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It never rains cept it pours. It may be a bottomles pit in more ways than one. Wanking the weenie was tiresome. More than six times a day was perhaps a tad too much and Joe needed fresh views � new vistas. He was bored shitless so he thought he would dress to the nines, put on a party frock of leather jeans and t-short and hit the local bar. And anyways he had on clean jock shorts so even if he was in a car accident on the way to bar�what the heck!
Joe though, was not your average joe. Although salt of the earth and brown as a berry, he had a mercurial disposition, that sometimes showed on his jovial countenance, bedroom eyes, stoic endurance and a body to kill for. Yet most of all he had a donkey�s dick that attracted men like flies.
Not that Joe hadn�t tried platonic friendships but of late they had left him cold. Unrequited love was not something he desired or sought. Love he thought was champagne dreams and caviar wishes, devoutly to be wished. Somewhere in the wide world was the right man for him. And he knew deep down also that life was really a wonderful thing, to be appreciated in the NOW, because you never know what is going to happen tomorrow.
His stoicism lead him inexorably to believe also that waiting for a sign that would indicate to him what meaning he must give to his life was OK, but right now his existence was satisfactory.
The bar was packed to the rafters with studs. It was fertile ground and he was in season. Fleetingly, he wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew. Yet sitting on the fence wasn't about to land him the big one.
Thrusting his basket out to advance his cause and pushing his pecs through his shirt and tightening his butt so that the leather pants created two black shiny buns, he said to himself "courage cammille - lets bag a fag" and went into the fray.
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Last updated February 17, 2001