Sometimes, if I look closely enough you’re almost real. I imagine being inside you,
looking out, instead of outside looking in. I try to look at the world through your eyes.
Like, from where you’re standing, what do you see? Do you see the same as me? Do
you see me? I mean, really, really see me. Or am I kind of fuzzy and surreal? There, but
not really there? Easy to touch, but only on the outside?
Does blood rush to your cock when you watch that tall blond with the baseball cap, great
posture, and the chest that goes for days? Do you see the cougar watching you out of the
corner of her eye and force yourself not to look so she doesn’t get her hopes up? Do you
catch yourself looking too long at the French hunk’s crotch and see the look of confusion
on his face? Do you wonder how those little guys manage with such big wankers?
They’d have to pass out when they get horny, wouldn’t they? And why do some guys not
seem to care that they have a hard on in the change room? Like they’re proud or
something. Or maybe just gay and carefree.
Do you wonder if that young hotty with the awesome legs working out with the lispy
older friend, takes it up the ass in exchange for a cushy life? Do you catch the young
hotty trying to catch a peek while you undress? Do you see the lispy older friend catch it
too and look sad? Really sad because he knows he’ll lose him someday and he really,
really loves him. Do you see the lost look in the hotty’s eyes? Do you just want to grab
him by the back of his head and suck his tongue down your throat? Do you imagine his
ankles against your ears, and the look of ecstasy on his face while you slam his prostate?
Do you wonder what it would be like to get to know him? Like how would you feel if
you knew his father’s cock was there before yours? And that his mother liked to dress
him in her clothes?
Do you wonder what it’s like to hit a girl’s g-spot? Or to try and try and try and never hit
a girl’s g-spot? Because it’s too far up? Or maybe it’s because she’s a fridgidaire with a
cold spot and it was never really you anyway.
When you ignore the cougars, but not on purpose, only because they don’t have ‘Y’
chromosomes, do you wonder what it might be like for them? Did one recently lose her
husband in a car accident and now she thinks she has to look sexy on the outside to find
someone who’ll bother to look at the inside? Or has she always been alone, like the rest
of us? Did one of them just get diagnosed with MS and now has to deal with that while
taking care of her dying mother? Does working out seem to help? Has anybody found
her g-spot?
Do you wonder why so many guys watch each other in the mirrors? Is it envy? Lust?
Appreciation for the male form, or lack thereof? Affirmation that they’re at least better
than some? Do you laugh at the guys who walk around all butch and proud of their big
muscles and then quit laughing when you realize that’s all they have? Do you wonder
which one of them has HIV and has been living with it for fifteen years?
Do you see their shrunken balls, and wonder if they’re brains suffered the same fate? Did
their dad’s beat them up? Or worse? Pretend they weren’t there? Do some of them beat
their wives because they can’t hit her g-spot?
Do you wonder why it’s always the old, fat and ugly ones who take all their clothes off to
walk to the showers? Do you hope your wanker doesn’t ever get that ugly? Or do you
wonder sometimes if you really thought about it, that all wankers are pretty ugly, unless
they’re hard? And no matter how many times you swallow, they never actually get inside
you.
Do you wish you could get so close to somebody that they saw the world just like you
did? Like taking hold of that cum together instant, when you’re inside as far as you can
go, and making it last forever. Or that they saw you, like really, really saw you, and loved
you anyway? Do you try to get close enough to some of the guys just so you can smell
their sweat? Do you wonder how many of them go home alone and have gone home
alone for years? Or how many of them have never been alone and probably never will
be, but are lonely just the same? Do you wonder what they eat for supper? Does their
spunk taste like parsley? Do they like asparagus? Do you wonder if they had sex last
night? Did they blow too soon, or maybe couldn’t get it up? Do they jerk off onto their
stomachs, or into a Kleenex? And then cry themselves to sleep? Do you wonder which
ones need a carrot up their ass? Or which ones prefer to have their nipples twisted, not
bitten? Or which ones like to be spanked, preferably with a paddle, cause that’s what
daddy did? Or which one of those hotties really, really needs you to piss on him?
And while you’re thinking of pissing on him, do you consider that his brother might have
recently hung himself, and he feels so guilty he needs to be pissed on? Or that his father
made him feel like shit his whole life? Do you see the softness and the vulnerability in
every guy’s eyes? Do you see the chips on their shoulders and the holes in their hearts,
usually the size of their fathers? Do you wonder what hurts they carry? What deaths
they’ve endured? The embarrassments, the devastations, the unrequited love? The things
they did that they wish they could undo? The insecurity, the guilt, the self-loathing. Do
they know if their father’s love them? Do you know that almost every one of them has
never had enough love and needs it desperately? But will never ask?
Do you think that tall blonde with the baseball cap, the great posture and the chest that
goes for days wishes he could be close enough to somebody else that their eyes see the
same, cry the same, love the same…..