Death from a surfeit of sex with vigorous young studs.
Hi,
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Today I am very late in writing my page. Usually I do it first thing in the morning, anytime after 4.00am, but today I slept in.
Don’t ask me why, cos I have no idea.
The only thing I know for sure, is that it was not caused by my having had a night of world class, earth moving, rampant sexual abandon. More’s the pity.
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I have, however, stopped drinking during the week, because I was definitely beginning to feel rough in the mornings, and sometimes I had arrhythmia too. So perhaps that has had something to do with it.
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I have always known that heavy levels of alcohol consumption do not suit me at all, but it is hard not to do something that is so pleasurable.
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At one point, a couple of years age, my friends and I would meet at each other’s houses once or twice a week, and have a fun party.
They were wonderful evenings, too, but, after lying sick as a dog on the bathroom floor, cold and damp and wishing I were dead, I told my girlfriends about it.
It turned out that they were also finding that there is a price to be paid for over indulgence.
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Since then, we meet occasionally and have a glass or two of wine, but no more giving it large
It is hard enough to look decent at our age and it is not helped by having swollen under eye bags and looking like living shit.
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Anyway, at my age, it does not hurt to learn restraint.
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YES, IT DOES, I HATE IT! HATE IT! HATE IT!
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At the moment though, I feel better for it, and it is good practice for when we are pensioners and we will not be able to eat, let alone consume copious amounts of alcohol.
We will just have to turn the tables on our children, and go around to their homes and drink all of their alcohol instead!
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I have no doubt that the poor things will soon find themselves returning all the care they received in childhood, when we start peeing on their floors and have to be forcibly put in a bath, and be spoon-fed mush which we will dribble back out all over our chins and down our ‘frequently laundered by our children’ clean clothes.
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I hope that they tell me when I am getting past it so that I can immediately drink myself to death, before I forget what they have just said, and never have time to do anything about it.
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I could plan on dying of heart failure, after exhaustive sex with a long line of vigorous young studs, but I do not think that is a viable option.
The only man willing to help an old, wrinkled, incontinent, dribbling, smelly, senile old lady to find oblivion, will obviously be the local purveyor of the cheapest pensioner-affordable alcohol that I can find.
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Oh, all the joys there are to look forward too.
No wonder the old Eskimo people were left out in the snow to die.
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LOL
J
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