11 July 2011

I'm Ready for My Close-up

After university when I was living at home, trying to make some cheddar to make it on my own for at least a year and when hooking-up was a necessity - to be equated with breathing really - I used to hang with a guy who was about 30 years my senior, a better worked-out body than me, and a monster cock. I'm talking 9.5 x 7: it was a little obnoxious. In any case, I was all about it. His house was a two-family home he kept all to himself. The decor screamed of Golden Girls with all the doilies and plush carpeting. I remember the first time I hung out with him . . . vividly for two reasons.

The first was because of how much it hurt. That sucker was huge, I could not have prepared myself at all unless I shoved a beer can in my ass and kept it there for a few days. (Enough with the snickering.) Oh, and the second reason? A few weeks after hanging out, he hit me up on AIM.

Hugh: Sup.
DeeCue: Hey.
Hugh: You free to hang?
DeeCue: Sure, now?
Hugh: Yeah. I saw you looking in the mirror while I was raping your ass.
DeeCue: [teehee] Yeah. I like watching myself for some reason.
Hugh: Yeah? [file sent]
DeeCue: What's this . . . WHAT THE FUCK!?

That's right my friends: he captured every moan to "fuck my hole", every whimper when he thrusted in too quickly with his beer can, and every sloppy slurp on camera. And judging from the angle (thank you Law and Order: SVU), it was on top of the full length chiffarobe which had mirrors as doors. So as much angry typing as there was, I went back for another round - video-taped round. And another. And another. The fourth time I hung out with him, he didn't have a video camera set-up. This time when I walked in, he gave me an envelope. Inside was a DVD entitled: Fuck My Hole.

Happy Monday, y'all.

Point of the conversation: Always check for cameras if you're gonna do something dumb.

- DeeCue


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