EminemxJohn Mayer porn because I'm lonely and horny

The guitar twanged and John winced, his ears ringing from the sound. It needed new strings, a new kaypo, maybe even a new neck, goddammit, but he couldn't give his baby a well-needed update for a good week or so, thanks to his schedule. He almost -almost!- threw the guitar to the floor in anger but came to his senses at the last moment and stopped his hand before it committed murder.

Scott was busy, the guys were busy, even his mom was too fucking busy for him to call home. John tilted back in his chair and exhaled an exasperated sigh. No friends, no guitar, no girl... If it wasn't for the XBox he'd be utterly screwed in his solitude.

He leaned forward and pressed the 'on' button knowing that a few hours of blowing up aliens in HALO would improve the situtation.

"Click." Said the Xbox. It whirred and chirred, indescisive, and then in a flash of brillance shut down without having turned on in the first place.

John inched closer. A long finger that inspite of the calases was considered beautiful and inspiring by all the women (and some of the men) in America pressed again on the button and a voice that coaxed moans and sighs from the most cold hearted whispered a prayer to the Microsoft God. "C'mon baby."

The Xbox clicked with aggitation. It flicked a light, beeped once, and turned off.

That same hand that wished only to destroy the guitar for it's insolence now made an attempt on the Xbox's life. "Goddammit! Must... not... kill..."

John stood up in a huff. His hands ran through his hair and both got stuck in some snarles. "Dammit!" Pissed about this lastest diaster he kicked the TV stand and stubbed not only his big toe, but the second, third, and fourth toe on his right foot. "Goddammit!"

He freed his hands and grabbed onto his throbbing foot. Hopping on his yet uninjured appendage he cursed and bounced until he tripped over his couch. "Goddammit!"

He needed to get out -now- before he killed himself. Still swearing John grabbed a nearby coat and stuffed both feet (which were now both aching) into sneakers. "So long you appartment of doom."

john drabble

New York City never let anyone down. She was all lights and sparkles, all red hot kisses and slinky black dresses. If she was a hooker she was a damn fine one, one whose appeal went beyond that of first appearences and first moments. John pressed his face against the cool glass window of the taxi and made a face at a pedestrian. To his surprise she noticed him and stuck her tongue out in rsponse. He waved as the light changed and sat back in his seat, just the tinest bit happier.

They were in the village now, a far cry from the neon and spotlights of Times Square. For a moment John wished he had brought one of his guitars; he could find a nice little cafe and play the night away. His fingers strummed absently at an instrument that didn't exist and he considered telling the driver to turn around and bring him home.