So, like Christina Aguilera’s thighs the plot thickens, (spreads and dimples). At the sex/underwear party, there were two new faces; one was hot, the other looked like a piece of playdoh had been thrown at a brick wall. Thus I introduce to you; Mapungo (Ref. Will & Grace) – underwear enthusiast and clemptomanic in denial & skyscaper scottish; undeniabley cute, undeniably slutty. Sex parties aren’t really my forte, but when in Rome… Do who the Romans do? Not quite, but after seeing one of my friends getting rimmed where he looked so bored he was practically updating his FaceBook status at the same time, and seeing genitalia so big a dick slap would probably take out a couple of teeth as well as ensure a nose fracture, I was ready to take off. But not alone. So after we fished three pairs of our underwear out of Mapungo’s bag, and wished him good riddance, on we went. (Don’t let the door hit you on your playdoh ass on the way out!)
Moving onto the next flat (I know it was like musical chill outs), the guy I’d met earlier suggests inviting someone over for a threesome. Three-ways? Didn’t they die out in the 80s with that shoulder pad fad?
But sometimes you have to go a little crazy, just to keep yourself sane. Don’t worry I wasn’t spit-roasted like some shameless skewered pig with it’s trotters in the air and an apple in it’s mouth. I was however serviced like I was the new BM model and they were the eager mechanics.
But being primarily used to one-on-one sex, with all these extra limbs flying about I wasn’t sure if I’d landed in a Kama Sutra manual or had got so high I was fooling around with an octupus.
Anyway, once this had finished (or at least I had), it was time to unwind, Cheech and Chong style.
So just as this colossus of events are coming to a head (no pun intended)… The front door opens; Flatmate Home! Cut to me in my underwear blazing up a doobie in one room, two naked men playing hide the sausage in the living room, and another couple cuddling in her bed. “SCATTER!” – Frank, Gallagher. All these people fleeing, it was like when the feds turn up in Shameless. Oh, the screams! It was like a Madame Butterly Opera. Only, less geisha – more swearing. Obviously, I’m in hysterics because I’m “smokin’ a doooobie” – Carrie Bradshaw.
Cut to my (Cat)Walk of Shame in a suit & mickey mouse t-shirt, I definitely looked like I’d fallen off the special bus…
(to be continued)