I wouldn’t have seen him if he hadn’t signaled to me, a call somewhere between a chirp and a grunt. Extra helpings of meat can be fun, but I’m in the mood for something quick and nasty.
Most of the queers going in and out of the clubs aren’t alone, so I ignore them. I drive slowly down the street and park in a lot behind one of the bars it’s packed, but I find a spot. The drag lined with gay bars teems with homos of all ages and flavors, all of them desperately seeking a real man to shove something long and hard into their pansy bodies. A faggot is gonna die riding my dick tonight. The hate, the rage, the sperm, it’s all been building inside me, and I’ve reached the boiling point.
