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lipsThe man had a very successful and enjoyable bedroom workout this morning. Afterward he made me breakfast in bed, then dressed and went off to fraternize with some of his old rugby friends. No mud wallowing today, the season is over. But he’ll still come back with a bunch of flowers and a handful of pre-made joints.

Later, if the sun is still shining he’ll wash the cars and mow the lawns, and then sit in front of the box to watch the grand-national. He won a small fortune last year by betting on an outsider.

I am going to the theatre this evening to see Sunset Boulevard with Christian and his newest light of love.

His text said that this one could be a keeper. But if I had a pound for the number of times I’ve heard that, I’d probably have thirty five pounds. I just hope they don’t spend the whole evening fondling each other when the lights go down. I don’t mind, but last time the lady on the other side was understandably upset when she heard zippers sliding down half way through the first act. Christian has an exhibitionist streak a mile wide, and he’s proud of his big, white, circumcised penis.

“A beautiful wang, is a joy for a lot of people,” he once said, after he’d had a few too many mojitos. “And I have a thing of beauty between my legs. It’s such a shame you’re such a girl, with tits and a pussy and all; just imagine how much fun we could have if you could seal it up and get a surgeon to stitch on a smooth, black, elephantine appendage.”

“Don’t you think black would look a bit odd against my milky whiteness?” I asked.
“I’ve never had me a really black one before. It’s always been a fantasy of mine.”
“I’m sure that there are some black men out there who would be more than happy to make your fantasy come true. If I had a cock of any colour, I’d probably want to use it on a real woman.”
“You mean you still wouldn’t want to suck on my magnificent dong?”
“Who say’s I don’t want to suck it now? I’ve seen it enough times, and, I agree, it is beautiful. It’s an instrument any real man would be proud of.”

“Is his more beautiful than mine?”
“Are we referring to the love of my life’s magnificent manhood?”
“How many others are you experiencing at the moment? Yes, I mean that great,
hairy ape, you should keep chained up in the basement.”
“And I know he loves you too,” I’d said. “His is certainly different. It’s all rough and gnarled, the veins bulge when it gets hard, and there’s a forest of hair at the root.”

Christian stuck two fingers down his throat and made a gagging sound. “Stop it, you’re making me nauseous. I love me some cock, but that one sounds gross. I don’t know how you could stand to have such a thing near you, let alone pushed into your innards. Fucking hair down there offends me. I shave every lover myself, clean as a whistle. That way I can get up close and personal with their tackle. It’s also a good way to check for the early signs of any problems that might cause embarrassment. If you know what I mean.”

Now and then I get angry with him. But I can’t help but love him, because of his childlike openness, his innocent expectation of joy, and deep rooted sadness when he talks about his failed relationship with his parents and his half brother; non of whom have ever accepted his gayness.

Meeting this new love should be interesting – by all accounts he is handsome as the devil, with skin as black as coal, and Christian is in love.