Music to Fuck, Fuck to Music, to Fuck Music

Because my life always has a soundtrack, also does my sex.

The Bangles - Hazy Shade of Winter
Bryan Ferry - Slave to Love
Bryan Ferry - Is Your Love Strong Enough?
Bryan Ferry - Your Painted Smile
Bryan Ferry - Mamouna
David Bowie - I'm Deranged
David Bowie - Wild is the Wind
David Bowie - The Motel
Duran Duran - Le Chaufeur
Einsturzende Neubauten - Stella Maris
Garbage - Push it
Lou Reed and Marylin Manson - Nightclubbing
Massive Attack - Unfinished Simpathy
Massive Attack - Karmacoma (the Napoli trip)
Massive Attack ft. Tracey Thorn - The Hunter Gets Captured by the Game
Moloko - Where is the What if the What is in Why
Moloko - The Time is Now
Morrissey - Lifegard Sleeping, Girl Drowning
George Michael - Father Figure
Shivaree - Goodnight Moon
P. J. Harvey - The Dancer
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Do you love me?
Prince - The Question of U
Prince - Joy in Repetition
Recoil - Want
The Rolling Stones - Paint it Black
Siouxsie and the Banshees - Face to Face
Tricky - Hell is Around the Corner

Please add to this playlist. Any suggestions will be tried, tested and rated!

Come on.....

Just now, on the internet

Him - "Come on... give me your ass."
Me - "Sorry, mate. I can give you my heart though!"

... He didn't answer.

Smoking, please.

First of all, if you are my niece, don't read this post!!

Second, please bring back smoking!!
For years, smoking was considered one of the traits of being a man's man. If you smoked, you were immediately part of the bad boys club. You were masculine and you were dangerous. But, most importantly, you were damn sexy!! Now, come on... if you know how to smoke a cigarette, it's fucking sexy as hell! Not just for men but also for women. There is nothing more beautiful to see a lady, with a perfect manicure, smoking a cigarette and enjoying it.
Nowadays, smoking is a disease and smokers are the anti-crist. Everything is clean, healthy and recyclable. And fucking boring!!! If you smoke, you are treated either with pity or contempt and everyone feels they have the right to step on your own rights!
But i don't want to turn political. This is merely a practical thing.
I miss the days when you would relax with a cigarette after sex. I miss that intimate moment between two men when you would just smoke a cigarette between heavy breaths of exhaustion and beads of sweat (and...) running through you face.

I have just arrived to Istanbul this afternoon and, one of the traits of this city are it's men. They are mean and rough and they fucking smoke. They are true blokes like you don't make them no more. And apparently this is truer than just this statement.
Because I'm done on wasting time, I had a date just a few hours after I arrived to my hotel. This hot young blond boy. Body of a surfer, curls of a cherub. Meeting at Starbucks was just a formality as we walked up to my room 5 minutes later he arrived. I pulled up a cigarette and offered one to him. He refused. He didn't smoke. So I knew introductions were going to be kept to a minimum. Eventually I had to butt my cigarette out to focus on his own butt as the wait was starting to be a bit uncomfortable (that's what you get when u fuck someone who doesn't speak your language!!).
The sex was (smoking) hot!!! The AC was on but the room was still warm from the afternoon sun and soon our bodies were glistening with sweat. The boy had imagination and we ended up doing it lying down, sitting, standing up, on all fours... the works (fucking youths... they have nothing better to do than jerk off to porn flicks and they expect you to be a fucking gymnast. Well, at thirty fucking two, ones joints aren't like they were!!! (were they ever??)). He came twice and I did the workout of the week. We sunk in the rumble of sheets and pillows and I lit up a cigarette. And he asks if he can take a shower. Hey!!! This is when we cuddle! This is when we laugh about things. This is when we fucking relax!! He buggered off to the shower and I was left on the bed with my fag (pun intended!). Now, if he smoked we would have shared that moment. We would have kissed between puffs (no pun intended!) and i would stroke his hair.
So, to my point, even if you didn't have it in the first place, smoking a cigarette would guarantee a bit of a sexual decorum. You don't just cum and go! You share something and those 5 minutes of a cigarette would have ensured just that. There is nothing more sexy and intimate than a shared cigarette after sex. And there is nothing better than smoke a cigarette while your dick is being sucked!! But that's another post (that my niece cannot read as well!).

Thank you for the music!

When someone fucks you up, why should you bother? I say, save your words and say it with a song!!

Enjoy and use it wisely!!!

GaZpar... thinking of you!!

Fake it 'till you make it!

I was having a calm cigarette break outside my office today, in one of the busiest gay streets of Madrid (it had to be there!!) when this tranny passes me by.

A few steps down, she stops in her tracks and walks back towards me. She puts on her most beautiful smile and asks me for a light. "Sure", I said. While I was taking my lighter from my pocket, the tranny opens her handbag to dig for her cigarettes and, in the search, takes out a tampon!

"Ok... now that is commitment!", I thought.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

I kissed a boy and I liked it!

Damn!!

Three dates without sex.

It's official... I'm married!!

Flattery will take you everywhere!

My cleaning lady told me today that I look thinner.

I decided to give her a raise!

Acapulco Blues

"It was dusk on board of the Pacific Princess. Michael sat in a deck chair, smoking a joint and watching the gentle, seductive curve of the beach at Acapulco. The air was warm, and the sky was exactly the color it should have been.
Even before he got stoned.
"Mouse?" It was Mary Ann. Dressed for a date.
"Hi," said Michael.
"I've looked all over for you."
"I'se heah, Miz Schalett."
She pulled up a deck chair and sat on the edge of it. "Are you all right, Mouse?"
He nodded. "I'm always all right."
"You weren't at dinner."
He patted his stomach. "Chubbette."
"Burke and I thought you might... We'd really like it if you came into town with us tonight. Somebody told us about this place called BabyO's."
"Thanks. I don't think I'm up for it that tonight."
"It's a disco."
"Maybe tomorrow, O.K.?"
She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "Are you sure?"
He nodded as her hand slid down the side of his face. His cheek was wet. She sat with him for almost a minute, holding his hand, saying nothing.
"You better go," he finally said. "I'm O.K."
"You're too hard on yourself, Mouse."
He shrugged. "If I don't do it, who will?"
"Mouse, you're the most wonderful-"
"I know, Mary Ann. I know I'm a nice guy. I really do. I know that you love me. I know that old ladies love me and my mother and dogs and cats... and every goddamn person I meet except someone who'll commit himself to... Please, don't get me started."
"Mouse, I wish you could-"
"The hell of it is, I know the answer. The answer is that you never, ever, rely on another person for your peace of mind. If you do, you're screwd but good. Not right away, maybe, but sooner or later. You have to - I don't know - you have to learn to live with yourself. You have to learn to turn back your own sheets and set a table for one without feeling pathetic. You have to be strong and confident and pleased with yourself and never give the slightest impression that you can't hack it without that certain goddamn someone. You have to fake the hell out of it."
"You aren't faking it, Mouse. You are strong."
"I'm tired of it. I'm sick of picking up the pieces and marching bravely onward. I want things to work out just once." He rubbed the corner of his eye, smiled suddenly, and shrugged. "I wanna do a Salem commercial with a Marlboro Man."
Mary Ann squeezed his hand. "We're all that way, Mouse."
"I know, but it works out for some people."
"It'll work out for you."
"No, it won't."
"Mouse..."
"I want it too badly, Mary Ann. Any idiot can see that. When you want it too badly, no one wants you. No one is attracted to that... desperation."
He turned away from her, wiping his eyes.
"Christ!" he said softly, reaching for her hand again. "Look at that sky, will you?"

After Mary Ann and Burke left, Michael spent half an hour in his stateroom reading another chapter of the Isherwood book, then wandered out onto the deck again.
The lights of the city blinked at him beguilingly.
But why should I? he wondered. Why should I put my heart through the wringer again? Who could I find that would possibly matter on a two-day stay in an unfamiliar foreign city?
And should I wear the pink or the green Lacoste?

To be or not to be

I think I have a compulsive behaviour.

Last Friday a friend of mine gave a 1000 piece puzzle as a challenge.

I finished it... in half a day!