Sunday at the Opera

I’m on my annual date with myself to the Opera. This year I decided to see a french version of Romeo & Juliet (yawn). During the first half I can’t even focus…all I can think about is this long purplish/black tubular thing I saw earlier in my British sexting partner’s bed. He had sent me another video of him ejaculating (he knows those are my favorite). He tells me he’s spamming me with ‘treats’ whenever he surprises me with one. This time the cum splashed onto his stomach in an “M” shape, which is the first initial of his name…but it also made me think of the M on Homer Simpson’s head that Matt Groening creatively works into the character.

So back to this curious device…it was about 6 inches long and no more than 1/2 inch wide. Was it a prostate massager? If so, good boy on that! I know how much he loves the idea of me exploring his ass during our sexts.

During intermission I take a selfie of my boots in contrast to the shining marble floor and text him my questions. He responds, first calling me a pervert, then explaining it’s an e-cig. Very uneventful.

These are the pressing matters that flood my brain while I’m at the opera.




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