Saturday, September 1, 2007

Super Fag

I am a fag, but not just any fag, but rather I am some kind of Super Fag. If there are degrees of fagness, then in my case I got it really bad. Damn do I love cock. Yes, I really, really love it. If they ever find a ‘cure’ for fagness keep the damn thing away from me, because I have plans to be loving cock for one hell of long time. Yes even centuries or even ages of time would not be enough to exhaust my enthusiasm for cock because I am Super Fag, the Fag of Fags. I am the exemplar of faggitry, I am, the very embodiment of fagness. The Word of Fagitry has become flesh and now walks among us, so that everyone can see my glory.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t just like cock. Balls come in a close second. Actually I love everything about a MAN. I remember when I first popped my pubes and I hit the ground running my only thought was to cut a swath right through that elementary school. There were so many guys in that place and I wanted each and everyone of them buck naked. In fact, it seemed like such a great shame and a terrible waste that such a piece of work as man was something that was kept covered with clothing. My great dream was of living in some place where all the guys walked around buck naked, as it should be, or so it seemed to me at the time, and heaven knows I spent enough time mentally undressing those guys with my eyes and fantasizing about Gardens in Eden where every single guy was an Adam, and this seemed like such a hell of a good idea I just could not understand why, given the choice of religions, no one ever got around to making a religion about that idea, but instead all we seemed to get were religions about dirty obscene cocks and shameful asses.

I know that I could never figure out the point behind that fucked up idea, because I cannot recall ever seeing a cock that I thought was so filthy that a feeling of abhorrent disgust welled up inside of me every time I thought about the shocking incident when, to someone’s mortified disgrace, their cock was exposed to full public view. Heaven knows I certainly didn’t find anything lewd about the asses on all those guys or the way their cocks would bob up and down and wiggle and wobble as they walked into those showers we began taking together when we hit junior high school. Ah, yes, how I do remember that very first shower, the very, very first trip to this unbelievable wonderland, where, finally, my great dream came true much to my amazed astonishment at the time. Yes, I was so pumped full of hormones that very first afternoon, that I went home with something akin to a drug induced buzz, and I pulled rubbed on woodie until I received the most powerful orgasm I had ever had in my young life up to that time. Then I did it again and again, because I was literally trembling with excitement and higher than a kite for hours. For the first time I had found paradise and I had walked in the Garden of Eden with that buck naked Adam.

So you can see that the shower room became like a temple to me at the time, the very shrine of the most divine, and because gym class was compulsory even for the school homo, I was literally forced into wonderland, which was good, because it saved me from indulging in potentially humiliating conduct such as peeking through the fucking door or some other fucking thing like that. My only deep regret at the time was that they would not tolerate having some homo jerking off right in the shower room, which would have allowed me to have orgasms even more intense than the ones I had later on back at home when I ran the thoughts through my mind like a piece of video that I just could stop mentally rewinding. I mean the orgasms that I did have when I got home made my toes tingle, and were definitely the best I had ever had in my pubescent life up to that time, but even so, it could have been better, and while I was jerking off I couldn’t help thinking about that and feeling kind of frustrated at the same time as I was making the best of a bad situation and just fishing those memorable images up out of my photographic memory.

Perhaps was for the best because my heart was going thumpity thump pitter pitter patter for hours after that most glorious of the glorious glories of my pubescent life up to that time, and if they would have allowed homo jerking in locker rooms I can imagine they would have been carrying me out of that place on stretcher because I probably would have had a fucking heart attack.

They say you can never forget your first time, and that was certainly a day to remember – my very first trip to the Garden of Eden with my friend Adam, sans fig leaf.