"Rim me," he commanded.
How is one to decline an offer?
He is a model. 5'8. Swimmer's body. A face to lust for.
And a libido of a teenage boy.
After a great blowjob, whatever his whims, it will be your command.
My hands lowered to his abs, tracing the humps.
Lower.
Down to his white underwear.
His cock. Stiff and hard as wood.
"Rim me," he commanded again. This time positioning himself.
The night went by quick, I want my foreplay slow.
"Pull it down," he pleaded.
His request, my command.
I pulled it down.
Saw something peculiar.
Stared at it.
Stared long.
What the hell is that?
The eyes looked closer.
Damn it.
The model, for all his perfection, hides a frailty.
Taken aback, I pulled up my pants.
To hell with raunch.
My tongue will not taste that ass.
When it left brown skidmarks on his jockeys.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
HEART ATTACK
The worst way to wake up on a Friday morning
When you wake up after dreaming you lost one testicle.
Grabbed the balls and was relieved
They're still complete.
When you wake up after dreaming you lost one testicle.
Grabbed the balls and was relieved
They're still complete.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
KIRBY
You remind me of the Spanish era.
When the country was still run by those foreigners.
You of course is one of them.
Your high nose. Your fair complexion. Your eyes.
Captivating.
Your body is a piece of work.
You've put on a little weight, but still one would want to see what's underneath your shirt.
Just writing about it makes one's mouth water.
God, what I'd give to one day push you to a wall and put my tongue inside your mouth.
These thoughts are not right.
You're married.
So stop smiling when you pass by my way.
When the country was still run by those foreigners.
You of course is one of them.
Your high nose. Your fair complexion. Your eyes.
Captivating.
Your body is a piece of work.
You've put on a little weight, but still one would want to see what's underneath your shirt.
Just writing about it makes one's mouth water.
God, what I'd give to one day push you to a wall and put my tongue inside your mouth.
These thoughts are not right.
You're married.
So stop smiling when you pass by my way.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
THOUGHTS ON BUS RIDE HOME
A bus ride home can be a lonely endeavor.
Lonely and oftentimes habitual. Repetitive. Monotonous.
There are days when a fellow passenger catches your fancy.
You gaze at him too long.
And sometimes your thoughts get nasty.
You'd want to sit beside him. Touch his elbow with yours, hoping for a glance.
Then he'll brush his finger along your arm.
A sly smile and a naughty wink.
A signal that it's fine for you to touch his dick.
And you oblige.
There was this passenger who caught my fancy.
But too bad he dropped off early.
Lonely and oftentimes habitual. Repetitive. Monotonous.
There are days when a fellow passenger catches your fancy.
You gaze at him too long.
And sometimes your thoughts get nasty.
You'd want to sit beside him. Touch his elbow with yours, hoping for a glance.
Then he'll brush his finger along your arm.
A sly smile and a naughty wink.
A signal that it's fine for you to touch his dick.
And you oblige.
There was this passenger who caught my fancy.
But too bad he dropped off early.
WHAT ONCE WAS PRIVATE
People write in a public domain to share their thoughts, experiences, wants, needs and desires.
I have read tons of people's thoughts, experiences, wants, needs and desires.
Thought it's time to write one of my own.
Time to share my private thoughts.
Out in public.
Anonymously.
I have read tons of people's thoughts, experiences, wants, needs and desires.
Thought it's time to write one of my own.
Time to share my private thoughts.
Out in public.
Anonymously.
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