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Sunday, February 15, 2015

Prop 8

Oh God, that sex crazed Victor.

A hot young Latin.
With the body of an assassin.

Because if looks could kill.
Victor would be a serial killer.

He's just that sexy.
My olive little Mexi.

But unfortunately.
The straight folk wanna give us marriage.

How God damn inconsiderate of them?
Because although Victor may be a hottie.

I can't marry Victor.
He ain't marriage material.

We probably have a couple good months left at best.
So calm on carpet munchers, give it a fuckin rest.

I mean, don't get me wrong.
Victor and I have sung a good song.

He's a suckable friend.
And a fuckable one, amen.

And did I mention?
His 12 inch cock is perfection.

But if this Prop 8 bullshit passes.
Victor's going to want to get married.

I thought this day would never come.
I was completely satisfied just drinking his cum.

I couldn't stand a lifetime in his presence.
Oh my God, as a husband he'd be a menace.

I'd rather have a wife.
Then have another year of Victor in my life.

So if gay marriage becomes legit.

Everyday with Victor is going to be shit. 

Ecstasy in my Mouth

The moon was horny that night.
As it peeked it's ugly eye upon my window sill.

I laid naked with olive tanned abdominals sweating.
My teeth biding at my pillow as I waited for her.

In my bed I waited in lustful anticipation.
Holding my package in hand as it awaited delivery.

As the bathroom door opened, there stood she.
She was only gone but a moment.

But in her return.
Her body stood naked.

Her thighs were wet with desire.
Begging for my lushes thrusting stallion.

Soon, oh so very soon.
My horny pony would ride to the promised land.

As the windows of my soul gazed upon her elegance.
I noticed the absence of a bushel.

She was but a shaven princess, with not a hair in sight.
Oh what a relieve, I await a hairless dinner tonight.