TABOO TALES(erotica)

Excerpt from the private diary of Nguye’t Morrison, age 18 and three-quarters. Note to Jamie; if you read any of this, I swear I will put a bend in your knob that no amount of wanking will ever straighten out; you have been warned…

Tuesday 1st July, 2008

Jamie’s coming home tomorrow, at last. He left me desolate 3 years ago, and I want to snub him, cut him dead for abandoning me, but all I can do is tremble at the thought of having him back again. He’s been my protector, my favourite source of comfort and big hugs all my life, and when he left I was bereft (look it up, I’ve been waiting for years to use it), and I haven’t stopped crying yet; I know, weird, right? He’s my older brother, but he feels like the love of my life, and for the last three years there’s been a huge blank space where he should be; every time I thought of him, I burst into tears, and I thought about him every day. When he comes home I’m going to play it cool, be aloof, casual, let him know that going away for so long is almost unforgiveable, that you don’t make someone need you so much and then leave them.

My friend Shelagh Kennedy asked me if I was in love with him, ‘cos apparently I talk about him all the time, and of course, I pooh-pooh’d the very idea, told her she was weird and perverted for even thinking such a thing, and she said the strangest thing. “OK then, if you’re not going to bang him, do you mind if I do? Every time I’ve ever seen him he’s given me a twinge in my minge, and now I know you’re not going to, as far as I’m concerned that makes him fair game for a work-out!”

I asked her what she meant, and she got all disbelieving on me, started going on about how he’s a tall, built, mega-cute, oil exploring, rugged polar-hero type, a real arctic fox, and she’d like a chance to check if he got frostbite anywhere important, and if he’s built up a full head of pressure, she’d like to be the one to be there when he blows his cork, and if I had eyes and a brain I’d have decoyed him down a dark alley years ago; apparently all my friends think the same thing…

I had to think about that, I mean, Jamie? I know one thing though; I’ve always had a sort of low-key thing for him (or maybe not so low-key, I don’t know), even got all possessive of him at one point, but that’s because he’s mine, and he belongs to me, exclusively, and if that red-headed harlot thinks she’s getting her slutty little mitts on my lovely Jamie she’s got another think coming; I must keep her corrupting influence away from him!NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

Must think more about this, things are happening in my head that I don’t want to write down in case I accidently leave this open one day and dad or mum see this.

Wednesday 2nd July, 2008

Jamie will be home this afternoon, and the suspense is killing me; what were butterflies in my tummy have turned into a herd of rhino’s barging around, and I’ve nearly been sick on any number of occasions. Coupled with that is the fact I can’t seem to stop weeping, every time I open my mouth or think of trying to do something constructive with my time, I get a picture of his sweet, patient face and the waterworks turn on I feel like some lovesick 11 year old mooning over a boy-band, and this is really freaking me out. It’s only Jamie, for God’s sake, and regardless of what I said or thought yesterday, he’s my big brother, and yes, I missed him terribly, but why the extreme reactions? Most peculiar; I am definitely conflicted. I think I’ll go out, not be here when he gets here, if I see him walk in that door, and the state I’m in right now, God only knows what sort of idiotic shambling wreck I’ll turn into he already left me once, and, heaven forbid, if he sees me sweating and gibbering at him he might do it again, and I can’t have that I’m keeping him here this time, if I have to use a nail-gun and superglue on him.

Mum asked me to be here when Huyn’h gets home, but I really don’t trust myself to not either A) Wet myself, B) Get all tongue-tied and idiotic, or C) Fling myself on him and stick my tongue in his face.

I’ve made up my mind; I won’t be here, I’ll saunter in all casual and mildly indifferent to his presence, going “Oh Hi, you’re back then,” peck him on the cheek, enjoy the moment of crushed despair as he realises I haven’t missed him in the slightest, and saunter out again. Vengeance is a dish best served cold, and he needs to pay, just a little, for leaving me all alone while he went off to the other side of the world and pretended to be Nanook of the North while contemplating the Great White Waste and mushing seals or whatever the hell it is they do down there for fun…. So I’m off now, I need to shop so I don’t think about Jamie and how he abandoned me, and I’m taking the Scarlet Harlot with me so she and her chest don’t get any ideas around Jamie while I’m not there….

Postscript:

When I got back, he was asleep! Heartless, indifferent, cave-dwelling, igloo-building Oik, in his room, fast asleep, with no regard for my feelings, how dare he! I went into his room to kick him, and there he was, sound asleep, and my tummy did a double back-flip and landed in the lay-out position; whoowee! When he left he was cute, but now, after three years, he was absolutely take-me-I’m-yours gorgeous, man-beef on the hoof, talk about scrubbing-up well! I had every intention of landing a heel right in his dangly bits, remind him what happens to people who abandon me for the snowy wastes, but right then all I wanted to do was bite him, and then take another bite out of that tall, fit, muscular Polar-Bear man-babe, oh my paws and whiskers, yes! Obviously, manhandling all those drill probes and test-core drilling rigs had put some beef on his bones, and right now I wanted to manhandle him a little! Further notes to follow, I shall have to rethink my Jamie strategy; this may get just a leetle-bit complicated!

+++

Nia and I kept our more sweaty activities as discreet as possible; while mum approved, or at least hadn’t actually disapproved of our new-found relationship, I doubt she would have condoned us humping and heavy-breathing around the house, so we cooled it, at least while she was in earshot. At night, though, that was another matter. I couldn’t get enough of Nia, and she seemed to be feeling the same way, judging by the exertions she put me through that second night we slept together; I could only hope mum was in her room, with the door locked, the TV turned up full, and her fingers in her ears, going “La La La” at the top of her voice…

That first day, the morning after mum had found us, I was over the moon I had finally found the real Nia, the one she’d always wanted to show me, after all the years we had been together, and she was all I’d ever wanted in a girl; smart, funny, sexy, breathtakingly beautiful, sassy, and I knew I’d lucked-out, especially when I remembered some of some of the nosebags and outright mental cases I’d dated over the years, just to have a date on Saturday night for cinema/groping/strangulated erection relief. Nia was eager and amused to hear of some of the more bizarre dating disasters like Carole Whitton, body like the great outdoors, brain you could have stored in a thimble, with room to spare; if you stood close enough to her you could hear the hum as all four brain cells orbited peacefully in the blissful emptiness of her skull; having sex with her had been like inflating a beach ball; lots of effort, long time to get results, and then you wondered why the hell you bothered in the first place. Nice tits, though…

Then there was the unforgettable Ansfrida, with the Norwegian Geophysical Survey team overwintering in Port Stanley, who took a fancy to me. She was a big girl, shoulders like a Samoan rugby player, unfortunately also had the cauliflower ears, nose, and chin like one, including the bristles. I spotted her first, and my first thought was “I will never be that desperate, please God, don’t let her like me!” The only girls on the islands were the daughters of the islanders, and they were all locked in the cellars whenever our team of incipient rapists hit port, but even the enforced celibacy couldn’t make Ansfrida look like anything except hulking and dangerous. All the rest of the team were slowly sliding down in their seats, or pretending to be gay, and so she homed-in on me, sitting herself down on the bench, my side of the bench tilting up. The collective sigh of relief in the room made the windows bulge outwards, and every male in the room grinned and sat back to watch me get dragged off and pummelled by Andre the Giant’s even uglier sister; whoever said Nordic blondes are all icily gorgeous hadn’t met Ansfrida yet.

“My name is Ansfrida!” she boomed, shaking me gently by the neck, feeling my bicep, her hand wrapping all the way round it. “Good muscle tone, you want sex?”

“If I say yes, will you promise not to kill me?” I asked her, trapped and helpless.

“That good enough. Come!” She frogmarched me out of the room, me mouthing ‘Help me’ to my team, them all grinning and looking relieved that they’d dodged that particular bullet.

I heard later that she offered the crew of the Royal Navy frigate a gang-bang, causing them all to suddenly declare their love for each other and set sail for Argentina to surrender…