Excerpt from: Carbon Dating The Bear I’m as
embarrassed as hell. Normally, I wouldn’t even consider
appearing in public like this. Naked, except for
handkerchief-sized red Speedos strung up between my ass
cheeks like those Aussie lifesavers. I hope none of the
neighbors is watching as I knock on the door to my best
mate Robbie’s house, hoping he won’t answer the door.
I’m praying it’s his dad. You see, I have a problem. I’m
19, pretty good looking, not an ounce of body fat on my
slim, okay, skinny frame. Long, black hair, which hangs
seductively across my face. My dick is average size,
between 6½ and 7”, depending on which porn movie is in
the DVD player when you measure. My body is twink
hairless except for a clump of pubic seaweed, and my ass
is smooth as butter and as bubbly as a balloon. Okay,
what’s the problem, you’re asking? The problem is I just
can’t get laid. Let me rephrase that. I can’t get laid
by the guys I fancy. I suppose two telling points I
should mention here: I’m a bit on the, shall we say,
less than macho side, nothing flaming, but you’d never
mistake me for Russell Crowe. Plus, I’m a top. Sure, I’d
love to reciprocate, but just the idea of a cock
entering my butt hole sends my body into shutdown and
sphincter central locks all entrances to the building.
Oh, did I mention my homme (yes, I’m studying French at
college) of choice is a delicious, mature daddy with
just a fleck of grey through his temples highlighting
his desirability. Hair on his head is not essential.
Hair on his chunky body is. The more fuzz that covers
his body, the better I like it. The better I like it,
the harder my cock gets. Alas, most men of that age
either find it too arduous to douche or simply only have
time to stick their dick in any available cubhole and
squirt before racing home to the wife, husband or spouse
of unspecified gender. I usually satisfy myself with a
quick fumble in a borrowed bedroom, a suburban
shithouse, or a noirish alleyway, only occasionally
going upmarket for a quick blowjob in someone’s Ute or
family sedan with baby seat attached. Once I encountered
a truckie, who was everything I ever dreamed of, until
he took off his trousers and revealed he was wearing
white stockings and a suspender belt. No wonder then
that last night I was running off at the mouth on
meeting a gentleman of such proportion and charm that I
was practically drooling. It was the occasion of a
charmless party that I’d attended with mates Robbie and
Viz. Unusually, none of us scored that night. “There was
no one there over 35.” I moaned dramatically. Robbie and
Viz in the back seat were indulging me, though not
without a certain amount of eyes heavenward.
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