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Philip

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Blog Entries posted by Philip

  1. Philip
    Friday, 1st December 2023. I am 32.
    One. Night-time. I read a post on Squirt that a new glory hole was freshly carved in the men’s toilet so I go check it out. I wait until very late at night when no-one is there. Sure enough, there is a glorious hole, large enough for a decent size cock. I put a dildo through it, suck it, pretend to get fucked by it. A fetish of mine. It would be cheating if it was the real thing.
    I then drive to Kevin’s.
    I don’t tell him any of this.
     
    Saturday, 2nd December 2023.
    Two. Morning light squeezes through the small opening of our bedroom blinds. I put on an eye mask to block it out.
    It is late morning, Kevin is awake, fingers my hole. He is very horny, hard as a rock, but I am still asleep. He slides his dick inside me anyway without any resistance; it is still wide open from the dildo last night. He fucks me deep and hard, on my back, on my stomach, on all fours, until he gives me a week’s load.
    Then we go back to for more sleep.
     
    Sunday, 3rd December 2023.

    Three. Rain clears. The sun breaks through the clouds. We are at a plant nursery, looking for a lavender and ficus tree. A lovely lady shows us around.
    “Feel how dry the soil is,” she says, referring to the ficus tree. “That’s how it should be. Many people kill it by giving it too much love, overwatering it.”
    I can tell she knows her stuff.
    “And don’t schedule for watering either. Each plant is different, like people, and so should be treated differently.”
    I leave the nursery. Fresh plants in my hand and new knowledge in my mind.
  2. Philip
    One. There is a weird dynamic between Kevin and me. He always wants to pay for things, including things that are mine, like my clothes, groceries. I strive for personal independence, especially financially, so we tend to clash. Recently, we have been using AI, ChatGPT, to help settle our debates. It acts as a judge, and we have two rounds to state our cases and rebut each other. The AI’s decision is final. So far, I have been winning.
    Two. We have started our gardening adventures together. In the past five weeks, we have planted palm trees, birds of paradise, herbs, and ferns. I visit Kevin on the weekend, and I look forward to seeing how the garden is progressing. Today, I noticed that a new leaf has formed on the bird of paradise, and the herbs are ready to be harvested. Spring is becoming a favorite season of mine, for new growth and opportunities are plentiful here. In Summer, we shall reap our harvest, and I can’t wait for that day to arrive.
    Three. We are watching a YouTube channel called Spanian. He is covered in tattoos and makes travel blog videos. Today, he is in District 4 in Vietnam tasting local eats. He stops at a local kebab shop, and we are laughing because that’s anything but local. Then, he stops at a deep-fried shop that sells fried cheese sticks and fried chicken wings, and we shake our heads at how westernized street food has become in Vietnam. If only, we think to ourselves, he had a local Vietnamese guide. Then he would experience the culture more fully.
  3. Philip
    Kevin is coming over tonight. I told him over text that we would be having pasta and asked if he could cut some basil to bring over. He has a habit of pruning the basil the wrong way—yes, there is a right and wrong way—so I sent him a picture of a basil plant with dotted lines to indicate where to cut it. I tell him that I will be having my daily nap and for him to wake me up by crawling into bed, give me a wake-up hug.
    I try to take my nap, but the news of Sam Altman returning to OpenAI excites me, so I stay up way too long to read all about it. I get a bit horny, so I go to Pornhub and watch some porn, jerk off, come, which relaxes me, and I am finally tired enough to have my nap, although it lasts only about an hour.
    Later. I can hear the door of my bathroom sliding open, and I know that Kevin is here, but I pretend that I am still asleep. I can hear his pants coming off; his shirt follows, and he crawls into bed with me, gives me a hug.
    “Well, hello,” I say, tired but glad to see him.
    “Hello there, handsome,” he says, gives me a hug. We lay there like that, hugging each other for almost an hour before I announce that I am getting hungry—it is almost 8 PM after all—so we get up from bed, put on our clothes, walk to the kitchen. Tonight, he is in charge of making the sauce. We have a routine going on when making pasta, which has served us well: he basically does the cooking, and I prep all the ingredients. I cut the sausages in two, squeeze out the content. Then, I dice the onion and the mushrooms. I give him the ingredients, and he begins to cook it. I prepare the sauce by emptying out the content of store-bought Napoletana, and begin to boil the pasta. By the time it is done, Kevin has finished making the sauce, and we combine the two. We don’t talk much during cooking beside the usual “here you go,” when I hand him the ingredients and the “thank you,” in response. We are focus on the tasks and there is a silent connection between us that speaks louder than words. The whole process takes thirty minutes from beginning to end, and we sit at the dining room table, marveling at our creation.
    “See,” I say. “This is why I much prefer to stay at home and cook. It’s cheaper and tastier.” This is true, and he nods in agreement. We open a can of Coke and share it between the two of us. It’s refreshing and hits all the right notes. I turn on the latest episode of Family Guy and we watch it until the very end.
    Later. We are in bed now. I am feeling very full and very tired. Kevin is giving me a foot massage. Soft autumn jazz music plays on our HomePod. We talk about what is happening in our lives in the form of updates, which are small short stories. I tell him about my car battery dying on me, and he tells me about the progress on getting his home insured from the recent burst pipes upstairs. The night is getting late—actually, it is only 10 PM—so we both go and floss our teeth, brush them. We tell Siri to turn off the lights, and before anyone knows it, the room is fill with snores.

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