14 Apr 2003

Hold your fucking horses mate! Nat’s backs back and Good God does it curve in all the right places! I imagine that if she was lying on her side on a sun lounger, her pores open to the heat of the early afternoon sun and she winked at me as I popped the top of the lotion bottle, my heart might very well flutter and my swimming shorts rustle, and when I pour a line of the oil along the side of her midriff, I can see it dribbling down her back, like s sheen, a lacquer of love. Zip it.

She’s just returned to this humble video shop to return Session 9, which I recommended to her last night, the night of my re-infatuation with her fine self. With her enveloping eyes rising to meet mine she answered that it had been sufficiently scary and she had heard voices later on that night. I could tell by the way her two friends were checking out my man breasts that they were sizing me up as a potential suitor. Incidentally, they too were fit, one blonde and tall who laughed at even my crappy jokes, which is normally endearing enough to an egoist like myself, and the other unkempt and wild licking her lips like she wanted a quick dose of taming from this bearded lion tamer. Alas for her, Nat is where I am at.

Nat, Nat, Natalie, Nat,
You really are phat,
That’s phat with a pee haich,
In case someone is reading this to you.




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