I've always fancied about making out with a delivery boy--the pizza delivery boy, the mineral water delivery boy, the mailman, the village guard, the cargo truck delivery man, the plumber, the electrician, whoever; a substandard male species with an IQ of a lecherous white rabbit. He would catch me in the house, alone, wrapped in my damp towel in a cloud of steam, fresh from the, err, bathroom, then we'd lock eyes, more of a tantric mutual glare that flares the iris and exposes the sensitive nerve endings of the pupils such that both our sights are zoomed into the eyes, boring through our skulls and penetrating our erotomaniacal thoughts. Then we'd instantaneously rush into each other, rip our clothes off, and fuck like two fervent animals right then and there.

This morning, such a thing happened--not the sex, I meant someone came. He came through the large gaping cavity of the house that is called a door. And this time it was the PLDT simpleton who was to install my INTERNET CONNECTION.XD (Yes, I finally have internetz and can therefore purge and dump all this petty little thoughts among my number of neglected blogs. Which means, good bye insomnia, good bye neurosis, good bye, err, good bye.XP) But none of my fantasies happened. It died the moment I looked into his asymmetrical eyes--his left eye was staring back at me, while the other was staring elsewhere. More like Mad-Eye Moody from the Harry Potter series.

Heightened by my exposure to erotica literature, my sexual urge has gone uncontrollably feral.

I don't know.

Forget sex for a moment. I have to do my homework.o_0

Word did you say?

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