tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76887222011-04-21T19:29:30.119-07:00oh fatherThe confessions of an ex-choirboy.jakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01904002610532929142noreply@blogger.comBlogger61100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7688722.post-1091058372252563222004-07-28T16:34:00.000-07:002004-07-28T16:46:12.253-07:00super passwordMy bedroom. My bathroom. The shower. The state park. High school. College. The mall. The parking lot. The alley. Work. Public restrooms. On a train. In an airplane. In the Pacific. At the movies. On the 405. At McDonald's. In the library. In Central Park. At a rave. In Canada. In Ireland. In Mexico. At LAX. At O'Hare. At LaGuardia. In a taxi. In a limo. In a hummer. In Adam's mouth.
"Places jakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01904002610532929142noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7688722.post-1090974581370828112004-07-27T17:21:00.000-07:002004-07-27T17:29:41.370-07:00pick-up"Let's hang out this weekend," he says casually. "Have you been here?"
And then he played innocent. Like he thought a male spa would be all about facials.
I guess it is, to some extent.jakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01904002610532929142noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7688722.post-1090705117131927782004-07-24T14:36:00.000-07:002004-07-24T14:38:37.130-07:00communicationthis morning, the boyfriend wakes me up by groping at my cock to see if it's hard. it is.
he's face down on the bed, too lazy to look -- and it turns out, too tired for words. instead, he just points at his cute little butthole.
i got the message.
jakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01904002610532929142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7688722.post-1090518013458972862004-07-22T10:29:00.000-07:002004-07-22T10:40:13.460-07:00ughLast night at the Abbey, a little A&F twink kept giving me strange looks. Looks like: "why are you ignoring me?" No frigging idea who he was. I would have assumed we had hooked up in the past, but he was too young and blond for me. (If I wanted someone girly, I'd go back to fucking chicks.)
This morning, I figured out... he's one of our interns.
God. I hope he doesn't think we're friends now.jakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01904002610532929142noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7688722.post-1090378090401788362004-07-20T19:07:00.000-07:002004-07-20T23:20:24.416-07:00birthdayToday is Rick's birthday.
Rick is the married man I fooled around with in the late nineties. He was the head of a successful advertising firm with a wife and two kids in the suburbs, and a coke habit and an endless appetite for sex when he was in the city.
He had broad shoulders. Buzzed blond hair. Blue eyes. A bit of a gut. Strong legs - that's important. And a short, blunt brick of a cockjakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01904002610532929142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7688722.post-1090309925817093492004-07-20T00:50:00.000-07:002004-07-21T19:37:56.036-07:00dilemmaMy boyfriend has fallen asleep with his thumb in my ass again.jakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01904002610532929142noreply@blogger.com0