Could this be... Big Daddy?

The following is a “short story” from my favorite blog, Joe.My.God. (Actually, it’s just the beginning.  Click here or the image to read the entire story)

San Francisco, 1999

The familiar AOL instant message chime pulled me off the bed and over to the computer. It was my down-the-street neighbor, Frank.

Frank: Hey, what u doin?
Joe: Bored. Watching TV. Going out tonight? Powerhouse?
Frank: I’m over Powerhouse. Fridays suck there.
Joe: True.
Frank: Anyway, I’m hoping to hear from Big Daddy.

(Big Daddy was an enormous bodybuilder that Frank had tricked with once, months earlier at some sex club, and had been pining for ever since. Frank always acted like a nervous adoring puppy in Big Daddy’s presence. I thought Frank embarrassed himself around the man and even told him that their relationship reminded me of Spike and Chester, the bulldog and the sycophantic terrier from the old Warner Brothers cartoons. Big Daddy endured Frank’s effusive compliments and incessant attention the way a pro ballplayer might treat a wide-eyed Little Leaguer, with a gruff but dismissive graciousness. And aside from their one tryst, Big Daddy always left the ballpark with another big leaguer.)

Joe: Oh, did he finally email you back?
Frank: No, but I ran into him at the gym.
Joe: Oh, he goes to Golds? Never seen him there.
Frank: No, I saw him at World and he said he would call.
Joe: Stalker. I can’t believe you.
Frank: I had a free pass. Total accident.
Joe: Riiiight.

Two hours later, another IM chime rang out.

Frank: FUCK.
Joe: He didn’t call?
Frank: No, and I’m so fucking horny thinking about him.
Joe: Come out for a drink. We’re gonna head down to the Edge.
Frank: Can’t. Been chatting for hours with some other guy I’ve kinda been teasing online for a long time. He’s coming over.
Joe: OK. A boy’s gotta have a Plan B. Is he hot?
Frank: Sorta, but he’s sure no Big Daddy.

Around midnight, I was sitting in the open window of the Edge with a couple of friends when I spotted Frank walking briskly up 18th Street. I called him over. “Hey, what happened to Plan B?” Frank shifted his backpack to his other shoulder and hardly broke his stride. “Screw Plan B. Big Daddy called and I am On.My.Way!”

On my way home from the Edge, I stopped at 7-Eleven for some chips or something, then headed up Noe Street towards my house. Near the corner of Hancock Street, I happened to glance over at Frank’s place and saw that his front porch was completely trashed. Flowerpots had been smashed and a large potted ficus had been uprooted and jammed into an upended wicker love seat. His garbage can had been dragged from the alley and its contents strewn down the steps….

Read the rest of the story here… (I stayed up all Thanksgiving night reading Joe’s “Readers’ Favorites”. I had no idea Joe was such a wonderful writer. Look for Joe.My.Goodness (Readers’ Favorites) on the left sidebar)

will you? please?

My ass was squeezing a 9″ dildo. I was on my side with my right
leg in the air, knee bent with my forehead touching it ramming the
dildo in and out of my itching to be fucked ass. I squealed staring
at the head of my cock.

“Shoot.” I roared twisting the dildo, screwing myself. “Shoot.” I
shouted begging my cock to blow a load but he wouldn’t or couldn’t or
he was just so sick of me using a dildo instead of having a man, a
real man fucking me hard, deep and fast.

I groaned easing the dildo out of my ass cussing at my dick for not
cumming.

“Don’t look at me like that!”

The gruff, angry voice belonged to Kyle Prescott. Kyle was the most
beautiful boy I’d ever seen and a senior at Central Valley High. Since I
was nothing but a lowly sophomore, I’d been throwing desperate, covert
glances at him for two years. His shiny golden hair, his blues eyes, his
muscular but smooth body had starred in my masturbation fantasies since
that first moment I saw him on the first day of my freshman year.

I had finally gotten to see him naked for the first time because I had
managed to become the first sophomore kicker for the varsity football team
after the previous kicker had graduated. It was so cool because I actually
won one game for us already this season by kicking a thirty yard field
goal.  What I thought was really great about it was that the quarter back
holds the ball for the kicker which meant that Kyle held the ball when I
kicked the winning field goal and he hugged me and lifted me up in his arms
in celebration.