“With sex on my mind—ranting with Bobby at large” is a fictional letter written by Harrison Dickinson to his friend, Bobby Truman who lived a promiscuous lifestyle for a very long time before he finally met his untimely death a couple of years ago.

Truman, according to Harrison’s letter, lived a volatile lifestyle rooted in love, sex and despair; and he was said to have enjoyed his life to the fullest meaning of the word especially in the area of romance, dazzling his soul with explosive sex after sex with different women until he got himself obliterated on a brazen Saturday afternoon as he was having sexual intercourse with Debra, one of his many sexual partners.

Truman was the greatest woman-wrapper that had ever walked the face of this earth; he loved sex and booze, and would not hesitate to get his dickie wet and dirty inside the pussy of any woman who happened to tickle his worm and jiggle both his balls… even if that woman happened to be another man’s wife. But as the saying goes everyday is for the thief and one day is for the owner, he unfortunately met with his untimely death on a brazen Saturday afternoon as he was having the best time of his promiscuous life, delighting his dickie in Debra’s coochie; defiantly having sex with the woman whose husband had warned him repeatedly to stay away from his wife…