminiscing somewhat about the huge telephone bills I used to rack up sitting at the foot of the stairs in my mother's old house, wanking like a fucking mercenary whilst listening to some old bint in a bedsit in Surbiton pretend to fob herself off.
However, here on Siamese shores, dialing such 0898 numbers is totally unnecessary, in fact, the fuckers phone you up and engage the recipient with a pleasing selection of purrs as you think decidedly frigid thoughts in attempt to douse a public display of simultaneously combusting bollocks.
The caller, who was lady from the local tessabarn, used a disarming amount of kaaaaaa's and lorrrrrrrrrr's which saw me a hair's breath from unceremoniously messing myself in the internet shop. I wasn't aware I could fall so deeply in lust with a voice. Everything about it repeatedly yelled: Take me, big boy! I am but a mere women and wish to be flogged, beaten and thrashed before being roughly fucked up the shitter!
I'm going to see her on Wednesday.
Bet she's a dog.