The night they put viagra jelly in my drink …

“How you feeling anyway?” Hutch asked over the top of his glass.

My thoughts froze instantly in my head and my internal alarm bell went off. I looked from him to Stepek. Fuck, I thought, they’re looking at me like two kids watching a newly caught bee in a jam jar.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. You ok? How you feeling?” Stepek asked.

That was the confirmation. They’d spiked my last drink.

“Ok, what the fuck was in my drink?” I asked, disguising my terror. With this pair of arseholes it could have been anything in my glass.

“Nothing man, for Christ’s sake J, what do you think I am?” Stepek asked, turning his hands face-up for added effect. For back-up he looked to Ken, who sat, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling.

I looked straight into Stepek’s eyes for a few seconds. He had definitely done something, because if he hadn’t he would have been laughing at my paranoia instead of displaying his finest poker face.

“Ok it’s that kamagra jelly stuff,” piped up Ken, which caused Stepek to burst out laughing, thigh-slapping laughter.

“What the hell is that?” I asked. I really had no idea. Why would I?

*

Utterly wasted, It took me about four attempts before I could get my key into the lock. I stood there with my head against door, my hand wavering around in front of me like a… whatever, anyway, first thing on the agenda when I got in was to get my jeans off. My hard-on wasn’t letting up, three hours after I drank the damn stuff, and had become massively uncomfortable.

The feeling when I finally unzipped my jeans and pulled them down past my knees, swiftly followed by my shorts, was one of immense relief. My cock fell out and into my hand with an almost audible slap. I looked down at it; it was genuinely enormous, definitely bigger than normal. It felt like it was going to burst.

“Christ, what a waste!” I said out loud, holding my hands up in the air. I moved my hips from side to side and watched it sway about in front of me.

I was so drunkenly impressed that I decided that the best thing to do was to take a photo of it, and so I scanned the room for my camera, which I remembered was in the bedroom. I wandered through without taking my trousers fully off and found the camera where I had left it on my desk. I switched it on to check there was still space on the card, then fired off a few shots, a couple from the side, a close-up and another by holding the camera above my head for a full on birds eye view with me squinting into the lens and giving a thumbs-up.

It was quite a strange sensation, as I didn’t feel at all horny… I settled on having a shower to see if it would have any kind of calming effect.

In the shower, I leaned my head against the wall, trying to steady myself. It’s always when I jump in the shower after coming home from a night out that I realise just how drunk I actually am. I gradually reduced the hot until all the water pouring over my body was freezing cold, but it didn’t make the slightest difference.

Two hours and a bottle of Côtes du Luberon later my hard-on eventually began to subside, but slowly, like an old film showing the demolition of an industrial chimney which had filled the skyline of a small working class town for a generation.