Monday, 13 March 2017

The Blair Witch Cock-Block

My patience, unlike my pretentiousness, has its limits - although sometimes I fancy I have a little more patience (or, shall we say, tolerance?) than I used to have. I don't often get cross, or shout - mainly because it's not very effective. I don't do 'angry' quite as well as I do 'upset'. I suppose I get that from my dad - that is, of course, the angelic side of the family.

What I don't like - the sort of thing I can't deal with well - is when I've planned something out in my head and, when it comes to it, it doesn't happen exactly as I've imagined it. Whether or not it involves everyone singing Red Solo Cup at the end. This leaves me confused, upset, and remorseful, especially when my mother is involved.

My sister is a different matter.

When I masturbate, the most sensitive part of my body is, as you'd expect, my ears - to listen for footsteps. In my teenage years, when I watched soft porn, it was on my Gran's TV (which had cable); she lived downstairs, and I always had a fair amount of warning when someone was coming, be it my parents' feet padding on the creaky stairway or the soft mechanical whirr of Gran's electric wheelchair. More often than not, if they came calling I could just hit the "last" button on the remote and pretend I was watching music videos (which I did, occasionally, Viva Forever fucking destroyed me).

Once I'd taken to masturbating at 18ish, if I did so in Gran's lounge and was caught, I had no excuse - so I was fortunate, really, to have not been.

Friday night, 11pm. I'd been patient - the usual glossy smut playing at this time hadn't been particularly good. I wasn't in my "masturbator" phase back then - I'd have been about 16 or 17 - and I'd been waiting for something to titillate me enough to achieve a strong erection - the desired end result at the time. Eventually, however, something piqued my interest (and my penis) enough to achieve said effect.

A sex scene from Virtual Encounters 2 featuring Nikki Fritz as a biker babe (in various states of undress). It wasn't perfect, but it would do. It was a good scene, and I figured that - after watching this - I would have a gleeful sleep that night. Nothing could stop me now...

...and then someone knocked on the door. I froze, hit "last", and wrote an excuse for why I was up so late to feed to whichever parent was standing at the door.

It was my sister.

My sister, unlike me, is a creature of steely resolve. Usually utterly remorseless and ambitious beyond comprehension, it was unlike her to seek my attention for any reason beyond any extraneous circumstances (the days where we used to save the magical kingdom accessed through a portal in the back garden together were long gone). Nevertheless, here she was, visibly shaken by something. I was there, slightly dishevelled, still hard - as I noticed with some discomfort - and had used up all my patience waiting for the sex scene that her presence had stopped me from watching.

I wasn't best pleased.

I was even less pleased to hear that she had spent the evening watching a bootlegged copy of The Blair Witch Project on her computer - she wasn't 15 yet, so shouldn't have been watching it, but did anyway - and that she wasn't going to go to sleep unguarded. Her demand request was that, not unreasonably, she could sleep on the sofa bed I had in my room, and that I'd be there to protect her.

I listened to her request with a nervous twitch, aware that I was missing my sex scene with Nikki Fritz, but that my sister needed some help and I was supposed to be in bed at this point anyway (my mum always wanted me in bed at 11pm, in case staying up any later would give me dangerous ideas). My initial reaction was to tell her that I couldn't help.

"I can't help," I said, beginning to hate myself. I could, of course; there just might be some more scenes with Nikki Fritz, I told the voice in my head, and I've been waiting patiently.
"But I'm scared."
"But I want to stay here and..." And what?!
"But I'm scared!"
"But I don't think it's appropriate for you to sleep in my room when I'm..." When you're what? "...four years older than you and..."
"But I'm going to get KILLED!"

As patient as I may be, I am also incredibly pliant. And, even in her weakened state, my sister's steely resolve was unshakeable. It wasn't really ever a question, after all - so I found a blanket, put her on my sofa, went to bed myself and tried not to pay too much heed to the mix of despair at missing my sex scene, anger at myself for considering putting soft porn over the needs of my little sister, and apology to Nikki Fritz for not showing the correct amount of appreciation for her work.

She continued to sleep in my room on the next day, and the next, and the next. Perhaps predictably, I didn't get to watch anything remotely sexy until a whole school week later, which I did - once again, in Gran's sitting room, and this time happily undisturbed. It took me another week before I summoned up the courage to engage my sister in conversation again, and ask her if she would, despite her initial reaction, recommend watching The Blair Witch Project.

Recall as I can the sex scene with Nikki Fritz, I can't do so accurately to my sister's response. But, to this day - perhaps out of spite, but probably because I genuinely don't have the interest - I have never seen The Blair Witch Project.

I have, however, seen The Bare Wench Project from 2000 - starring, of course... Nikki Fritz.

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