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| He was younger than me. He lived in a housing project. He had strawberry-blond hair. His firm eyes beneath the dark blue shorts. His kissable lips. He was an asshole all grown up. He had more foreskin than you could shake a stick at. He had a big dick for a fifth grader. His name was Marvin. He had buck teeth. He was poor white trash that gave great head. He had carpenter’s butt. His name was Daniel. He asked me to take a photo of my dick and bring it to school. He had very hairy legs. He yelled at me as I ran around the track. He worked as an usher at the local cinema. He got fist-fucked. He sucked me at the urinal. His brother was gay. He had dandruff. He was too skinny for my tastes. He had man-breasts. He had a shirt, fat pretty dick. He nibbled my earlobes. He taught Advanced Spanish at the college. His cat licked his balls. He parted my asscheeks. He fingered my butt. It hurt a little. His dick curled up. He wore a green shirt and a stocking cap. He slapped me around. I liked it. He swallowed it. He called me a whore. He’s right. He called me a nigger and I kind of liked it. He shoved a sex toy up my ass. His name was Dennis. He had a Prince Albert. His name was Kenny. He had an English accent. He said, “Get down there and suck it.” He didn’t call the next day. He wouldn’t stop calling. He came by unexpected. He started to freak me out. He asked, “Are you ready for the rim chair?” He was bald. He wore a leather dick ring around his balls. He wanted me to drink his piss. He spoke with a thick New York accent. He was brunette and rough. His name was Paul. He wanted me to stick my finger up his ass. He had three dogs. His name was Mark. He had hard thighs. He was Italian. He lives in New Jersey. He had dirty fingernails. He is Jewish. He tried to pick a fight with me. He’s HIV positive. He asked if he could go to the bathroom first before I started eating his ass. He talked dirty to me. His mother doesn’t know. He was a fag to bullies and high school football players. He’s happily married. His wife had no idea. His milk-white skin. He moved to Europe. He handcuffed me. His name was Oscar. He asked, are you a homosexual? He told me to take off my pants. He busted us down by the rail road tracks. He was an undercover cop. He was Hispanic. His name was Mario. He had a white girlfriend. He said he was flattered when I told him I had a crush on him. His cigarette breath. He snored and belched. He said, for ten dollars, I’ll suck it off the bone. |
He wanted to beat my ass when I told him I had a crush on him. He didn’t want to be friends anymore after that. He blew me on the hood of his car. He worked at a gas station. His name was Sonny. His face and back was scarred. He drove an old Jaguar. He was on top of me. I couldn’t breathe. His cat was stretched out on the kitchen table. His hardwood floors. His name was David. His bed with sky-blue sheets. He drove naked through the dirt roads. He was such a pig. He called me Sean. He wore black shoes with buckles. His jeans and underwear pulled down around his ankles. His stall door was open for all to see. He said after I came, come on, man. Clean up your mess. He asked if I was black. He thought I was West Indian. His shirt had yellow armpit stains. He had low-hanging balls. His dimples in his bubble-butt. His moustache felt prickly. He had arched feet with bony toes. He wore a black nylon durag He had corn roll braids. He wore a yellow bandana. His dirty asscrack. His hairy ass in leather chaps. He had a new haircut. His fingernails were polished. He asked me what I was into sexually. His mouth was filled with cum. His car had tinted windows. His socks were thrown in the corner of the room. He had a mole on his dick. He drank too much. He was a dirty, sexist carpenter. He warned me about cops. His dick lined with veins. He had all that smegma. He wore lipstick and mascara. He won a glow-in-the-dark condom in a Bingo game. He’s a motivational speaker living in the Bronx. He’s a drag queen with a platinum-blonde wig. He’s a pretty-eyed tranny. He stepped out of his truck wearing a black mini-skirt. He had a mullet and smelled of perfume. His name was Linton. He was bisexual. He couldn’t come for doing too much coke. He sniffed my stinking underwear. He asked, do you want to pee in my mouth. His name was Jeff. He wanted to make out right there in the hallway. His name was Robby. He lived with his ailing mother. He said I was huge, meaning my dick. He bit me. He took long whiffs of my socks. His name was Ron. He held the poppers to my nose. He walked naked through the park. He fought with the drunken guy whose wallet was stolen. He blamed me. He had muscles galore. He liked to get spanked. He had bad teeth. He stood there jacking off. He liked the poem I wrote. He threw up on me. He told me to relax. He stood me up. He gave me a soapy rag for the mess. He was a Brooklyn thug. He asked me if I had any weed. He’s a chef. He had to leave the club early. He had to go to church the next day. |