Promising

So I met a guy.

He's 35, 6' 6", weighs in at 230, shaved head, sleeve tattoos on both arms, smokes cigars. He lives in Berks County, Pennsylvania. About an hour and a half west of me. He rehabs houses for a living, and is building himself a place in the country. He's a sick fuck. Fantasizes about getting a hot cub, removing his teeth for a better blow job, and caught on quick when I suggested that his fascination with enforced chastity was a half measure of nullo. In two weeks, I'm planning on heading out to visit him. We're gonna smoke cigars, watch television, and, hopefully, fuck like llamas in heat.

I use the term 'met' loosely. We've talked and exchanged pics on AOL. And you never know with the internet. But he sure holds a lot of promise.

Another interesting thing. He has no idea how hot he is. Walking into whatever cowtown gay bar, he doesn't get a lot of attention. I've explained to him that in the circles that I travel in, he could make a fortune if he put out a calendar. I mean, they would be all over him at the Dugout.

Really looking forward to that. Maybe it will go somewhere. Maybe I'll just give up my heart to him. Maybe. I think I'm ready for that. Way ready.

Next Sunday, a hot bearded man who flags Hunter Green left is gonna ride up here on his motorcycle and meet me for coffee. Way cool.

And the other night, I went to the Raven. Quiet night. And then, this amazing looking guy comes and stands next to me. Built like a brick shithouse, bushy stache with auburn hair. Just a knockout. We talk. Then, he turns to me and says, "I gotta room here. Up for some pig sex?"

Was I ever.

I'm tired. Suffice it to say, that life is sweet as honey.

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