Chapter One- Where 2 begin?
I remember the first time that we f*cked. That very next morning I went to the graveyard next to the library and walked around not a thought in my mind but at the same time everything rushing through my consciousness and my soul. I met an old man taking care of one the graves and on passing by, he spoke to me as if he had known me since I was a young boy (I was twenty-eight years old now). He told me that it was his twin brother in the grave. I told him that that was sad and gave sympathetic nods as I listened to him glad to have someone to talk to. We talked for a couple of minutes and although I don't remember the rest of our conversation I still remember the feelings that I had that morning, I felt as if I existed in the moment for once. It made my body and mind feel numb. I'd often go to the graveyard when I felt like dying or ripping my head in to pieces, sometimes to the park, or inside the old deserted Wimbledon football ground, also for a walk by the canal. Sounds peaceful walking by a canal but not when you feel a knife rapidly stabbing you with heavy blows deep inside your very being. I even jumped into the canal once on the afternoon of nineteenth birthday and tried to kill myself. The water was freezing cold but felt so fresh on my acne ridden skin. I tried to kill myself because all I really wanted to do was live and be normal not some disgusting greasy slimy revolting skinny sickening freak. I began to panic as I felt my body resisting death not even allowing me to swallow water into my lungs and as I struggled to stand I realized what appeared to be a deep stream was in fact shallow. I climbed out with great difficulty perhaps scraping my skin on the concrete sides and hid around a corner attempting to dry off. With the freezing January London weather this was hopeless; I was in danger of catching pneumonia so I decided to walk home soaking and dripping wet. When I got home I gave my mum a stupid excuse as to why I was in the state I was. She didn’t believe me. My life was sh*t.
My toothpick skinny British born Asian half cousin two months my junior but ten years my senior in his deceitful lying World drove down from Hayes to pick me up later that night with someone from his “crew.” I felt like he was coming to gloat at the fact that I had nowhere to go on my birthday and definitely no one else to spend it with. His snide grin as I nervously opened the door hiding my excitement confirmed my feelings. He started grabbing rap cds from my well arranged collection in my rack (a gift from my uncle) as if a kid in a sweet shop the same day their mum got a piece of good news. I knew I would never get them back but pretended to find it hilarious that we were so close that he could take what he wanted from my room. His friend drove us back to my cousin’s house which he had to himself as his “militant” dad had gone back to visit his home of Pakistan and sat around playing WWE Smackdown a wrestling game on the Playstation through the night. I drank my first "alchopop" too that night which my cousin had bought for me, my first sip of alcohol aged nineteen. It made me throw up the next morning apart from which it didn't do anything for or to me. My mum knew I’d been drinking the next day from all the sounds coming from the kitchen as I bent over the sink throwing up violently like a p*ssy.
Fast forward a few years and I’ve got a job as a steward, working big London sporting venues and Wembley Arena basically a cattle farm where they herd up lots of desperate naïve students desperate for work and treat them like exactly that cattle whilst working for peanuts. In order to legally hold a sporting event in London you need to have a minimum number of stewards which means that as people may not turn up to work due to illness, laziness or a ridiculous hangover for instance then they will call more workers than they need which when everyone turns up means they will send you away for an equally ridiculous reason as the hangover. In my case it was not having shiny shoes, being a few minutes late or wearing the wrong fabric trousers (shiny blue ones from my previous employment for Jewish company Sainsburys.) When I found out the wrestlers of WWE RAW were coming to London this was an opportunity I couldn’t miss being a wrestling fan all through primary school until my mother forced me to go to a private school where the intellectuals preferred to play conkors. However I got back into it when I went college during the attitude era which took child aimed entertainment and made it raunchy. If you don’t know RAW is a flag ship American wrestling show which along with the Simpsons is one of the longest running ever shows in the history of television. Thankfully I was working Wembley Arena at the time and made sure I arrived early with everything about me up to standards desperate to watch the show taking place live.
Entering the arena…. I saw Kane billed as a 7 foot monster running over his routine for his match later that night with a rookie wrestler. He looked at me as I stood nearby for a brief period and I am pretty sure he thought I was there as a lookalike or fan of his or perhaps someone brought in to play a role with him on screen (at least I would like to think so). We both had a similar appearance of a short almost skinhead hairstyle with a serious look of grimace on our faces which appeared to be a permanently fixed expression for us. After our briefing we (the stewards) went to our posts and my heart appeared to stop beating and time stopped existing as I could not believe the situation I was in, behind the scenes at a wrestling event. I took a look around and the majority of Asian stewards around me seemed oblivious to this, obviously not wrestling fans not having a clue where they were. Across from me I saw WWE Star HHH sitting on a chair casually playing on his phone. This guy started off as insignificant in American wrestling and by making the right friends and connections and then eventually marrying the company’s owner Vince McMahon’s daughter is now one of the most dominant wrestling figures in history. When some WWE divas ran past HHH he didn’t even look up. These are by far some of the most beautiful women in the World and he didn’t even look up. That taught me something right there although I am not sure what exactly but something to do with all that glitters not being gold, or resisting a woman’s charms or the influence of having a strong woman by your side (Stephanie McMahon). In front of me was wrestler Shelton Benjamin who looked up at me making eye contact, he had a baby with him whom he showed proudly to WWE Diva Ivory. Directly across the stadium stood two Candian wrestlers drinking out of paper cups Edge and Chris Benoit. They stood out from everyone else as they appeared humble as they seemed to be sharing some sort of intimate conversation. Every now and again they would look over at me staring at them with a star struck expression that I was probably trying to hide and then get back to the conversation. They seemed sad as they looked over at me as if they were calling out for help and then they said their goodbyes to one another and went on their separate ways. I sensed a deep sense of respect between the two. Edge was forced to retire from 8 years later due to not being given clearance by doctors to wrestle with a high chance of him becoming paralyzed if he did, Chris Benoit on the other hand in 2004 murdered his wife and choked his disabled son to death after which he placed a pair of Bibles next to the bodies and hung himself. Police say the ordeal lasted a few days. When I found out the news I went to my bedroom and cried hysterically. If we hadn’t shared a very brief moment together I think I would have found the news entertainment but I cried.
When I was sixteen a few years prior Danusia Brightwell gave me my first hug outside Kingston college. We were hardly acquaintances and I twitched afterwards in surprise as my best friend (best as in one I spent the most time with) gave me a jealous look of grimace. In class Danusia would literally not know I was there I was invisible to her but outside class if I was too bump into her (which happened often) she would flirt highly (which she did with almost every other guy with a pulse). This girl had long blonde hair and huge breasts with bright eyes, she smoked and I smoked she was the perfect female in my eyes. When I did bump into her we would walk around, sometimes share headphones and I would listen to her talk while I was almost a mute as my heart would be beating out my chest at the shock of being with a girl so beautiful next to me. I had severe acne at the time which I would cover up with a Clearisil cream which sometimes would make me look better than I would without it but sometimes would create streaks across my skin looking like a bad foundation. I didn’t know how to dress and would wear baggy clothes to cover up the fact that I had a chunky body on top of two skinny legs. Danusia would sometimes run up to me screaming and hug me like she loved me but this was nothing I took seriously as she done it with many guys around college. I was insecure and certain looks guys gave me as I walked around with her shouted loud and clear; “How the f*ck is someone that sexy hanging around with you!” I was obsessed with this girl I would literally think about her every second of my waking day. I knew I would never stand a chance with her which made me feel torture and very restless. I once got the idea to invite her to a Mariah Carey concert and bought the tickets with intentions of asking her out to it. I went on the prayer mat and prayed to God that she would say yes. Then I walked to the phone box with her house number in my hand with the intentions of asking her out to the concert. I phoned her number almost fainting with terror. She picked it up from one end and her mum picked it up from the other end. She was crying “mum let me talk to …..” meaning her boyfriend. I had called her up in the middle of an argument with her boyfriend. We talked for about a minute awkwardly at which point I asked her. There was an uncomfortable silence after which time she told me to ask her again later. When I did that she told me she would be working. I ended up going to the Mariah Carey concert alone after missing the first half because I was too embarrassed to go in alone. Ten years later with the advent of the mobile, blackberry, internet, social networking it is easy for me to track down lost friends including Danusia who I haven’t seen since college and who I manage to add on Facebook. In her pics she doesn’t look anywhere near as nice as she used to. Her blonde hair is now brown and she looks a bit more stupid f*cking prick like than she used to. Four-thirty and I am sitting on Facebook chat I am awake already or maybe I haven’t been to sleep as I am going to America that day with my family (for about the third time) when Danusia pops up on chat. She tells me she is coming to see me and can I pay for the taxi. I can’t believe my luck but a bit annoyed that it happens when I have somewhere to go in a few hours. Long story short I end up paying for her taxi and she comes in to my bedroom. She doesn’t look anything like she used to well she does but not as good but f*ck it she was the apple of my eye, my teenage crush the girl I probably masturbated over while lying in bed nights before and after college and she is in my bedroom all alone with me. She tells me about working in clubs and owning properties and we share some alcohol that she has brought round. Finally she hints at going to bed with me and I am not feeling nervous in the slightest having been with a number of women by this point. We end up in bed together where I start grabbing on her tits and feeling her ass with oomph. She is pretending to sleep as I pull down her pants and finger her p*ssy. She isn’t wet at all and her ass feels like cottage cheese. This is the first white girl I ever been so close too and my d*ck has shrunk almost as if going into my body leaving nothing but the helmet. Refusing to believe this is happening I squash a condom on and try shoving it on her p*ssy. She feels down to check if there is a rubber on it and I’m thinking what a slut as she was just talking for a while about her black DJ boyfriend. f*ck this is hopeless I give up trying to f*ck her, she is nowhere near as attractive as she used to be and go to sleep. In the morning I basically chuck her out after giving her a cup of tea and have never seen her since except for on facebook.
Chapter Two- Heathrow Terminal 5
Later that day my mum, brother and I head off to the airport. One of our relatives in America has bribed us to come over by paying for our tickets which we are thankful for although aware that this is pretty much just a family visit but over the pond rather than across London. By now I am an alcoholic meaning doing anything remotely requiring any type of social interaction requires me to down a large consumption of alcohol. I have to conceal the alcohol being a muslim and not wanting anyone to know the secret to my confidence which I would do by putting it in soft drink bottles or buying miniatures. Sometimes I would load up a bottle and then wait till the social interaction will be at its highest before downing the whole lot in a few sips. Examples include drinking a vast amount of alcohol before going on a long journey or a family get together or in the que of the club not to enjoy the club more but because I could not handle standing in a que with nothing but my thoughts perhaps. On this occasion the thought of going airside to where I coincidently had previously just worked and then boarding a flight was too much to handle and I gulped down a bottle full of vodka and a purple can of KA (a Jamaican branded popular London beverage.) Suddenly I would feel fearless and bulletproof as most people would have drunk so much so quickly. I’d like to think my drinking was not too obvious as I tried my best to hide the effects and got through security pretty much as normal. That’s when I got to airside the place where I had left work without warning and the excitement of being back overtook me. Seeing Paul a fat oaf who I used to work with caused me to rush at him in excitement where he returned the love for a few seconds. He showed me a guy who had replaced me and then I asked where the rest were. Matt and Karen were supposedly on a different section called Terminal B or something like that and I just couldn’t miss the opportunity to confront them after my absence. I jumped on board the shuttle and was whisked away to the other section where I saw Matt who had washed his greasy hair for once. I ran at him and started rubbing his hair shouting “Matty Boy” my nickname for him which he detested. Then I saw Karen walking towards me with two Malteser bags in her hand staring in disbelief at me as if she had seen a ghost. I told her to shake my hand alcohol now rushing through my system at which she refused so I went mad at Matt telling him he had caused me to lose my job (which he was involved in) and so had Karen. Karen stood out of harms way telling a Sikh worker in a turban that I was not joking I was serious. For some reason I started telling Matt I loved him he was like a brother to me and walked off intending to go back to the other section whilst telling one of the workers that they should stick with their job. Having spent hundreds of hours with Matt I guess telling him what I did was me saying I missed some aspects of the job. I don’t know. By now I’m on the shuttle back to section A the only one on it apart from a woman who says in a rude way why am I going back. f*ck! That is when it hits me that I no longer have my security pass for working in the airport so I am now in pretty much a worker only area of the airport. This is post 9/11 so obviously security is very tight at an airport. Not only this I don’t have my passport or ticket on me I left them with my mum. Meanwhile my mother is having breathing problems thinking I have run away not wanting to go America or something crazy like that. I am stressed because I know how stressed she will be and I am taken to the security check in to argue with them to let me back. While I’m here I am dropping my spending money everywhere and having go at the workers telling them stupid stuff like I’m going to add them on Facebook. Long story short after many phone calls they finally let me through and on my way to departures with a Sikh Asian girl in a turban who doesn’t appreciate me touching her turban (remember I was drunk). After what seems like a fifteen minute walk I finally get to the place you board the plane at which point an asian security guard looks at me cockily and says “here he is the one whose holding the plane up.” This caused me to blow up at which point I shout “I used to work in World Duty Free you f*ck*ng pusssy” and grab my passport from someone who was holding it for me who just happened to know my brother. Once on the transport to the plane I meet my brother and mum who look like they have just been two rounds with Mike Tyson. My brother decides to say something off the cuff which sends me off again and I shout out “security made me late does anyone have a problem with that?” silence “just my brother then, the one who goes on “sane trips”, referencing the time he ran away from his holiday resort in Egypt and ended up in a mental hospital for the second time. I slept like a dead man on the plane and in retrospect it was a good thing because the journey to Philidelphia felt like twenty minutes. Later the guy who handed me at the passport told my brother on facebook that I was lucky to have got on that plane. I promised myself I would never down a whole bottle of vodka mixed with some purple KA ever again at an airport.
Sometimes I would get ready for college and look in the mirror and be so sickened by what I saw that I would promise myself I would not go in that day. This happened often during my college days where not a lot of emphasis was put on students attending classes. I could not stay at home as my mum would get suspicious and I didn’t want her to know how f*cked I felt mentally and physically. So I would go out and walk around my area in the most pointless trip ever. Sometimes I would walk so much my legs would hurt. I would walk all the way to Clapham Junction as this would make me come face to face with less people as possible without staying in the same area for too long or walk behind my house on a long footpath next to the River Wandle the same place where I had previously attempted suicide. It was on one of these walks next to the canal that I needed to urinate so I climbed up a mound which led up to a huge dumping ground. I was pretty high up and started to relieve myself whilst the smell of a Clearasi cover up stick l often used to cover my spots teased my nose with its light burning scent. It was at this thought that I heard a squeal and looked round to be met by a massive light pink colored curled up tail through the wooden boards which could only have belonged to a rat, a big f*ck off rat with a tail at least a meter long. The thought of this tail still fills my body with dread and I can only fathom a guess as to the epic proportion of the rest of the rodent. I didn’t stick around to find out how big the rest of it was that’s for sure as it squeaked in terror but I figure the rat had been feasting on all the garbage at the dumping yard and had grown to Guinness Book of record proportions.
Having graduated with a degree in English Language and Linguistics and English Literature after five years I had no interest in pursuing some sort of decent career in relation to my degree as I knew I was not good enough and I knew teaching was something I would find impossible with my lack of confidence. My brother mentioned to me that he had a mate from the mosque that owned a taxi company and was in need of a controller. I had some basic experience and my brother assured me that the company was professional as I was always dubious of working for Asians in cash and hand roles. I put on a shirt and tie and my brother drove me down to meet the guy and he basically gave me the job on the spot and asked me to come for “training” the following day. I went along and was met in the office by a bunch of typical looking Asian cab drivers fat or skinny with puffed up hair styles, bad suits and an evil rape type glare in their eyes. My job was to basically write down the jobs that came and assign them to drivers. As not a lot of calls would come for most of the day I could spend my time on the internet which was fine by me as this is all I would be doing at home that day. But I realized that I would be in a small office with at least two cab drivers at one time as well as the boss. The slight wift of curry was constant but being half Pakistani I was used to it and though once I get to know the drivers the job would be fine. The boss was an evil looking short skinny Asian guy who I could best describe as looking like Splinter the rat from the movie Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. When I went for my introduction session the boss look disappointed when he realized I would not be staying the full day as he expected me to start working straight away. We hadn’t discussed pay as he would just tell me we will sort that out and being my brothers acquaintance as he turned out to be I took his word on it, not expecting the pay to be much but I had previously worked a controller position for £2.50 an hour so anything above that would have been a step in the right direction. He told me I would not get paid for the first few days as it was training and that I would be paid weekly but with a week in hand as in get the first weeks pay after two weeks and so on and so forth which I found strange but went along with it as it seemed legit. So I worked the first week sucking up to the workers and the boss as you do and learning the ways of the taxi company making a note of my hours daily. At one point the boss saw the notes and his eyes seemed to pop out his head for a second but I kept ignoring the signs. After a week I got annoyed at not having any knowledge of how much I was working for so I briskly asked the rat looking boss on the phone at which point he reluctantly said ok I will pay you three pound an hour for the first few months and then the pay will go up. I was not complaining thirty six pound a day for just using the internet mainly and signing on at the same time I would be making as much as I made at the airport pushing cages (approximately £850 a month) living at home and not paying for food or bills I would be more than surviving.
Having worked for two weeks I was expecting my pay but as we had not set a day I felt it necessary to find out when I would get paid and when I asked him on a Saturday he conveniently said a Tuesday which would be taking us into the third week. I told my mum and she felt something dodgy was going on she told me the guys mum always went round the mosque begging for money from people and that I should get my money from the guy as soon as. I decided to be patient and wait till Tuesday morning. Every morning I would leave my house at 5am to get to work by 6am which involved getting a bus to Putney from Mitcham which was the first stop to the last stop and then walking a good fifteen minutes to the office in the cold then spending twelve hours in the office then doing the same journey back and then doing it all over the next day constantly with maybe a day or two off. On the morning of Tuesday I asked the boss can I get paid today and he laughed nervously and made a joke about it being too early in the morning to be asking that. The rest of the day the guy was in the office with me and I politely didn’t mention the money again expecting that he would pay me at the end of the day after my shift. Twenty minutes near the end of my shift the guy told me he was going to move his car or something and would be right back. Ten minutes later he phoned me and said he was in the petrol station and would be going home from there and could I pass on a message to someone about something or another. I said what about my money at which he replied oh sugar can you do me a favour and wait till tomorrow I have to get to the mosque where he done security work too for his dad. I said look I am not coming in the morning tomorrow and when I do come in tomorrow I am going to want my money. He replied cockily ok well then I will deduct some of your pay! That comment caused me to blow my fuse and I began screaming down the phone that I want my money he hung up saying he wont speak to me if I talk like that. When I finally got through to him again I told him I am in his office and will f*ck it up. He said ok I will call the police then. I said call them I will tell them you hired me illegally. I smashed the phone against the wall rage through my whole body like I felt I would explode. He had two PCs in the office which I began to disconnect from the internet and then decided I would take them so I started walking down the stairs with two big computers under my arms. When I got half way down the road I began to realize how heavy they were and how stupid I would look getting on the bus with them plus I had booked to get to a studio by 7pm in Tottenham to record a song with my cousin who I couldn’t let down as it had taken ages to get a time booked. I left the PCs on the road and started walking to the bus stop. At this point my brother calls me and when I tell him what I have done he goes mental down the phone saying the guy will tell everyone in the mosque and our family reputation would be dirtied. By now I have cooled down a tiny bit and the fact that I have not done anything stupid since I have been on medication makes me start thinking maybe I have done the wrong thing. I go and find the PCs still there on the road and take them back to the office. At this point two drivers come in on the phone to the boss who has sent them who see the computers disconnected and the phone cables all pulled out. They start saying hysterically that the business is down to the boss and one of them starts shouting at me to give back the key to the office. The other guy is blocking the door and saying that he has called the police the office looks like a wreck. Somehow I manage to run out as one of the guys shouts insults about my mother in Punjabi (I am still waiting for the day I confront him again). I have got forty minutes to get to the studio or my cousin would have booked the studio for no reason and I hate letting people down. Long story short on the underground train a crazy man gets on who is twitching hysterically like he’s on crack, heroine and anything else you can think of at the same time. He looks so bad people are pretending its they’re stop next and calmly rushing off the train and he is sitting next to me. I get brave and quickly get up and run to the other side of the carriage. Suddenly the guy gets up and its like something out of a horror movie as he is chasing me. I get off at the stop and run in the other carriage as he is coming from the other side and the window is down. He looks at me and says “it’s the ugly ones that stare” as I stare at him by which point he has taken his top off. The fact he called me ugly makes me feel sad as I have always felt insecure about my looks as well as called ugly throughout my life. I run to the studio and when I get in the guy at the mixing desk has his head in his hands. He says I am too late and cant be recording. We beg him and he finally lets me rush record my verse as I am dripping in sweat with my cousin holding up the lyrics on a piece of paper so I can read off what I have written. When I get home my brother goes mad at me for the way I have reacted as my cousin and his boy tell him what I have done is right. My mum and I have multiple arguments where I tell her I am going to get my money by any means necessary and she tells me to relax. I tell her I will dig his mum out her grave or go to the mosque and run in the Imams office until I get every penny owed to me and I meant every word and she knew it.
My mum went to the mosque to basically report the guy who hadn’t paid me as Asian people have a community within a community or at least the ones I know did as in they will try avoid going to the police against someone from their own culture and rather have the senior officials deal with things in their own way in which the severest punishment would be getting banished from the community and black listed which would mean to them that God was angry with them and eventually hell fire or severe punishment would befall them. I being from London this meant nothing to me and I wanted my money straight away. My mother was told that as I had broken the guys phones I was not entitled to having them deal with the matter which I knew they would say anyway especially as the guy who had ripped me off had a dad who was head of security there. Weeks or even months may have passed as I secretly plotted on how to get revenge on this guy. My brother and mum kept on talking to me as if I should forget all about it afraid of their own reputations in the religious community. In one heated exchange I screamed at my mum that I am the one who woke up at 5am went to work came home and done the same thing day in day out in the routine I explained earlier which seemed to hit home with her. A few weeks later my cousin came round my house whose dad had hit hard times since someone from the community had ripped him off by causing him to entrust them into receiving machinery overseas in America which was then never paid for. I told my cousin and he told me he was sick of people in our community ripping one another off he looked at me with passion in his eyes and told me he would get me my money back. The guy was studying law as well has having a number of degrees and being of strong character I knew he meant it. He later provided me with a legal letter which I decided to deliver personally however when I got there the rat he is was not in the office so I handed his loyal controller the letter as well all the white women on their floor to let them know they had a “rat” working a few doors away from them.
Meanwhile I handled things in my own style calling up the cab service that owed me money pretending to be the hotels they had contracts with and ordering taxis which must have caused confusion when they turned up to find no one had ordered a taxi although I was never there to see that side of the prank. I sent a broadcast on my blackberry to all my contacts saying my 14 year old sister (although I don’t have one) had been approached for sex by a Pakistani man and put his number at the end for people to give their opinions to him on the matter. I then called the hotels that the cab company had contracts with and told them that I was a police officer and that the companies were acting illegally and that they must not use them anymore. A few days later I went to visit my dad who was in a mental hospital in Croydon who had befriended a six foot tall twenty stones white guy named Bobby who was in to black women, new era baseball caps and rap music (preferably DMX) when I told them what happened Bobby was adamant he wanted to come down with me and have a word with the cab company owner so the two of us travelled the painful journey to Putney on train and bus to catch the guy. I still remembered the code to get in the building but again he wasn’t there so we sat in the office with the controller shitting bricks telling him to get the boss here straight away. Obviously he didn’t come so Bobby grabbed all the phones out their sockets with the controller cowering and saying “don’t hurt me.” in a pathetic way. Guess he wasn’t prepared to get beaten up over his three pound an hour job. Previously my mum had threatened the guy with reporting him to the head of the community who was believed to be somewhat of a voice piece to God and spiritual leader and low and behold I got a call from the “rat” or “chooa” aka mouse in Urdu which I called him as he was too cowardly to be a rat. With the cash I went straight to TK Maxx and bought a new suit to go visit the parents house of my future wife and funnily enough by then I had another job as a taxi controller for a better company which also decided not to pay me. But that’s another story.
Chapter Three- Aida L
I must have been sitting online talking to a girl although honestly I cannot remember a word of conversation between us or even have an image of seeing her picture of her or anything. What I can remember is tidying my front room in excitement at night in disbelief that this light skin mixed race girl who I hardly knew a thing about had agreed to come and meet me at around ten pm at night which could only mean one thing ….. bootycall! Or at the very least a girl to hug up to all night rather than a pillow. Sasha turned up to meet me at the station as was usual for girls to do with me around this time it felt like I was meeting a different girl online almost every week for easy sex or a very awkard time of me begging for sex from a girl who sat there in silence. I told Sasha my room was a mess as I wasn’t expecting company and she replied to me that “everyone says that” which made me feel silly on the one hand and on the other suggested to me she does this kind of thing all the time which spells out the words “garunteed sex” in my head. I can barely conceal my excitement but play it cool. I almost had the same routine with every girl I met in this way. I would walk them to my house we would talk about everything except for sex as if we had known each other for years, I would act stupid to make sure they didn’t feel intimidated they would come to my house go in to my room we would watch a movie well start to and finish off having sex or with my tongue below the belly button line during my university years this is what would keep entertained away from going to class. I forgot to mention it was normal to walk girls to the chicken and chip shop next to the station as I discovered if a girl had a full belly and was alone with you in the house there’s a lot more chance of things “popping off”
To show Sasha I wasn’t just after sex I decided to entertain her with a movie however being before the advent of dvds which are even recent to writing this I attempted to go through a load of video tapes I managed to get from the back of the sofa and ended up subjecting her to a fourty minute display of me nervously trying to get a movie on which failed miserably with my crap VHS machine. I can’t remember the rest of the night but I do know we ended up in my bed with her saying we can’t have sex or I will think she is a hoe and she doesn’t want that and honestly I can’t remember if we did I can just about remember us having a kiss and her telling me she doesn’t like sloppy wet kisses. Sasha was weird she would hardly make eye contact but had beautiful green eyes the rest of her was nothing to write home about but she had this constant look about her like she was in a tiny bit of pain. We spoke on the phone about movies for some reason the next night and the conversation was always very dry and awkward but not so bad that I thought we would never have a chance at our relationship. We linked a few times and she stayed over without us having sex as far as I can remember although I do remember me telling her I am confused what are we and she said the same thing so I asked her do you want to be friends or try a relationship she said try a relationship so that seemed fine. One thing always bugged me Sasha was living in a university dorm near Kingston on her own but had never invited me over. She said she was getting bullied by the other girls living there in this all girls halls but she was doing the same degree as me and she lived on her own I lived with my mum which was always awkward bringing her over. When she had to sneek up to go to the bathroom so as she doesn’t wake up my mum she told me she would never be coming over again which in the end was true. One morning she woke up and came down and said why is there a condom in your passageway hall. f*ck! It must have fallen off when I went for a piss I almost had a heart attack. I kept asking people for their advice why she hasn’t invited me around her halls and finally I got her to agree to let me round.
Sasha gave me directions to her university and brought me in but she was afraid to take me in her room as the girls who had been bullying her were sitting outside the hallway after about twenty minutes she finally decided to bring me up and I saw the white girls roll their eyes as she “snuck” me into her bedroom. She had a picture of T.I an American lighskin rapper who was just getting known about on her wall and his U.K counterpart D.J Ironik who had a large army of fourteen year old school girl fans at the time and who she told me had come to see her and got a “massage” from her something he later confirmed to me on msn after. Long story short I am in Sashas bed in her uni halls and I’m feeling nervous as I usually do in other peoples territories but at the same time excited. I am going to finally get to f*ck Sashas brains out and nothing can stop me I thought. I felt up her ass and she says urgghhh and tuts like touching ass is disgusting (I’m just talking the cheeks here) so I finally go and reach for Excalibur pulling down my boxers revealing a semi boner and go to rip off her panties. Then it hits me… the smell is like a fish mongers x 50 I am serious it is so bad I think I must need a gasmask I almost throw up I quickly pull the blanket tight under my chin to stop the smell coming up. Sasha is lying there oblivious with a blank expression as if just waiting for me to stick it in. My d*ck shrinks to the size of an obese maggot getting a condom on this is hopeless. But I will be damned if I have come all this way not to f*ck. I try everything wanking my d*ck, rubbing my d*ck, imagining beyonce sucking my d*ck, thinking back to the best head I ever got but nothing its like I am asexual for the first time in my life. My d*ck is as if it saying “have you smelt that, I’m not going in there.” Fourty five minutes later I rip the condom off my d*ck and shove a twenty per cent c*ck in to Sashas dry p*ssy. I go in and out for about two minutes it feels crap and Sasha lying there pan face makes the moment more awkward. She says lets stop. Couple weeks later I insult her on msn and she tells me I am crap in bed. We meet again when I take her studio after she has been swimming where I am putting the finishing touches to a song called “shake it fast” with about six other people enjoying the studio I am the only one paying for. After that you could say things shriveled out and I have never seen her since.
