'IT'

     I'm bored stiff. It's Christmas, it's raining, the dog's shitty and my credit card's overflowing with lack of credit. To top it all off, my ISP has had a power surge and I can't read the sixty email messages I get a day on how to reduce the size of my penis.
     Mind you, I've always had trouble with the damn thing. 'It' has a mind of its own and like Star Trek, seeks to bravely go where no man should ever consider. 'It' does it all the
time and I can't control 'it.'
     I don't know her name. But last week she knocked on the door offering something I didn't want. She invited herself inside, ripped off all my clothes and forced herself upon my unwilling body. Well, my body was unwilling but 'it' didn't care and ploughed into furry infamy without seeking my permission. Had 'it' asked I probably would have said no anyway but 'it' didn't.
     She said she had been watching me from afar and couldn't help herself. Apparently she had endless dreams about 'it' and gave into impulses she couldn't control. But why me? I'm as innocent as a new born baby.
      When she ripped her bra and panties off, it wasn't my fault 'it' stood to attention and did what 'it' does best. Thank God it was all over in an hour and a half. I could never stand those long winded sessions. Not at my age.
     I took a photo so I could remember what she looked like with her clothes on. When she came back the next day, I took one of her with her clothes off, purely for old times sake. Then 'it' went where 'it' had gone before, again purely for old times sake. I would have to be honest and say I didn't enjoy the first three hours. But 'it' couldn't care less about my standing up to the furry face of adversity and ploughed into infamy for most of the day.
     I'm suitably ashamed and decided to seek counselling from a professional counsellor. I rang the number the woman who abused 'it' had given me and the lady counsellor offered to come around this afternoon. That'll be her knocking on the door now.
     Well, I've had several hours of counselling but I'm afraid 'it' played up again and went many times where 'it' has gone before. It wasn't my fault the that 'it' abuser was also the lady counsellor. Life can be quite confusing at my age. But I refuse to give into the randy hussy. Well, not more that 'it' can handle. 'It' is doing very well at the moment. The barbecue table is just the right height and 'it' keeps disappearing into the lady whose name I can't remember. Disgusting, isn't 'it'