About Mr Simpson, the Second One a work of Fiction by goomba (jerome kugan) The first one was too tall and I am quite short in comparison, so I saw us like two straws of different lengths trying to suck on each other. But today, last week, I met the second one. He's not as tall as the first one, and he's an equally good kisser. And now I'm in love all over again (durr)Ö The second one also wears glasses like the first one did. They both have the same (almost, but not really) hairstyle, bleached and dyed into some feral colour. The first one had beautiful eyes. The second one had arresting ones. The similarities were definitely there, but it's certainly all in my mind. Don't know why it's important to write about things like this but it sort of explains the vile attraction to guys with anal warts and off-centred personalities. Like, maybe, the well-documented feline attraction to bastards. OhÖ Anyway, the first one made me write hopeless poems. But this second one is more intriguing. He's not inspiring me to write in my little shells over my little shells, turd squiggles and writing for peanuts. Instead of writing, the second one makes me feel like fucking. He makes me sport a hard-on and when his dog, Darren, comes into the lounge room when we are on top/maybe me under/over each other and with its dog tongue, starts licking my arsehole, I suspect that there might be something of a complicity between him and his dog. Of course, I am only a 12 year old boy in his eyes and that's really cool in some aspects and I like older men anyway. I told him that maybe I'm going to call a police sergeant about all the things he's done to me and maybe the police sergeant will get excited too, listening to my breathy juvenile voice over the phone and he's going to jack himself off as the prisoner across from the hallway get excited too and rape each other and with that, I turn to face the second one and dare him to have his way with me because I'm trying to appear being naughty and then it's all planned out that I'm from out of town and I only came into his house to use him purely for sex and then two or three days later, I would be leaving him - and Thank God that he was older cause younger guys just can't handle their emotions, like myself. The older guys have steelier hearts and nothing as young as me can penetrate that deep but I'm growing too. Every year, I get new wrinkles, sometimes it's good to notice that they are there but sometimes, it's a different story altogether. I had said, it was about a year ago now, to the first one, the 3 stupid words. But this year, with the second one, despite the similarities, I froze. My voice grew very quiet although my cock was still hard. My heart was so young. And so I hid it away, so he can't really see. But I made a few mistakes so he'd get to what I was thinking. But I don't like telling people what I really feel or think anymore because of bad experience, now I'm hunting for song lyrics that encapsulate all that I'm about and I try to learn the melody so I can replay it in my mind whenever I feel like this. Being in his arms felt so good, so I canÖ fuck itÖ this is stupid. Created on Thu, 22 Jan 1998 and last modified on Thu, 19 Feb 1998.

LOUDonline - http://www.loud.net.au - Fri, 10 Apr 1998