As I reclined on the sun lounger my eyes watched Bruce with his muscles bursting out of his extra tight tee shirt. That man just knew how to buff in just the right places. I was moist by the first stroke of his large firm hands on my VW. The sun-lounger began to buzz and at first I just thought even that was getting turned on by beefy Bruce.
Bloody phone, someone is always trying to ruin my daydreams. Answering the call I was surprised to hear my friend Tarquin the Trolly Dolly on the other end.
"Hello Darling, can't stop, just boarding. Wanted to give you heads up, I saw your Mother board a flight to London. Chao Darling love you lots and the cigarettes are in the post" Then the phone went dead.
Lets just rewind, no don't need too. The word Mother was enough to set alarm bells ringing. When my Mother flies to London from her home in Rome she always wants to visit her Darling boy at some point. This was the worst news I could have received and could not have come at a worse moment. The Blue and White guest suite was in the middle of being completely ripped out.
After Mrs West had sprayed Mexican Volcano's everywhere in my lovely guest suite while knocking back Rosario's punch and changing into the orange onesie. Soiling the suite for anyone else to enjoy, I got Bruce and the boys to strip everything back. Normally the suite would have been finished but silly old Disnarc wanted a sunken square bath with a couple of beefy naked men playing on the bottom of the bath in Italy Mosaics. The problem was the Artist that could create this master piece in the middle of my guest bathroom was finishing a commission for some European Prince. So all work has come to a holt until this Michelangelo of mosaic tiles graces us with his presence.
My Mother will not sleep anywhere else, she says that the morning sun make her look fantastic when she wake up next to her husband. Telling my Mother that she cannot stay in the house will not go down well, so let me give a little insight into Me my Mother and her Husbands.
The moment my head popped out of my Mother's vagina my father suffered a massive heart attack and died. Doctors and nurses ran to help him but my Mother Screamed
" To late for him, I'm the one in bloody pain now fill my champagne glass its empty."
How can I put this, after my Father had died my dear Mother became a Cougar and always married more younger but more wealthier men each time.
Some boys if they are really unlucky get to be a page boy or ringer bearer at one or maybe two wedding. Lets have a look at the weddings I attended.
Marriage 1 Born two months later (Same day my father died)
Marriages 2 & 3 Attended but was to young to remember.
Marriages 4 & 5 I was the cute ring bearer.
Marriages 6 & 7 I moved up in the world and became a page boy.
Marriage 8 I missed as doing exams in boarding school. Thank fuck.
Marriage 9 I was told to give her away, well everyone else had even her second husband.
Marriage 10 Best man for her present husband.
Nine step father's scattered around Europe and what did my Mother get in each divorce settlement. A house, and income for life, I hope you are keeping up, that's eight living ex husbands, she owns eight properties in eight different countries and eight different bank accounts, one in each country with payments going in every month from each ex husband. What baffles me is that every one of her divorced husbands are still madly in love with her. Three will never remarry just incase their "Cybil' comes back to them.
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| Not Franco but you get the point. |
My mother is now married to number 10 the Italian Stallion who happens to be a 'Count'. ( I sometimes wish I could go back to my old typewriter, broken up old thing always missed the 'O' in everything).
At the age of 26 this Italian looks like a God, every inch perfection, all 6 foot of him. From his wavy black hair to the olive tone of his skin. He wears Italian Designer clothes and smells of this intoxicating exotic spice. My step father who is only a couple of years older than his step Grandson, was a walking..... SEX GOD. This man has sex pouring through his veins. Did I mention that this man was a walking, talking, dying to be licked all over, pure Italian beef. Franco could even get old Mrs West's bloomers off with just his smile.
Last time they visited we arranged a small drinks party, by the end of the night 3 women and 2 men declared there undying love for him. It was a bit embarrassing for the Bishop's wife, as his Lordship first prayed on his knees then leaped over my Mother and into Franco's lap declaring
"Take me you Wicked Count"
You can imagine the shock on Franco's face with a large 14 stone man jumping him, really he must be used to Bishop's throwing themselves at him living in Rome.
We only needed to wait a couple of days, as I was sitting on the toilet seat (lid down) having a crafty cocktail cigarette and a half bottle of Sloe Gin, a fast bright red convertible pulled up with my Mother and Franco dribbling all over each other like two loved up teenagers. Beeping the horn to announce their arrival, and giggling like little girls. (Where is that sick bucket ?)
To be continued............
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