Decidely awake. No face position on pillow to restore shaky slumber. Exasperated and exhausted on my back.

For whatever reason teetering on conciousness always makes me horny. The lizard brain most successful in thriving on sleep deprivation. Claws his way past monkey, human and cyborg to win king of the hill.

Masturbatory rolodex pulled out Andrea. Milky skinned borderline goth chick that would snatch me from my barstool so I could inflict minor pain on her. She liked to be bitten, pinched and slightly roughed up. So I reminisced about holding her down to the mattress by her throat and sliding in and out her tight ass, nipple rings dancing with each thrust, her fingers digging into the sheets, and semi-choked off ecstasy grunts escaping her quivering mouth. Steamy load gushed on my belly.

Also sleep deprivation seems to require a new wave soundtrack. Yesterday Human League's "Fascination" continually played in my head. Today I cannot shake Tears For Fears "Shout" from my skull. Not that I don't enjoy those tunes, I do. Just maybe the cranial jukebox could mix it up a little.

YEAR TWENTY SIX CONTINUATED AND SHEEIT ( see I told you that was gonna happen ): More freak parade.

The four man crew was in full effect. I've written about our deviant exploits before. Danger geeks on the prowl. Damian quit Stinko's to become the Mac support at a local NYC ISP. We all knew el presidente of this fledgling company beforehand, but now Ian had overthrown the current social circle regime. Still working at Stinko's myself, I introduced Brandon, the new Lower Manahattan Stinko's Sys Admin, to the posse.

Ian is a megalomaniac. Innumeral machinations of underworld domination. Original American Jewgilo. He possesses one of the largest Jewish cocks in Manhattan, to which he constantly makes comments about from the most casual situation to the highest social gala. Severe Asian fetish. I think he liked the smaller creatures, cause they squirmed the best when walking his gangplank.

He had connects. Inserted us past many exclusive doors. He networked expertly, attaching party wires to kinky and hip crowds all over Manhattan. Fetish balls and absinthe galas. Music industry soirees and de rigueur dotcommer startup celebrations. We became backstage fixtures for the rising electronica scene. Gus Gus introduced us to their Nordic pals, many of whom were tasty blonde sex kittens with Danish like accents. We smoked out Daft Punk, who told us we officially colored New Yorkers as more friendly and decent than they were led to believe.

Ian had a divining rod for ridiculously cute scattered tail. We all basked in pussy sunshine.

Brandon was a renaissance drunk. His mind was snapping sharp. No matter how much alcohol he doused it with, which was considerable, his brain was on point. Tall and skinny with a mop of blonde hair. The ladies loved him as well. He fit right in with his twisted reasoning. I remember giggling at the shocked look on a crowd of fellow coworkers, group outing all taking the subway, someone brought up the techie news that fingerprint recognition was being tested for pistol triggers. Brandon chimed in "if they do that, there's gonna be a whole lot of one handed corpses piling up", perfectly logical stance that only I seemed to view the beauty of at the time.

Grew up a minister's son in a dry Tennessee county. Dry = no booze. Moved to San Francisco to escape the clamping rigors. Worked as a waiter in a Mexican restaurant, where he would "nibble LSD all day long".

I almost think it's a prerequisite to have sampled some of the fine line of halucinogenics available to understand and appreciate my crew's humor. Once you figure out that everything humanity related is just ridiculous, you can find humor in the most somber of subjects.

Opium Den was our favorite center for Stoli gimlets and young ladies looking to lose their unmentionables. Cool and dark local spot run by a gregarious suave Moroccan man, who was most impressed with the amount of sexy business we steered his way. We gained favorite sons status quickly. And oh jiminy christmas were the bartenders hotter than gringo killing chili peppers.

This spot in place and time orginates the idea in ladies minds that I was extremely fuckable. After nineteen up until twenty six I had my decent casual share of the pie. Twenty six began the ruthless plundering of panties spanky era. A winsome tear drains from my eye to remember it. Great thanks to all the ladies who generously shared their juices with me. Your orgasms gave me a greater self worth than you'll ever know.