Crazy night in Dullsville part XI
September 13th 2010 12:21
Part XI: End of the road
A nasty stench greets my Kwinana arrival.
The milfs lead us down a dark pathway, and at the end of it, I make out through the darkness, a dingy but cosy little house.
Is this the place where I’ll tap some older minge? I sure hope so but I still can’t shake off this bout of paranoia. I don’t want to come across as nervous because I may very well fall the unfortunate victim of misinterpretation. I fear the older and sexually more experienced women will interpret my nerves as a sign of inexperience and uncomfortableness and I must appear to be like a nerdy, schoolboy desperate to lose his virginity.
But I am a virgin with older women and I have always deeply desired an attractive middle-aged broad. My imagination runs wild with what bed action would be like and my fantasies are boundless. Their appeal lies in the fact that they are probably in the midst of a boring life, far removed from the care free spirit of one’s youth, and being noticed by a younger man would send their libido soaring. I can overlook the deep crowfeet, sagging breasts and excess skin if it ensures hot sex with a passionate lover.
But I must qualify this. There are Mothers I Like Fucking and Mothers I Loathe Fucking. There is nothing worse than pig lizard elderly women, well past their used by date, trying to crack on to younger guys. Please get the fuck away from me, I’M NOT FUCKING INTERESTED. Yet their cockiness is a product of male patheticness because of course there are some younger guys who bang anything, so long as they can release into a hole.
And right now, here in Kwinana, represented my best opportunity for my prayers to be answered and bang a milf.
The brunette milf gives a tour of her house and promptly makes a round of tea and coffee. A pang of reality strikes me. There is no danger here and more importantly, there will be no sex tonight. The milfs have resorted to being homely and motherly. Yuck!! It’s 5 o’clock and I want to go home.
The coffee has slightly revived the drunken Pom, who has transformed into the night’s analyst. He is Antoni Green after 40 pints of beer.
“It was a night where the guy playing the guitar took centre stage and was definitely the character of the show, while you Rob are the reserve, introverted soul who was quietly sitting in the corner observing the dichotomy of events,” he said.
“Mate, I think you’re the last person who should be analysing the night,” I respond to laughs.
The Pom is off his rocker and morphs into a court prosecutor, quizzing the blonde milf on what she does for a living.
She says she works at a “beauty parlour”.
“Are you enjoying it? What hours do you work?”
Blondie blushes and is clearly embarrassed.
A little kid, who wanders into the room, interrupts the awkwardness. It’s the brunette’s kid. “My husband is in the mines, it can be lonely here looking after the kids,” she says.
Sex could be back on the menu. But I’m morally bound. Yes, I am a sleaze but the thought of banging a kid’s mum in the next room doesn’t titillate.
The Pom and Rob have passed out on the couch, leaving me an opportunity to have a threesome but I resist the temptation. I hear the milfs whispering and giggling like schoolgirls. No doubt they are tempted and would more than entertain the notion of sex.
But I don’t fancy jealous, enraged husbands on my tail.
I can’t sleep. I feel like death. My head is ready to explode. It feels like a chainsaw is ready to cut it open. The ringing shows no sign of abating. I don’t know if it’s the booze or the acid, but this “come down” is horrific.
I manage to sleep maybe 15 minutes, and at 7am, the three of us are woken by a ringing mobile phone.
“Turn your phone off,” the Pom hands me the mobile.
“It’s not mine,” I respond.
He’s woken from his drunken slumber and ready to get back to his bewildered wife. But it is Good Friday, how are any of us getting home? The Pom said he’ll walk it but he lives a good hour away. Good luck buddy, if your disappearance is flashed on tonight’s news, I aint reporting to the coppers.
Rob and I are about to leave but a teenage girl is at the door. She’s the brunette milf son’s girlfriend, if that made any sense. I’ve lost grip on reality, long ago.
“I’ll take you guys to the nearest train station,” she says.
I recount the night and she says the brunette milf is a fairly “crazy” character. Yeah, no shit.
She drops us at the station and the bright sun pierces my eyes. Fuck, I haven’t had an all-nighter for a long time. Oh well, now to find a taxi back to sanity…………
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