Faggots Read Online Free PDF

would soon be coming back!
    And beloved Abe would produce Fred’s screenplay!
    And Life would at last be in order! Love and work co-joined!
    He soaped his tarnished, yellowed, peed-upon body in the showers. Ah, did he not hate that word “gay”? He thought it a strange categorizer of a life style with many elements far from zippy. No, he would de-kike the word “faggot,” which had punch, bite, a no-nonsense, chin-out assertiveness, and which, at present, was no more self-deprecatory than, say, “American.”
     
     
     
    Dinky Adams’s ass was the first ass Fred had ever rimmed.
    He had, of course, heard about rimming. It was quite popular with some of the boys. But Fred had never wanted to so taste anyone before.
    It happened almost eight weeks ago, at the end of Week 4 of their “relationship,” after Dinky had given Fred his first douche, really a harmless affair (and not nearly so frightening as Tarsh and Mikie, both clinical experts, had always made it sound), (“You mean you’ve never douched?,” “You mean you’ve never rimmed?” Dinky had asked later, incredulous over what he considered Fred’s naive sex life. “What have you been doing all these years?”): a bulbous squeezing of a couple of cups of warm water up Fred’s rectum, into which Dinky would shortly stick his nice-sized, not-too-big, not-too-small cock, while they were standing in Fred’s kitchen on Washington Square, Dinky having just sterilized the douche’s doucher in hot water on the stove. As Dinky had squeezed it in, Fred realized, horror of horrors, that he was getting turned on. He liked this Dinky! He liked that he was having his first douche with someone he liked. He liked that he was evidently likeable enough for Dinky to get such a nice big hard-on over him. He liked it all. Yes, he did.
    And suddenly he found himself falling to the floor, Fred did, being careful to hold his water in, and getting underneath Dinky, and looking up at him, at that thirty-year-old beauty, towering above him, handsome like the devil, with black hair rakishly widow’s-peaked in the center of his forehead, darting black eyes that sometimes looked at you, a round cherubic face protected by a full, short, neat, black beard, biceps the wonderful size of smooth, firm, elongated honeydews, under which resided Fred’s favorite spot, those beautiful armpits, soft, wispily fluffy, nice-smelling of Dial soap, and that rest of his body, a personal triumph over childhood skinniness and a touch of bad feet, now perfected into faggot desirability: muscular, tough, smooth skin, not an inch of fat, to which he dashingly added a small gold earring to his pierced left lobe. Oh, it was gorgeous, this view from neath Mount Rushmore. It was so gorgeous that Fred’s own cock became gigantic. Could it be that for all these years he was unknowingly harboring a very big cock and not only not knowing it, but not using it as well? Oh, gorgeous Dinky, up there, you who like me and have come after me, wooed me these weeks of my trying to play hard to get, not be anxious, not be hungry, not fuck this one up; you who read books and design gardens and plan interiors and love to travel and dance and cook so well; you who swung me in a hammock in your sweet little Southampton house beside a canal, our Venice, as I read to you about our shared love for England; you who smiled at me as we awoke in each other’s arms after a wonderful night of love; you who have said: “I really like your profile,” “You have such nice feet,” “You’re very important to me,” “On paper we make so much sense—we have mutual interests and the sex is good,” “I believe in old-fashioned marriage, where people make commitments and out of respect the love just grew and grew,” our first month of truly filling simple things, being alone together, you are giving me this hugeness!
    Then, just as suddenly, still on his knees, he crawled around in front of Dinky’s perfect ass. He took both