I like to tell the truth, as much as I can. Of course, some times, I have to sorta bend the truth a bit so I won't hurt someone's feelings. Like if your friend asks you if you like her new hair and you think she looks like a cheap whore but, to keep things diplomatic, you say something along the lines of it's certainly a unique look for these parts during daylight hours, but I'd advise you to stay indoors after dark. And if they ask for further clarification, you can say it suits you or I'm thinking of waxing my pubic hair tonight, will you help me?

That's not classified as lying, is it?

What if I told you a brutal truth, but only told you half the truth? Would that mean I told you half a lie?

Of course, you may be starting to get suspicious, wondering where all this is leading, right? Why aren't I continuing with the story, correct? Perhaps it's all got to do with the story.

Perhaps, things are as they seem. Perhaps, I'm only telling you what I want you to know. Perhaps, the bits that aren't written are the interesting bits, but also the bits that would change your view of me. After all, what would the point of the tale be if I portrayed myself as, say, a serial murderer? Nobody would be interested in it. Of course there aren't too many people interested in knowing the nonevent in a loser's life, either.

My point is - don't let your guard down. There's more happening than you think, and the lesser part of the more is all I could be telling you.

You don't know me - not the whole me. Just a small part of me; the part I want you to know.

It's a bit like this stupid party mother was going on about. What would be the point in me detailing the events leading up to it? Cleaning the cutlery, dusting off the not-so-fine china, preparing the food. It all isn't that interesting.

All the preparation work helped keep my mind off things. Things like my irrelevant life and the fact that I feel unemployable - after all this time, I doubt whether I'd ever find a real job again.

Things also such as Caleb. I just feel so frustrated when it comes to him. I mentioned a while back how I'm a hideous communicator at the best of times when it comes to emotional issues. It's not like I want to appear to be cold or anything, it just comes out that way. Of course, it is a good way of hiding behind a mask, so to speak. Steer clear of the true feelings. Scratch off the surface to reveal... nothing inside. It's all hollow.

As fate would have it, I was polishing out brass door knocker one afternoon (freezing my fingers to the bone) when Miles came over. I didn't even notice him, and jumped as he brushed my shoulder.

"Hey, buddy," he greeted me."What cha doing?"

"I'm cleaning," I replied. "We're going to have a family dinner on the weekend."

"Oh..."

"You just come back from the gym?" I noticed that he was carrying a sports bag.

"Yeah, it was great today, I gave the biceps and triceps a super work out and they feel all pumped up."

"I'm sure they do," I said diffidently. Why is it that Miles has made something of his life where he was a loser in the olden days and I have gone from less to nothing?

He rolled up his sleeve to let me feel his arms and surely enough they were everything mine weren't.

"They're great," I commended him. "I'm sure they come in handy when you play with yourself every night."

"I wish," he laughed. "Seriously, I'm out of some cool magazines. What say you and I go down to the shop and get some?"

"Yeah, I would but...."

"No buts," he interrupted, "they have a swapping system so you can take two of your old ones and can get one new magazine in return."

He did have a point. After all, I did have some vintage titles somewhere under the bed that were just collecting dust.

"OK, I can't argue with that," I said. "Just give me some time to finish up here and to find the old magazines."

"Sure, buddy. I've got to go and have a shower anyway."

"I thought you'd have a nice shower at the gym - with the boys!" I teased.

"No way, their idea of fun is to play drop the soap and I'm not into that type of thing." Yes, that's exactly what I had in mind!

So I completed the main chore of the day. The thought of going out of the house cheered me up - and even mother thought it was a good idea, though I wasn't going to tell her where I was going!

I located my two well-used magazines: Licentious Lovers and Tempting Plumpers #25. I know, I know. There are females in these well-known magazines. Yes, it's true. But I didn't buy them for the chicks.

Since I was first exposed to smut, I was hooked. It was a variety of grotty magazines and 8mm films, a great education for any young teenager.

Except that they were all straight. I quickly noticed that I paid far more attention to the nice man with his stiff dickie rather than the woman. At first, I kept telling myself that it was just a phase I was going through. In the end, I didn't bother fighting it any more - I was only looking at it to see the hot guys and to wonder what it would be like to be fucked by them.

Don't get me wrong, I'd never want to be a gal... no way I'd ever live without my phallus! It's just that when I first saw a hardcore gay magazine, the guys looked so... gay. They weren't the tough, masculine types you'd savour over with the rippling muscles, strong arms that would hold you and would induce several wet patches.

So, after all the years of this exotic diet, I went out and bought straight porn magazines. Unfortunately, I buy them judging by the cover photos - if there's a hot guy on the cover, I'll buy it. Sometimes, he only appears in a short feature inside and we don't get to see enough of him; usually, the gal's in front or on top of him and all we see is his cock. Grrrr... you just can't imagine how annoying that is. Almost as hideous as them all shaving their pubes!

And that's what happened with the two titles I decided to swap. To be honest, I hadn't stepped into the old sex shop for a while, so who knew what surprises were in store for me!

Miles was a regular, and the staff there knew him by name.

I suppose I'm grateful for knowing Miles. There's no way known that I'd ever dare to walk into one of these establishments alone.

We spent somewhat over an hour there. Miles was very slow at deciding which edition of Luscious Lesbian Clit Lickers to buy.

I didn't browse the gay section at all. The type of guys who look there are usually desperate old men who you can feel standing right behind you, breathing heavily, hoping you'd bump into them so as to feel their hard appendages. Ewwww...

I walked out the store with Optical Orgasm 666. It was a special edition and I could hardly wait to get into it back at home.

A very special edition indeed. I was breathing heavily as I turned the first page - it was like the first time I'd looked at porn! Of course, I had to read the introduction:
 

Welcome to this very special edition of our long running magazine. Over the years, we've been asked for more and more kinky material. Some of you might be aware of our popular "Piggy Porkers" series (where available by law).

We have decided to mark this, our 666th issue, with the mark of our horny devil. Our prince of darkness pokes his horns and much more into his unsuspecting subjects! Prepare for a visual feast of golden rains, humiliation, triple and the world's first quadruple penetration!
 

I felt some stiffness down below, so removed my trousers to let my pal free. We were looking at each other eye to eye and I knew this would be an evening of fun.
 

Wetter, harder, freakier...more more more...
 

The guy who was the devil was one hot fucker. Really ripped muscles, abs to die for and biceps that could crack open walnuts. His make up wasn't too intrusive (and wasn't too good to be honest) so I could look into his deep green eyes and stare at his long, fat uncut knob. Early on, a couple of his subjects are chewing merrily on his foreskin. Later, they're licking his loose nut sack and slurping his nuts. He looked like he was in... err... heaven. This is the kind of passion the gay porn lacks!

The triple penetration consisted of his cock and a couple of love toys and the quadruple one was the same and a fat finger.

It was a typical facial ejaculation, but atypically, in the next couple of photos, the guys liking his sperm off his victims' faces and in the end, they're the ones who pee all over him which makes his red make up run and in the final photos we see them all smiling and happy.

All in all, not a bad effort and I blasted my nut juice over the early solo photo of him posing as the fully made up horny devil with fat cock in hand.

Then wondered what Caleb looks like minus his laundry. I wondered if he has a hairy chest. I wondered how loose his nuts are, how firm his cock is...

Those thoughts kept my cock hard and, using the juices from my previous ejaculation as a lubricant, I brought myself to a second, more powerful yet also more meaningless orgasm.

The return to reality was fast; I wouldn't be seeing Caleb's cock any time soon and tomorrow was the big day of the party, so I had to get a good night of sleep.
 
 

"I called your sister asking her to come earlier to help with the salads," mother informed me, "but she said that she's busy with the kids and not to rely on her."

Great. How typical of Sister!

Now, I don't have anything against her, really. Not that you'd believe it. She used to be nice before she got married. But afterwards, she transformed into a yuppie wannabe.

Her husband is an outdoor worker. She works in an office. They have a couple of teenaged children and live in a big house on the swishy side of town.

You see, her in-laws won the lottery some years back and gave them a big slice of the pie, so they could afford a couple of high class cars, the new house and an obnoxious attitude.

Since then, we've rarely seen them, except for this annual dinner of mother's, or one of their woeful new year's parties which I generally try to avoid as they usually invite their even more pathetic yuppie friends who discuss which private school they'll be sending their kids to next year, not to mention plan out their kids' careers and marriage plans. Egh... yuppie breeders.

So, we're just the impoverished other side of the family who get frowned upon and aren't invited to the kid's birthday parties - probably either because we can't afford the ridiculously extravagant presents the children want or because they're embarrassed to know us. And to those kids, I'll always just be the weird uncle in the family.

Fortunately, my brother's kids are somewhat better behaved.

What can I say about Mick's kids? I like to think that they didn't take after their loutish father. The eldest is about 16 now and was adopted by them when they thought they couldn't have kids. They were definitely surprised a decade later when they had a child of their own. Still, they love them both to bits, and I have, on occasion, felt close to them.

Unfortunately David, the eldest one, has been busy studying for his exams recently, so I haven't seen him around much. We have big plans for him, but if he fails like I did, I know that my feelings for him won't change one little bit and I think we'll even be closer.

We were very surprised when sister arrived early to help out. Mother was relieved, I was biting my tongue more than anything.

"You should buy a dishwasher. It's like living in the dark ages without one," she began. "In fact, I think you need a new kitchen as this one's all planned out wrong."

I rolled my eyes and went in to see the kids.

"Have you got a job yet, Milt?" Sister's eldest asked.

"That's Uncle Milt to you, boy. Why? Are you going to offer me a position?"

"Hey, Milt, can we watch that film I Suck Your Blood Like a Soda Pop?" Asked the middle kid.

"No, it's too scary and you're too young."

"No, I'm not... come on, let me watch it!"

"Oh... I see you've taken up body building," I changed the subject and focussed again on the eldest.

"Yes," he rolled up his sleeves. "Look at how big my arms are!"

Indeed they were. His biceps are bigger than mine. A bit depressing to see a kid I've known since he was born to have bigger biceps and be slimmer then me! And he's still a teenager.

"Hey, is it my imagination or is it too quiet here... who's missing?" I enquired.

"Oh, little bro's gone to stay at his pal's house for the weekend..."

"I'm going out later tonight with my gal. We're going to the drive in, if you know what I mean."

Yeah, of course. I bet he's had sex more times in his short life than I have in my long one.

The others arrived shortly after. I did my best to avoid my brother as best I could, but tried to be civil to the rest of his family.

"Uncle," his youngest came up to me. "Can you read me this book?" I was handed a copy of the famous kids' tale The Dog in Heels which, as I recall, is about a cross-dressing mutt getting up to hi-jinx with a gang of young kids.

"Perhaps later, I'm a bit busy right now," I smiled. Of course your father can't read it to you, I told myself, it's way too hard and the words are just too big.

"Hey, how have you been? You haven't been by in such a long time." I turned to David. He was looking radiant.

"Yeah, sorry uncle. I've been too busy studying. I'll come over during the break, though, OK?"

"Yeah, that's fine. How's it all going anyway?"

"It's going OK. I still have a couple of major exams in the next couple of weeks and I've got plenty of assignments to get started on for next semester."

"Great, let me know if you ever need any help, OK?"

"Yeah, sure, but you know it's always happening at our place and it's difficult enough to find a quiet corner to study."

"I can imagine. Hey, you know, you're always welcome to come here to study. Your granny doesn't make much noise and I promise to keep quiet as much as I can."

"Oh, OK... well.. Let me think about it and ask my parents..."

"Great," I said. I just know that your father will forbid you from spending any extra time around me.

I suppose we can say that the party was a success. I played the role of the DJ - well, I just put a couple of CD compilations I made on - with boring, evergreen oldies about blossoming dandelions, ruminating cud and licking wolf cubs... you know the type of stuff they used to listen to last century.

The rest of the time I spent cleaning up and washing lots and lots of dishes and cups. I didn't realise that mother was also going to invite her sister, some neighbours and a couple of her friends as well.

"You are coming I trust?" Sister interrupted my train of thought.

"Coming where?"

"Weren't you listening? To my new year's eve party. I don't think you've been to my house since last year's party, have you?"

"And you haven't come over here since this time last year," mother added. "I almost didn't recognise the kids."

"You know how busy I am between work and house and everything... so are you coming to the party?" She turned to mother.

"I'm sick and I really shouldn't go out. Which reminds me - I've got to go to the hospital in a couple of days for my test results. Growing old is no fun, you know..."

"What about you, Milt? I know it's still early, but it's best to know early to book the caterers." That would be right. N the olden days, she'd do the preparation work and all the cooking and now she has a band of merry slaves to do it all for her.

" Well, you know that it's not really... safe to go out on new year's eve... plus, somebody's got to be here to look after mother. You wouldn't want anything to happen to her now, would you?"

"Always an excuse," she muttered.

Fortunately, everybody left early. It gave me an opportunity to restore order, sweep, vacuum and mop. By the end of the evening, I was completely exhausted, as was mother.

"I think we're going to have a good night of sleep tonight," she smiled.

It wasn't a smile of joy, though. I could see how tonight had stressed her - seeing her children who couldn't stand to be in the same room together at the one time - and she was overtired from the cooking and preparation, even though she sat and entertained the guests during the party and I did all the washing up. I knew she'd over done it, but I knew that if I'd confront her with this accusation, she'd just say that she felt obliged and that it's the last time, just as she said last year. At least, I really hope it was the last time tonight. I really can't stand most of the people who attended, which is the main reason why I spent the entire time washing the dishes and all the pots and pans.

Later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, I could hear some coughing coming from mother's room. Yes, she'd over done it this time. I was worried but I knew that she has the sense to let me know if there's something wrong - I bought her a bell to ring for this very occasion.
 

I lay in bed, worrying. Thinking about the past, the happy family days and the joyous parties we used to throw in the golden age. Thinking about the future, which is a void filled with no hope and mother's inevitable death. And thinking of the present - the shallowness of an empty roll of toilet paper. That just about sums it all up, I think.