Sunday, 14 October 2012

An Antidote To Writers Block (Part 24) A Spell Of Inclement Weather

On Saturday morning the rain had come once again with a vengeance and added to the gloom I already felt.
However the day had begun in a quite different way, when early in the morning, just after dawn, Georgia woke me up for the first of the two long lingering farewell fucks,
Neither managed to rival the raw intensity of the previous nights cavorting but they were still toe curlingly good.
I had wanted to walk Georgie home but she insisted we said goodbye at mine and after a long loving embrace we parted and I watched her disappear into the rain.
I spent the rest of the day and much of the day after trying not to think about Georgia but inevitably the more I tried not to think of her the more I did.
I also thought very deeply about what she had said to me and I was determined to break the destructive cycle of my philandering.
But it was not an easy thing to do, my very work was dependent on sex, in fact it was fed by sex, but it also fuelled my pursuit of more experiences to feed back into my writing.
That was going to be difficult to address but let’s get one thing straight right from the get go, I am not now nor have I ever been addicted to sex.
Sexual addiction is just an excuse used by horny men who can’t keep it in their pants.
I suppose I just lacked self-control it isn’t an addiction, it’s a weakness although up to that point in time I hadn’t wanted to control it.
I just have to be strong this of course was much easier to do when cut off from the temptations of the flesh.
However by Sunday afternoon I was getting a bit stir crazy and when there was a break in the weather and the sun actually put in an appearance I decided to take a stroll around the village.
I stepped out of my front door felling the sun on my face for the first time in days and I thought it would be nice to see another human being as I walked briskly down the path before turning left.
The first people I saw were Victoria and Maisie who were both laughing as they pottered around in Victoria’s front garden.
It had only been a week since Maisie had moved in and it seemed like they were getting on famously.
The way they behaved around each other it looked like they’d known each other forever and it certainly didn’t look like there was over 30 years between them.
“Hello girls” I called as I gave them a wave.
“Hello” they said in unison as they both waved back.
“Are you coming in for tea?” called Victoria
“Maybe on the way back” I suggested
“Ok” she replied cheerily
As I carried on down the road the perfect image of firm friends enjoying each other’s company was replaced by images of Victoria and Maisie’s naked bodies as they frolicked in the garden.
It was like I’d tuned my brain into a porn channel like when your old radio sometimes picks up taxi banter but I couldn’t tune it out.
Around the next corner I saw Shulah outside the corner shop serving a customer with fruit and veg, she smiled at me coyly and I wondered if she was remembering that day at the swimming baths, and I could instantly picture her sitting naked on my lap with her plump little fruits in my hands.
I smiled back and tried to ignore the tell tale trouser tickle in my pants.
I pressed on past the shop trying to clear the viewer in my head then the naked image of Shula faded only to be replaced with the former flirty virgins, Emily and Jenny, cavorting naked in my study save for sundry items of lace and silk.
I had only caught the merest glimpse of them crossing the car park towards the station but it was enough.
Luckily they had not seen me because if they had got in close proximity the resulting visual display in my head would have probably caused me to cream my pants.
I picked up the walking pace and tried desperately to think pure thoughts but to no avail.
I even tried the old favourite passion killer, English Test Cricket, I went through the mental list of the field positions, County Cricket grounds, and the full array of bowling actions I even listed the English team captains from 1960 to the present day but I still couldn’t turn off the stream of porn.
It was only the sound of a car horn that ended the Technicolor orgy in my head.
When I looked round I saw it was Dr Andrews, out on a call I presumed, she gave me a wave and drove past, but that was enough and there she was, her beautiful naked body beneath me, on top of me, on all fours, in the shower, against a wall.
“Hello Mr Fisher” a voice said bringing me back to the present I looked round to see India Carrington trotting down the road on her horse her pert little bottom bouncing on the saddle, and instantly it was her naked arse bouncing up and down on my cock.
I realised my trip round the village was ill advised and wondered if I was going to see a woman that I hadn’t shagged before I reached home.
I rushed homeward wishing I’d not come out at all, while Claire Andrews sat writhing on my face.
Then as I rushed headlong round a corner I met the Vicar coming the other way and we both ended up on our backsides.
“I’m so sorry” I said getting quickly to my feet and proffering a hand to the prostrate Vicar which she took.
“Nonsense” she replied, “I wasn’t looking where I was going my mind was else where”.
“Mine too” I said “are you ok? Are you hurt?”
“Only my pride” she replied
We dusted ourselves off and there was a brief moment of awkwardness as the spectre of our drunken near miss a few days earlier when she offered it to me on a plate and I walked away.
“Anyway” she said “Duties to perform”
“Yes” I agreed “things to do”
And we parted company as clumsily as we had come together.
One good thing that did come out of our meeting was it managed to erase the bank of erotic images from my mind, if only temporarily.
On my journey home I found it quite remarkable just how many women of the village were wandering the streets and lanes of Bushy Down despite the inclement weather.
These ladies of mixed ages and physical dimensions all dressed in their Sunday best were soon undressed in my head by varying degrees in my lurid imaginings.
Dancing in a synchronised display of exotic dancing to a camp version of Singing in the rain.
And to a woman every one of them smiled pleasantly at me as we passed, and I thought you would not be smiling politely at me if you could see inside my head.
All of these ladies had not had the pleasure of my services nor I the pleasure of theirs so the images of their nakedness was all conjured up in my mind, but I do have a very fertile and vivid imagination.
I was relieved to finally reach my front door without exploding in my underwear.
In the quiet of my study I sat and thought, as I nursed a large brandy, of the tortuous events of the day, in particular Reverend Katy Oliver and her sexual offertory and I concluded that being tempted by the Vicar was obviously a test and I had passed it with flying colours.
Also the pornographic pictures in my head of the women I had done as well as some of the ones I would still like to do, they were also tests of my resolve which I thought smugly, I had also passed.
However my big test would come on Monday when I spent the day playing golf with Pandora Parkinson-Brown.

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