SIGH

1.
I’ll shove my uncut dick up your ass bareback, man, up in between the pink walls of your hungry gaping hole. I can host at my apartment on Nob Hill. I love fucking dudes there under my skylights on a sunny day. My seven-inch cock will stick straight up and spew huge wads of cum after I fuck you doggie-style in front of my full-length mirror. Every few strokes I’ll pull out and make you lick my dick clean until I’ve fucked you so long and hard you’re lying there for dead in a pool of cum. That’s the kind of fuckin’ wild scene I’m into, man. If you’re into agony, getting the hot shit plowed out of you, swallowing gallons of yellow piss, getting forced to crawl around on a leash with a 12-inch dildo all the way up your fag ass for hours at a time, send full stats and a face pic. Name’s Ray.

2.
I’ll shove my cock in your ass, man, between the pink walls of your hole at my Nob Hill apartment. I love fucking dudes there under my skylights on a sunny day. My seven-inch cock sticks straight up. I’ll spew after I fuck you doggie-style in front of my full-length mirror, until cum pools around you. I’ll practically leave you for dead, that’s a fuckin’ wild scene, man. If you’re into agony, getting your hot ass plowed, yellow piss splashing everywhere as I force you to crawl around on a leash for a long time, send stats and face pic. Name’s Ray.

3.
I’m gonna stick my cock in your ass, man, between the cherry walls of my Nob Hill apartment, under my great skylights, my cock sticking straight up and spurting white all the way up to your eyes in front of a full-length mirror, cum pooling on your chest like you’re dead, that’s fuckin’ wild, man, your hot agonized ass plowed, yellow piss splashing all over it as I make you crawl around the apartment for a long time. Send face pic. —Ray

4.
I want my cock (in your mouth, man, like the cherry walls of my Nob Hill apartment, under those great skylights) sticking straight up, spurting white into your blue eyes, in front of a full-length mirror, a sticky pool of cum on your chest like you’re dead, that’s fuckin’ wild, man, agonizing, limbs plowing hot furrows, and yellow piss splashing as you crawl around the apartment for a long time. Send pic. —Ray

5.
I want my cock (in your mouth, man, like the cherry-red walls of my Nob Hill apartment, under those great skylights) rising a little, faithfully spurting white into a soft blue, mirrored in a sticky pool of cum on your chest like dead water, where wild, agonized limbs plow warm furrows and yellow piss splashes as you crawl along like a single long ray. —Ray

6.
My cock (in your face, man, like the autumn-stained red walls of my apartment on Nob Hill and those great skylights above) rises, a little melancholy but faithful, spurting white into October’s soft blue, mirrored in the sticky pool of cum on your chest like dead water where wild, agonized limbs plow into warm furrows and yellow piss splashes as you crawl along in a single long ray.

7.
My cock (in your dreamy face, brother, like the autumn-stained red walls of my apartment, and into the skylights above us) rises, melancholy and faithful, spurting white into October’s soft Blue, pale and pure, mirrored in the sticky pool on your chest like dead water, where wild, agonized limbs plow into warm furrows like the yellow sun crawling along in a single long ray.

8.
My cock (at your dreamy face, brother, an autumn stained red, and into the skylights above your eyes) rises, melancholy and faithful, spurting white into October’s soft Blue, pale and pure, mirrored in the sticky pool on your chest like dead water where wild, agonized limbs plow into warm furrows like the yellow sun crawling along in a single long ray.

9.
My cock (toward your dreamy face, brother, an autumn stained red, and toward the skylights of your eyes) rises, melancholy and faithful, spurting white into October’s soft Blue, pale and pure, languidly mirrored in a sticky pool, allowing (dead water where wild, agonized, strewn limbs plow a cool furrow) the yellow sun to crawl along in a single long ray.

10.
My soul (toward your brow, where dreams, O calm brother, an autumn strewn with reddish stains, and toward the sky of your angelic eye) rises as in a melancholy garden, faithful, a white jet spurting into the Blue, toward October’s soft Blue, pale and pure, languidly mirrored in great pools, allowing (on the dead water where the wild agony of wind-strewn limbs plows a cold furrow) the yellow sun to crawl in a single long ray.

11.
My soul (toward your brow, where dreams, O calm sister, an autumn strewn with the  russet stains of freckles, and toward the errant sky of your angelic eye) rises as in a melancholy garden, faithful, a white fountain sighing toward the Blue, toward October’s softened Blue, pale and pure, that mirrors its infinite languor in great pools and allows (on the dead water where the wild agony of wind-strewn leaves plows a cold furrow) the yellow sun to crawl in a single long ray.      –“Soupir,” Stéphane Mallarmé (trans. D. Christensen)

WE DID NOT WANT WHAT YOU HAD GOT

    Did we not love the look and feel of smooth hairless asses and tight pink holes? And yet we did not take our time with yours, did neither finger nor tease them, nor kiss, nor rim them. We did not use your bubble butts to milk even one load out of us.

    You were of no age, without height and weight, and not very verbal. We did not want you to be our secret bitches, did not fuck you doggy/missionary, nor let you ride our cocks. Neither did we lube our clean holes so you could deposit your loads inside. We were size queens and did not want your smaller cocks for bareback pump-n-dump.

    We were not just regular white guys, not your friends, fuck buds, or chat buds. You were not on Potrero Hill, did not have hazel eyes or chin scruff—that was a full goatee. You were neither HIV-positive nor STD-free, nor was there hair on your chest or your butt. Soooo, because we did not want to chat you up, we did not find you on Yahoo. We did not log on as ‘did_not_get_off,’ nor did we add you to our buddy lists.

    Beefy, heavily inked guys, we did not fuck your throats; you did not need a no-strings load down your throats at lunch. You were looking for an anonymous cock to breed your throats, but we did not unzip to seed them, nor blow inside you.
    No rim seats; you did not eat us out. We did not sit down to get our asses eaten deep. You had no buzzcuts, big dicks, or long tongues to eat our butts. It did not feel amazing. It was not “just like it said.”

    We were not looking for slut-boy bitches to fuck, nor for piss-drinkers or cum-swallowers. We were NOT in the mood to let a guy drink some of our juice. You did not drink our piss from taps and glasses, nor suck nice loads from our dicks.

    We did not want hot phone sex with bottom gays, be they hairy, bearded, or imaginative. We did not want sleazy talk with submissive guys who enjoyed pleasuring us with mouths, asses, and voices. We did not like ripe man smells, musky leather jockstraps, nor the servicing of our cocks, balls, and asses. We did not get off with sweaty talk.

    You did not need to be our fags. We were not looking for clean-cut, muscular, all-American guys for hot safe action; we were interested in drugs, scat, kink, and all those abbreviations: BB, S/M, B/D, CBT. We did not have fantasies in which we arranged married dudes’ cocks for you to suck while we watched and stroked our own, nor did we jack our loads onto your nuts, and once behind doors we did not grab your ties and get you to your knees to service us. We did not know how to make normal guys feel like faggots. You were not very private or enjoyable.