Hairy Potter and the Seduction of the Ear Canal

On the night we met, I was smoking weed across the road from the police station.

Everyone knows that cops look for drugs everywhere except for right outside the station, right?

That’s not why I chose to live across the road from the largest drugs precinct in Sydney. I chose to live across the road from the Redfern Police Station because the rent was cheap and it was so close to the Redfern Train Station. It just so happened that Police were closer than trains.

On the night we met, jazz was playing in the hip-hop bar below my apartment.

The singer’s vibrato was innocent and sweet and lit up this dark forsaken street in a way it had never been before. I stood outside my building letting her reach my soul and watching police cars enter and exit the station. I had a feeling I might make friends if I let the smoke drift.

I lit the magic stick and took a toke on my lonesome. My silent wingman carried a long white cloud right through the bar’s doors and as smoke wafted in, a honey wafted out.

‘What you doin smokin right outside the station?’ she asked. Thick, older than me, darker than me, sexy. ‘Aren’t you afraid you’ll get caught?’

‘Oh let me break it down for you,’ I started and lay down my aforementioned logic with weight.

‘You’re either the dumbest or the smartest motherfucker I’ve ever met,’ she said, ‘but I’ll smoke with you for now.’

We passed the rollie back and forth and exchanged pleasantries. She held onto it for longer than I did, which didn’t matter because I had the mad supply upstairs, but one minute was still far too soon to be sucking roach.

‘Let me go upstairs and roll another one,’ I told her. ‘You’ll know when I’m back.’

‘Oh I will,’ she said. ‘Smell you later?’

This never happens to me. Never.

15 minutes later I came back down and she and her friends were waiting for me.

She introduced me to all of them and I was about to spark up when I received a text asking me to travel to Parramatta.

‘Hey I’ve got to go,’ I said, ‘but can I leave this with you?’

I held the joint out to the girl I had first spoken to.

‘Sure! Did you .. like .. want my number or something?’

‘Yeah, if you’d like to give it to me.’

She punched her digits into the cracked screen and sent herself a message.

‘Pleasure to meet you,’ I said to all of them at once. ‘Enjoy your night!’ and I hurried off.

The next morning she texted me.

‘Thank you for the joint. You are very kind.’

‘Not a problem!’ I replied. ‘I hope you had a great night. Your friend is a beautiful singer.’

I expected that would be the end of the interaction.


Many events transpired over the next few months. I did acid. Friends came and went. My life flashed before my eyes on three separate occasions and my identity changed at least four times. I’m assuming her life was equally tumultuous.

Two seasons later I was sweating on the couch and my phone vibrated.

‘Do you remember me?’ she asked.

‘Of course I do!’

‘Do you want to hang out tomorrow?’


I bought tickets to a comedy show at once and rolled a couple joints.

The next day, I met her and we picked up where we left off. It was pleasant. Things were going well!

She brought me back to her place and we smoked and drank and discussed politics into the wee hours of the night.

I was in the middle of delivering a diatribe on New Zealand’s economic contribution to the Asia-Pacific region when she shushed my lips, took hold of my head, turned it, and stuck her tongue deep inside my ear.

I was faded and figured I was imagining things. I wasn’t.

She turned my head again and went for the other ear and I knew this was real.

Imagine someone eating your asshole but you can hear every wetness of the tongue as it penetrates the far corners of the abyss. That’s what it was like. I was dazed and confused and like putty in her hands and in this weakened state I realised this was her move. She had complete control over me.

I kneeled at her feet, quivering and wincing as she switched between ears and stuck her tongue deeper and deeper into my ears. I wish I had known this was what she was into so I could have cleaned them, like a baby wipe for salad tossers, but maybe a dirty ear was what she came for. I did not disappoint.

After 5 minutes of utter insanity, she grabbed me by the lobes like my mother used to when I was a naughty child and dragged me up stairs to her futon.

She lay down and pulled her dress up. I kneeled before her, scared and extremely aroused.

The red sea parted and she issued a command.

I did not disobey. I removed her underwear and explored the nether regions.

The very moment my tiny tongue made contact with her puss, she thrust a moistened finger into each one of my ears and yanked my head down with zeal. I responded like a mule who had received the whip. With each vigorous tongue-swirling motion I made, she made an equally vigorous finger-twirling motion in my ear and oh my lord it was much too much. Round and round and round and round she went until the auditory and physical sensations overloaded my little brain and I shrieked and cried out loud. She eased up a little and I regained consciousness, but as soon as I caught my breath, the twirling and tongue fucking of my canals increased with a ferocity I have yet to encounter again.

By 6 AM I could take no more.

I was hearing voices and my ears were rattling. My brain and body were beginning to show the signs of wear. I needed my mother’s love to recuperate and in this destitute state, mI began my journey home.

I tried to put in earbuds, but the insertion of rubber only activated traumatic memories and caused my spine to tingle and flex in ways it should not. My life flashed before my eyes for the fourth time in seven months.

You might think the moral of this story is, ‘Don’t hustle your shit across the road from the police station,’ but it’s not.

Listen to your woman.

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