Street Sinuata: An exert...

This is an exert from “Street Sinuata”, the debut novel by author Rafael Solece. Street Sinuata is a powerful and aggressive love story about life, lust, and the delicate nature of love. Sometimes when you are born to a life of privilege and prestige, its easy to forget that “Privilege ain’t always promised to the prestigious and for when our dreams come undone that is when we learn that love and self discovery are the most power things that life has to offer….

Chapter#1
DESMOND

Desmond wanted deeply to join Ashlee in the shower. The red bone with the bushy bundle of hair was a hot peace of ass and he was up to pare on his skills of seduction. Ashlee’s little strip tease sent a ripple of pain down through Desmond’s loins and though he wanted to desperately take the little boy into his arms and bang him like the slut he was Desmond wasn’t the type of man to let his eagerness overwhelm him. There would be plenty of time for him to let his raging hard on have its way. He could wait for now, though every muscle in his body urged him not to.
Every fiber of his being wanted to knock the bathroom door down, snatch the youngin up into his arms and devour him like a rare piece of fruit. Desmond imagined himself taking him whole in to his hands like a summer melon. He imagined what Ashlee would taste like as his mouth moved over his flesh; nibbling. Slurping, and tasting ever craves of his ripe body. His ears tingled at the thought of the sounds that would escape Ashlee’s lips and Desmond’s body cringed at the thought of being close to his. It was too much to handle, just the thought of it, and Desmond forced himself away from the bathroom door.
Tonight wasn’t just indulging his sexual desires. Desmond craved something far more inherent than the release of fluids: Desmond wanted to be in control. He wanted to be in control of his life, in control of this moment, in control of his own desires and feelings; most of all he wanted to be in control of Ashlee. Or at least he wanted to be in control of the time that he spent with Ashlee. The capacity to control and shape his own life was something that Desmond had lost in the last months, and tonight he wanted to regain his position of power. Of course for that to happen he would have to take his time tonight. He would have to take his time and not allow himself to be seduced by the likes of Ashlee. Tonight Desmond had to have the power.
Desmond had allowed himself to rush head first into one too many chaotic situations. Situations where he was powerless and is powerlessness he had allowed his emotions to get the better of him. Desmond had developed a bad habit of falling into bed with men and allowing his better judgment to get lost somewhere between the sheets. Tonight Desmond didn’t want to be lost. He wanted to find himself. Even it meant in the body of a man that he knew would be gone in the morning. At least this time he would know that Ashlee would be gone in the morning, because this time Desmond would be the one to send him away. This time he wouldn’t be the one to get hurt, because this time Desmond would take the lead.
Desmond swept across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He folded his leg up on to his thigh and started to untie the shoe laces. He could hear the water running and Ashlee’s humming beneath the water. It reminded him of the many times before when he had sat on the edge of a bed very similar to this one listening to the sound of another humming to himself softly on the other side of the bathroom door. He had allowed that man to take the lead, and that man had taken him down a path paved with lies. Lies that had made Desmond vulnerable; so vulnerable that he had fallen in love, and inevitably he’d gotten his heart broken. And the pain of his broken heart had led him here: intoxicated and undressing himself for the likes of a wayward street walker.
At least with this stranger he knew what he was getting. At least this time he knew he wouldn’t get his heart broken. At least this time Desmond knew that love wouldn’t have an opportunity to over take him. At least this time he knew lust wouldn’t cloud his judgment. At least this time Desmond knew that he was going to have all the power. Cause he would take it from Ashlee. Ashlee was a vessel; a ship to the admiration he felt that he deserved but did not receive from the man he’d given his heart to. Ashlee was his redemption. Desmond was going to use the red bone to remove him-self from the trappings of his analytical mind. His body would be a vestibule for his pain and suffering at the hands of another. Desmond would release all the pain into Ashlee’s body, and offer him as a sacrifice, cutting him open in a pagan display of intense, un-inhibited, un-bridled passion. Desmond would treat Ashlee the same way that he’d been treated: as if he was nothing more than a tool for his sexual desires.
He’d tease Ashlee the way he’d been teased: physically, mentally, and emotionally. He would make Ashlee want him; crave him, dream of him the way Desmond had dreamed. Desmond wanted Ashlee too lust after him, to cry out for him, and in return Desmond would use Ashlee to ride himself of every bit of insecurity that lingered within.
Of course before Desmond could indulge himself there had to be a certain feeling of easiness on Ashlee’s part. The boy was too wound up. Desmond wanted him to feel relaxed. And Ashlee was anything but. Desmond could tell. He was good at reading people. Ashlee couldn’t see Desmond beyond his wallet. He was nothing more that a job to Ashlee, that needed to be done. Desmond knew his place, but he didn’t just want to be a job. That would have defeated the purpose of what he really needed. Ashlee was more than an expensive date Ashlee was providing Desmond with an invaluable service. Tonight Ashlee was Desmond’s confidence. Ashlee was his renewal. Something Desmond had never needed before. But after the week he’d had, this seemed appropriate.
Desmond pulled off the shoes and threw to the other side of the room. He unbuttoned his shirt and snatched off the tie dangling around his neck. He is hands were trembling slightly. He was nervous. A part of him knew that what he was doing was morally bankrupt, but he didn’t care at this point. He’d done far worst things in the last three months; surely this wouldn’t tilt the scales much further than they already were. He pulled off the shirt and slung it over the edge of the bed next to the tattered t-shirt that he’d snatched off of Ashlee’s body. He smiled as he ran his fingers over the fabric of the boy’s shirt. Typical attire for a young man of his age. Desmond moved to pick up Ashlee’s discarded jeans. They were lying in a heap on the floor. When he held them up to the light he could see that the jeans were good quality. Besides needing a good wash they were decent.
“Somebody had taken the time and care to get these for Ashlee.’ Desmond thought to himself
As he folded them and laid them on top of the t-shirt at the edge of the bed. “Where were they now?” He wondered.
He turned slowly in the middle of the huge suite. He couldn’t believe that he was standing here in this hotel room. Although, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be standing within the confines of its walls on a Thursday night; in fact it had become sort of a ritual for him and his ex to meet for cocktails. Then sneak up to the room reserved under Desmond’s name. Then as carelessly as two horny teenagers they’d undress wildly as they kissed ferociously and then they’d fuck for hours on end. Coming up from between the sheets occasionally only to piss, and have another shot of liquor from the mini bar. At the break of dawn they’d lay in each others arms basking in the after glow of their carnal love making. It was the way they’d done it for months, and nothing ever seemed to change because his lover never wanted it too. And Desmond never questioned why he didn’t? It never seemed to matter. Of course, now that he knew the truth it all seemed so obvious. How could he have been so blind?
Desmond turned around slowly letting his eyes take in the many places where they had made love. Then he wanted nothing more than to savor those moments, and preserve them in his mind. Now all he wanted to do was erase them and replace them with new primal imagery. He walked through the double doors into the living space. He crossed to the bar and pulled down a small rock glass. Desmond needed a drink. Hopefully it would take his mind off of the hurt he was feeling. He poured himself a vodka and tonic, with three cubes of ice. It tickled the back of his throat as it went down, and the warmth spread throughout his body, and he began to relax. He leaned against the wall, and wondered about the boy in the next room.
Had Desmond gone too far in his pursuit at finding a way to dispelling the eroding memories of his shame of a relationship? After all there was no telling what this boy had been doing all night? And only god knows whom he had been doing it with? And what did that say about Desmond? After all he had picked him up, and was primed and ready to do some of the same depraved things to him.
“This is so out of my character.” Desmond thought to himself.
He took another long sip of his vodka tonic. The effects of the drinks he’d had earlier in the evening were fusing with the smooth taste of the belvedere, creating a sort of euphoric feeling. “Perhaps tonight it would be apart of his new character.” Desmond mumbled to himself. “Perhaps, it was time I started living more recklessly. I always play it safe. Maybe I should be a man whore too?”
There was bitterness in Desmond’s voice. And his thoughts raged through him like fire through a forest. After all Desmond had played by the rules his entire life. He’d been courteous of others feels, carful to take care when dealing with their hearts. He had been honest to a fault and a stand up guy and he had trusted that everyone else would do the same. And even then they had not he’d still tried to be the guy that waited on love. Of course a part of him now, wasn’t sure that love existed anymore. Perhaps all life consisted of was a gaggle of random sexual encounters. That’s the way most men carried on in life.
His mind wondered to his Ex-lover as he poured himself another drink. That was the way he carried on. That was the way his ex-lover treated men: like things to be used and thrown away. Suddenly his mind wondered to Ashlee, the young boy in the shower. He thought about the water falling over his smooth skin as it washed away the reality of his evening. Ashlee was one of those men that the world used and threw away, except that he allowed himself to be used and discarded like a tissue.
Desmond was happy he hadn’t gotten in the shower with him. There were so many things that Desmond wanted from Ashlee: needed from Ashlee, and he didn’t want to be thinking about weather he was clean or not while they were together. In fact Desmond didn’t want to be thinking about anything at all. He only wanted to enjoy the time that he would have with him, to use him, and throw him away.

As the water ran off of Ashlee’s body he smiled to himself. Desmond was a curious breed. He thought of himself. “No one, since he’d landed on those street corners, had ever treated him so delicately. No one had ever treated him like he was a man.” It was a far cry from what Ashlee was use to. He ran the cloth over his body and he felt safe there alone in that shower. It was the first time in days that he had let himself go like that. It was nice to be alone: to feel safe and be alone.
Ashlee, although quite aware of what Desmond inevitably wanted from him, was grateful for Desmond’s delicate handling of him. He closed his eyes and let the water batter his flesh. It flowed down his neck, gliding down the curve of his shoulder, and danced down the dimples in his cheeks. The warm trickle of moisture was relaxing in every way. And he was glade that he was alone. He really did need that shower. Ashlee felt so dirty and it felt so good to be able to scrub away the memories of what he had been doing all night in those dank alleys. That smelled so much like piss and shit. He hated those places and their cold musty inhabitants.
He closed his eyes and shocks his head wildly as he scrubbed at his flesh.
“So, how much for the three of us?” The tall white boys said as he pulled out some money and begin ciphering off bills. Ashlee watch the three of them gather around him. The smell of the alcohol was pungent and burned the hair of his nostrils. He could feel them groping at his body like the undead. They were pulling at his clothes as they started to unbuckle his jeans. The touch of their hands against his flesh sent a gut wrenching chill up his spin.
They spun him around. His face hit the wall with so much force he was surprised it didn’t tear his skin. They yanked down Ashlee’s jeans, exposing his backside. He could feel one of the as they pressed their hands hard against the back his neck. As painful as it was he didn’t dare cry out. He wouldn’t mumble a word. He wasn’t going to give the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Ashlee felt the pain as the first one entered inside of him. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to keep from yelling out in agony. With every sharp thrust he could hear his heated panting echoing in his ear. Each thrust sending a new shock wave of pain up his backside.
“Scream for me bitch.” He remembered one of them command from the sideline as his friend forced his throbbing dick up Ashlee’s backside. “Scream real loud, for me sissy.”
But Ashlee refused to give him the satisfaction, even though he felt like his insides where being ripped apart. As Ashlee moved the rag across his body he could feel the bruises they had left across his body. He relieved the abuse in his mind and a tear fell down his face.
When they had finished the three of them wiped their dicks across his back side as if he were a dirty rag and the tallest one tossed a few loose bills at him. Ashlee listened to the sound of their footsteps as they walked away. He let his body slide to the ground as he gathered his jeans from around his ankles. He was in pain and his pride was somewhere in the gutter next to him. And as he lay there alone he sobbed softly into the brick wall as he felt the soft drizzle of rain fall against his body. Ashlee shook the memory from his mind. He didn’t want to think about it any longer. It was over now and he there was nothing he could do to change it. As the water glided down his back, the steam rising from his flesh, he scrubbed them from his memory.
The bathroom was silent except for the drip of the facet and Ashlee stepped from behind the glass-dripping water onto the floor. His manhood hung heavily between his legs and the cold air snapped at it like a hungry dog. Ashlee reached anxiously for a towel when Desmond greeted him with a warm smile. He wrapped Ashlee in beneath the terry cloth and pulled him closer to him. Desmond was standing in his boxers and the warmth of his flesh was electrifying to Ashlee.
Desmond’s Hershey’s kissed skin gleamed in the shimmered like velvet in the above their heads, and Ashlee smiled shyly as Desmond spread his long hands over Ashlee’s shoulders erotically. Ashlee felt secure standing there in his arms. There with Desmond at that moment, he was in the safest place on earth. Desmond stroked him ever so lightly. Letting his fingers linger just above the small of his back. The sensation of his finger tips hitting Ashlee’s erogenous zones made him shiver at his touch and he felt so weak standing there. Ashlee turned away from him. He didn’t like feeling the strange sense of vulnerability.
Desmond snatched the towel away leaving Ashlee standing naked and shivering in the cool air. His extremities hung limp as gravity tugged hungrily at his giggly bits and Desmond stared with intense longing. Ashlee wrapped his arms around his body like a shy little girl.
“Don’t do that.” Desmond commanded. “You are so beautiful.”
Desmond eyes moved over the intricate crevasses of Ashlee’s body. Ashlee wanted to reply with something witty, but all he could muster was a sweet “Thank you”.
“No, really,” Desmond’s mouth moved in slow motion. “You are very beautiful.”
Ashlee looked away. Desmond moved closer to him. He let his hand move up his arm, over his neck. He cupped Ashlee’s chin, on the edge of his finger tips and lifted his face to his. Desmond’s eyes were burning and Ashlee could feel the heat passing from them to his.
“What do want me to do to you?”
Desmond asked slowly. Ashlee was confused. He didn’t know how to answer him and he wasn’t sure what Desmond wanted to hear.
“Does it mater?” Ashlee said softly.
“To me, yes, it does.” Desmond whispered. There was a sense of uneasiness in his voice. “What do want me to do to you?” He asked again. “Do you like to be fucked?”
His words were harsh this time: almost cruel. Desmond didn’t mean to sound so abrupt but there was no other way to say it. A wide grin stretched across the bottom half of his face. He wanted to seem tender but his words took Ashlee completely off guard. Up until this very moment Desmond had been very illusive about discussing the matter of sex. Ashlee paused to consider what he wanted to hear.
“I like what ever it is you want me to like.”
Ashlee spoke with confidence as he looked him deep into Desmond’s eyes. But his answer didn’t satisfy Desmond.
“That’s not what I asked you.” Desmond growled not meaning to. He threw the towel over his shoulder. “I asked you, do you like to get fucked?”
“I don’t know.”
Ashlee said with a chilly voice as he shrugged off his question.
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Desmond shook his head. “How do you NOT know whether you like being fucked or not?”
Desmond’s question sounded harsh. But Ashlee’s answer sounded ridiculous to him.
“Nobody has ever asked me whether I liked it before, or cared for that matter.”
Ashlee frowned. He snatched the towel from the rack on the wall and wrapped it around his waist.
“Do you like having sex at all?”
Desmond asked in a more curious and cautious tone this time around.
“I don’t know?”
Ashlee was beginning to feel like he was in the middle of a police interrogation. Why was he suddenly getting the third degree from the homo-detective? He thought to himself.
“I can’t say that I do.” Ashlee pulled the towel from Desmond’s shoulder and started to dry himself. “It’s always been forced on me.”
“But you are a hustler,”
Desmond sounded confused. He couldn’t comprehend. It didn’t make sense to him that a man would do work that he did not enjoy. Even if it was something as demeaning as prostitution, Desmond thought that one should have pride in what they did.
“I mean this is what you do right?”
“I do what I have to do.” Ashlee snarled. “I don’t have sex with strangers because I enjoy it. Half the time I don’t even get off.”
Ashlee threw the towel on the floor next to him.
“The guys I sleep with usually just get what they want from me, and then their gone two minutes after the nut, just long enough to get their pants up and through some money at me.”
“Wow.”
Desmond didn’t know what to say.
“Yeah,” Ashlee whispered without turning to face him again. “Let’s just say I’ve had some bad experiences.”
Ashlee was thinking of the three men in the alley, of his childhood, of his stepfather, and the numerous other men whom had used him and casually thrown him away without a second thought. Suddenly he felt the dirt clinging to his body again.
“When you’ve had the kind of life experiences that I’ve had.” Ashlee whispered in a soft subtle voice. “It’s hard to look at sex as a pleasurable experience.”
There was an overwhelming tone of sadness festering in Ashlee’s voice.
“If you don’t like it, why do you do what you do?”
“Like I said-” Ashlee stared at Desmond’s reflection in the mirror. “I do what I have to do to survive. I got no family here, no friends, no where to go. What else can I do?”
“There is something else for you Ashlee. There are other jobs you out there you know?”
“I’ve applied” Ashlee laughed, “And I while I’m waiting on them to call me back what am I suppose to do, starve?”
He spat at Desmond. Desmond could see that Ashlee was starting to feel attacked. He didn’t mean to sound as if he was judging him.
“I apologize if I’m making you feel uncomfortable. I am just trying to understand. I don’t see how you don’t have any sexual pleasures.”
“Like I said before I’ve never had the chance to enjoy it. Guys don’t care weather you like it when their paying for it, or if their forcing themselves on you. As long as they get their nut they could give rats ass weather it’s good to me or not. Oh they ask, but they don’t really care.”
“You said forced?”
It was the only other thing Desmond had heard.
“Some people don’t even pay you for taking your cakes they just do it.”
The last statement caught Desmond completely off guard. He stumbled back abruptly and then straightened up so that he didn’t give seem naïve. Ashlee didn’t see it. His head was down and he was feeling more exposed than ever.
“I am so sorry for you.”
There was pity in Desmond’s eyes. He felt an over whelming sense of sadness for Ashlee. This boy hadn’t had the best that life could offer him. From what Desmond had just heard, it sounded like Ashlee hadn’t had any thing good in his life. Desmond didn’t have the whole story but he knew there was a lot more pain boiling just below the surface. He didn’t know what to say or really how to react, and Ashlee didn’t give him a chance to. Ashlee glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He forced a smile.
“Don’t be sorry for me. I’m surviving.”
His voice was weighted in uneasiness. Desmond wasn’t about to let that moment slip away so easily.
“Sometimes Ashlee, survival just enough!” Desmond moved slowly toward Ashlee. He reached out his hand to touch his skin. “Everyone should be able to have at least one good experience to smile about. We all deserve something that we can hold on to, something that can get us through the hard nights. We all deserve some kind of sweet dream or beautiful nightmare to make it easier to cope with the bad times, especially in your line of work.”
“I don’t. All I have is a bunch of fucked up memories, and hard luck stories about being beat up and knocked down, mistreated, and used.”
Ashlee could feel his temper rising.
“I don’t know about being beat down, but I do know about being taken advantage of.” Desmond moved in close. He placed his hand around Ashlee’s waist and pulled his body to his so that his lips where next to his right ear “Maybe tonight I could give you something to hold on to. Maybe I could give you something to dream about when times are bad and maybe you can help me feel worthy.”
Desmond looked into the mirror deep into Ashlee’s eyes. They were a soft hazel brown; and they had a sad childish fear. How could someone so innocent looking, be so beaten down by life already? Ashlee had to have been several years younger than Desmond, He had so much to learn, but if he was already experiencing this much pain in life, this early, how was he going to make it through the rest of his life?
Ashlee could hear the sincerity in Desmond’s voice. It was touching to know that he cared at least a little, despite what his motives may have been. Ashlee had been just a small spot in the fabric of this little big city for the last year. He’d seen and heard a lot of lies and promises, but something about Desmond was honest. People just didn’t seem to care like that use to. Yet here was the one man who truly seemed to get it. And Desmond wanted so much to get it; to make everything in Ashlee’s life right. But honestly there wasn’t much that he could do in one night. Desmond squeezed Ashlee tightly in his arms, gliding his hands over his chest slowly so that he wiped away the moisture that had settled there. Ashlee closed his eyes and he felt Desmond press his lips hard against his neck. His tongue slid over the intricate folds of his skin.
Desmond swung Ashlee’s arm over his head so that it lay on Desmond’s shoulder. Desmond’s fingers moved down his elbow to his forearm, down his torso, across his stomach, pass his nipple, and he wrapped the palm of his hand around Ashlee’s Adams apple gently. The whole time Desmond’s mouth mimicked a sweet song against his neck and the sensation made Ashlee weak in the knees. Ashlee felt Desmond’s erect body pressing against his backside. The heat from Desmond’s groin was like a warm fire on a cold January evening, and Ashlee danced around it like moths to its flame.
Desmond spun Ashlee around. The movement was almost musical in nature, Ashlee’s body twirled around like a ballerina: strong and limber. Desmond pressed his lips against Ashlee’s and his tongue passed between them with urgency and ease. It was a deep passionate kiss that caused Ashlee to melt into him like ice cream on a hot summer day. Desmond lifted him up into his arms so that Ashlee was weightless and his feet were dangling just above the ground. He carried Ashlee like a child into the exterior bedroom. Things toppled over in his path, but Desmond didn’t care to know what he had destroyed. He was ready to finish what had started. Desmond could feel his own erection pressing hard against his stomach and the elastic of his boxers. His mannish desire was coursing through his manhood like the levies of a damn.
He tossed Ashlee onto the bed and his creamy caramel body bounced up and down against the plush white bedspread. Desmond watched with savage longing as his limbs feel either, which way and the towel that was secured tightly around Ashlee’s waist came undone, exposing the erection growing between Ashlee’s thighs. Ashlee looked surprised and excited as he rushed to gain his composure, but his body had already betrayed him. Desmond had ignited his fire as well. This was exactly what Desmond had been waiting for. He smiled as Ashlee lay sprawled before him on the bed, eagerly waiting to be taken. Yet some how the excitement was almost too much for Desmond to bare: his own manhood was screaming for release.
Desmond tugged at his boxers and they fell to the ground around his ankles, releasing his thick brown jewel so that Ashlee had a full view of Desmond’s magnificent body. It was exactly what Ashlee had imagined Desmond would look like un-cocked. Out of his clothes Desmond was a hard bodied Gladiator. His body sculpted to emasculate masculine perfection. It was a direct contrast to the Sid ditty button down board member in the well-tailored business suit that Ashlee had first been introduced to. Desmond stood up tall and Ashlee’s eyes moved over his body. His broad shoulders stretched wide like the wingspan of an eagle as back erect against his torso, which cut down into a venomous ventricle silhouette like the coil of a king cobra ready to strike. His chest was a massive mound of rock hard granite that made Ashlee wonder how the thin cotton shirt had contained such massive muscle. And Desmond smiled as he watched Ashlee’s eyes light up in the shadow of his physic.
Desmond ran his fingers across the folds of Ashlee toes. Ashlee twitched away from him, his body coiling in anxiousness. Desmond found pleasure art of his own seduction. But Ashlee didn’t feel like playing Desmond’s game. They had played enough games this morning and now Ashlee was ready to pounce. He rolled over onto his stomach and began a slow crawl over the sheets toward the edge of the bed in front of his now naked financier. A devilish smile spread across Ashlee’s face. He wrapped his hand around Desmond’s waste and pulled him close to him. For the first time in Ashlee’s adult life he wanted a man, he wanted this man, he ached for this man. He could feel his blood racing through his veins, coursing through his body as his hand moved over Desmond’s stomach. He ran his fingers nails across the tight flesh of his chest and he opened his mouth and took Desmond in.
Desmond’s head fell back on his shoulders and a low growl escaped from his lips. Ashlee responded gingerly. His mouth moved over Desmond’s shaft attentively as Desmond reached for him. Ashlee swatted his hand away. He would not be moved. Ashlee continued slurping vengefully; it was his turn to tease Desmond. He had waited for this moment to arrive and he would have him the way he wanted him; purring and pawing. Ashlee felt his power coming back to him. His heart pumped hard against his rib cage. Desmond moved his hand to Ashlee’s head. He didn’t want to fight him any more. His hot mouth felt so good against his skin. He guided Ashlee lips along the path as he twirled his hair in the palm of his hand. Ashlee’s throat worked in perfect harmony with his tongue, and Desmond was thankful for it.
When Desmond couldn’t take it any more he gripped Ashlee’s mess of hair and pulled his head back. Ashlee’s mouth hung open and his eyes watered feverishly. Desmond leaned over to kiss him. His tongue pressed into the back of Ashlee’s throat and Ashlee took him in. With a quick turn of his wrist Desmond flipped Ashlee over and spun him around so that he was face down and ass up on the edge of the bed. The action was swift. The maneuver caught Ashlee unaware and his eyes were dizzy with confusion. Before Ashlee could regain his composure Desmond buried his face between Ashlee’s butt cheeks. Desmond’s wet tongue sent a tingle pulsing up Ashlee back like stream through a forest. Desmond’s tongue tickled the folds of his insides, as it swept in and out of his tight hole. And when Ashlee didn’t think he could take it anymore Desmond’s tongue plunged deep into his center. The tingle electrified Ashlee’s whole body. His mind began to run a million miles a minute. And his heart began to beat uncontrollably. He had never felt so exhilarated before in his life. It was like being on fire and swimming through an icy river. And Ashlee screamed out for him, as his hands groped anxiously at the sheets.
Desmond had found Ashlee’s button: his ecstasy button. Ashlee had never had this done to him before. No one had ever pleasured. Nor had anyone made him feel the need to give pleasure. It was foreign feeling. And the further Desmond’s tongue moved between his cheeks the more of his control Ashlee felt slipping away; and Desmond sensed it, craved it, need it. The less control Ashlee had, the more powerful Desmond felt rising in his chest. His tongued darted in and out of Ashlee’s hole with an excess amount of force. And the sounds coming from between his cheeks become louder, and more anxious as Desmond devoured Ashlee. He loved the way his insides tasted and he pressed his tongue as far as it would. The smell of the soap mingled with Ashlee’s torrent stench made Desmond yearn for more. His erection ached now and it cried to taste Ashlee too.
He stroked himself slowly to please the hunger he had. Desmond didn’t want to stop smacking. He was too greedy for that. He didn’t want to pull away, and Ashlee didn’t want him to. But Desmond knew he couldn’t hold off any longer. He wanted to do to Ashlee what he had been imagining doing since the first time he’d seen him. He reached for the condom and lube he had sitting on the night stand.
Everything started to move so fast. With one quick motion he had strapped up, lubricated, and was ready to go in. He generously applied some to Ashlee’s wet hole. His fingers tickled Ashlee’s insides as they swept in and out of his cheeks. Desmond pulled him upright, wrapping his hands around his chest. He closed eyes tightly, and took in a deep breath as he pressed his peace between Ashlee’s soft cheeks. His head rolled back on his shoulders as he felt the warmth of his insides spread over the head of his stick. Ashlee tensed. Desmond massaged his nipples and let his lips caress his skin. Ashlee had never liked being penetrated before. It had always been so reckless. But Desmond was so gentle, so sweet, and so tender. He felt himself relax and Desmond’s wood invaded his body with the same ease as his tongue. Ashlee had never had dick feel so good. Desmond bit down on Ashlee’s ear lobe. It was a sensual act of eroticism. Ashlee fell forward. His eyes closed slowly and his hands glided across the sheets. A slow soothing breath flowed from Ashlee’s lips, and he let himself go.
Desmond secured his hands around Ashlee’s waste. He pushed his way deeper and he could feel the walls of Ashlee’s insides pressing along the shaft of his dick. The pressure from his insides made Desmond’s swelling grow more intense. Ashlee tensed but Desmond eased it right on in.
“Breath slowly”
Desmond began to coach him softly as he caressed the small of his back with his fingertips.
“That’s right.”
Desmond’s voice was soothing and seductive as he coached his young protégée in the art of lustful lovemaking. Ashlee could feel every inch of Desmond inside him. The pain was so unbearable at first and then the pleasure started rising as they sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity. His hole began to throb as it clenched the width of Desmond’s dick and Ashlee wanted it; He had to have it. His hips begin to gyrate slowly, pulling at Desmond’s rod. His actions were screaming for him to give it up and Desmond was more than willing to accommodate.
Desmond began to pulsate deep inside of Ashlee. They both cooed and purred in ecstasy. Desmond pulled himself free and a wave of pleasure moved through Ashlee; it made him tremble and He begged for it
“Please!”
Ashlee cried out, and Desmond complied. That is exactly what he had been waiting for. He plowed it deep between his ass cheeks. Deep into Ashlee’s center, massaging the folds of his insides and sending foreign shock wave all throughout Ashlee’s body. The soft screams exiting from Ashlee’s parted lips meant nothing to Desmond. They were erotic mating calls, made by a heated lover. Desmond did not stop. Honestly he couldn’t if he wanted to. They had gone past the point of no return. Desmond threw his back into it: plowing deeper and deeper into Ashlee’s backside like he was possessed and Ashlee took it like a man. His body twitched with euphoria and it felt oh so good to Desmond. He smiled listening to the heated grunts of pleasure falling out of Ashlee’s lips after every thrust. His low sensuous growls trembled between the interior of Desmond’s ear, and Desmond responded accordingly. He hurled obscenities at Ashlee. And sweat seeped from his pours. His mouth started to water and his heart started to pound almost as violently in his chest as his groin pounded against Ashlee’s ass.
Ashlee cried out louder than before. Desmond felt him clench down tightly on his staff. The friction drove him insane. Ashlee steadied him self on the bed and began to throw his backside hard into Desmond’s pelvis and loud inaudible sounds fell from Desmond’s mouth. He tried to slow it down but Ashlee wasn’t getting enough of what he wanted. He wanted to feel Desmond in his stomach. Ashlee turned over onto his side and rolled over onto his back. He threw his legs open so that he and Desmond were face to face. Ashlee pulled Desmond close. He wrapped his legs around his waist, tightened his grip on him, and Ashlee maneuvered they’re positions so that he was now on top. The position change caught Desmond off guard, but it was exactly what Ashlee wanted. He could feel Desmond’s manhood pressing up into his prostate. He pressed his hands hard against Desmond’s chest to steady him self.
Desmond cringed from the friction. Ashlee was in control now, and it turned him on. He slid off of his dick slowly. Desmond’s face mirrored his excitement. Ashlee’s hair fell in front of his face. He locked his feet inside Desmond’s inner thighs and he smiled seductively.
“You’re teasing me.”
Desmond said.
“Not anymore.”
Ashlee purred in a Creole accent. He positioned himself over Desmond’s waist and slid slowly down on his stick. It pressed into his stomach again. Desmond felt it hit a wall deep inside Ashlee. Desmond grabbed his waist and Ashlee pressed his fist into Desmond’s chest. They grinded hard: Ashlee’s ass pressing against Desmond’s pelvis and no air escaped between them. Sweat covered their entire bodies; it fell from their skin, and soaked into the bed spread. Ashlee found his rhythm. His hips began to gyrate to a singular syncopated beat playing between them, sliding his body down on top of Desmond with such force, driving him to insanity. Their pulses raced out of control. Their temperatures climbed and their words slurred impulsively. With one last heated thrust Desmond began to jerk as Ashlee’s clenched down tight around his staff. He grabbed hold of Ashlee’s waist, his nails digging deeper into his skin and they both trembled violently.
Ashlee fell backward against Desmond’s legs. His breathing was out of control. Desmond held his grip around his waist tightly. It was a perfect position. He pushed himself deeper between Ashlee’s thighs. It was a rough impulsive move that caused a more violent reaction. Desmond’s body twitched uncontrollably and Ashlee shivered with fever. Ashlee exploded like a volcano. His spunk ran down the shaft of his dick, down his thighs, between his legs. It was warm and it turned Desmond on. When Desmond finally pulled out, cum poured from the tip of his stick. It covered Ashlee’s stomach, chest, and thighs. It was so hot. It was exactly what Desmond needed. Ashlee’s lifeless body lay twisted in a heap on top of Desmond’s legs. Soft whimpers of passion passed through his lips and Desmond smiled as he reached for him.
He pulled Ashlee into his arms flat against his chest. Desmond rolled over onto his side so that they lay parallel with one another. The sweat was still pushing out of his pours spilling over onto the sheet. He let out a low deep breath as he squeezed the man-child lying helpless in his arms. He kissed Ashlee softly on the forehead and nestled his chin in the soft bundle of lochs that covered his head. And silence fell over the room. Ashlee snuggled his face into his chest.
“Damn.”
His voice spilled into the silence.
“What!”
“That was so good.”
Ashlee murmured just before he closed his eyes and slipped off into a deep sleep.

Copies of Street Sinuata, by Author Rafael Solece, are available online at BarnsandNoble.com, Xlibris.com, Amazon.com, and Boarders.com and at your local bookstores Order desk upon request.

Untitled: Solitude

Solitude is where like hands met flesh beneath yet still darkness
Its unfamiliar touch was like a morroader
stealing away what did not belong to them

They found me alone
where no men were allowed to come and go as they please,

Yet they wait patiently for freedom to ring

Still familiar hands stole te fabric of me.

By Rafael Solece

"Pearls of Wisdom"

People come into your life who are sometimes meant to stay for seasons and some people are sometimes meant to be in your life for a life time. The problem with most people is that we meet people who are supposed to be in out lives for seasons, we fall in love with them and keep them in our lives longer than they should be. We need to learn that there are lessons in loving people, and we should take the lesson and learn to move on.

Learn to let people go!

"You will Always fuck up when you give Lifetime expectations to Seasonal People"

Aging Out of The System....

I am dating an older man, thats not such a big deal because of the fact that I normally date older more mature men. This particular older man is sort of fresh off on the fruit tree.

*whispers*

He's been married...twice.

He's sweet though, and treats me well. Extremely well. He's easy to talk to. I have a good time with him, and the sex. Well, the SEX, lets just say he's very "veral" for age. Of course most of the older men I date usually are. and as far as him treating me the way he does. If he didn't he would have been gone a long time ago. But then again he is an older man, and they tend to treat younger men a little bit better than guys my age treat their men. Not that I am an agious, I am just making an observation.

Most younger men think that way though, of course with them it has nothing to do with emotion. They like to be spoiled nand they think by dating older men that the older man will spoil them. Its a daddy complex. If he's older he'll pay for everything and let me do what ever I want, because I am young and pretty. I personally am not into that. Older mature men are sexy too and one shouldn't take advantage of the fact that just because they are older they're going to spoil you. Personally I like to spoil my man, but I like for the gesture to be returned. That's probably the real reason I don't date men my age.

They're selfish, spoiled, immature little brats.

Of course if I met someone my age who understood the dynamics of a good dating relationship then perhaps I wouldn't mind dating someone around my age. Of course that's a big "IF". SMH

Why are the guys my age so ill informed and why are older men so much more appealing? Is it because they are more experienced? I know my guy is...he's been married twice. Of course I like to think that I have a lot of experience too, that is why I attract such mature men. Or is it? Maybe its really my younth?

No its because I am a total package. Sexy, intelligent, ambitious, and mature. Who wouldn't want to date me. "Any guy my age!"

What about an older man is so attractive? What about younger men is so unattractive to me? I suppose the real question is: in the case of dating does age really matter?

Ready For Love

This is my prayer to the universe and The Most High GOD. I am ready...

Spoil Me, You and I both Know I'm Worth It...

A couple of weeks back I met this guy, or first date was a double date with a couple friend of his. I don't know how but during dinner some how we ended up having a discussion about Sex in the City. This was not some kinky conversation about sex in public restrooms and parks. You know we were talking about that television show about the four women living in New York City, trying to balance out their love lives.

I said then, as I have always said, that I identified myself mostly with the main character Carrie. I think I was identifying with her because I was drawing on the obvious similarities between us. You know; My being a writer, single, and wanting, or rather feeling that needed to be loved, and searching in all the wrong places for love and being tangled up in a mess of men. Of course I think lots of people want to most be a Carrie because we’re all sort of looking for love in all the wrong places, and hoping that like Carrie one day we will find our Mister Big.
Of course the gentle men that I was discussing this with made some sterling points that I had not yet considered. I mean to say he broke the characters down in a way that I would have never thought of. Of course all of this was said after he told me that there was no way that I could be a Carrie. When he said this I felt sort of offended. Somehow it felt wrong that he would say such a thing to me. As if to say I am not glamorous enough to be a “Carrie” but then he went on to explain why he would make such a blatantly rude assessment.
He said and I quote: you can’t possibly be a Carrie because unlike Carrie, you know what you deserve and what your worthy of. You know who you are…
Shut up, Right! He said that Carrie was the most confused character on that show. She spent the entire show summing up her self worth in every man she met. And the one man that she loved, BIG, she could never truly be with him because in her mind she always saw her self unworthy to be with him because of their station. Yet the one man that truly loved her for who she was, Aden, she treated him badly, dogged him out, and disrespected him. Carrie was never as confident as most people liked to think she was. She was mousy, unsecure, and she didn’t know her self worth. I know! I was like “WOW” my damn self.
The gentlemen went on to say that he personally like Samantha. Yes Samantha was a whore, vulgar, and brazen. But she knew her value. She knew what she was worth. And when a relationship was over she never cried about it or got upset about it because she understood that, that relationship, sexual situation, escapade was just that apart of her past. It didn’t make or break her and therefore it was alright to move on because she was strong enough to handle what was coming next.
He also made another great point about Charlotte, the mousy, society bitch, that I honestly wasn’t very found of. He said that she was a lot like Samantha too, in that as prissy, and prudish as she was she understood who she was, and she knew her own self worth. She knew that she was spoiled and that she was beautiful and that she deserved a privileged life style, and she understood that any man that couldn’t give her those things wasn’t worth being her man.
As he explained these things to me I started to see the women of Sex in the City in a completely different light. I started to see them not for their life styles, their clothes, and experiences but I started to see them for their attitudes towards the men they loved and were involved with and I started to see in those different relationships their attitudes toward themselves.
But then he said something that brought it all home to me. He said the reason that I don’t see you as a Carrie is because unlike Carrie you are a man that knows your self worth. You know what you deserve in every aspect of your life and he told me that I unlike Carrie, but so much so like Samantha, demand and expect life to give me what I deserve.
All I could do was smile sweetly and knod my head in accordance with his assessment. Needless to say, if you ask me which character from Sex in the City I most identify with now, I'll quickly to tell you Charlotte. You thought I was going to say Samantha didn’t you. Nope! I know I'm a spoiled little shit and I expect to be treated as such...Ever since that night when ever I am with me he spoils me. I think he trying to make a point.

Street Sinuata

"The Plot"

When you are born into a life of privilege and prestige it is easy to loose track of what is really important, and sometimes you forget that “privilege ain’t always promised to the prestigious...”

No one knows this better than Ashlee Baxton; raised on the Louisiana bayou, this bright-eyed Creole boy had everything going for him. He was well breed, handsome, and an extremely talented painter. All Ashlee had only ever dreamed of was that one day he would become a famous artist; joining the ranks of Da Vinci & Van Gogh; and Atlanta seemed the perfect place to hone his talent. Of course life isn’t always easy in the jewel of the south, and instead of art museums and the high society Ashlee found himself living a life of depravity down in the gutter, using the only thing he had left of value to keep from being swallowed whole by the fast paced life of this little-big city. But can a chance meeting with a attractive professional put Ashlee back on his feet?

Jacquelyn Mathews lived a perfectly packaged little world from birth; She had grown up one of Atlanta’s social elite. She had received the perfect education, and gone on to manicure a perfect life style specifically from her own vision. She had the perfect career and she had built the perfect home, with the perfect man; or so she thought. But, alas, even our lovely heroine finds that perfection is in the eye of the beholder. For her husband Todd is not the man that he pretends to be, and his secrete could shatter Jacquelyn’s portrait of perfection.

As Ashlee moves up through the ranks of Atlanta society, slowly gliding his brush stroke over the fabric of this painting-turned-reality, he will win the hearts of everyone he encounters; capturing both the intimate details of their lives, and a true reflection of who they really are. In the end some lives will be turned upside down, while others will be torn completely apart in this tragic tale of love lost and found.

“For when Dreams come Undone, that is when we learn that love and self-discovery are the most powerful parts of life.”

This Debute Novel By Author Rafael Solece is available at your local book store help desk or you can get a copy at any online bookselller. Boarders.com, Xlibris.com, BarnesandNobles.com. Get your copy Today....

Kissing Me: 101

A kiss should be methodical, soft, tactful, and moderately aggressive. Thatis if your going to kiss me. I hate a sloppy kisser. It is the easiest way to turn me off. There are others who would disagree, but then those others aren't me. If you kiss me you might need to practice before you do, because I have had extensive practice myself and I am quite accomplished at the art of the kiss my damn self. On top of that I will be judging you. and depending on your grade, well, that will determine weather you recieve further education.
Sorry, I have a thing for a man who kisses well. It's probably the easiest way to get into my size 31 express jeans. I know that sounds rather whorish but hell I am just speaking my truth. ..
"Rafael Solece gets a hard on when a soft pair of lips are pressed up against his ever so slightly"
It does something to me. A signal is sent from my lips to my brain, which immediately sends a signal to my manhood that it is go time. Unfortunately the same can be said for a bad kisser. If you have know idea what to do with your mouth, then you shouldn't have your lips close to mine. Because if sex is what you crave. Then Darhling you gets none here. It is as simple as that. I have no time at all for a man who can not kiss.
In my mind if you can't kiss then you can't then you probably can't make love. The two just go hand in hand. Call it a romantized view of sexual behavior. I don't care just know that if you step to me. Then you need to know how to kiss.
They say that the way to a man s heart is through his stomach. Well the they same something similar about getting into my pants. The way to my bed is through my mouth, and I don't mean unzipping your pants and pressing down on my shoulder...

Step Up or Step Off

My new mantra when it comes to men, friends, family, people in General; Step Up or Step Off. Is in my opinion the key to my success future success? I recently adopted this new way of thinking within the last month, as I have begun to revamp my personal, professional, and mental state of mind. It may seem a little rude, or a harsh phrase to utter to someone, but honestly it is something that should be said and screamed often. Simply because often times when we "ambitious people" (I am speaking of ambition a lot lately) get ready to tackle the hills and valleys of success we often have people who want to be a part of our success or a part of our lives. And Often times these people are either impeding on our success (slowing us down, or trying to halt progression) or their just along for a free ride. Sometimes these people [want us to succeed but have nothing to contribute, and there for they are just lumps sitting on our swiftly moving log. Well these are the exact people that need such a reality check.

"Step Up or Step Off!"

As I began my ascension into a more successful, empowered, ambitious me I started to see that some of the people in my immediate circle weren't of any use to me. Hell, most of them weren't of any use to themselves and the only reasons they were really in my life was because I was attached to them for sentimental reasons. But sentiment does not equate to progress. Sometimes we hold on to people so tight and we use love as an excuse to ignore who they really are; Manipulative, spoiled, arrogant, self righteous, procrastinating, hypocritical, un-driven, unsuccessful people. I am speaking of those people that have no purpose. We all know someone like this and these are the exact people we love, and want to advance with us, but they are the people who don't want to do anything for themselves. They are the people skating through life constantly making excuses for one thing or another. "I don't have a job because.." "I was fired because…" "I live at home with my mother because…" and "I smoke because.." Bitch please! Give me no excuses, only solutions. People with excuses are people who don't really want to do anything.

Lots of times because people have been our friends for so long we ourselves even begin to make excuses for their lazy behavior. when we know that the truth is just that: their lazy. SO if they're too lazy to care about their own situation, life, career, stomachs, living situation. Why in the hell should it be of any concern to us.

What kill's me is the people who latch on to other people, ambitious successful people and BLOCK! Cock block, blessing block, just damn block. They are the people who can see your success clearly, and in its entirety. Yet they know they are not good enough for you or willing to put in the time/effort it would take to be what you need, desire, want. So they continue to hold on to you because they figure that as long as their around they might as well get what they can get from you. Or at least keep someone else from coming into your life that is going to put in the work, give you the resources, time, energy (good energy) to supply you with what you need to be successful. Ain't that a blimp?

But get this: That is your fault! It was my fault too. People will only do to you, what you allow them to do to you. And we, more often than not, allow people to do some awful stuff to us, in the name of sentiment. Well fuck that I ain't having it no more and neither should any of you. My family, my friends, my loves: Life is too short, it's already filled with pain and hard times. Why make your life any harder than it already has to be just because you love somebody. Your Friends, your family, you boyfriend or girlfriend are the exact people who can hurt you more than anybody. Why, you ask? Because they are the ones closest to you. So they have the ability to do more damage because you care about them.

Now understand this I ain't saying to hell with all your friends. What I am saying; is that we should all take a look at our circle of influence, hell, take a total 180 degree look at your life, and evaluate where you are as opposed to where you would like to be. Then look at that circle of influence and evaluate where those people are and what they have accomplished and whether or not their energy is good energy for you? If they are people who procrastinate all the damn, sit around on the couch eating bags of chips, if they are slackers who hardly do any work or are completely unmotivated, and smoking weed all day every day. As opposed to bettering themselves in school, or working toward a career, or trying to get a better pay raise at work, hell if they are just going to the gym every day to get in better shape. But they need to be putting out some kind of positivity in the air. People, who have nothing to contribute to life, are just sucking the life out of you with their nonchalant way of living.

Boo, that energy that you need. But if you're sitting on the couch with your friend and yawl are supposed to be going somewhere, but you got to catch the bus to get there. But every time it comes time to get up to go catch that bus, and your friend "hollers lets catch the next bus". So you sit back down on the couch with him so that by the end of the day you have missed every bus and the sun has set and you're still sitting on the couch waiting on him/her to move. Well baby that was a waste of time! Hell typing it was a waist of my time.

It is alright to love somebody but don't get loving a person confused. You have to love people at a distance, because the people you love aren't always the ones who love you. But then again maybe they do, they just don't love themselves enough to do better in life. Not your problem or mine. Us motivated people; who have dreams, goals, and ambitions don't have time to dilly dally on a fucking couch, at home all day, in the porn store, fucking every piece of dick, ass, pun that looks cute. People like us got shit to do. SO when I say: Step Up or Step Off! Honey it is because I got shit to do. And you do to.

You have my permission to use it whenever the situation calls for it.

Ta Ta for Now

Rafael Solece

This is my Midnight Confession

A little bit of Gay Erotica by Author Rafael Solece...



I have a confession. I have done a grand many things in my twenty-seven years on this earth, but I had never done anything like this before. And I honestly couldn’t explain to you why I had decided to do something so risky on a night like tonight? I suppose I was lonely. At least that is the excuse I giving myself as I climbed out of my bed. Or maybe I was just horny. Whatever the reason I had talked myself into this depraved act and I knew that there was no turning back now: especially since I was already practically dressed.

I guess there is a first time for everything.

At least that’s what I said to myself as I slipped on my shoes, pocketed the two five dollar bills that I had grabbed from the grocery money stashed in the can over the refrigerator, slipped on the over sized hoodie that my ex had forgot to pack on the day that I put him out, grabbed my keys, and slide out the back door. I tip toed down the stairs like a cat burglar creeping onto some ones fire escape, quietly trying o make my get away with out waking the my unsuspecting neighbors. I don’t know why I cared so much after all it was my neighbor’s fault that I was even up. His sexcapades had been the catalyst for this midnight tryst. I was horny and it was entirely his fault. As I listened to the female counter part of that beautiful masculine figure who resided in apartment number 5, screaming and moaning his name (loudly I might add) with such Intensity. I imagined his body moving rhythmically between her legs. His hot ass checks clenching with every powerful thrust sent me into over drive and I felt my own sexual organ pulsating between my legs, begging for me to release my fluids.

Before now I imagined him some lonely down low brother secretly lusting after me; biding his time for just the right moment before he approached me in some pornographic fantasy. Of course now my dreams had all but been shattered and I was left unsatisfied and ill mannered by the entire ordeal.
Yes I had only lived next door to him for three days, but my heart was broken by the revelation of his sexual orientation. Though satisfying as it sounded, and I had to admit I was a tad bit jealous as I lay alone in my bed. He sounded like a phenomenal lover, and my jealousy stemmed more from the fact that I couldn’t watch, and not merely because of the fact that it wasn’t I lying beneath his dark chocolate body. But that didn’t stop my imagination from wondering.

I laid quietly in my bed I closed my eyes and imagined myself laying in hunky neighbor’s bed, moaning euphorically in sexual bliss. Sadly, I could only imagine the types of things that he was doing to his equally attractive miss. In my mind he was a kinky lover, and especially vicious in bed. He choked, bit, smack, and spat on her violently. And a part of me really just wanted to know if my vivid imagination was truly on point.

As their love making coursed on through the night it became infuriating to listen to them, and by the time that they had finally climaxed for the fourth time in one night and drifted softly off to sleep, I was left horny and unsatisfied by the fifth ill fated attempt by my roaming right hand to please the monster called longing in my loins. So here I was walking the street in that, the hour between late and early looking for what some would call a date, simply because my hormones had over taken me. I felt a tad bit ashamed, but there was an air of exhilaration coursing through my veins. Though couldn't believe that I was about to make such a transaction as to pay for sex. I also felt confident in my new found inhibition. I had never done anything like this before, yes. I had always wondered what it might be like. Of course loudly and in mixed company I condemned men who did such deplorable thing as buying paying another for sex. All the while secretly I had always wanted to know what it was like to do it myself. Pay for sex, or get paid for sex.

What is this fascination with prostitution that we men have?

Perhaps it was the combination of danger mingled with civil disobedience that causes us to step so recklessly into the dark of night? Maybe is it the thought of something illusive or naughty even. The sheer garishness of the act. Its vulgar, dangerous, its a dirty little secrete. Perhaps it's just the lack of having a regular sexual release, or an over abundance of sexual energy? Or maybe its the tedium of a boring sex life? I honestly don't know, and at this very moment I honestly didn’t care.

My reasons are my own. Three months of sexual frustration bubbling over and now I was tired of waiting for the right partner to come along. I needed some full body contact. My abundant porn collection could only do so much and I had stretched the fibers of my imagination far beyond its boundaries, and the kink in my wrist had started to irritate me. I needed, no, I wanted a hard hung body. And so here I was walking the dead of night, my hands tucked into my pockets, my hood covering my eyes, my head lowered in fear and shame. I crossed over Peachtree Street, beneath the bright street light in the direction of the whore stroll, and my lips moved frantically as I whispered a silent prayer, hoping that my God would protect me and forgive me for my sin. Cause I knew that there was no turning back. I was about to make a improper transaction. I was about to pay for sex.


This is my midnight confession...