#136

Brian is back. God, how it riles me.

When he passed this morning and found John sitting parked up in the yard he broke into such a wide smile that the herpes around his mouth split and cracked open. With barely even so much as a “Hiya!” he twisted his right leg out like a dancer and stood there shamelessly advertising a massive erection that was trapped down and playing against his thigh.

It's not often that I feel 'gay' – like have a sense of 'gayness' about me – but I must admit, the way I so much didn't want to look at Brian's crotch, but somehow couldn't help myself all the same, made me feel extremely 'queer'.. In a lurid, tasteless way. There he was, my Nemesis, and I was locked onto him, drifting off into realms of eroticism and drooling over his measure of pleasure.

It's such times like that which tell me I need a wank, or even better: a man. Someone different from my normal type... Someone capable of fucking John and the Postboy clear out of my system. A big, strong grizzly bear. That's what I need right now.

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