relationshits - some velvet morning

it was some velvet morning when i awoke, i was in bed with my lover…

lover? uh, that word bums me out unless it's between the words 'meat' and 'pizza'

it was some velvet morning when i awoke. rain falling outside and i was in bed with my bitch, curled up nice and warm. one of my monkey arms wrapped around his chest, puling in so tight all i could smell was his warm sweat from a night's sleep. my other arms wrapped around his belly and slowly sliding down the trail of fur. like a dog in heat, my hips start grinding up against him every time he is close. a message comes through on my phone. i pause for a second, ignore it and continue grinding against him. 

"answer it. it might be work." the Elk says

i groan. "but i don't want to." i check my phone. it is work. Elk reads the sour expression on my face and knows he was right. 

"it's money."

"but i want to fuck you."

"you have to work."

"he's way down south. it's raining. i'll get soaked on the bike"

"i'll hire a car. i'll drive you."

i realise he will not let me get out of work today. 

it's a little strange when your boyfriend is going out of his way, drive you 40 minutes away, so you can get fucked by someone else. one of the smartest things Sydney has done is initiate the GoGet car hire thingy. it's perfect for the inner city whore. there is pretty much one car every few hundred meters in the inner city suburbs. fuck getting a taxi to scoot to a job across town. hire a car for around $15 an hour. you don't have to pay for fuel and you don't have to get into a fight with a geographically retarded taxi driver (or even worse, get stuck in a conversation with one).

the rain is pissing down. but in a car with my bitch behind the wheel, i'm looking forward to going to work. we park a few doors down from the clients house. lube… check. rubbers… check. amyl… check. jockstrap… check. i pause for a second. this is the weirdest situation yet. "does this make you my pimp now?"

"yes," he smiled, "now go make me some money bitch!"

if the happy family situation in the car for the drive down wasn't weird enough. it's even weirder at 11am on a saturday morning, one foot on the plush carpet, the other cocked up on the floral patterned armrest of a 2-seater sofa with a man's face buried deep in the crack of my hairy arse. country comfort themed wooden furniture lines the suburban lounge room but none was within reach so i rest my arms on my thighs. as i felt his tongue slither it's way into my asshole i looked upon the faces of the children in the photo frames. wide-eyed and smiling his nieces and nephews watch their uncle savagely eat out some hooker's asshole right before their very eyes. his spit dripping down the insides of my thighs. as it drips and falls to the floor i wonder if little Jessica will come home soon and notice a wet spot on the carpet under her feet. will she know it's her uncle's saliva and a burly manwhore's ass juice? maybe not

he wants to fuck me and i agree. only because there's not much damage a 4 inch cock can do to my arse. the bottle of Jungle Juice permanently under his nose will probably have more impact. i throw on a rubber and bounce up and down on his cock. still facing the other way i look through the dvd collection in the tv cabinet. no… wait… they're not dvds. they're VHS tapes. Supernova? really? why would anyone buy that? it's sucks arse!  it was going to be an Alan Smithee film for christ's sake! that film had like 5 different directors. it's such a mess. James Spader in a rubbish sexy sic-fi space alien film i can ignore. but poor Angela Basset. she was excellent in that Tina Turner film and even Strange Days- oh what? he's cum already…

before i shower i shoot a text to the Elk so he can be here by the time i'm back out on the street. "all done."

he texts almost immediately. "what? i haven't even taken a bite of my sandwich!"

it's true. i look at the time. i had only been here 10 minutes. and to think i dragged out this session

we drive home and i get another call for another job. an incall. again i tried to groan my way out of it. 

"it's raining. i can't kick you out in the rain for an hour."

"i'll go to the shops and get stuff for dinner. call me when you're done" his solutions are not what i want to hear. he leans in and nuzzles into my neck, "c'mon baby, make me some money. hmm? daddy needs a new pair o' shoes." i can't look at him but i know he's watching me pout. "no. i really do need a new pair of shoes." he holds up his trainers. it's true. they're fucked.

as i struggle to maintain a boner throughout the next job i think. "i can't do this. what the fuck am i doing this?" despite being pumped full of viagra and cialis i'm still having difficulty maintaining a hard on. on the worst occasions it has now come to 5 minutes of fluffing myself just to get 1 minute of fucking before i go soft again. not only the physical problems, but it's just plain weird fucking other dudes when i got one waiting for me. or even stranger, he's humming to himself while thumbing through vegetables in the organic section of the market while i'm at home stabbing my cock into some dude's ass. his guts dripping all over the furniture that i'll have to wipe down so we can have whatever my boyfriend decides to cook for dinner later.

that's just fucking weird… oh, he's cum already

i mop up, shower and shoo the client out the door and text the Elk that he's got the all clear to come home.  we cook. we eat. we have a nap on the couch. i climb on top of the Elk. kissing his neck and grinding my cock against him. my phone goes off. it's a job

"go do it."

"but it's saturday night! i've already worked twice today! he's gonna be drunk and annoying! i wanna…"

"Oi! listen to your pimp," the Elk put his hoof down, "now go make me some money, woman! GO!"

"you fucking bloody cunt-ass licking shit monkey prickface…" i mumble, dragging my sorry ass to the shower and freshen myself up. "jesus titty-fucking christ, tell me what to do you will you? fucking irish cunt…"

i drive over to the next job. not surprisingly, he's drunk. he keeps trying to kiss me. that's would be fine if i had a hobo fetish. but i don't. 

for the next half hour i'm slobbered over with saliva that stinks like rancid cask wine. i pull away and turn my head to avoid his kisses, but he's so drunk he doesn't get the hint and keeps trying to smooch. 

i push him down to my cock and he bites my inner thigh. it hurts. i jump

"oh sorry," he says

a minute later he does it again. i jerk and push his face away with my thigh. he apologises again. and minutes later bites me once more

"don't fucking bite me!" and i push his face away

this is going to be a long 60 minutes. i bite my tongue, lie back on my cross and ponder. i have plenty of time to think. 

working in a relationship is difficult. i consider ditching the difficult world of manwhoring. that would mean i have to get a normal full time job. not only would that mean a severe pay cut, but a dramatic increase in working hours. i'd only get to see my bitch for a few hours a day. when will i get my cuddles? i will be as grumpy as fuck, miserable in my new full time job and take out my frustrations on him.

so. do i deal with the new found weirdness and earn the average australian workers weekly wage in a day to have more free time with my bitch or do i go get a full time job and have little time to spend with the person i gave it all up for? 

no doubt the Elk understands this too. he also knows my libido is raging and this may be the best way to keep it under control while giving his ass a break, therefore simultaneously keeping my mood swings and his colon intact. 

i stumble home. through the front door, i dump my bag and keys. the Elk is in the Kitchen surrounded by a haze of steam from boiling pots and frypans. dinner is almost ready. he welcomes me home from work with a kiss. "how was it?"

"wasn't so much a blow job as a 40 minute chinese burn performed on my foreskin," i hand him the bag of spuds he asked me to pick up in the way home.

"aww…." he mocks my pain and leans in for another kiss. my hands glide around the fabric of his tracky dacks that hug his arse so well and i grab it. suddenly i'm not angry anymore. i pour us a drink, play some Lee Hazelwood and kick back with my feet up while he finishes cooking dinner. 

out on the balcony by candlelight (not because it's romantic. there's just no other light out there) we finally get to eat around midnight and settle into bed a short time later. my pimp falls asleep with his head on my chest and i think it's not so weird after all.