Diary of Lisa Taylor, reluctantly 42 (and a half)

Or.. 'f.ck me I'm forty.. two.. and a half', though can look 38 on a - not so deluded - good day. Or 'How to reconcile a well experienced mind trapped in a still - but for how long? – youthful body.' Don't have the 30somethings angst/problems, neither have the resigned (?) ageing baby-boomers in safe family territory outlook yet. Here's how I cope, one day all sexy women will get old... but never invisible. © Lisa Taylor 2005/6/7/8/9. Jeez.. so much for the 42 and-a-half delusion

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

26 March - The 3 Gays

Sometimes you think you've died and gone to heaven. In turning up to meet my g/friend C. and my friend J., I arrive to find the pleasant surprise of their other friends and house sharers, M. the BA purser and N. who I never remember what he does, but something smart and glamorous.

M. & N. are beyond drop dead gorgeous in diametrically opposite, but both six footers ways. M. is a poster boy of dark Italian/Swiss looks with immaculate D&G style, a dark tan and compassionate brown eyes that just melt you, he's full of help and love and cheerfulness for everyone.

N. is Nordic looking with the height of a Swede but a more Danish tan easy complexion, when he's in fact Irish. He's muscly in that rippled way and wears t-shirts and jeans and has the bluest eyes. He can also be a total bitch, but we like that.

J. is my bearded and solid tall bear.

None of them has pronounced gay mannerisms, well, not displayed at lunch at shore house, and none of them is interested in going to see the meatfest up by the pool. Which makes it so much harder to remember they are gay and out of bounds and not interested in C& I as anything but friends. I spend part of my meal fantasising about the 3 of them together in a giant squid like entangle. They've never gone there with each other. And it's dead easy to picture me slithering in and out of that sweaty limb fest. I don't know for sure, but I'd be very suprised if they didn't all have beautiful, massive dicks and amazingly smooth skin with the best hair you've ever touched.

Suddenly, J. mentions he's gone to see the Priscilla musical, M. says he loved it too and N. says he will go, and... they're off. The gayness now to the fore, talking over each other about trannies and cross dressers, singing tunes and stuff. Darn, my little fantasy goes up in a puff. Must be worse for C. who's been in love with M. for years, goes on trips with him, lives with him but the boy is not for turning...


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