No matter. I’ve already forgotten about it.
So do I. Sex is big bid'ness.
WOL isn’t in the business of selling yet though. Just promoting.
WOL is acting all Disney at the moment, pretending to be cute. I’m just waiting for a pink background on the blog page and pictures of bunny rabbits.
Didn’t we have a link here, for a story of yours?
No, it was wrong. And now Gus is pretending to be ashamed to be associated with me, when all he used to tell me is to ‘write what I know’.
It was a pretty graphic story you had published on the web. The site which published it is an 18s only site. How does it feel when someone who wants to read it has to skip past adverts selling sex toys?
It feels great. They’ve just agreed to publish another one next month. April. I think the woman editor fancies me.
Have you met her?
My mind, she fancies my mind. Your imagination is obviously bound to the mere physicality of sex.
Are you bi-sexual? People are curious.
I’ve a good mind to give you a smack on the mouth for asking me that.
The graphic content would suggest––
Listen, you don’t know douche about the meaning of graphic content. I don’t go banding about taboo words like the rest of them, you know. A lot of them are just grossly descriptive. Not me. Not Big Don. My scenes are from deep in the chambers of the mind and soul. They are major events, not sneaky dogging adventures on a car park. Done stylishly.
What, you mean you don’t just think them up like any other story?
Hell no. These have been cooking ever since adolescence. So that’s only two pieces of sexual expression in all that time. But already I can’t imagine not ever expressing myself this way. I’m looking forward to what comes out in my third effort.
You could go the whole hog and do it for real.
There you go again. I really will put a thick lip on you, you get me? This is Big Don you’re talking to. Not some local brat from definitely never gonna get published or whatever the hell the name of that booklet is you dump in libraries. I’m warning you, blood.
I’m just thinking of HUNG, that new drama about the gigolo starring Thomas Jane. I like him. It’s a good show, that.
I’ve seen it. It’s rubbish. And it’s miles apart from what we’re talking about. You’ve got me down as a filth merchant, just say it loud and true. I’d still be writing here under one name or another if it wasn’t. But for people who don’t see the difference between p**n and erotica, then I simply don’t care. I haven’t time for them. What I’m doing now is more engaging than anything going on at steakpie seven seven dot blog of gob dot com, because people on-line from here to Timbuktu are enjoying sharing the fantasies I conjure up. The likelihood is that your fantasies are probably dying a slow death in your own lonely head and tormenting you in the process.
OK. Whatever, Big Don. Thanks.
Anytime, bruv.
Details of Big Don’s upcoming April publication and his previous December one can be found on his link history on MyFace.
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