Last Saturday, Liza Minnelli was a special guest on an Italian TV show. She was in fine fettle in spite of all the operations she must have had recently - facial and otherwise - and her voice was almost as strong as ever. Although, when she hit the high notes, I must say 'New York, New York' got dangerously close to becoming 'New Squawk, New Squawk.' I remember her once telling Larry King Live that from the waist up she felt like Dorothy but from the waist down like the Tin Man. This in turn reminded me of my magnificent night some years ago with Max, 'The Mighty Midget' who told me I was soft and creamy from the waist up and rough and ready from the waist down. You see I have a hairless chest but very hairy legs. I'm also a pretty tactile kind of guy and love to be touched. In all the right places of course. And Max's foraging fingers hit all my hot spots.

Max wasn't technically what you might call a midget but he was billed as such in the 'Moira Orfei Circus' which I always think sounds more Irish than Italian. Actually he was quite perfectly formed and extremely good-looking. He also possessed superior strength but, fortunately or unfortunately, inordinately short. Anyway he'd made a mint of money out of his physique and was very popular. So how did I end up in bed with him? It's not too long a story so if you bear with me I'll tell you.

Some American guy over here on a scholarship fancied himself as a budding Fellini and wanted to make a movie about circus people. I was present at the auditions in my capacity as casting director. I made friends with two gals from California who shared a spacious apartment on the Janiculum hill overlooking Trastevere and the rest of Rome. They invited me to party and I ended up helping them out as barman and DJ. The festivities went on well into the night and I flaked out in the guest room. Seems I wasn't the only 'guest' as I was dimly aware of people making love next to me. Came the dawn I was relieved to find I was finally alone. I had a shower and slipped into a silk caftan I found hanging in the bathroom closet. As I told you I'm quite a tactile kind of guy and really love the feel of silk next to my skin. The softer the silk, the harder I get. Mind you I'm not into cross-dressing or anything like that although I can sure appreciate those guys who like to wear women's garments.

Anyway I was just about to drift into sleep again when 'The Mighty Midget' made his appearance. Said he was looking for somewhere to crash out and would I mind if he lay down beside me. What could I say? I mean it was a case of 'noblesse oblige.' After all I was a guest in the house myself. He said he'd tried making love to the two girls from California but had come to the conclusion that they'd rather be making love to each other. He was wearing the briefest of briefs and was what I can only call 'extremely physical.' And I was feeling vulnerable in my semi-transparent caftan which didn't exactly give me much protection against the pulsating heat of him. Net, it didn't take long for our mutual desire to take wing and it was soon in full flight. For a while we didn't move but our bodies were only a pubic hair's breadth away from each other. The soft morning light was seeping through the shutters and I could feel the pre-cum seeping through the silk of the caftan. How was I going to explain that I thought. I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck and then his cool fingers tentatively touch me. I shuddered. That was enough for him to move in closer and clasp me to him.

"You're so smooth," he said. "Smoother than the silk of your caftan."

I couldn't think of anything appropriate to say so decided to say nothing. Love talk can either turn you on or off and I've never been really good at it. I'm a great believer in actions being louder than words and have always depended on touch to communicate my message. He seemed to be an expert at both. I was no longer conscious of him being shorter than me but increasingly aware that mighty not midget was the operative word for the hardness I felt pressed up against me. I wanted to be possessed by him. Feel the length and the girth of him inside me. His longitude and latitude.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid his body down behind me and began to lift the hem of the caftan and work his hands up my legs towards my love nest. It felt so good. At the same time it had a weird effect on me. Made me feel strangely feminine. As if I was going to lose my virginity or something or at the very least was in for some experiences I'd never had. I was right.

"Your legs really turn me on," he said. "They're so rough and hairy."

"I'm a mass of contrasts." I said dumbly, in spite of myself.

His head was level with my feet now and he was sucking my toes. No one. Not anyone had ever sucked my toes. It blew my mind and threatened to explode my dick. I wondered how I was ever going to be able to return the caftan to its rightful owner. At the same time he began to massage my aching legs. As part of my double act as barman and DJ, I'd been on my feet all night.

"That feels so good, so relaxing. Don't stop." I said.

He didn't. He travelled the full length of my legs. First with his hands, then with his tongue and lips. "Your legs are endless." he said. "I really envy you them."

Once again I didn't say anything but let myself go to the joy of the moment.

"If these are the railway lines," he added contentedly, " I can't wait to get to the station."

And with that he burrowed under the caftan and buried his face in my throbbing thatch. His lips encircled my dick and drank from its free flowing well. I let out a primal groan of complete satisfaction. Past mingles with present and dances dizzily into the future. Time gives way to eternity. There is only the vibrant, fervent now.

My rock hard dick turns to jello in the marshmallow of his marvellous mouth. I seethe and siss like a human volcano on the edge of erotic eruption. Nobody has ever made me feel like this. Nobody.

I float in sexual cyberspace. My libido levitates.

Just when I think it really can't get any better, he changes course and I change tenses. He travels down to my ass crack and begins to insinuate his way to my sphincter producing sparks with the tip of his tongue. At one point I think I'm going to short circuit. I find myself begging for the monster cock that seconds later he will cram all the way inside me and all the while I'm spitting out crude, crappy words I've never pronounced to anyone before. He has me so turned on.

"Oh, God, yeah," I say like someone in a porno film. "Tongue my hole that's right. Yeah baby that's the way I like it. Puncture my pucker. Blow my joint. Make me smell like a sperm bank."

The combination of his dexterity and my dirty talk have me dangerously near shooting my load. I fill the palm of my hand with pre-cum and grope for his thirsty dick as it comes up to meet my hungry ass. I fist-fuck him for the briefest of moments, enough to be astonished at the sheer solid size of him, then mouth and ass agape, I feel his dick thick and slick with my love juices as it buries itself deep inside me, then slides out to the crown before slamming back into me, turning every inch of my love chute into raw nerve endings.

I lose it. I can't stop to save my life. I'm full to the brim and overflowing. And God do I overflow. It literally pours out of me, burning my skin and bringing a scream from my throat I had never heard before. My ass clamps down on his divine dick, the velvety muscles inside clench, and the room disappears in blackness.

When I came to I was being hosed by thick blasts of his cum. I heard the splatter of liquid as it rained down on me and onto the floor. I lick my lips and happily imbibe the warm, creamy residue for a while until he pulls me onto his lap so we can face each other this time.

He kisses me hard, tugging on my tongue and chewing on my lips until I think we're in for a repeat performance, then he suddenly pulls back and says, "That was some party, wasn't it? And to think we weren't even introduced. You'd better tell me your name so I can leave you tickets for my show."

So I did and I went and I must say I enjoyed his shows very much indeed. Almost every day of them. But not half as much as the private ones he put on for my benefit afterwards. He may have been known as Max the Mighty Midget but he certainly grew in my estimation every time we made love together.

As I say that was some years ago now and I'm presently looking forward to Moira Orfei paying a return visit. She's bringing her Christmas Special to town. And of course I wouldn't say no to some extra shows from Max the Mighty Midget. Hope he's still with them. I'll have to keep you posted.

By the way, thank you Liza for bringing it all back to me.