The guy who uses you.

This bastard called Jared once used me. He arranged for a B.F.E. and so I had him pay upfront, but when we met, he kept putting off payment. Usually, I’d bail at that point, but I wanted to do it, as I rarely do a B.F.E. After we went to his work’s Christmas party, he tried to bail, and still not pay me. He left, because I was stupid.


O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven, and the pains of hell; but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen.

The guy whose boyfriend has no idea you exist.

I’m the Other Man, the Paramour, they said. I’m your boyfriend Tuesday through Thursday, and your cock is my jewel. Let’s wedge it between my thighs and let your lust drool down my legs as I fight to savour what’s in store. Let’s not tell him that I win whenever I score. Do you like the warmth of the touch of my tongue? I can handle you, you know.

The guy who wishes you were his boyfriend.

So, Matt called me and was like, “Maybe we can be more than casual”, then I unzipped and started jerking as he went on and on. At least his voice is good. I was uncertain that I wanted to see him again, but yes, every guy seems to want me. I think it has something to do with the fact my ass can guzzle come quicker than my mouth.

The guy who always buys you dinner before fucking you.

It’s funny how he always bought me a meal before we went back to his apartment. You see, I would nosh on his shit then slurp up his come for dessert. He liked to be clawed, too—ten nails down his thighs. And he loved when I rubbed my dick raw up and down his slick back without a single hair. I used to eat his ass when dirty.

The guy who has no experience whatsoever.

Derek told me he loved to chase the dragon, but he had never even gone faggin’, you know? His hole was so tight, and a little hairy, too. We began with a grooming session and I shaved his whole body, which is odd, because I love hair. Once he was smooth, I spat on him and rolled the saliva with my tongue from his neck to his crack. Yeah.

The guy who has more experience than you.

I don’t recall his name, but when he had four fingers in me and massaged my prostate from the inside and out—thumb just perfectly graced—I moaned with my entire face. I had never been good at fingering but he taught me how. When he told me to work one out on him, I ended up going fist-deep, fighting for my world. I pumped like a protest-flag unfurled.

The guy who can’t speak English.

It’s silly when foreigners come to me looking to come, and though linguistics is our limitation, for one guy, it was our excitation—we kissed after some awkward banter, then he threw up a little in my mouth. I drew back, bubbled it on my lips like a baby bird spewing back up to mama, and I took it down, swallowing it like a swallow, or some international bird.