Here comes the army of one...in pink!

My mind is made up, I will do it. I'm going to my first gay gathering this evening. I'll be going alone but I won't chicken out. No I won't. I'm going to stick around school after classes and then around 7:45pm I'm going to get in my car and drive over to the cultural center. I won't stand outside and debate the consequences of this debut nor will I pretend to have happened across the meeting by chance. No. I will enter as though my balls were made of smooth cold brass, without a doubt in my mind that here, amongst these "queers", was where I intended to spend the evening.

Somone might say "What's that walking in here?" And another might add "Walks like no gay man I've ever seen." That's all well and good. My hair may be a bit messy and my goatee a week too old and my clothes, lack a coordination that might embarrass a clown or two. But when they get to know me, the thoughts that run through my pink, flowery mind, there will be no denying my intrinsic flair for all things fabulous.

stretch marks

I just discovered stretch marks around my upper arm. They're faint, barely noticeable (I hope) but most certainly present.

Lets see, I have them on my ass, on my legs just behind the knees and now on my arms. Its become a guessing game for where the next scar will break through, my penis? How would I ever explain that?

After toweling off last night, I backed my butt into a mirror and thought... if only I was a zebra...

If you don't have stretch marks, I hate you. They don't heal, they don't go away, they might fade but they'll always be there criss-crossing their ugliness around your precious skin and keep you dreaming of what could've been or should've been or maybe even ought to be, one hot peice of flawless ass.

Africa

I have a crush.

I have several crushes.

Every time I look at a guy who is a little taller than I am and in good shape, my sex salutes.

I think I'm a whore....but only in my head....no....what I mean is .....

There's this guy who comes in the library to check out books. I happen to work in the library.

What I'm trying to say is...

He's taller than I am which is nice...no, its fantastic!! He's also dark and big...and built strong like a workman, like Africa...so in my thoughts, that's what I call him, Africa. When he speaks, like when he asks for the return date on his books, I listen. I listen longer than I should because I'm echoing his words over and over in my head, swishing them this way and that until I can hear my name in his voice. Whenever he comes to the counter, I can't believe he's speaking to me. I'm actually a little flattered every time. Silly, considering I'm the only one at the circulation desk.

What am I trying to say?

When I get home, I day dream of sunsets on the beach, of the sound of the ocean rushing up on smooth wet sand, of raging wild unbridled put-me-in-a-headlock-and-rip-me-in-half kinda sex; and after dinner, If the mood is just right, If Ms. Patterson downstairs has put her howling bitch of a mutt out for the night, I put on L. Vandross. I turn the lights out, lay back on my bed, get out the KY lube from my bedside drawer and treat myself to a sensual evening courtesy of pleasures only Africa can bring.


I'm trying to say...


I'm still horny and now accepting applications!!

PS

Forget the applications. You qualify. You're accepted. It's yours, now RIDE IT!!!

I'm going to hell for this post.

Class today was extra boring, my professor is outdoing himself. Only 2 people left before class was over. Thats 2 out of the 5 who attended class today. Not so bad if you consider we started the semester a good 50 strong. At this point I wonder why I bother. For most of the class, I'm fighting sleep. Maybe I ought to stay home, download his slides and read the text book. But then again, the goody-two-shoes student in me will throw a hissy fit and fuck up my mood again.

Damn you Professor Paull. Damn you. [and cut that damn pony tail off. What the hell is that?!!!Looks like a fucking squirell taking a shit out of the back of your head.]

A couple of people said I was a tad insensitive in my scheme to decongest the world by ridding it of over-sized people. Well, take a look at my amigo.

That my friends is my closing argument, I rest my case. You lose hehe.

PS

Is that towel between his thigh a subtle attempt at modesty? Come on, unless that massive mass of flesh protruding from his right thigh is carrying a gargantuan testicle (which it isn't), he hasn't seen dick and co. since that third gut and left breast became one. He's like, lookey here, I'm flying like a kite LOL like gravity is ever going to let that happen.

PSS

Open the gates of hell, I'm ready for my close-up :)