Me and PVC

Oh, guys.

Went over to see PVC last night. Met up with him at a party with some of his old work friends, and ended up just talking to him while everyone else watched the rugby. Without it being some big serious conversation I mentioned to him how confused I was feeling about my life. We decided to talk about it back at his place (after racing each other back to Stanmore... he won).

When I got there PVC had decided to start chiseling the mouldy paint off the wall in the bathroom. (I have complained about the bathroom so many times that he cleaned the floor with disinfectant and now he's de-mouldifying the wall. I'm so touched!). Anyway I watched him scrape the wall for a really long time and then we had a shower and went to bed. We had sex, it was nice, (no orgasms on my part but I was pretty much too tired to care), and we started to go to sleep.

Then, halfway between sleep, somehow we started fucking again. It was this surreal, beautiful, incredible thing, you know sex that just happens, that you don't have to think about, and there was colour and warmth and it was like the walls were melting and there was nothing between us and the sky.

(I'm claiming my right to artistic licence here, ok?)

So I came about a million times and then when I was done I went down and blew him until he came for the 2nd time that night.

Then we were just lying there, off our faces with endorphins. We turned our faces to look at each other and he said "I love you." I said "I love you, too."

We talked until the sun came up, and finally got about 2 hours sleep in the morning.

When we woke up we just looked at each other and knew that everything was different. In a good way. He said "I had the best dream!"

Then we went to Ikea so he could buy things to make his house less like a hovel.

I feels, in this stupid cliched way, like my life is just starting.

Ahh!

Also, happy birthday Agent X! Woot!