Category: Real Person Fic
Length: <1k words
“Jesus. That was bloody hard work.”
It was late afternoon when Julian arrived home. He’d just spent three hours trying to convince the Heads of Comedy at BBC3 to commission another series of The Mighty Boosh television series. Before he and Noel had even sat down in that bloody awful stuffy office, something had told him it would be a complete waste of time. He recalled how the Head of Comedy had gazed round at the crowd at one of their Hammersmith shows and commented: “Wow, I had no idea you were this popular…” He had wanted to twat the stupid bitch there and then. And now he was all riled up again after wasting time with the same silly bint, only to be told: “I don’t think a third series of The Mighty Boosh is really where BBC3 is headed now…..” On the way out, he heard that they had commissioned a new series of Two Pints of Wanking Lager and a Packet of Titting Crisps!! That was the last fucking straw as far as he was concerned. They could shove their channel up their arses, sit on it and then feed it to their children.
Julian flopped down on the sofa, tossed his keys on to the coffee table and lit a cigarette. He needed to calm down. He ran a hand across his forehead and through his tousled hair. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke into the air with a long sigh, staring at the ceiling, silently fuming. He must have smoked the cigarette much faster than he thought as he looked down at the butt and grimaced at the bitter taste of burnt filter, flicking it into an ashtray and then rubbing his chin with one hand. Maybe he should have shaved for the meeting? Nah, it would have made sod all difference.
He leant forward and looked round the room. What could he do to try and calm down? He stood up and paced around the lounge. The room was small but modest, a couple of paintings on the wall that he’d kept from the last television series. Scattered around the room were CDs that he’d been given by various acquaintances and mates in bands, and some scripts he’d agreed to take a look at and give feedback on. He picked up a CD, turned it over in his hands and then put it back down. Not in the mood for listening to that. His eyes fell on one of his guitars, stood in a corner, shrouded in its soft case. An electric-acoustic he’d had for years. He’d had it since he was in his teens, and it was a part of his life back in Yorkshire that he’d brought down to London with him. It was pretty knackered but he still liked to play it. He’d produced some of the melodies for the Mighty Boosh songs on it, although back then they were just bits of music he’d come up with on a bored afternoon.
Life was far less complicated back then he thought. When he’d first moved down to London, all he had to worry about was whose floor or sofa he was kipping on that night. Things weren’t easy but he stuck with his dreams and ambitions and……… well, here he was. Actually, if he was honest, he hadn’t had much choice but to make a go of music or comedy. He was shit at everything else. And some of those boring afternoons had been quite interesting…… he gave a wolfish grin and moved towards the guitar.
Julian unzipped the guitar case and slid the instrument out, holding it by the neck. He stroked the wooden casing and gave the strings a gentle strum. It still sounded good. Not great but it would do for his purposes.
He gently placed the guitar down on the settee and then walked over to the curtains, pulling them closed. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this, but thinking about his early days in London had brought back some fond memories…….and after all, it was one way he could calm down…….He grinned again, feeling his groin stirring.
His undid his flies and sat down on the settee next to the instrument. He needed to loosen the strings a bit…….ah, now he remembered why it had been out of tune the last time he used it! Turning the tuning keys he tugged the strings and continued to slacken them until he could slide three fingers between them and move them back and forth into the sound hole with minimum abrasion. Just a bit more……
His cock was pretty hard but he gently moved his hand up and down the shaft to help things along. From previous experience he knew that he had to lubricate himself so that he could slide smoothly between the loosened strings. Placing the guitar on the floor, easing his trousers and underpants down further, he straddled over it and eased himself between the strings, pushing his cock into the sound hole. Moving his body up and down, he felt the strings rub him, the sensation in his lower back rising.
Julian placed his fingers on the fret board and began to strum the strings…… humming with pleasure at the vibrations travelling up his penis, his fingers found their familiar places as The Mighty Boosh theme tune echoed throughout the apartment…