Rigby Taylor
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Everything posted by Rigby Taylor
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Excellent writing. The way mothers manipulate their sons is sickening. Nate was right to tell him what a 'weeping willow' he is.
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Thanks, Canuk - I hope you don't get indigestion!
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I like the description of of Nat's pottery, I'm so sick of heavy shapeless crap. and admire your slightly sardonic humour that lightens the story without making it lightweight.
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It goes in ever decreasing circles... thanks for reading it.
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That's very funny Wesley - I think.
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Thank you Gary- It gets even more interesting, I think you'll find.
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Sebastian was late and Desolé fretted. It was stupid but she couldn’t help herself. She knew the only way to keep her son was to leave him free to be his own man. She was well aware that possessiveness was poison, unsought advice was unwelcome, and negative criticism was counter productive. But when her son irritated her it was becoming harder to keep a lid on the stress and her thoughts to herself. Recently she’d been feeling as if she was walking among eggs; the slightest false step on her par
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It isn't as strange as it seems. In the 1980s I used to swim in a Brisbane pool very similar to this one, wearing an almost identical thong to Sebastian's. The guard there said a similar thing to me as he did to Sebastian. But that's where any similarity between me and Sebastian ends. Since then board shorts have become required wear for male swimmers - bad news for voyeurs and people who like to swim freely.
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Thank goodness you like him... He really is one of the good guys.
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On arriving home from school Sebastian checked the mailbox, removed the slim brown envelope, raced indoors, shut himself in his room and removed his clothes. With a grin of anticipation he tore open the package and extracted a flimsy bit of silky yellowish fabric attached to similar coloured strings. Having worked out which string went between his legs and which around his waist, he tucked his penis over his scrotum and placed the material on top. It was too small! Unless… he tightened the strin
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Sebastian Sanspere is an enigma. Everyone likes him, but no one knows anything about him. He wears clothes under protest, but no one seems to mind. His home life is alarmingly odd. He doesn’t know who his father was, yet he’s managed to remain a ‘normal’ and thoroughly nice guy in the opinion of those who are not concerned by his penchant for nudity. In this fast paced tale of criminal intrigue, porno rings, abductions and violence in tropical Australia, Sebastian and his boyfriend, Reginald, get accidentally caught up in the mayhem and have to fight for their lives against the big-moneyed bad boys.
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All's Well That Ends.........
Rigby Taylor commented on Rigby Taylor's story chapter in All's Well That Ends.........
Thanks, JeffreyL -
Quote: <<if you usually have a drink when you go out to eat, you should go elsewhere. A different restaurant, because habits reinforce things, reinforce behaviour.>> Very good. Very well written. Very believable. Exactly how an addict tries to convince himself.
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All's Well That Ends.........
Rigby Taylor commented on Rigby Taylor's story chapter in All's Well That Ends.........
Thanks, sound addict. Awesome is such a wonderful word, when it's applied to me. I hope you enjoy Sebastian as much. -
All's Well That Ends.........
Rigby Taylor commented on Rigby Taylor's story chapter in All's Well That Ends.........
Thanks Wesley - I hope I don't disappoint. -
Sunlight poured through slatted blinds, slicing Jon into dozens of perfect strips of golden flesh. A rattling trolley was followed by a knock on the door. ‘Cleaner!’ ‘Ten minutes,’ I called. The noise trundled away. We showered, dressed, and were in the Porsche with thirty seconds to spare. The day was perfect. Clear blue skies, wind-free, warm, sunny and invigorating. The last day of winter had to be spent out of doors. We drove north of the river. A delicatessen provided breakf
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'fraid so. But the next story's even better... [says he modestly]
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Yes... I thought they were rather clever - really got up the noses of the nasty guys. Only one chapter to go...... Can you predict the end?
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The lock on the wood-panelled door of apartment 3B opened silently with the bronze master key on MacFife’s key ring. We entered, closed the door quietly and walked softly through to the main room. Glaze was dozing on a divan in front of a large window with a view up the coast to Fraser Island. Each breath was accompanied by a slight whimper, and a trickle of saliva ran from the corner of his mouth. Despite a thick shirt and tracksuit trousers he was shivering, and pain-lines creased a face that
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Yes.... but will it continue to go right? Things have a habit of changing direction - Ah, why can't life be simple?
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Indeed. I recall a song we used to sing; "Retribution" it was called. There's nothing more uplifting than making sure someone gets what they deserve.
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Spoil sport. Was the person peeing in bare feet while standing on wet grass?
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Seven minutes later, Rory and Lida walked purposefully around to the front of the gallery and the main entrance, while we wandered aimlessly around the other end to the door of the upstairs flat and tried our key. It refused to turn. The locks had been changed! But we had to get upstairs before Lida and MacFife! We raced back to the back door and tried the key there. No luck! Disaster! Jon turned the handle and the door opened. We peered cautiously along the passageway to the gallery. How co
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Wow... that was quick, Wesley. Is it not night time where you are?
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Dawn was breaking as we drove north over the bridge to look for somewhere to breakfast. From above, the river appeared more swollen, swifter and much more dangerous than from the shore. I was amazed the bridge had survived and very relieved to reach the other side. Unlike the parks and beaches south of the river - either swept away or littered with flotsam and sewage - the northern beaches had escaped with little more than eroded sand dunes. We found a park with working showers and toilets, and
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