Sometimes, I reminisce about the past or think about the future. But they're not the chirpy and jolly type of thoughts.

I think about mother and her dying. I think of the time as it draws near: I'm holding her in my arms, listening to one of her favourite songs, she gently weeps, shuts her eyes, and draws her final breath with a smile on her face.

What happens after that - I'm not sure. How I cope, what do I do? I cannot think that far ahead. Everything works out for the best, because she'd be my guardian angel, always keeping an eye on me (well, hopefully not when I'm choking my chicken!).

Anyhow, the other day, I was thinking about the past. You see, it was my dead lover's birthday.

I met Leon a couple of years back, in one of the chat rooms I dared to frequent at that point in my life. Back then, I had a job and even a bit of a social life.

After conversing for a few weeks, it felt like we'd known each other for a lifetime. In fact, the day was never complete without a chat or an e-mail.

I noticed that we didn't live too far from one another. Not too close, either, but still in the same country and state! It was during a break from work that I packed my bags and ventured off to stay with him for a couple of weeks.

Having only seen a couple of photos of each other, I can tell you that we were in love, not in lust. We were both pretty average looking on the outside. He had his share of problems with a failed marriage and a couple of young kids.

As nervous as I felt the moment we came face to face with each other, the moment I looked into his eyes, the moment he beamed his radiant smile, I felt at ease. Our connection was so bizarre that even I had trouble believing that we became so close in such a short amount of time.

The typical tourist thing occupied the following couple of days. For it would look suspicious to my family if I didn't return with photos, souvenirs and video footage of my travels.

Oh, yes. My beloved video camera.

We had discussed porn a fair bit during our chats. He had seen some, but not very much. It would obviously be my task to give him a good education! I decided to make a couple of CD compilations of my favourite porn to show him just how great it can be.

I was very nervous about getting intimate with him; after all, I'm the type who never goes to the beach wearing shorts as the thought of people seeing my legs is mortifying.

Leon, on the other hand, slept in the raw and even liked to prance around the house that way - even during the cold weather, he'd put the heating up a couple of extra notches! Apparently, it was good for the skin to breathe freely, he'd tell me.

Anyway, one night, I realised that my vacation was almost half over and we still hadn't made love. I sort of felt it was my duty to go through with it, however, it was something I'd been wanting to do very much - to lose my virginity or be a virgin at 52!

He was on the computer, I just had a shower and was draped in a skimpy bathrobe. So, I went in, sat on his lap and suggested that he might like to have some real action instead of it being virtual.

You know, I always had the idea that my first sexual encounter would end shortly after it began. This was not the case. In fact, a couple of hours after plentiful oral action, with my cock stuffed in his mouth, Leon looked up at me and asked "Are you going to cum yet?"

I couldn't help but smile. Here I was, in another town, far from the troubles of work and worries of my family, with my cock being sucked by another man!

Over the rest of my time with him, we were at it like randy bunnies. Once, twice or even more times a day. One day, he wanted to see just how many times I could ejaculate in a twenty-four hour period. I think we got to six, and then my poor cock was feeling tired and sore!

I can't recall who made the suggestion. Perhaps, we both thought about it: Why not make a video together? It would be a nice reminder of our time together.

The video was made over a couple of days, during lazy afternoons when we didn't want to do anything else or go out.

He decided that I should take the video with me, in case his kids found it, but asked me to send him a copy on an encrypted CD.

A few months down the track, he not only had a copy of that video, but also of every other video I had in my collection. I'm sure they kept him busy and entertained during the lonely nights when I would be working late or was otherwise occupied.

All was going fine, and I even ended up quitting my job with the thought of moving in with him permanently. Certainly, I would find work in his town.

A few days later, I noticed that I'd not heard from in a while. Probably busy at work, I thought.

Imagine my dismay when I tried to phone him with no reply, until eventually somebody picked up.

"Hello," the creaky woman answered.

"Hi there, I was after Leon."

There was silence.

"Are you there? Have I got the right number?" I asked.

"Yes, it's the right number. Who are you?"

"My name is Milt, I'm a friend whom he met on the internet," I told her nervously.

"Oh, Milt, I recall Leon mentioning you to me..." Leon mentioned me? "I'm his mother."

"So, um, where is Leon, is he at work?"

"No," she sobbed, "I'm afraid I have some bad news. Leon was struck down by a car on the weekend..."

"What do you mean? Is he in hospital?" I was dumbfounded and began making mental plans to take a few days off work so I could go and see him.

"No, I'm afraid the accident was fatal. The doctors tried to resuscitate him but weren't able... he's dead. My boy's dead..." she sobbed.

It was like somebody had pounded me with a sledgehammer. My heart was racing and I felt light on my feet, like I was in a dream. My head felt light and I thought I was going to faint.

The following few days were torturous. I couldn't really express my grief to anybody; I hadn't even told my parents about him - like I would. I mentioned something to Tassy, but e-mail's not the same as hearing a voice or face to face.

Though I tried to get in contact with his family, nobody ever picked up Leon's phone again. That chapter of my life was over.
 
 

So, to celebrate Leon's birthday, I pulled out that special video tape and watched it. I felt like I'd never seen it before. The most bizarre thing was that I felt like I was there, back with him. I could feel rubbing his hot throbbing cock head and slurping down his entire fat tool.

Watching the tape firstly felt morbid and wrong. I thought that I was somehow tainting his memory. However, the more I watched, the more comfortable I felt, and watching the bits where we're laughing and he's moaning ecstatically as his hot seed explodes reminded me of the fun we had. Reminded me of the type of person he was and that he wouldn't want me moping around the house.

I also remembered that we went out for a long lunch that day and I was looking even fatter! Also, I'd coloured my hair just before the trip and noticed that the colour was really very nice. How's that for peculiar?

Like I have said before, there are many times when I feel he's still around me. His spirit has kept me going, he's inspired me to write and guided me in the right direction. I suppose it sounds all nutty. Perhaps it's just my imagination. Or I really am a nut.

Anyway, I decided to put on a bit of a show for Leon as a special birthday gift.

I got into all sorts of weird positions, the type he liked, and imagined my dildo was his fat cock ploughing into me. I did it dry, just to prove to him that I could and that a little pain wouldn't stop me. OK, so it was more than a little pain, but I bore it.

The ejaculation I had as the rubber phallus struck against my prostate was one of the most intense orgasms I'd had in a long time. I threw my legs into the air and positioned my cock right over my mouth so my hot man juice landed right down my throat. I remembered Leon and the first time I drank his juice and that made it even more special.
 
 

The pain I felt the following day made me realise that all that friction faux fucking wasn't worthwhile. In fact, I thought I'd ruptured something as I noticed a bit of blood on the toilet paper. Mind you, being constipated is no fun, either!

A few days ago, I decided to apply for a job at the new supermarket opening a couple of miles away. I'd walked past it a few times and noticed that they were recruiting, so called up and left my details, all excited that I'd soon be working, albeit in a dreaded discount supermarket. Still, a job is a job, right?

I received a letter of rejection. It all but tore me to bits; I couldn't even get the sort of job inexperienced young ones can get at the drop of a hat. Things are not looking at all good.

Things were so bad that I couldn't even bear to watch any of the new batch of videos that arrived for me the other week.

I'll save them for a special occasion, such as when I get a job, I thought. Fuck it, what if I never get a job and die before I see the videos? I changed my mind, but still couldn't even sit through one scene without feeling completely hopeless.

The weather got very blustery and gloomy. We even had a hailstorm and worried about the power getting cut off. I stayed indoors, neglecting my constitutionals, neglecting Caleb, neglecting the outside world.

I decided to spend more time with mother. We sat around, watched some dreadful daytime television - even my soapie which I've all but given up on:

Wizard Varlaam is being challenged by the mighty sorceress Olga and the whole stupid storyline has gotten out of hand. She wants to smother him with her fat boobies so she can get control of our still virginal heroic couple, just to transform them into transvestite whores.

Fortunately, mother was having a bit of a nap when my soapie was on. I'm sure she wouldn't approve of it.

"When I die, " she began. "I want you to have this house. And I don't want you to sell it. I want it to stay within the family."

Oh, next I was waiting for the usual when will you get married and have kids? Argument.

"So why are you telling me this? Just put it all in your will," I advised.

"A will? No, I don't think so. If I write up a will then I know for certain that I will die." She sounded serious.

I couldn't believe what she was saying. She actually believed it, I suppose it might have been another bizarre superstition from her parts, like the other one about pregnant women shouldn't sew or touch any needlework as it'll make childbirth more painful. Goodness!

"Your bother and sister have their own houses," she added. "We got to help them quite a bit when they were in debt, but we never got around to helping you. Even if you'd get a house, now that we're so old, we couldn't even help you paint it or anything."

Mother was referring to the way that whenever anything went wrong with brother or sister's house, they'd call father and he'd drop everything to go and help them out. It's probably one reason why he left, he'd simply had enough. He's getting on in years and mother and I kept telling him that he shouldn't push himself, but he never could refuse them.

"You still look sad. I wish you would tell me what was wrong," she seemed sincere enough with her offer to hear me out, but...

I've come so far that there was no way I could go through with telling her everything. I'm sure she'd understand - in her own way - but she'd go on about my sinful lifestyle and how I should to church and repent... ergh.

"It's nothing." I replied.

She looked at me with one of those you're not pulling the wool over my eyes expressions.

"OK, I'll tell you," I sighed, taking a big gulp and a big breath. "I'm... I'm... ummm..."

"Yes, go ahead. I'm your mother and I've seen your doodle, so you can't shock me," she encouraged me.

"I'm... constipated..." well, at least it wasn't a lie.

"Oh, I see. I get like that a lot. It's probably from my side of the family, you know... I have some pills I'll give you, unless you prefer an enema!"

"Mother! Ewwwww... that's disgusting!" We chuckled.

Things couldn't get much worse and being with mother, they weren't all that bad. Of course, having a lover or a sympathetic ear would have been better, but beggars can't be choosers.

And life can't get any worse, right?