Category: Gay

SNRIs

“You like that?” he said, as one of his silicone-lubricated fingers slipped its way into my anus. I think he was trying to sound suggestive. I shivered, and involuntarily arched my back, rubbing against the soft white sheets. I hoped his fingernails were well-trimmed.

I clenched involuntarily against the one finger as he slipped it in deeper, in and out, perhaps a little more forcefully than I would have liked. “Yeah… keep doing that…” I said. I thought that maybe I should moan a little, but I decided against it.

“Yeah you like that I can tell. I’m gonna stick another one in.” Oh god. I could tell he was really getting into it, going faster and faster. He forced his index and middle finger all the way in at once and I winced, trying as hard as I could to contain my groan of discomfort. This was sadly misinterpreted as a moan of pleasure and he continued, faster and faster. “I can’t wait to fuck this hole,” he said, stroking my thighs. This is kinda hot, I thought to myself. I was praying for this awkward prep phase to end quickly so that he would just stick it inside me already. I don’t know why we even bothered with this finger-foreplay.

Suddenly, he stopped, his fingers still inside me. I looked at him, fearing the worst.

He pulled his fingers right out.

“You need to go to the toilet.”

Shit. Literally. I thought I had prepped properly.

Fuck.

The way tops said it was always the same – always with a trace of disgust in their voice. Fuck you man, we all have to shit… My face turned bright red and I turned away.

“Also, you need to eat more fibre. I thought I hit a rock in there.”

I curled up into a ball and turned onto my side. How mortifying. I’m disgusting. What is wrong with me? I could hear him shifting at the edge of the bed. I was completely soft, and the mood was dead.

I stood up and walked to the toilet, closed the door behind me and sat on the toilet bowl. I knew it was a waste of time. The shit was never going to come out on its own. Even a tablespoon of Metamucil 3 times a day, and 2 coloxyl pills before going to bed every night couldn’t clear this blockage.

Fucking SNRIs.

I reached over to the tap and turned it on, not bothering to wait for it to warm up. I reached under the sink and grabbed the douche, pulling off the hard plastic nozzle in a practised motion. I filled the rubber bulb with the cold water until it was overflowing and pressed the nozzle back on. Luckily my asshole was already lubed up. Thank you Mr Top.

I lifted my right foot up onto the rim of the toilet seat in a half-squat and slipped the douche under me. The nozzle eased in without much resistance. I squeezed the bulb, and the residual volume of air that was in the nozzle pushed up into rectum, like a reverse fart. I hated that feeling.

I shivered and kept going, forcing the water deeper and deeper into my body, in the hope of dislodging the rock-hard lumps of shit the antidepressants had cemented within my rectum. It was like some sort of sick joke from God.

I let the water sit inside me for a minute or so, as though I was mulling some shit-wine, before squeezing it all out, wanting to purge it all out with as much force as my muscles could muster, but also gently, the fear of haemorrhoids in the forefront of my mind.

Nothing. Nothing but slightly tinged water.

Again.

Fill. Squeeze. Push. Fill. Squeeze. Push. Slowly, but surely stripping away the protective mucosal layers of my rectum. At least the water was beginning to warm-up.

After the third time with no success, I reached in with the middle finger of my left hand (the longest finger) and dug around looking for any offending pieces of shit – “digital disimpaction” the doctors like to call it. I reached it quickly, touching the same poop Mr Top had probably touched in his misguided attempt to ease me open. I circled my fingers around its edges, trying to ease it out, dislodging it kindly, squeezing my kegels, and with the gentle force of the built-up douche-water behind, it slowly slipped out, along the line of my fingers, almost slipping into my palm before dropping into the water below, leaving behind it a wonderful trail of slime.

I went into the shower quickly, rinsed off my asshole and my legs in case anything had dripped downwards without me noticing. I grabbed a towel and pat my body dry. Then I washed my hands with anti-bacterial soap and scalding-hot water, finished off with rubbing alcohol and spraying deodorant all over my fingers.

I really hoped he wouldn’t smell shit.

I walked out of the toilet, and saw him against the headboard of my bed, playing with his phone and fondling his still very erect penis.

“Finally! Get over here.” He grabbed me and pushed me on all fours with my ass up in the air. He put a condom on, and slowly eased his penis inside me, moaning as it went in.

I turned my head to one side and rest it on my arms, my body jerking forward with every thrust.

I looked at the wall.

I wish it was cleaner.

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<hi>

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<hi Ben, how are you?>

<good thanks n u>

<good good having a beer – long day!>

<where>

<just in the living room>

<oh at home lol>

<yup!>

<where do u live>

<Wiley Park>

<ur close I live at punchbowl>

<working tomorrow?>

<nah I’m on holiday>

<im home at 3 come over>

<pics?>

<like nudes lol?>

<I won’t say no! but whatever really>

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pic.jpg

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Doughnut

“We have to.”

I looked at him.

“We don’t have a choice.”

I looked away.

“Look. I know it’s fucking awkward. It’s not like I want to do this, but we have to.” I grimaced. “No one else is even awake. No one will ever know.”

I looked at him and looked away again.

I saw a brown spot in the wall in front of me. It looked like the sticky residue of brown tape. I looked at it for a while. I reached down and unbuckled my belt, my hands shaking, my heart pounding against my chest. I undid the button and stood there looking at the spot. It had four sides. Or five. Maybe it wasn’t brown.

I heard him coming towards me and I clenched my fists by my side. It definitely had four sides. I felt him unzipping my pants and I slammed my eyes shut.

…four sides, four sides, four sides…

He started to pull my pants down but they were very tight. My tight brown jeans. My favourite pair of four sides. Pants. I like pants.

Four pants. Pants.

He gave it a one hard tug and then my pants were at my feet, my moist white underpants in a pile on top.

I felt him take my soft cock into his mouth. He started sucking on it, sucking on it like a soggy doughnut. Sucking on my slimy soggy doughnut.

My body shook as my nails dug into my palms. He kept sucking, sucking with disgusting rhythmic pulsating noises.

Shlop.

Shlop.

Shlop.

I felt him touch my belly – then I punched him.

Then it was darkness.

Holey Net

“You have to continuously make yourself better.”

“What?”

“Every time you leave the house, you have to look perfect. You have to be the best possible you that you can put forward every day, or else you’re just going to go to the bottom of the pile. You’re not getting any younger you know, your days are ticking. You have to work on having the best body you can, the best hair, the best, most fashionable clothes.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is a lot of work. But you have to. You know what it’s like. The gay scene is brutal, absolutely brutal. Especially in Sydney. If you can’t handle it, then just give up now.”

“Can’t I just be myself?”

He laughed. “That’s not good enough. Look me in the eye, and tell me what you want. What you really want. You want the hottest, richest, most amazing boyfriend you can possibly get, don’t you? Then you have to be the hottest richest most amazing person you can possibly be. 10’s don’t go out with 3’s honey, sorry. That’s just how the world works.”

“But like you keep telling me, attraction is all subjective. People like different things, people like potatoes, rice, fat, skinny, whatever. I don’t know.”

“You just ask yourself what you think is the best you, and you go for that, because most likely that is a good choice. Right now, you’re like a fisherman, and your net sucks. It’s tiny and it’s full of holes. Go patch it up, make it bigger, and when you chuck it out of your boat it will spread further and catch more fish, and you’re the one who’ll be able to make the choice of the best fish, and reject all the slimy bitches.”

“You sound like a psycho right now.”

“Maybe I am a psycho, maybe I am a bit of a crazy bitch. But guess what? Being a crazy bitch is better than being a loser bitch.”

I looked at him.

“So what do I do?”

“Improve yourself.”

“Should I stop eating?”

“Maybe. Maybe you should start bulking up. What are you into?” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I know you’re not into rice, that’s clear enough from all your stories.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re into muscle daddies aren’t you?”

I grunted.

“The thing is, muscle daddies are usually into other muscle guys. They’re not really into twinks, especially not Asian twinks. You have to bulk up. If you slim down into some little twinky slut all you’ll attract are rice-queens, and you do not want to fuck a rice queen. I will judge you for the rest of your life and deny that I ever knew you. Rice queens are gross, fat and old.”

I considered it for a moment.

“All this sounds so ridiculous.”

“But you’re still listening.” I shrugged. “You know why? Because you know I’m right. I’ve been through all of this before and I know how the game works. You’re new to this, you’re fresh meat. You’re still really innocent, and you don’t know that every single guy out there is a piranha that’s waiting to bite your cock off. That’s why you’ve been having all these guys play you non-stop. That’s why you’ve been getting hurt. You need to believe me and listen to me. You have to learn to be a bitch. I see mega-bitch potential in you. I really do.”

“I refuse to turn into a jaded scene queen, I’m sorry.”

“I actually see you on the path there. I’m trying to save you here. Bitch does not equal jaded. Bitch equals power.”

“So how does it work then? Does a twink grow up into a daddy?”

He shook his head, in disgust, “No, no way.”

“Then how does it work? Can you have a teenage daddy? That’s just weird! Isn’t the whole part of being a daddy being old?”

“No, a daddy is born a daddy. Even when they’re teenagers. You can just see it in them. They have daddy potential. A twink just grows up into a guy. A daddy is always a daddy.”

“So are you into daddies or twinks?”

“I’m into men not boys.”

I burst out laughing.

He shrugged.