Johnny Seven
Bio
I'm a father, a writer, a poet, a musician, a traveller, a dancer, a lover of people and always visual.
I say "Everything I write is true". And it is. I'm also full of shit. At my best the shit is "quite entertaining".
I hate reading.
Stories (16/0)
And Then I Came on Her Foot
I was dodging the traffic when I nearly bumped into her, or perhaps she just skilfully scooped me up from the throng of visitors preoccupied with avoiding being run over by one of the thousands of motorbikes, scooters, buses, taxis, and cars that are omnipresent on Ho Chi Minh City’s filthy streets.
By Johnny Seven5 years ago in Filthy
Pain, Yes?
I met a woman called Li in Bangkok. She was working in a massage parlour opposite the hotel I was staying in. A "proper" massage parlour. “Some people think girl working in a massage parlour is bad,” she told me. “But for me is not just money. Want fix people.”
By Johnny Seven5 years ago in Wander
Size Matters—Think Long and Hard
After 25 years of marriage, at the age of 56, my wife, a keen reader with a new Kindle, discovered Paranormal Romance, a genre of adult fiction focusing on the sexual Dominance of the vampire and the submission of his victim. Think Twilight with an added layer of kinky sex.
By Johnny Seven5 years ago in Filthy
Eyeing up the Waitress
I’d seen her before. She’d smiled at me before. She looked shy. She was beautiful. I could see it in her eyes, her grace, the way she tucked her long, dark, shiny hair behind her ears into a ponytail. Golden earrings glinted from her lobes. Set in her clear-skinned face, her dark bright eyes peered from below her dark slender eyebrows, looking up at me with a subservience I found irresistible.
By Johnny Seven5 years ago in Filthy
Holiday Voyeur
I can barely think about her without my balls filling up. I see her brown eyes, soft hair, crooked teeth, beautiful crooked face, like something crafted by Modigliani. I see her thin shoulders, narrow back and strong arms. I see her slightly hunched, always busy. Deep. Dark. Brown.
By Johnny Seven5 years ago in Filthy
Uncharted Waters
We cast off, delighted to be moving. She spreads the navigation chart out in front of them and begins plotting a course for Fulfilment. He opens his copy of Yachting Monthly. She points at their shiny new copy of Sailing for Dummies. "I'll take a look in a moment," he says, biting into a sandwich.
By Johnny Seven5 years ago in Humans
I Saw Her Pants the Other Day
I saw her pants the other day—at least I think I saw her pants. She was wearing a dark blue silk blouse, tucked into pale blue silk trousers. As she danced around me, I could just about make out her dark boy-shorts through the translucent weave of her trousers. Boy-shorts or tucked in shirt; I couldn’t decide. You may think, "Shirt," and that I’m just a creep—but they finished in an even line, and had a symmetry that no amount of tucking in could hope to achieve.
By Johnny Seven5 years ago in Humans
The War Remnants Museum, Saigon
I visited Vietnam in 2018, travelling from the capital, Hanoi, in the North, to the former capital, Ho Chi Minh City, in the South before heading to Cambodia. HCM City was formerly called Saigon, and in truth still is by many Vietnamese, whether they live in the city or not. There are even beers called Hanoi and Saigon, but no beer called Ho Chi Minh City.
By Johnny Seven5 years ago in Serve