Queer.

All I keep saying to myself is, "It has happened. It has happened at last."

Flashback: Three days.

I was down in the basement doing my laundry at the house that I am a guest in. By myself. Torn and ravaged by pent up homosexual lust. Then that teenage boy slinked down the stairs, Skippy's sixteen year old brother Jason. He had his blond hair slicked forward and crested at the bangs, his straight black eyebrows and green eyes alive with energy. Face pale with a hint of flush on the cheeks. His body is thin and athletic, smooth and hairless. What I like most is that straight Aryan nose, flared at the nostrils. Like Buster Crabbe's back in the Flash Gordon days. We talked and chided away the time as the washing machine clunked and gurgled, mutilating my fine fabrics.

The boy looked hot in the wife beater and dark blue basketball shorts. Somehow, the topic of pornography came up and I did mention to him that I had contacts in Los Angeles (Myself doing a couple of flicks to pay my way through college, unnerstand?) He kept grabbing his crotch as he discussed in the most vivid and filthy ways he would fuck a girl on camera. I turned and pressed my growing erection away from him, pressing it against the vibrating washing machine. Hands shaking, I lit a cigarette, "Ya sure ain't shy about yer sex life." I said.

"Yeah", He smiled, stretching out on the blue couch, "I fucked a whole lotta girls before. And if you promise you won't tell another soul, I'll let you in on a secrete. I leta guy suck me off before."

My back to him, facing the brick wall with the machine masturbating me I rasped through clenched teeth, "Really." I turned on him, leering at his crotch; my eyes glazed like Nasferatu at Renfields cut blood dripping finger when:

"Jason! It's Stacey on the phone!"

"In a minute, Mom!" He raced up stairs. "Laters!" He calls back at me. The machine beep long and loud, I put my clothes in the dryer, and sat alone on the couch, smoking, the cushions still warm from his body.

Later that night, I was off from Wal-mart and Skippy had to work, so's Jason and I sat up on the back balcony under a full moon and talked of the porn industry.

"I wanna move to New York City and become an escort." He said, staring at the big white moon.

"They are called Rent Boys, nowadays." I corrected. "But, you have to be able to perform at the drop of a hat."

"Oh, I can do that." Jason gloated. "Once I fucked this girl for six full hours and my shit never went limp."

"I doubt that." I chided.

"No shit. I like when people watch. Plus I got a big dick."

"Really? Get it hard right now."

"What?!" He laughed, faking disbelief at what was being said.

"Get it hard. If it's all that you say it is what do you have to be a shamed of?"

He said something to the effect that he couldn't get it up in front of a guy, yet proceeded to stick his hands down his shorts and rub him self. The sex talk continued and he started to beat it faster. He whipped it out and showed it to me. Gotta be at least seven inches, perfectly straight, circumcised, but beautiful balls. It was going limp again. He apologized.

"Do you need a helping hand?" I joked, twiddling my fingers.

"Sure." He whispered, face blank and when I touched his dick he jumped a little but then relaxed. I stroked it for awhile, but he stayed only semi-erect. "If you suck it, I will get really hard." He said dreamily, looking out into the darkness.

I put his warm penis into my mouth and began blowing him. His penis got rock hard. His breathing began to rise, he asked me to stop. "Hey, dude, let me jack it off for a bit." He started masturbating wildly and after a few minutes he grunted, "Where do ya want me to cum." I put my lips to his ear and whispered, "In my mouth." He stroked crazily for a little more then breathed, "I'm really close." I slid his penis' head between my lips and then deepthroated the whole shaft as his hot spurts flowed into the back of my throat. His breathed rapidly.

As I sat back up, he smiled, "So, ya think I got what it takes to be a Rent Boy?" I agreed and we laughed and talked of other things and then went to bed. Not together, unfortunately.

The following day, Jason got up early and said that he had to run some errands for his mother downtown and if I'd like to come. I said sure and we went to the mall. Words can not do justice at how beautiful this boy is and the fact that many a girls wanted to talk to him and smiled as he walked by. Some of his girls tried to scam on me but I just looked at them like they weren't there. Out on the main street, we walked and looked into some shops and I was happily amazed that they had a Porno Theater. A freakin' Pussycat Theater, at that! I asked Jason if he'd ever been in one and he said, "Shit no, I'm too young. But I'd like to. I bet there are all kinda bitches finger bangin' each other in there, right?"

"Right." I said walking across the street to it. With the greatest luck in the world, without batting an eye, the guy in the box office sold me two tickets and let us in. (Thank you, Baby Jesus!) Except for one old black guy and a middle aged Mexican, we were the only others in the large theater. And of all movies they were playing Cafe Flesh, one of my favorites. We sat in the back row, next to each other. As soon as I sex scene started, Jason looked down and smiled, "I'm awake."

Unzipping his jeans, digging through his basketball shorts, then his boxers, I began stroking his erection. He stretched his legs out and said, "Why don'tcha blow me." Dropping to my knees, I sucked that boy like a champ and within a few minutes I was swallowing his semen. I sat back up next to him, stroking the back of his neck and ears. Fingering that young and tender flesh. "Does that bother you?"

"No. If it did, I'd tell you."

Another sex scene started and I asked if he wanted another one. "It's asleep." He whispered, but when I put my hand on it, his penis sprung to life. This time he dropped his pants and shorts to his ankles and gave me full reign. I kneeled in front of him and looking into his eyes and that made his cock rock hard as I sucked it. He liked being deep throated while squeezing his balls and as this old man sat on the other end of the aisle to watch us, Jason squirmed and moaned as I blew him. He moaned a little louder as he shot a second load into me.

As soon as he fastened his belt, he said let's go. Typical straight boy, I joked, you get your nut and your out the door. He chuckled. Once out side, his cell phone rang and it was his girlfriend Stacey. Jason told me that he had to go meet her at school.

"Right now?" I asked.

"Yeah. I can't hang with you all day. I not queer." He said as he walked away.

Ever got punched in the stomach? That's what it felt like. Sad and depressed, I returned to the house and typed this shit out. I think I am in love with him. Is it wrong? I'm only twenty-eight. Am I a pervert? But it is so good and consensual.

Queer life sucks.