“I talk to myself, argue, kick my own ass. My mind is a Futurist committee, whose name is Legion, for we are many, and passionate.” Ainsi parlait Arkmenon, beau garcon de Liban, mon cher habibi ange garcon, avec des yeux de ciel bleu, une fourrure de ventre, et une grosse bite uncut.
“How crushing then, after kinky, intensely intimate hot sex, to gape in horrified shame at the gulf between us: my treachery, My Dark Secret. As I picture it, it forms flesh, creeps, looms, peeks, flashes ugly greed, whispers in my ear, ‘If he knew how evilly we have lied and used him for our pleasure, would he kill us?’ Also sprach Zarathustra, als Antwort.”
“I had possessed him in all ways, body mind and spirit. Got him to lower his guard, so I could steal his breath-taking pearl, his ass that had never been fucked raw. Me, a dangerous coward, a thief, but very hot in bed. Sex has power, can make a smart person do stupid shit. There’s this vibe that runs in my family. People respond to us, like vampires.”
Edgar wrote this this impassioned repentance after an ascendant weekend spent filling up a beautiful Lebanese boy with his fetishized ejaculations, with tears and hollering and so much love. Ayman was the cutest, sweetest manchild, 25 years old to Edgar’s 45. Ayman was a special specimen of a a really attractive breed of man you might see from that Beirut, a strong sculpted body with white skin and thick dark fur in naturally attractive pattern, a big dick and a truly angelic and optimistic heart, eyes full of intelligence and creativity.
Cruising online, they figured out pretty quickly what would be hottest to do in bed. Ayman told me him that his uncle had kind of raped him when he was a boy, and he’d liked it. Edgar told him he could give it rough, but he’d better be careful what he asks for. Evil Grin!
Edgar mixed vodka cranberries, got Ayman hella stoned with Purple Kush in the German Volcano vaporizer. Told each other personal stories, Edgar played some great tunes. They watched a few funny Youtube videos, then some porn.
The condom broke halfway through the first fuck and Edgar came inside the beautiful young man. Ayman was completely freaked out, but Edgar talked to him, reassured him, turned him on, then fucked and came in him two more times. That’s what charged up gay boys really want, some adrenaline to make the fucking even hotter.
But there is a by product of becoming intensely psycho-spiritually bonded to the other guy, if you’re lucky enough to connect with your perfect counterpart for the evening at some bar or dating site, or (rarely) out walking. One of those “generous gods” madly fortunate sex love “let’s play husbands and build a love nest in the bed” weekends of pure bliss.
Edgar choked him, face-fucked him, cursed him out, smacked him, spit in his mouth, and made him bend over and watch straight gang bang porn while he fucked Ayman and called him a bitch. Each time Edgar came, he was chocking Ayman while he jerked himself off and cried for joy.
A galaxy of joy and meaning was spun continuously from the momentum that the burning spirits inside their healthy bodies produced, a totally trippy unexpected and breath-taking sense of danger and excitement unique to being two charged up males now wrestling naked and showing each other their physical power.
Hours of intoxicating tender uncle/nephew role play alternating with explosions of testosterone that produced beautiful intense fucking that felt like you were poetically killing the other guy with your dick and you’re both loving it, that rapey alpha persona that is just a slave to the dictatorship of his dick. A spontaneous duel between breeding rivals that morphs into them discovering feelings they never imagined, including a kind of brotherly love that has the pure yearning of a kid at camp, where your eyes water while you daydream of kissing your new buddy.
That musky and kinky joyful surprise of a button hidden up inside the male body, the prostate that for some reason is designed to love being massaged and producing pleasure that words cannot convey if you’re never experienced it. Excitement boils so hot that you are taking turns tormenting each other with hard fucks, reveling in how the pleasure and pain build into each other and upward.
If you’re lucky and one guy or both guys is naturally psychotic or has any of another type of personality intensifiers, then there might be bouts of the sex getting violent that feels like unleashed inner beasts pressing against the very thread of life as a way to celebrate it’s undeserved gifts. Fetishize how gays are killed in some countries. Chapters missing from Darwin’s books: Why does all this non-procreative sex so feel so amazing that guys are willing to die for it?
–E. Cabot as dictated to Admin