Saturday 20th January 2007: Uncle has Died - Journal Entry
My great-uncle has died. He was 89. I last saw him on Thursday evening shortly after I got back from Torquay. I'd gotten a phone call from my cousin-in-law to tell me that he was very weak and wouldn't last long.
I went straight to the bus stop and waited for the bus. Whilst there I had a sudden urge to burst into tears, but I managed to control myself.
Having arrived at the hospital I hardly saw a person as I walked along the corridors. It was quite eery.
When I got to his room he was sleeping and one of the nurses asked me if I wanted him to be woken up - I said no.
I went to his bedside, held his hand, and then whispered in his ear that I knew he could hear me. In response he squeezed my hand.
I told him what a nice man he was and how we all loved him - I didn't really know what else to say.
All the time I was there I could hear the clock on the wall ticking which didn't just remind me that time was running out for my uncle, but for all of us.
When I left I knew it would be the last time I would see him alive.
I then caught the bus back home on a quiet and cold night feeling very sad.
Tuesday 14th October 2008: Day Trip to Brighton - Journal Entry
Took the train down to Brighton to catch-up with Ronan. Had a good laugh and chat. Funny enough I had a swim there since I'd left my bathing trunks and towel in my backpack. We then had a few beers and a sandwich. We talked a lot about CP and also paid a visit to a sexshop. In the afternoon I popped into the Little Preston Street Brothel and had a massage from a pretty blonde woman who rubbed my nipples whilst I wanked myself off. Was very enjoyable. Concluded the visit with a curry with Ronan.
Sunday 2nd November 2008: A Taste of Bamboo for Painslut Maria - Kinky Fiction
Her eyes, like twin emerald hued laser beams, had bored into me. Mesmerised me.
It had been oppressively hot and my eyes were sore from the smoke. There were far too many people and the music was screwed up way too loud. And if it hadn't been for the chance of pulling a bird I wouldn't have been there. Bogart's Discotheque.
She had been leaning provocatively, with a self-assurance that was almost intimidating, against a pillar and supping casually from a glass. Slim and 'dressed to kill' in a skimpy black number.
I'd fancied myself a bit of a 'wolf' back then so I'd meandered over, and for my own self-assurance I'd checked my reflection briefly in the mirrored surface of the walls: neat, well-groomed auburn hair, large brown eyes, strong features and a tallish athletic frame. I was also well presented, groomed, in an expensive patterned Midnight-Blue shirt with pressed, well fitting, tight around my arse, black trousers and shiny polished black shoes. Clothes define a person. Define me. I could still just discern the Zendiq aftershave I had slapped on my cheeks prior to leaving the house. I'd looked good, smelt good and had felt good. Very good.
I'd closed in on her. Cut off her retreat. Predator and prey.
Full and wavy raven locks had cascaded onto the exquisite exposed ivory flesh of her shoulders and had framed her oval face which was pale yet healthy and gifted with high cheekbones. A small, straight and cute nose had sat atop a mouth that was wide and expansive with glossed lips.
"Like what you see?" she had said, with a lilting Irish accent.
Naturally, I had expected to speak first and had almost been taken out of my stride.
"Yes, I do rather. And what I hear-"
The rich green hue of her eyes, the dark depths of her large pupils, had drawn me in like the dangerous swirling waters of a whirlpool.
"My name is Matt, Matt Triewly."
I'd suddenly felt awkward. Gauche.
She'd smiled, reassuringly and had replied, "I'm Maria," she had then paused significantly, mysteriously and not a little teasingly before adding: "It is all that you are required to know."
I'd understood, I'd thought.
We'd talked and she had reminisced, longingly, of Eire. Its landscapes, the people, the music, the myths, and the rich literature. Her family and growing up; I had explained my work in a laboratory, my career aspirations. Shared happy memories from my childhood. Funny stories.
As the evening had drawn on, I had warmed to her as a person. I liked her. I could have loved her. And then we were on the dance floor. The lights dimmed. Slowly rotating to Three Times a Lady and her slender bare arms wrapped tight around my torso. Me erect. And then I'd kissed her sweet lips and had slipped my tongue in her mouth... but she had gently pulled away and for an instant I had feared rejection before whispering in my ear, "Let's go," just as the music had begun to fade out.
I had caught the eye of one of my friends at the peripheral of the dance floor. He had read the situation and knew I wouldn't be requiring a lift back. We had then passed out of the club's entrance into the comparative chill of the night.
"You came here alone?" I had been curious.
"I have a few I chat with here, but yes," she had partially answered.
There had been a pause in the conversation and I had listened to the waves breaking softly on the beach; the club was but a road away from the shore. The air had been still and the swell of the sea, gentle and rhythmic.
She had walked a little ahead of me - maybe she hadn't wanted to draw too much attention to us. She had moved with poise and I had wondered if she exercised, perhaps played tennis or swam.
We reached her car, a racing green Mini 1275 GT, and in a reversal of gender chivalry she'd unlocked the passenger door for me. A strong aroma of rose petal had greeted me from the air freshener dangling from the interior mirror. I'd squeezed myself into the black-leather bucket seats and had drawn the inertia reel seatbelt across my chest before fastening it. She then started the engine and sped quickly out of the car park and onto the main road.
She had driven nippily and I had admired the fluid movements of her limbs as she had shifted gear and handled the sporty steering wheel. I had hoped she wouldn't attract the attention of the law as she was, I had suspected, rather over the limit. We'd travelled fast out of the small seaside town and into the country with the hedgerows and trees eerily illuminated by the cold lunar light.
After a while we'd turned into a new looking road that led shortly to the prestigious 'Garden Village'; a recent development. I doubted that the four or so miles had taken any longer than seven or eight minutes. Maria had swung the Mini onto a drive and had stopped a few feet short of a double garage. She'd killed the engine and then slipped out of the vehicle.
The residence had been large, detached, and like all the surrounding properties, new and in the style, I believe, Neo-Georgian. Everything about it said, money; and 'fuck you'.
Only the distant hoot of an owl had disturbed the peace as Maria had slipped the key silently into the lock. The door had opened into a sumptuous lobby and she had directed me through to the lounge.
"Would you be liking a coffee... first?" she had smiled wickedly.
I had merely stood there gaping at the opulence: oil paintings spotlighted by brass wall lamps; expensive furnishings; curtains with gold braided pull cords. It was casual wealth taken by granted by the occupants. Or maybe that was the image they sought to project.
"Two sugars and cream, please." I had followed her into the kitchen.
I then noticed a silver photo frame lying face down on a window ledge. I had sneakily picked it up. It was a snap of a bald, ruddy-faced businessman with heavy jowls at a 'bash' of some kind. I now knew why I was here.
Her back had been to me as she had prepared the filter coffee. I'd stolen up behind her and had lightly kissed the side of her delicious neck. She had immediately swivelled round and had said, "I'm going to give you what you so desire... me," she drew breath, "but before anything you will have to attend to wayward Maria."
We had moved into the lounge and I'd sat gingerly in an armchair being extra careful not to spill coffee onto the plush cardinal-red velvet covers. She was on a sofa - her toned legs folded under her. We had supped at our drinks and excitement had coursed through my every nerve. This was what life was all about.
"There's no need to worry. He is in Dubai and won't be returning for a month. Don't you think I'm rather naughty for bringing a man back," she'd sucked in air, "and do you not think I deserve to be punished?"
How could I resist?
We had finished our drinks and she had asked me to follow her. We had then entered the master bedroom which unsurprisingly was as ostentatious as the rest of the house.
In front of me, Maria had stopped and then to my utter amazement pulled her dress over her head in one motion with her lustrous dark locks falling back into place onto her bare shoulders as though in slow motion. She was now standing in front of me naked and absolutely shameless.
"What you are going to do now Matt is to strip off yourself and then you are going to beat me first with a plimsoll and then cane me hard on my buttocks. After you have spanked me with the plimsoll you are going to attach clamps to my nipples. When I'm ready - I'll tell you - you can fuck me from behind. There's no need to concern yourself with pleasuring me as I'll come anyway. Have you got that?"
"Yes," I had replied, and had thought that this was one uncomplicated woman who knew exactly what she wanted in life.
"Not get your clothes off, Matt, and try not to ejaculate before you fuck me. I like cocks hard. Really hard."
As Maria had padded over to the corner of the spacious room I had swiftly taken all my clothes off. She had then lifted the lid of what looked to be an antique Ottoman chest and had taken out a small white plimsoll, a school cane and some shiny steel nipple clamps. She picked up the gym shoe walked over to me and plonked it into my sweaty hand. "I want you to smack me with it as hard as you can. Leave about twenty seconds between strokes so that I can savour the pain fully. Don't worry about anyone hearing; the house is well insulated and detached." She then walked over to a similarly ornate chair, bent over and placed the palms of her hands on the seat. I then positioned myself parallel to her and savoured her undraped form which was pale, lithe and taut. Her cunt was shaved smooth and enticingly thrust out. I had hesitated for a second but then thought, 'What the hell' and had brought the plimsoll hard and swiftly down on to her bare left buttock. There was a loud 'thwack' yet she didn't flinch. But straightaway, there was a reddening imprint of the sole upon her flesh. She had thrust out her posterior even further as she relished the impact of the second blow, which I delivered with even greater force. She had gasped and already, her left buttock was beginning to purple. I then switched to the right and gave her two satisfyingly hard swats in succession - she had trembled but I had given her another three hard double-whacks on each cheek ignoring her instructions to leave time between swats. Each blow had caused her to sway forward before she had returned to the punishment position and her previously white skin was now raw. I administered another dozen or so before she said breathlessly, "Cane me now... and don't forget the clamps."
She'd straightened up and turned to me, her pretty face flushed, and had kissed me.
"You're doing a good job, Matt."
She then stared at me plaintively with her beautiful green eyes for a second as I placed the plimsoll back on the chest. I then picked up the steel toothed clamps and as I did she thrust her large firm breasts towards me, her nipples dark and engorged. To each nipple in turn I watched as they bit deeply into the dark sensitive flesh causing her to wince. She then embraced the discomfort with fortitude - she knew what was to come - before swivelling round and assuming the punishment position once again. I remember 'weighing' the curve handled cane in my right hand and again studying the almost sculpted form of her nude body. I noticed the tiny little dark hairs on her toned arms and the cute little mole on the small of her back.
Without any further delay I had swung the cane down in an arc with a whoosh and then a 'crack' as it struck her skin. "Uh," she had uttered. A ruddy ridge had appeared instantly, and my god it must have stung.
I then gave her another, slightly harder I felt and I'd watched with twisted satisfaction as her fingers had clutched at the fabric of the chair. Yet she had suffered in silence.
She shuffled position slightly in anticipation of the third stroke. Her tight bum was scarlet and purple but now with two deeper purple stripes overlaid.
I had then raised and brought down the cane another fifteen times upon her buttocks.
I had observed her body shudder with the agony, her clamped breasts sway under her and her labia was pink and swollen with her juices.
I kind of felt sorry for her but it was what she craved and lived for. She was a masochist, a pain slut who pitted pain against pleasure before the final triumph of ecstasy.
After another six she was shaking and wretched and broken and I feared for her.
"Fuck me now, do it hard, do it fast. Take me, whilst it still hurts!" she suddenly cried out. And I did. I was as hard as I had ever been in my life before. Still bent over the chair I had easily penetrated her from behind. Immediately, her internal muscles had seemed to powerfully grip and caress my shaft. She had moaned but this time in anticipation of pleasure. I had felt the spasmodic contractions as she had attained orgasm and screamed out almost simultaneously as my cock had exploded shooting my hot spunk into her cunt, my fingers reflexively tightening around the naked firm flesh of her upper arms. Her body then went limp and she nearly fell onto the chair taking me with her. She then turned and faced me, her face red and sweating and her eyes watering before kissing me sweetly on the lips.
"Thanks," she said, was all she said. And I understood.
I had dressed, without a word, still dazed and had then headed for the door - she had made no move to stop me.
Before I placed my hand on the brass door handle I had turned and blown her a kiss before exiting. But it felt cheap. Ungracious. Corny.
I then let myself out into the moonlight night and walked the eight miles home. It took just over two hours.
About six months later I thought I saw her in the high street. I'm not certain she recognised me; or would have wanted to have recognised me. She appeared older, about mid-thirties. She was still beautiful, still had style, but she didn't look happy. There was a poignancy about her. About me. About life. I will never forget her though.
Wednesday 19th November 2008: I Collapsed Yesterday - Blog
Funny enough, yesterday morning I had woken up and felt better than I had for a long time. Feeling energised I'd had breakfast followed by a long soak in a very hot bath. This hadn't been a good idea with hindsight. Anyway, after the bath I had then got dressed and feeling motivated had then commenced on giving the flat, and in particular the kitchen, a bloody good clean. In between cleaning I was also drinking quite a lot of tea and also playing the financials on which involved predicting share and commodity prices. I hasten to add that if one kept cool and wasn't too greedy or took too many risks then money could be made; I had once made a £100 in a week and had wondered at the time if I should become a 'professional gambler'.
But I have digressed.
Anyway, it was as I was sat down placing a bet that I experienced this strange sensation of the flat, with me in it, being picked up as though by a giant and then being spun round in his hand. I was also aware of objects falling to the floor. I then found myself lying under the table with a load of pens and pencils beside me along with the pot I kept them in. I realised immediately that I had collapsed. The strange thing was that apart from a very slight 'pulsating' of my vision and breaking out into a cold sweat I'd felt physically okay. Psychologically though I was extremely scared. I'd immediately speculated as to whether I'd suffered a stroke or a minor heart attack and decided that the best course of action was to stay where I was for a while as I didn't want to provoke another and more serious attack of what had precipitated my initial collapse. As I lay there keeping as still as possible I speculated reaching up to the table and phoning for an ambulance but decided not to as they would have to break down two doors to get to me. Also, I wasn't that convinced that they could actually do something for me since I had been complaining to my GP for some time that I had been suffering from intermittent dizziness, nausea, clamminess and a strange visual disturbance in which my vision when I turned my head quickly took a second to catch up, only for him to tell me that the symptoms were either due to Meniere's Disease or stress. I had once put it to him that it was perhaps the recurrent dizzy spells that were making me stressed, but he ignored that. To be fair he had arranged a CT scan which revealed nothing and subsequently a MRI scan which picked up a very small scar in my brain which at the time they had diagnosed as a 'pinhead' stroke. But after later analysis by a neurologist they decided it was most likely a natural and not uncommon 'fold' in the brain. After these rather unsatisfactory consultations with the GP I had unhappily concluded that either they didn't know what was wrong with me or that the doctor did know what was wrong and that he was protecting me from the knowledge that I was suffering from something serious that nothing could be done about. Either way I had lost faith in the medical profession.
So, I had lain under the table for quite a while and after a short bit I had begun to feel perfectly okay. I had then got up and dragged myself to the sofa where I had lain down and eventually drifted off to sleep. About twenty minutes later now feeling totally recovered I had got up but thinking constantly about what had happened. I soon resigned myself to the depressing fact that I was probably going to die soon and to make the most of life whilst I could. I also called my son, who was twenty-one, and asked him to pop round so that I could have a chat with him.
In the evening I watched a programme, narrated by Ian Hislop, about the large scale closures of railways in Britain and the end of steam. The programme had evoked a strong feeling of melancholy in me not just about the end of the 'golden age' of railways but about my own life. I'd also realised that I was only four days away from the twentieth anniversary of my mother's death and had speculated morbidly that maybe I would die on that particular day.
Phoned up the Company this morning and cancelled my 'sickness counselling' - far too ill. I still haven't told the doctor though Juki, who's been very good, says she'll go with me. I've taken it very easy all day as I'm still very shaken up by what happened. I do not believe I am long for this world now. I went shopping but found it an ordeal and was glad to get back.
Earlier today I also called my son and asked him to pop round so that I could have a chat with him.
Read more of Legion of the Damned - great book.
Juki also phoned and it was good to talk to her - I feel quite lonely at times.
Thursday 20th November 2008: Visited the Doctor - Blog
Visited the doctor (a locum) this morning and told her what had happened on Tuesday with me collapsing.
She thought it could be a mini-stroke. I mentioned to her that I thought an MRI scan would confirm it but apparently it's too expensive and my treatment would be just the same. She said that I was anxious and that that wouldn't help. I replied that I wouldn't be anxious if I hadn't collapsed. I will be having more blood tests anyway. I also underwent an ECG whilst there and she informed me that my heart had a few problems though she didn't feel that they were acute - great. She apologised for not being able to give me a firm diagnosis (which a MRI or CAT scan could have done). She then asked me what I thought. I told her I felt that I was going to die soon and though I appreciated what she had done I believed that the human body was a complicated chemical reaction which was working its course - some working quicker than others.
Later on I phoned James again and asked him to come over so I could tell him a few things in the event - highly likely - that I should die. He was concerned but I felt it the right thing to do.
I also told my line manager and got the impression they think I am 'swinging the lead'. I wish.
Juki says that at the end of the day I am only a number to them and she is right - they will try to cut down my cost to them.
In the afternoon Juki came round and we watched Il Postino - a brilliant film.
Ronan also phoned up and he thought I should get a second opinion but I know it's cardiovascular and I also need as much money as possible if I'm going to lose my job.
So many regrets I have in life but the biggest one is not being a better father to my son. Also, I should have stayed with one woman all my life and pursued an interesting career. Too late now.
Saturday 22nd November 2008: Felt Woozy Again - Blog
This morning I got up and felt woozy so took my tablets and went back to bed till I felt a little better.
I'm hoping to see my son soon. And today is also the twentieth anniversary of Mum's death.
Thursday 27th November 2008: Fobbed Off - Blog
The practice phoned today and asked me to see the doctor, my regular doctor, about the results of the ECG. I had gone in with a mixture of feelings as on the one hand it was good news that they had finally found out what was wrong with me and perhaps could do something to rectify or treat it. On the other hand it might be that they couldn't do anything about it and that it would only be a matter of time before my condition deteriorated perhaps resulting in my death.
As it happened Doctor M casually told me that my 'enlarged heart' was nothing to worry about since many people of my age had enlarged hearts like mine and most of them wouldn't have any symptoms at all. He had added that there was no reason to believe that I wouldn't reach a good old age. I hadn't questioned his diagnosis but as I had left the surgery I had felt 'fobbed off' - again.
Wednesday 10th December 2008: Felt I Was Going to Collapse Again - Blog
Whilst on the computer this morning I felt for a moment that I was going to collapse but the feeling passed.
I wish that I was well and that I could see my grandson grow up. Alas that won't happen and in a way I wish it was all over as I can barely stand this constant sensation of feeling about to lose balance and collapse.
Changing the subject I have got a new theory about time - or rather a speculation.
Because we can conceive no end of time but cannot conceive of a beginning-less beginning then that means that time is fixed at the end i.e. time is flowing backwards but we 'feel' it flowing forwards. Now, exponential decay curves can't start but they do tend to infinity. So, time 'grows' rather than flows and it expands and contracts. It's difficult to explain and I will try to better in my next entry - if I have time.
Tuesday 16th December 2008: Another Attack - Blog
I experienced another episode earlier. It felt like I was spinning through space. It probably lasted about twenty seconds. Afterwards I felt sick and wobbly and was sweating with blurred vision. It was about 08:15 this morning.
I managed to get back to sleep and finally got up at about 11:15. I had a little breakfast and have decided to go back to bed. I feel better but still not right.
I must get my affairs sorted and I'll leave a list for my son and the executor. I'll do that later.
As I have said before, I just wish it was all over. I have contemplated killing myself because I feel constantly ill, anxious and that there is no future.