PigletWildebeest wrote:bigboy wrote:PigletWildebeest wrote:How dare you do things to a young man's penis without letting him do anything to yours.
Eh? I don't know how you arrived at that conclusion at all!
you said you had unfinished business...
I do, and that's why it's time to post part three!
We didn't do anywhere near the full works, Piggy, (that was arranged to follow the next day) but maybe you got the idea that I was the one on my knees because I said when I picked myself up off the floor, but that was a metaphor as in being blown over (oo-er) by when he told me his age!
Anyway, we arranged to meet at exactly the same spot outside the photo developing place at mid-day and I bid him farewell.
Back at the apartment I set my mobile for the alarm to go off at 11am, and went to sleep for a few hours in this exciting new city.
(I should point out that setting the alarm on my phone was pretty much all it could do then, as my pre-pay service provider wouldn't allow my tarrif to make or receive calls aboard, though that's since changed, so we didn't exchange phone numbers.)
Alarm buzzes at 11 and I get up, have breakfast and potter around listening to the stereo for a little while and opening my birthday present from the freind I'm in Belgium with, and then - bang! - something occurs to me as I check the time: we're still on UK time. Brussels is one hour ahead and neither me or my friend have remembered to put our watches or phones forward!
"Shit! Why the bloody hell didn't you remind me?!" I screamed at my current flatmate, as if it was all his fault. (sorry L). I quickly grabbed some clothes to put on and ran out of the apartment as fast as I could. Time in Belgium was now just gone 12:50. Here was I taking it easy and all the time I was bloody late for a hot date with a 16 year old cutie.
I swear I'd never ran so fast, and got to the shop in no more than five minutes flat. So I was almost an entire hour late for a dalliance with a stranger.
I walked up and down, in and out but was there any sign of him? Of course there bloody wasn't. It was too late. My date had presumably got tired of waiting and had buggered off, and who could blame him?
"Shit, bugger, bollox, what a thing to happen on my birthday," I thought to myself, as I perched myself on a railing outside the photo shop, and thought about what I was going to do next.
I decided to have a look around the shopping centre for five minutes and see if he was lookign around there. No sign of him so I went back to sit on the outside railing and sit there for a few minutes, people-watching, topping up my tan and licking my wounds (well, not literally, not in public!).
As I sat there in the sun, still kind of hoping the student stud was gonna appear at any minute I caught sight of a man: someone I recognised.
He was coming out of the shopping centre, wearing loose jeans and a lumberjack-style check shirt.
Was it the young hunk of the night before when I had half the chance to explore who he was? No, it was someone I had met before, but much, much older - it was only Chris bloody Lowe!
To be continued........
