Friday, July 24, 2009

Fag Fingers

It’s funny what our brain subconsciously edits out.

Today suddenly, I remembered the last thing ______ said to me Sunday night. He looked nervous and fidgety, tried several times to say something but always stopped at the last minute. I thought his nervousness was adorable and little boy like.

“I was just about to say…no, no ! I can’t say it…” He trailed off.

“Don’t be nervous, what were you going to say ?” I gently prodded, just sure he was about to confess the depth of his true feelings for me. I tingled all over not believing my good fortune.

“I’m afraid you won’t think of me the same, but…”

“Oh, go ahead ______, I want to know what’s on your mind.” I reached out and rubbed up and down his hairy arm to emphasize my point.


Here it was, he was about to say that in the short time we’d known each other, he fallen madly in love with me and wanted to build a future with me. I mentally prepped my “shut up and just kiss me” look.

“Well, you know what an ass hound I am… Sitting here, I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to finger you. Ever since I got my first piece of ass at age 15, It’s all I ever think about. By the way, are you one of the guys that will let a guy keep fucking even after he cums ?”



(the other shoe dropping. wait, it’s not done)


(there we go, done)

My thoughts at that time:

Oh, you romantic rascal, you. And no, I did not recognize you as an ass hound (what the f**k is an ass hound anyhow ? A dog that sniffs out hot asses ? Hmmm, maybe that’s exactly what it was). No wonder you never seem to accomplish much, with ass weighing so heavily on your mind. What a f**kin’ burden it must be. And that last part of what you said to me, NONE of your f**kin’ business, ya perv !

After I grew quiet and pulled away from him, he waggled his eyebrows and suggested we go back to his place and watch tv (it was 2 a.m.). I shook my head no and walked back to my Mazda, half-heartily listening to him promise to call. Right, I just bet you will, I thought and threaded my way into the late night traffic.

I can pick’em, can’t I ?

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