From Jester To King LV

Who likes clean sheets? Put your hand up. I mean who doesn’t. Because this is about ‘em. Crisp sweet-smelling feathery sheets. This is about when I went to stay the Litwak’s. They had their front room loaded with beds, three double beds I think it was. And mine is the one on the left, Mrs Litwak tells me so, so I go over to claim it, probably before Jamie can get there, Jamie is supposed to be in the one at the far end and the other one is unmade. So vivid is the memory of this, so prepare yourself please. It’s about ten o’clock I reckon, so time for bed, and me and Jamie and Mrs Litwak are there, so I go over to inspect my bed. Having seen it from afar, I like what I see, big and wide with the sheets pulled up tight around it, I remember the orange bedspreads they used to have, and I go up to it and touch it and feel it, not necessarily intending to get in and hunker down to sleep there and then but just to survey what I’m working with, and I don’t notice Jamie so much, he’s dicking about the room keeping himself amused, but I get in a little bit and smell, I take a big lug of the odour in, and I’m looking forward to a fresh night’s sleep.

So I’ve done my first inspection, I get up and stand and look up for Jamie so we can talk and maybe play a little, and I always feel his energy even if I don’t know exactly where he is, bit of a rough and tumble guy, bit of a rascal, by the way he was a dead ringer for J. Fox at the time, the  boy-wonder with the turned-up nose and the chipmunk cheeks, and so as I’m standing and waiting for Jamie, he comes right over to the bed and gets inside it. Jamie has claimed the bed. Of course I tell him it’s mine and he has the other, but he’s just goofin’ around, as you do, but then he has within seconds taken his clothes off down to his underpants and has pulled the sheets clean all around him, and I’m starting to realise that my bed’s now contaminated and that my fresh night’s sleep is ruined. You know that feeling of not knowing what you’re going to do because you’ve been flummoxed and something is fucked? Well I’m looking around at the other bed, there’s his and the middle one, but the middle one isn’t made and his is disgusting and I’m not going to sleep there, and then I look up at Mrs Litwak to gauge whether she’s going to intervene or whether she’s going to make the middle bed for me because Jamie is not budging, and I’m in a bind, but brace yourself, and I did warn you, I go back over to my bed thinking that Jamie will soon get out after he’s had his fun, done his prank, he’ll get up and I’ll shake out his smell, waft out the duvet, but as I go up to the bed, I see him producing these huge globules of cum, kind of just hosing them onto the sheet in full view, I don’t so much see masturbation or any dick rubbing but just coming and more coming, and the shots and the goo, and then eurrrggghh, he comes over and wipes some of it on me, what the fuck is his problem, and he pushes me down into the bed so that I’m almost in my normal sleeping position and I can feel what it would be like to sleep there, with come by my neck and my cheek and my earlobe, come everywhere, Jamie Litwak’s come, fresh and wet and globular, and of course I’m furious now and far from trying to clean up and wash it off me, my first thought is what about my sheets and where the hell am I going to sleep, and Mrs Litwak is so intransigent and disinterested and by now I’m screaming at him and her that there’s come on my sheets, how can I sleep on them, where are the new sheets, expecting them surely to do something, and Jamie and Mrs Litwak just go over to the bed and turn over the sheets as if that’s going to solve the problem and I see there’s a big linen draw open so I go over to it but there’s only a few pillow cases and I am abhorred because it seems like I’m going to have to sleep in Jamie’s congealed come, I’m going to have to make something out of it, find a way, and I find myself vacillating between going back to the bed and inspecting and re-evaluating my prospect of using it and then going back to Jamie and Mrs Litwak and screaming, absolutely screaming blue murder at them, that I’m not sleeping in come and they have to do this or that, I don’t even know what this or that is, it’s just to express the outrage of it, and Jamie Litwak just thinks the whole thing’s funny, and I have the thought of his come haunting me following me everywhere I go in this room, and then I go back to the linen draw and I pull out something at least, but is it clean or covered in come, that’s my concern and eventually I go back to my bed because I’m tired and I rip the sheets out, half expecting them to change, change into new sheets, and then I them round and over, but I keep feeling the come which is still fresh and wet and I keep gagging and then I’m basically praying, praying for mercy, praying that something will come up that will get rid of the problem. But nothing comes and I get in the bed and I spend the whole night in these dreams, dreams of the spectre of Jamie, his come, of Jamie and Mrs Litwak, and I’m in the dream but I’m sure I’m not dreaming and it’s realer than real and it goes on and on until it gets to the morning and I still think I’m not dreaming and we go to church and everyone has his own name song and my grandma is there somehow and she comes over and just prompts me to sing it out, sing out my name song, and it’s as if she knows it’s making me cry, but I don’t want to cry in front to her and the Litwak’s, how does she know how I’m feeling, but I’m awake and I know I’m not dreaming.