It’s not gay if he looks like a girl. Or if he gives you head. Or if you do the fucking. As long as you don’t take cock up your ass or down your throat you ain’t gay. That’s the shit I been saying all my life, since Rog started giving me head in the boy’s locker room after P.E. when I was 14. I ain’t gay like him, I ain’t a fag like him, I don’t wear the make-up and prance around in girls clothes like he did. I ain’t fucking gay. I just know where to get good head.
He was sittin at the bar in his eyeliner and feather boa suckin on a cherry and I just knew those faggot lips were good. All the other queers were packing around him, flashing their stomachs, buyin him drinks, but I knew what he wanted. What all faggots want. A nice big juicy cock to suck. And I had one for him. Maybe I’d fuck that ass too after I get him out of those sissy vinyl pants. Fucking purple vinyl pants. Little shits like him are just begging for me to slap them around, make them lick it, beg for it. And he would. I’d give him the honor.
I headed to the bar, standing far enough away that it wouldn’t look like I was hitting on him but close enough that I could talk softly and he would hear. I waited for the latest fairy to give up flirting and walk away then downed my vodka and cleared my throat. “Hey bitch.”
He raised his eyebrow, turning slowly to look at me. I pursed out my lips and nodded slightly, still trying not to make it obvious to the rest of the homos that I was talking to him. “Excuse me?” he said, acting offended or some shit.
“I got what you want, bitch,” I said, reaching down to grab my crotch, turning slightly so he could see. His eyes traveled down and I smiled, nodding my head. “Like that, dontcha? Be a good little fag and maybe I’ll let you suck it.”
He laughed, fucking laughed at me. Well more of a chuckle really, no one laughs at what I got to offer. Couldn’t believe I was actually gonna give it to him I guess. He bit into the cherry, finishing whatever was in his glass, and turned, crossing his legs like some girl. “I’m rarely good,” he said, some strange smile on his face. I hate it when they try to play games. Why can’t they just fall to their knees like they know they want to and get to work? But I can play. Been playing this game since I was a kid.
“Cut the fairy shit. I got a room upstairs. You want to suck it or not?”
He sat there. I wasn’t sure if he was mad or scared or what. Maybe he was just turned on, I can never read what the fuck their face says through all that make-up. “What room?” he finally asked, motioning for another drink. I told him the number and he got up, “Meet ya there after this dance.”
What the fuck is with them and dancing? Shitty disco crap comes on and they think it’s their mating call or something. But who cares, I got what I wanted, he’d be up soon all sweaty and panting, that pretty painted mouth just waiting for me. And that ass, I’d definitely want that ass. Good thing he was staying for a dance, it’d give me time to prepare. He wouldn’t know what hit him when he got up there.
He barged in when I was pulling the ties off the curtains, throwing them on the bed for other purposes. He was sweating, just like I knew he’d be, that body glitter shit shining with it, curly blond hair slick with it, his lipstick smudged. Bet he’d been making out on the dance floor. No shame, none of ‘em, flaunting it all over.
“You think you’re big time, don’t you?” he was saying, posing like some fucking fruit and waving his limp wrist at me.
“Whatever bitch, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want it, no one’s forcing you. Now get on the bed.”
He ponced over, tossing that ridiculous boa aside and crawling across the bed. His mouth found my crotch, tongue and teeth working me through my jeans. I groaned, leaning my head back and grabbing his hair. “That’s it fag.”
I heard the click first, then felt the metal of my handcuffs, the tug on my wrists as he pulled forward onto the bed. He sat on my back, the little shit’s ass pushing me into the bed. “You really need to learn some manners. Invite me up here and don’t even take the time to ask me my name then just assume I’m going to get you off then let you leave. You closet cases are all alike..”
“I ain’t no fucking closet case!”
He grabbed me by the back of my neck, pushing me down harder into the bed, fingers digging into me. “Sure you aren’t. You’re just spending your night picking up guys in a bar instead of girls. Very straight of you. Now, as I was saying, you closet cases think a lot of yourselves. And you know what? It pisses me off. You want me? You’re going to work for it.”
I told him to fuck off, let me up, that I wasn’t goin for that shit. He wouldn’t listen. He held me down. Yeah, I probably could have pushed him off but he looked puny, I didn’t want to break his arm or something. Besides, he was rubbing down my back, sucking on my ear, and I knew he wouldn’t have the guts to go much further. He was just a weak little bitch. I’ll let him suck my ear some more, always had a weak spot there, then I’d kick him to the ground and show him who’s boss.
I didn’t realize when he tied the cuffs to the headboard with one of those curtain ties. How the hell did he do that and still suck my ear? I started talking again, telling him to fuck off, pulling at those fucking cuffs to try and get free. What kind of faggot freak carries handcuffs with him? Okay, so I keep handcuffs in my suitcase, but I ain’t the fucking faggot in this room. When did he take my pants off? Damn that fucking ear sucking, it’s distracting me from everything.
“Look at you,” he smirked. I wanted to deck him, to shove him to the ground and put him to the only good use his ass had. “Bound and naked and at my mercy. Who’s the bitch now? Come on, say you’re my bitch and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”
“Fuck of bitch, I ain’t saying that. You best let me up now because I’m going to woop that ass and the longer you play this the worse you gonna get it, queer.”
“Frightening,” he laughed, slipping off to sit beside me. “Woop that ass? You mean something like this?” His hand came down. Fucker hit me! That fucking faggot ass queen fucking spanked me! And he kept going. Shit, where’d this little fucker get such a strong arm? And why wasn’t I telling him to stop? I was yelling and telling him it fucking hurt and what a fucking fruit he was but I wasn’t telling him to stop. Shit. Fuck. No. I was hard. It was pushing into my stomach. Shit. I was getting off to it. Can’t be. No fucking way. “What’s this?” Oh shit. His hand came under me and I nearly jumped off the fucking bed.
“It’s what you’re gonna get shoved down that through after I break your fucking nose.”
“Mmhmm,” he smirked again. Fucking lips should be bruising from my balls slapping against them right now, not fucking teasing me. “I think you’re enjoying yourself. I think you want more, don’t you?”
“Shit no.”
He let go of me and sucked on one of his fingers. I wasn’t sure what he was doing. It was weird, I excepted him to starting hitting me again, that’s what I’d do if I had his ass all tied up. But he just sucked on that finger nice and slow. Then his head came down and he started sucking my ear again. Fuck he was good. Those lips. I’d never had my ear sucked by a bitch with a tongue ring. I couldn’t stop from moaning. But that ear sucking didn’t distract me from that finger pushing at my ass. “No fucking way!” I tried to buck him off but he just sucked harder, pressing that barbell in his tongue to that tender spot behind my ear. Next thing I knew that finger was in me and he hit it. Hit that spot. The bitch button I call it cuz every time you fuck a faggot they squeal like a bitch when you hit that button. Oh shit, I didn’t just squeal. Fuck no. It was a moan from the ear shit. I don’t like that crap. His finger was up my fucking ass, that don’t turn me on. But he was hitting it again, and I did, I squealed. Well, whimpered more. But maybe he didn’t hear.
“Like that, huh?”
Fuck. He was grinning now. And pushing that button. And I tried to tell him to stop, wet my lips, tried to swallow, but the words just wouldn’t come out. And he kept on rubbing, another finger pushing inside. It hurt, it fucking hurt, but I liked it. What the fuck? Shit, maybe Kim was right, all those times she ran out saying she had to fuck a real man and maybe after she’d send them to me to give me some up the ass because she thought I was a closet queer. But I ain’t like that. He’s got me tied up. It ain’t my choice. I’m just liking it to spite him, because he expects me to fight. Or something like that.
“You want it,” he was whispering, that fucking tongue ring still working it’s magic. God I was hard.
“I want you to suck my big hard cock,” I told him, thrusting my hips up to emphasize it. Shit, that pushed me back harder on his finger. Fuck. He won’t notice if I do it one more time.
“I think you want something more.”
His fingers came out and I bit my lip from making a noise, wanting so bad to whimper. But I was cool, I stayed quiet, I didn’t shove my ass up to his hand like he wanted. Aw damn, but he stopped it with my ear. Oh well. Now he was moving down, crawling between my legs and.. shit! What the hell?! He was fucking licking my ass like it was a cunt or something. And not just around my ass but shoving that tongue inside. Fuck, what is it with that tongue ring? How’s he make it feel so good? And I couldn’t stop myself this time from pushing back on him, moaning. I didn’t care. I just wanted that tongue up my ass, wanted him to lick me like a pussy. I heard of guys doing this but I never knew why. Fuck, no wonder the bitches like it so much.
“Say you’re enjoying it,” he said, sitting back and digging into his pockets. I just shut my mouth and laid there. “Awww, can’t say it? I know baby, it’s hard. Just push back if you want it, I wont make you ask.” His hand was on my ass, squeezing my cheek, and I thought about it. I ain’t no fucking bitch. But I never thought I’d like my button pushed either. No one had to know, right? And, I mean, I’m still cuffed, it ain’t like I got a choice. Well, he is asking my permission so maybe I do have a choice. But the bitch never specified. Best to just say I want it and not piss him off. So I pushed back into his hand. I signaled I wanted it. So? Don’t mean I’m queer. Just tryin something new.
Something cold fell on me, lube or some shit. Can always count on faggots to carry it around with them. And those fingers worked in me again, pushing me. I just let myself go, let myself moan. I was cuffed to the bed, wasn’t much I could do to stop him so I may as well enjoy what I can, right? Then his cock pushed into me. He took it slow, leaning over to whisper instructions and give some more attention to my earlobe. It fucking hurt, but it felt good in a way. I wonder if those virgin cunnies I tore open felt like this? But he got in and he was pushing my button again. Fuck, was he pierced there to? And he kept goin, riding me like some fucking cunt, slamming the hell outa my bitch button with that pierced dick of his. And I whined and I moaned and I humped back and I told him to go harder and I fucking forgot who I was and what I was and I just fucking enjoyed it. Cuz it felt right. Cuz it felt like what I should be doing.
He didn’t even touch me and I came, fucking blowing my load on those crappy hotel sheets. He wasn’t far behind, slamming me down, pushing me into my own fucking mess. He got off me right after, untied me, asked if I was okay, looked kinda concerned, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. I just smiled and said it was cool, I was still kinda high from that orgasm ya know. He kissed me, I got a good taste of that tongue ring, those full lips. Then he left and I took a shower. So what? You think this means I’m gay? Fuck no. You ain’t gay if he looks like a girl, or he gives you head, or you do the fucking, or if you’re tied to the bed. Can’t exactly say no when tied to the bed, right?
― Dom Passantino (Dom Passantino), Thursday, 20 October 2005 19:42 (twenty years ago)
This one's for Miccio:
It really wasn’t a beautiful day, although they had said it would be! ‘They’ were the meteorologists down at the TV station, of course. Of course we all know that there is no true way to predict the weather. Not that it matters because it has absolutely nothing to do with the story I am about to enlighten you with, or does it?
It was a boring rainy day; you know, those days there’s just nothing to do! No matter what you attempt to do, it always seems to be ‘magically’ already done. So, it was a rainy, summer day, hot as any summer day. But little did Benji know, after this week he would never be the same again! Naturally, anybody would try to find a cooler place to go, especially since Benji had no working AC! Now, Benji was far from your normal, average guy! Benji had just gotten off tour with his band, Good Charlotte! Needless to say, this isn’t the shit he wants to come home to! Benji was ‘taking a break’ from the music business. He needed some ‘Benji’ time! Someone else really wanted some ‘Benji’ time also, but we’ll get to that later!
Earlier that week, Benji had been to the Quickie Mart, not a big deal, or is it? Anyways, Benji went to the Quickie Mart to buy some condoms, a necessity for any rock star! While at the Quickie Mart, he happened to run into a fellow star. With bleach blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and a limp that no pimp could ever duplicate, Marshall Bruce Mathers III, also known as Eminem, had to be the most beautiful creature in Detroit, at least to Benji. Now, Benji wasn’t exactly what you would call gay, and then again he couldn’t be classified as straight, either. Benji had been caught with guys as well as girls; therefore, people, stupid as they are, classified Benji as bisexual. Technically, he wouldn’t be classified as a bisexual, because he had only been caught with one guy: Joel, who happened to be his brother.
Benji was a respectable guy, 5’7”, brown hair (naturally), and beautiful brown eyes. Who’d known it turn out like it did? Benji had vowed never to see guys again, but he felt strongly attracted to Marshall at this moment. Was it because he was extremely horny, or was it really his true emotions showing? For all Benji knew, he could be going insane. So, Benji, still at the Quickie Mart stood motionlessly behind Marshall as he waited for the guy to check him out so he could leave. Surprisingly, Marshall had come on a similar adventure as Benji’s, to buy condoms.
“What size please?”
“Extra Large,” replied Marshall.
‘Wow,’ Benji thought, ‘an extra large?’ But then he remembered the promise he had made to himself. ‘No,’ he thought, ‘I can’t think about things that way!’
“That’ll be $3.75, please,” said the cashier.
“What a fucking rip off,” Marshall said under his breath, but still paid the man.
Marshall gave the casher a five and got the change back. As Marshall walked out of the store, Benji swore Marshall was checking him out; little did he know, he was. As Marshall got into his car, an old broke down piece of shit 1970 Monte Carlo, he winked at Benji. Once Marshall got into the car, he attempted to start it…nothing, he tried again…nothing. Now, Marshall lived on the other side of town, he needed a ride. So Benji hurried the cashier and went to assist the distressed rapper.
“Need some help?,” Benji asked.
“Sure,” Marshall said teasingly.
“Can I give you a ride, or what do you need?”
“I could use a ride,” Marshall said emphasizing the word ‘ride’.
“Okay, hop in, my car is over there,” Benji said looking at his ride. Benji had a brand new Cadillac Escalade, beautifully painted black.
Marshall was impressed. “Nice car,” he said.
“Thanks, I just got it last week.”
So, it was just the two of them, alone, in a car, with the windows tinted as black as night. What could happen next? Who knows? I know, and you will know soon!
― Dom Passantino (Dom Passantino), Thursday, 20 October 2005 19:43 (twenty years ago)
one year passes...