Lack of garden care breeds monsters.
Bjorn died four years and seven months ago. Not that he was a good man. Sixties caught up to him.
I have to confess. I want some meat in me. Preferably with a human attached.
I want to feel that sweat streaming down my spine. These wet slaps of him moving there. Thrusts and gasps. I love it.
Girls these days go without plowing, but I don’t get it. They’re queer. They’ll need a man someday. Hopefully not as late as I am realizing it.
Newspapers again.
Wait. A new post boy. Good uniform, inquisitive green eyes, ginger hair. Where do they hire such beauties?
I want him.
Dear, what’s your name? Tim, he says. (Not Bjorn, at least.) A sweet child.
Tim, why don’t you come in for a cup of tea? You must be walking for a whole day, your legs need a rest. Have other papers to deliver? Don’t worry, our neighborhood can wait, they’re not in a rush.
I see his pupils widening. He might’ve never seen a female body before. Don’t worry boy, I’ll guide you. Come here. Come here. Come. Here.
Yes, these hands on me. His fingers moving along my thighs with slight friction. My skin is not as smooth as it used to be, but he won’t know it. I can make him forget. I can make him hard.
A moan, a strong pull, a hot rub over his slim body. These animal moves, this numbness in where he enters. This warmth he spreads in me.
He comes every Saturday, when off work.
Sweetie, do you want everyone to know what happens here? (Sweat. Cold sweat.) Then come here again next week. We’ll have some more fun then.
He left. He fucking left. He saved some money and left the town. That was about to happen eventually, but not as soon.
I hoped I can have him for some more. His hands. His shy then sure moves. His muscles glimmering with sweat.
Yes, I gave him some money, but I hoped he’d spend it on something nice. (I’m not the best a boy can dream of, you know.) Some soda or candies or whatever the young ones enjoy these days?
Today we have Tim Bach as our guest. Starting as a mere post boy, and learning trading in his free time. And now he’s a welcome guest everywhere, this exponentially successful financial analyst.
Now, Tim, here’s a question for you. Your hometown is famed not only with its signature sausage recipe. It’s also a home to a lot of aging people. Must be hard growing among seniors, there sure was a lack of pretty partners your age there.
Who was your first experience, Tim?
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