I received an email from Christa today. Do you remember her? She was my not-so-talented little horn student, who has become a remarkably constant email companion, especially since she has come out as being bi-sexual. Apparently something happened on her wedding night that changed her, or at least resulted in some sort of epiphany. It brought out a declaration of love – for me. I don’t understand it. She knew what she was getting into – she was already 4 months pregnant! What is it with me that attracts both gay women and gay men?
THREE of SWORDS. Sorrow. The essence of melancholy, unhappiness, tears, absence … and just about everything else associated with it.
Christa’s email brought sad news. Tom (her husband) and Jason (one of my more-talented former students) died together in an auto accident on the way to a gig last night. She would have phoned, but it was in the middle of the night – when I was probably awake anyway. That’s horrible! Two talented musicians gone in a split second on the M3. A lorry jumped the median barrier and landed right on their car. Sad … tragic …
Sorry. I needed a few minutes to compose myself. Where was I? Oh yes …
Christa is going to come see me after the funeral. She’s desperate to get away from it all. Although she took this year off from her studies to have her baby, it looks like she won’t be able to go back any time soon, now that she’s a single mom. (I’m paying for her flight. She’ll bring her infant daughter along, too.)
Christa. I didn’t realize that she was an avid follower. She’s read all my old blogs, and was the first to subscribe to my new series. That’s scary. She knows how I feel about her, and she knows that I’ll be uninhibited with my thoughts about her here. You know I will!
Max? I had to take a shower after Skyping with him tonight, so I’m nice and clean now. My bedroom stills smells like honey … and that’s not from my shampoo. He’s dropped the facade now. His wife is openly watching, too. (At least he says she is his wife.) He had her in on the act tonight, as naked as I was. Still, he remained fully-clothed. At least, now I can be certain that he had a real orgasm. (Thanks to … what was her name? … Jemima? I’ll just call her Puddle-duck. There was a puddle in his lap.)
Yes, it was as kinky as it sounded. He waited until just before my first climax to introduce her into the equation. The honey was her idea, too. He poured some on her as I watched – and then I poured it on me … let’s not go into further detail. (I feel oddly embarrassed about it.)
I did, however, notice a distinct lack of affection between them. (She seemed more interested in me.)
Now, I feel really dirty. (I’m so sorry Christa. Tonight of all nights!) Will I answer his call tomorrow night? Regrettably, I probably will.
Look ma! No st-s-st-stut-t-t-t- … well, I blew that one. That was even a proper stutter, not just a verbal ejaculation. (I haven’t properly stuttered since I was a child.)
Good night lovelies. (Christa – I am so sorry about Tom.)