Confession time:
It was about 9PM when Oliver showed up. We were a bunch of latex wasters, sexual decadents who spent all our time masturbating to each others' rubber outfits. It was fun, the summer of '69. Oliver wasn't one of us, he was a 'normal' guy who complained of his boredom 24/7. We wanted to help Oliver, so I got my friend Isabelle to invite him over for an 'innocent tea party'. He turned up in his designer shirt and tie, shorts and sandals. He entered the sitting room where we (all shiny leather and rubber) were waiting for him.
'Take a seat you fucking bastard!', interrupted I, mid sentence of Oliver as he introduced himself. He sat down, and looked nervously around the room. Mary smacked a whip against her thigh, and Joey growled like a panther who had just discovered how to lick it's private parts. I walked over to the mini bar that we had set up on the back of Jimmy the Gimp, his arse crack functioned as a useful napkin holder. 'You fuck!' I repeated once again for no apparent reason but to show my authority. I poured a pint of tequila and laughed. 'Oliver, you fucking bastard, you gonna have a good time tonight...', paused and grinned then shouted, 'YOU FUCK!!' for dramatic effect. The masturbators all laughed. I handed the poor bastard the pint of tequila.
"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." - Dr. Seuss
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