While looking at the World Cup hooplah on Twitter I came across something that inspired me to get back to writing these horny stories. I took a break from writing these queer fantasies because of a personal crisis that has unfortunately sucked much of the joy out of my life, but I’m gradually trying to find my passion again. When I saw this spectator at the World Cup though I thought to myself, goddamn, now here’s some good inspiration!

When people ask me what’s my type I’ve started to say that I’m basically the gay version of a lipstick lesbian. Masculinity is incredibly sexy to me which is why the guy shown above is the template for Emmanuel’s love interest in this story. Unlike the Middle Eastern guy in this story the one shown here is probably Latino, but many Latino guys are aesthetically interchangeable with Arab, Turkish, Persian and other Middle Easterners. Living in Berlin and seeing lots of Middle Eastern guys everywhere was definitely another inspiration for this one. Also, here in Berlin where I’m living now there are bars and saunas where you can meet trans guys more easily than back in Philadelphia, but unfortunately because of my personal situation I haven’t been in the head space to be able to go out and meet new people. So, once again I’m turning to these stories to live vicariously through the world of fantasy — enjoy!

When Emmanuel landed in Berlin for an extended trip of course one of the first things he thought about was finding a gym. Thankfully a gym rat American buddy of his was able to hook him up with a membership at Fit X, the most popular local gym with lots of good equipment. The one at Alexanderplatz (a major tourist destination) was his favorite and not only because of the convenient location and wide variety of exercise options. There was also lots of eye candy on display, like, way more than one usually sees at any normal gym. Most of the people there, both men and women, weren’t at all shy about showing off their bodies — a typical European vibe. It was a very international scene as well. Lots of Germans of course, a few of whom seemed to be trying hard to be the next Arnold Schwarzenegger, but there were also plenty of people from all over the world: East Asians, Indians, Africans, South Americans. He had to admit though that he had a soft spot for the Middle Eastern guys who were often there in a squad working out together and talking loudly in Arabic or whatever other language they spoke. In addition to being very friendly and good natured many of them were absolutely gorgeous as well.

Not long after he started going to the gym on Alexanderplatz he noticed one guy in particular who looked Middle Eastern though he could have also been Portugese or Spanish. He was dark haired, medium height, strong looking, thick and stocky like a rugby player. He had a pleasant, handsome face framed by an exceptionally nice beard that was always well trimmed, moisturized and glossy looking. And, as Emmanuel could not help but notice, he was very thick in all the right places though he often seemed to be trying to hide this underneath baggy sweatpants and so forth. Emmanuel was an expert at noticing these things, though. This guy was for sure one of his favorite pieces of eye candy, but he never expected in a million years that anything would spark off because this serious looking guy had a very no-nonsense and somewhat unapproachable vibe. He seemed like the type who was there to work out not to chit chat. After noticing they were usually there around the same time Emmanuel could see that, like himself, he was more of a loner always working out on his own. They locked eyes in the mirror a few times, nodded at each other when they passed by, but for weeks that was about it. One day though while he was waiting for one of the benches to be free he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

“Hi, you are also waiting?” His English was very accented but easy to understand. He motioned towards all the guys using the benches and added, “Very busy today.”

“What’s up? Yeah, I’m trying to grab a spot when one opens up. It’s definitely more busy here today than usual,” Emmanuel replied.

“Maybe, if you want, we can share? Or, how you say, ‘work in’?”

It sounded like a good plan and Emmanuel could not help but feel a little thrill of excitement, though he had to warn himself to calm down. Someone being friendly could just be someone being friendly. But something about the way he caught this guy glancing at him made him think that there might be something more going on. Once one of the benches opened up they took turns doing their arm curls and got to chatting a bit. His name was Omid and he was quite the interesting guy. He worked in the tech industry but was not forthcoming about what exactly it was he did because he said it was “boring”. He was from Lebanon originally where he had lived until he was eleven years old before his parents brought their family to Germany. His mother was a Persian Jew who converted to Islam and his father was an Arab Muslim. He was raised in a household that was conservative but generally open minded.

“To be Muslim does not mean to be boring and closed minded,” Omid said as he was wiping down the bench. “Something I wish more Americans could understand.”

“I agree! Are you a regular mosque goer?” Emmanuel asked.

“Not so often, only on the big holidays. Shia mosques are not so popular here in Berlin compared to Sunni so you always see the same people. But I do my daily prayers and I am proud of my religion.”

Over the few months they saw each other regularly and sparked off a nice little gym friendship. Omid seemed like a private person so Emmanuel never attempted to press him about intimate matters, but he could not help but notice the lack of a wedding ring or any mention of a girlfriend. In fact, he never did the thing straight guys would normally do to clarify their position which was pointing out sexy women and commenting on them just to make things clear. Could he be into guys? Something else he noticed is that this unapproachable looking guy never bothered speaking with anyone else, only with him. While he was working out one day and wracking his brain thinking of a way to broach certain topics he noticed something that made him almost gasp out loud. Omid had just arrived and was looking sexier than usual with his white tank top and somewhat form fitting black shorts that showed off his thick, fuzzy legs and thighs. What Emmanuel could not help but notice though were his ankle socks with their pink, blue and white stripes. No fucking way, he thought to himself. They were doing legs on this particular day and Omid was on the ground stretching before his squats.

“Nice socks,” Emmanuel said, deciding to see if this was an opening or not.

“Thank you,” he replied. “I was hoping that you would see and understand something,” he added with a wink.

And with that Emmanuel felt like a choir of angels from heaven had just descended blessing him and bestowing their favor upon him. Now he understood why Omid had approached him a while ago in the first place. He had been feeling things out and was trying to get it in for sure. He could see now that while he was not exactly in the closet he was understandably cautious, and after a few months of observation he finally felt comfortable enough to do a little reveal.

“How do you feel about getting a coffee or a smoothie somewhere when we’re done? I’ve got a lot of questions,” Emmanuel asked as he finished spotting Omid who was doing some heavy squats.

“I would like that,” he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow and patting Emmanuel on the shoulder.

They ended up at a trendy little coffee shop bustling with tourists that had a nice view of the looming TV Tower overlooking Alexanderplatz. There, Emmanuel learned something shocking about his seemingly reserved and conservative gym buddy.

“I have to tell you something,” Omid said with a sheepish little grin after they’d gotten past the small talk. “We follow the same guy on twitter, the one from Oakland.”

“Wait, you don’t mean…Gio? OaklandFTM? You’re following him too?”

“Yes, I love his page. He is a very sexy guy. I saw a comment on one of his videos and then when I clicked on the profile I recognized you…and I could see that you have what I like.”

“Oh shit, I’m a little embarrassed,” Emmanuel admitted, laughing out loud at how funny life could be with a guy he was scoping out at the gym randomly finding his smut page where he posted his little exhibitionist jerk off videos. “Do you post anything on there yourself?”

“Oh, no, I am too shy, but I like to look.”

“I’m sorry if this is a dumb question but I thought looking at porn was not allowed for Muslims.”

“Technically it’s not allowed but a lot of things are not allowed. Some Muslims eat pork, too. Some Muslims like to look at sex but keep it a secret. Then you ask for forgiveness, like Catholics,” he added with a little laugh. “For me posting my body is too much — that would be haram, but because I don’t so often meet people looking is something I sometimes need. Also, I am not a very strict Muslim following every rule. My belief is important to me but I also live in the modern world.”

“Man, you’re so interesting,” Emmanuel said gazing at him with barely concealed desire.

“When we know each other a little better I will show you some very interesting things,” he confided, meeting Emmanuel’s gaze with burning desire of his own smoldering like a wildfire behind his eyes.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I go slowly, but one day you will see that I have even more for you than the guy from Oakland. More of everything, I promise you.”

Upon hearing that Emmanuel immediately started to get hard. The heavenly chorus of angels from earlier now reached a thundering crescendo and he suddenly felt like he might literally float up out of his seat. Gio was one of the best he had ever been with and was a hard act to follow, so to hear Omid confidently proclaiming that he “had more,” whoa! What could that mean? He must have some seriously good shit for sure, and he had definitely caught glimpses of that good stuff in the locker room a few times. They stayed in the coffeeshop chatting for a good long while. During their conversation he learned that Omid was, like himself, only into guys but usually found himself with other trans guys because it was easier. Lucky for him he had a soft spot for Black American guys apparently, and he made it known very clearly that Emmanuel was his type. And of course the feeling was mutual.

About a month or so later they were back in the same coffee shop after the gym (their usual routine by now) when Omid put forth a very intriguing proposal.

“My birthday is coming soon and I was thinking to do something special,” he divulged while stirring some oat milk into his tea, his handsome bearded face slightly flushed. It was clear he was a little bit nervous about whatever it was he had to say. After a bit of a pause he asked: “Have you been to Ibiza?”

“One time, years ago. A German friend of mine who I met here in Berlin was working as a waiter there and invited me to come for a visit.”

“Did you like it there?”

“Very much! It’s such a beautiful island — especially the beaches, wow, just incredible.”

“Yes, the beaches there are very nice. So, I hope this idea sounds good to you. My cousin is married to a rich Saudi and they have a vacation home there. Private beach, too. I want to invite you to come with me for the weekend of my birthday, please.”

The answer to this question was a no brainer but something about that little please at the end told Emmanuel everything he needed to know. This guy was in need and he needed it badly.

Over the past few weeks they had started hanging out more and more outside of the gym. Omid was not lying about needing to go slowly, but one day while they were sitting outside of a döner kebab shop enjoying their meal he apparently decided to speed things up a bit, inviting Emmanuel over to his place for the first time. From his tone and from the way he nudged him under the table with his sandled foot it was sure to be more than a friendly hang out. His cover story was wanting to talk more about the details of his birthday trip, but from the way the tension had been building over the past days it was obvious that they would be doing more than just chatting — finally!

Omid lived on a quiet street not far from Alexanderplatz that was lined with tall trees creating a nice canopy effect overhead. His spacious apartment was somewhat Spartan but comfortable with a wonderful view of a nearby park. While Emmanuel was looking at some pictures of his family up on the wall Omid offered him a cappuccino from his brand new machine.

“You can see I am a coffee addict,” he said with a smile as he handed him a cute little ornate white cup and guided him to the couch where they took a moment just sitting there gazing at each other.

“Only one more week and we’ll be chilling on a beach somewhere,” Emmanuel said, thinking about all the things that could happen on a private beach with no prying eyes around.

“I have been thinking all the time about it,” Omid admitted, putting his bare feet up on the coffee table.

While they continued chatting about the details of their upcoming trip Emmanuel found himself increasingly distracted. He wasn’t usually a foot guy like that but he felt a sudden overwhelming, burning desire to kiss, lick and worship Omid’s especially nice feet. Repositioning himself on the couch he decided to take a gamble.

“Why don’t you stretch out this way,” he suggested, patting his lap, hoping that Omid would take the hint.

“OK, just no tickling because my feet are very sensitive,” he said.

“You know you could make money selling pics of these pretty feet,” Emmanuel said, feeling his dick getting hard as he reached down and lightly caressed them.

“Maybe that could be a backup plan if I ever lose my job,” he replied with a chuckle, wiggling his toes and giving a little satisfied moan as Emmanuel began gently massaging him.

Soon the conversation was forgotten and Emmanuel was on his knees next to the couch voraciously licking, kissing and worshipping some of the prettiest feet he had ever seen. Something about them being attached to such a handsome, manly guy made it even more erotic. He especially loved the way Omid would gasp when he gently bit him.

“Wow! You are talented,” Omid exclaimed as he watched Emmanuel move back and forth from one foot to the other, his mouth and tongue very busy.

“Man, I could do this all day. You know what is so incredibly sexy? The way your legs are hairy but then your ankles and feet are so soft and smooth; that turns me on for some reason.”

“I have an idea,” Omid proposed, his eyes glistening. “You have been very patient, so I want to show you something finally. But I want to also see your self control. So, just looking, OK?” And with that he whipped off his shorts.

Emmanuel gasped. “Are you kidding me?” he said, pleasantly surprised at this turn of events and also totally overwhelmed by the beautiful sight in front of him. Still wearing his tank top Omid was sprawled out in front of him on the couch with his legs parted. He reached down between his thick thighs where, in the midst of a dark bush the same color as his beard, Emmanuel saw there was a juicy, delicious looking man pussy the color of the pink bubble yum he used to chew all the time as a kid. Teasing him, Omid opened his legs further and used his fingers and spread his gorgeous pussy wide open.

“When we get to Ibiza you can taste as much as you want,” he crooned, pressing the sole of one of his feet against Emmanuel’s face.

It took all of Emmanuel’s self control to not dive right in there face first. He was literally drooling as he continued worshiping Omid’s beautiful feet while keeping his eyes laser focused on Omid who was now gently fingering himself.

“Let me get just a little taste, please,” Emmanuel begged, more turned on than he had ever been in his life at that moment.

“Here,” he offered, pulling two glistening, wet fingers from inside himself. Emmanuel grabbed his hand and began greedily licking and sucking his fingers, relishing the earthy flavor. “You’re a hungry boy,” Omid observed, grinning from ear to ear while using his free foot to test the length and thickness of Emmanuel’s hard dick that was practically bursting out of his jeans. “Can’t wait to feel that,” he said with a deep sigh. “Now I am feeling tempted.”

They looked at each other for a moment before both deciding that if they did not stop right then and there they would be having full on sex soon. They both agreed it was better to wait until Omid’s birthday so he put his shorts back on and Emmanuel tried his best to calm down. It was not easy because Omid was absolutely incredible, just perfect.

“One more week and then I will give you everything. Come here,” Omid asked, motioning for Emmanuel to stand up before pulling him close for a deep, passionate kiss that made the depths of his desire unambiguously clear. While they were kissing he reached down and squeezed Emmanuel’s rock hard dick. “I cannot wait,” he said with another deep sigh.

“Soon,” Emmanuel replied.

The next week went by quickly the way times seems to do when you’re very much looking forward to something exciting. Soon they were seated beside each other on the small Lufthansa plane that would take them to the island of Ibiza where they would finally make their fantasies a reality. Over the past week there had been a few more horny make out sessions (though not quite as horny as the first one) and much talk about what they planned to do once they arrived on the private beach that awaited them.

“I feel very excited — how do you say it…I have butterflies,” Omid confided as the plane took off.

Emmanuel felt the same. As they traveled through the air he spent much of the time massaging and squeezing Omid’s thick, hairy thigh that was pressed against his own while he on the other hand, whenever the coast was clear, reached over to squeeze and massage Emmanuel’s dick that remained hard pretty much the entire flight. After landing on the island they did a little sightseeing and grabbed some lunch at a picturesque, hilltop bistro overlooking the sparkling Mediterranean sea. Then they boarded a ferry crowded with British tourists and made their way to the side of the island where the villa was located. The sky was deep blue without a cloud in sight. It was warm day but pleasant, especially with the sea breeze blowing off of the shimmering waters. Emmanuel spent most of the boat ride admiring how handsome Omid was in his white tank top, white shorts and white sandals with the sun glinting off of the gold chain resting against his hairy chest. He wanted to grab him and kiss him right there, but they were not at the public display of affection stage yet. “Yet” being the operative word. Something about this guy felt different from most of the other ones he had been with; there was something about him that was profoundly more satisfying. What did it mean that he felt so satisfied with this guy already even though they had not fucked yet? This was something he could not ignore.

After they arrived at the colorful and bustling harbor on the other side of the island they grabbed a taxi and made their way to the vacation home. Omid took the lead in grabbing a taxi since he spoke the local language. In addition to German, English, Arabic and Persian he was also fluent in Spanish, something that Emmanuel marveled at being a typical dumb American only speaking English. As the taxi driver took them along a scenic seaside road Omid chatted with him while Emmanuel, not understanding a word, gazed out the window at the beautiful countryside and the tall sailboats on the shimmering water in the distance.

The villa where they would be staying over the next few days was surrounded by a medieval looking wall with a tall wrought iron gate at the entrance to the driveway. Because they did not have a lot of stuff with them it made sense to part ways with the taxi at the gate and then walk the rest of the way. After Omid put in the code the gate swung open silently and a sudden strong breeze rustled the leaves of the trees that were numerous within the walls of the compound. The first impression was one of coming across a little secret oasis. The property was very green overall and nicely landscaped with flowering shrubs, a well maintained garden and several rock ponds, one with a cute little waterfall. A group of chirping warblers splashed in the waterfall while well fed looking koi fish circled in the clear pond below. The one story villa itself was spacious and modern with large windows overlooking the hillside and the sea below. Omid pointed out the path they would take later to reach the private beach. Then, after he rolled a few hashish joints, he said he needed some time to get ready, encouraging Emmanuel to relax and enjoy one of the joints while he waited.

“There is something I want to do, and I must make sure I am clean first,” he said with a grin and a wink before disappearing to take care of his business.

Holy shit, Emmanuel thought to himself, thinking of the possibility that soon he would be filling all of Omid’s holes. Something he suspected when he first met him had since been verified to be absolutely true. This guy was extremely horny and had been waiting for the right time and the right person to fully let loose. The wait was going to be worth it, no doubt about that.

Once Omid was finished getting ready they gathered up the things they needed for the beach — a few large towels, some pillows, water, sunscreen and some more hash in case they were in the mood to roll some more. Along the gradually sloping rock lined path down to the water there were colorful wildflowers that Emmanuel felt the need to stop and admire, something he always did when he was a little buzzed. The beach itself was almost completely encircled by some dramatic looking, lichen covered cliffs that added to the intimate feel of the place. The turbulent, swirling waters off the shore with their cool-looking rock formations jutting out above the waves guaranteed that boats would not come too close making this the perfect spot for some outdoor action. The fresh smell of the cool sea breeze, the sound of the ocean waves, the bright sun— it was simply the perfect day and the perfect spot.

After they spread out the beach towels and made their space comfortable Omid really began to let loose. He stripped off his clothes and then, completely naked, beckoned for Emmanuel to join him in water.

“But we don’t go out very far here because of the current,” he explained as they waded into the warm water up to about their waists.

After they enjoyed themselves splashing around a bit Omid pulled him close and kissed him before taking his hand and guiding it down between his thighs. There, under the water, Emmanuel relished all that smooth goodness slipping a few fingers inside and playing with his dick until he started moaning. Then, Omid disappeared underneath the waves for a moment where he took Emmanuel’s dick into his mouth, giving him his first underwater blow job.

“Let’s get back on land so I can finally taste you,” he suggested. As Omid made his way out of the water and onto the beach ahead of him Emmanuel admired his thick rugby cheeks relishing the fact that soon he would be making those cheeks bounce. Almost as if he was reading his mind Omid reached back and gave his ass a little slap, not that any more motivation was necessary. Once they were on the beach towel drying off in the sun they sparked up another joint. When they were done Omid rolled onto his back, placed one of the pillows underneath his butt, brought his knees back towards his chest and spread his beautiful man pussy wide open with both hands.

“I know you have been waiting for this,” he said.

“Oh my god, yes,” Emmanuel replied, awestruck, laying on his stomach and positioning himself so his face was right there for a close up look. This was for sure one of the most beautiful sights he had ever laid eyes on, like a gorgeous, manly, flowering rose. In the midst of the curly, bushy black hair between the legs of this strong, masculine man was a delicious pink treasure glistening in the sun. There was nothing delicate about it, though. He looked like he could take a good pounding. Something about the contrast between this strong looking guy and his sensitive secret was so incredibly tempting and erotic. He could see that the wetness wasn’t only from having just been in the water and that he was more than ready. Using his tongue he teased and explored all around before diving in, burying his face in all that creamy goodness. As he began alternating between licking and sucking his swollen, throbbing dick and tongue fucking his pussy Omid’s manly moans grew louder and louder, mingling with the sound of the waves crashing upon the beach. Of course these moans only encouraged Emmanuel and while he ate like a starving man who had just stumbled upon a delicious buffet he soon felt the familiar trembling that meant only one thing.

“Ah! Oh my god, I’m going to come!” Omid gasped. “You eat my pussy so good, don’t stop…yes, like that, ah, my god, I’m coming!”

“Can you come more than once?” Emmanuel asked after Omid’s trembling had subsided.

“When I am very turned on, yes…ah, that’s good, get back in there…oh my god, that tongue!”

There was nothing better than a sexy guy like the one in front of him who could nut multiple times and he planned to see just how many points he could put on the scoreboard. After a good fifteen minutes of Emmanuel getting his face absolutely soaking wet Omid had come three times and was ready for some dick.

“Let me sit on you first. I am so tight and need to go slowly at first.”

On his back propped up by a few pillows now it was time for Emmanuel to moan with pleasure as he watched Omid straddle him. As he gradually eased his his warm, tight pussy down onto his big dick Emmanuel rubbed on his hairy chest and played with his beard, giving him little murmurs of encouragement. With a wide eyed look of concentration Omid continued inching down bit by bit until the whole thing was inside. He was not exaggerating about being very tight.

Leaning forward to kiss him Omid then whispered into his ear, “When I am opened up please fuck me hard and don’t hold back. OK?”

Of course Emmanuel was happy to oblige. It took a little while but soon he was ready for a good pounding. He then flipped him over so he could see that pretty booty in the doggy style position and whistled as he saw a rivulet of wetness dripping from Omid’s tight pussy. After a few minutes of teasing him with the head of his dick he soon got deep in there. Soon Omid’s frantic cries were even drowning out the sound of the sea in front of them as Emmanuel gave him exactly what he was needing. While gripping both cheeks he eased his dick all the way in then all the out of that tight pussy, opening him up before vigorously and rhythmically fucking him until his ass was absolutely bouncing. Omid said to not hold back and so he went full steam ahead, marveling at how well he was taking his powerful strokes. When he decided to stroke him from a certain angle that also stimulated his dick he soon got the reaction he was looking for.

“Fuck me just like that, yes!” Omid shouted while Emmanuel kept pounding him. “I will come again…ah, my god! I’m coming again!”

Unable to hold back himself any longer he grabbed Omid’s waist and pulled him close. “Fuck yes, baby, gimme that good shit!” he exclaimed while nutting deep inside him.

After a quick break for joint Omid was ready for another round.

“Can I sit on your handsome face now?” he murmured while kissing Emmanuel’s neck.

“Yessir, please smother me,” he replied enthusiastically, laying on his back and watching with greedy anticipation while Omid got in position with his cheeks eclipsing his vision — the kind of full moon he loved. In this sixty-nine position Omid started playing with Emmanuel’s dick that was soon rock hard again. Eating pussy always got him going again without fail and soon he could hear him gagging while he tried deepthroating him. “Yeah, suck that dick,” he moaned, taking a moment to breathe before diving back in and tongue fucking Omid’s delicious pussy.

“You know what I need now?” Omid asked after they had spent a good while in the sixty-nine position enjoying each other. “I need to stretch my other hole.”

“Hell yeah, man,” Emmanuel said, admiring how freaky this guy was.

Once Omid was positioned on his back with a pillow propping him up Emmanuel began ever so slowly easing the tip of his dick into his incredibly tight booty hole.

“Damn, I can barely get in there,” he said while relishing Omid’s manly moans as his super tight hole was gradually opened up. “Yeah, that’s right, look at me while I’m stretching you.”

Omid locked eyes with him as he slowly went deeper and deeper, his moans growing louder and louder as he frantically played with his dick.

“Is it all in yet?” he asked breathlessly.

“Not yet, almost.”

Once he saw that Omid was getting used to it he started giving him some long strokes making sure he felt every inch. Then, after checking that it was OK he pulled out and began alternating between stroking both of his tight holes, something that sent Omid into absolute ecstasy. Once Emmanuel got him laying on his stomach he really gave his beautiful booty a good pounding, relishing the way his juicy ass bounced back on him. By now Omid was gripping the towel, his head turning from side to side, his guttural moans of pleasure turning into a high pitched squeal as he came again while getting both of his holes thoroughly worked over.

“Emmanuel, you are amazing. You fuck me so good, even better than what I was expecting,” he said with admiration while they took another smoke break. “I could do this all day and all night.”

By now the sun had dipped behind the hill behind them and the breeze off the sea was beginning to get a little chilly so they decided to relocate up to the house.

While checking the fridge Emmanuel saw there was some whipped cream and had an idea he needed to try. He had been meaning to do this with the last guy he was with before leaving the States but never got around to it. Now seemed like the perfect opportunity. In the master bedroom on the soft waterbed he spread out a towel and had Omid lay down fully spread open for him. Then he applied a generous portion of whipped cream all over his pussy before diving in face first, licking and sucking up all the creamy goodness, not all of which came from the canister. Soon, the way Omid was gripping his head with both hands while thrashing around made him absolutely feral and after applying some more sweet cream he practically devoured him, burying his tongue and his face in there while jerking his own dick.

“Oh my god, I could nut just from doing this,” Emmanuel said after coming up for air, his face covered with a mixture of whipped cream and Omid’s juices.

“Not yet,” he admonished. After using the towel to wipe his face he grabbed Emmanuel’s dick and guided him where he wanted him to be. “I want you to come inside me.”

Emmanuel noticed that at this point Omid was looking up at him with an expression that implied that this was going to be more than some random fling. And he was glad to see this because he certainly felt the same. He needed this on the regular, no doubt about it. Something about this guy felt different; something about the vibe felt like something he should hold onto. As he slid inside him they kissed deeply. Soon, as he was stroking him, he felt something new. Omid’s muscles were somehow massaging his dick, squeezing him and almost pulling him deeper inside in with every stroke.

“Yo, what are you doing, man? Goddamn! You’re gonna make me come doing that,” he cried, marveling at how incredibly good this felt.

“Yes, come inside me, habibi. Fill me up, make me yours…”

After coming harder than he had ever come in his life they lay there in each others arms feeling completely satisfied. Then Omid said something shocking that broke the peaceful silence.

“I forgot to tell you I am not using birth control. But it is OK for me if something happens...”

“Wait, Omid, what do you mean?” Emmanuel asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

“What I mean is I want you to be my man,” he replied. “I first thought this months ago but now, after today, I am sure.”

His head was swirling with so many thoughts but surprisingly Emmanuel was also OK with whatever might happen. It felt so right and so effortless with this guy there was no denying that. And while as a gay man he had never thought much about that side of things, with the right person…why not? As they lay there together watching the glorious Ibiza sunset though the panorama windows he felt a kind of peace and serenity he had not felt before, the peace of having finally found the right one.

Kitty & Ronnie

This is an interesting and tragic story that helped me understand why certain aspects of my ancestry and background were hidden from me while I was growing up. This case also helped me understand why some members of the Jewish community decided to embrace mafia tactics in the aftermath of WWII and the Holocaust. This history concerns a family from the Netherlands I discovered while doing some independent research. A coincidence with the names of a few of these people made me curious to look deeper into the situation and I’m glad I did. I go by Ron, sometimes Ronnie. By the way, I was born in 1982 a few months before the tragedy mentioned here. My arch-nemesis and main hater is a lying ass, fraudulent white woman around my same age who goes by Kitty. I’m related to this individual via my mysterious grandfather. The main individuals involved in the situation I’m describing here were Aron “Ronnie” Broches and Kitty Broches. Both were born in the Netherlands, married there, and emigrated together to the United States in 1939. Forty-three years after emigrating to the United States Kitty Broches was murdered in a shocking daylight attack that very much gives the impression of a mafia hit. Their housekeeper was bound but unharmed and the house was ransacked yet with no clear indication of what had been stolen. Kitty Broches was found fifty yards away from her home in a wooded area of their upscale Rock Creek Park neighborhood beaten and strangled. If burglary was really the motive, why tie up the housekeeper and then kill Kitty Broches after beating her? Why not simply tie both of them up and then steal everything? It’s clear to me that Kitty was targeted and that there was something personal about this. She was an artist and educator who was well liked in her community, so the question I had while reading about her fate was “why?” I believe this crime was somehow connected with her husband’s position with the World Bank (an organization he co-founded) and/or whatever else he had gotten involved in. What I came to realize looking back over my own family situation is that sometimes crimes will be committed against someone as a way of sending a message and punishing someone else.

One aspect of this that is shocking to me is that Kitty Broches was lucky enough to escape Europe and the nazis but fell prey to crime in the United States decades later literally in her own backyard. I believe her murder is related to a certain dynamic in the Jewish community that’s been an issue for quite a while, a dynamic that is highlighted by the case of Charles Kushner hiring a prostitute to secretly record his brother in law for blackmail purposes. I’ve started talking more about the Kushner case because it underscores how Zionists in particular cynically weaponize sex and desire, something I’ve personally experienced. During the Gaza genocide I kept asking myself why so many Jews of conscience refused to speak out or do anything, and I now believe much of this silence stemmed from fear of being on the receiving end of mafia tactics. Who wants to worry about the possibility of having Mossad agents (essentially the modern day Kosher Nostra) involved in their life causing problems for them and picking through their personal business and so forth? Much easier to lay low, remain quiet and not rock the boat.

What I’ve come to understand is that there’s a direct connection between the terrible genocide Jews experienced and the cutthroat tactics some people decided to embrace as a form of self defense after seeing how Jews were thrown to the wolves, conspired against and abandoned to a very bitter fate. Of course this genocide made some people very nihilistic and unscrupulous, a very bad combo once you throw in all the white privilege. Ronnie Broches himself would have had to grapple with this. Unfortunately, his mother, father, brother, sister, brother in law and niece were unable to emigrate and were all murdered by the nazis. A photo of his niece Barbara Aal that I came across on a memorial website is what originally led me to this story.

A Tragic History

This very photogenic child reminded me right away of Hind Rajab, a young girl murdered a few years ago in Gaza whose distressing last moments were recorded by Red Crescent rescue workers. Both of these young girls were six years old at the time of their tragic deaths. I was able to find out more about Barbara Aal and her family’s situation on a Dutch Holocaust memorial site. The details of this family’s experiences with nazi fascism are very shocking and tell us a lot about the ruthlessness of the nazis and their deranged, genocidal fervor.

The above photo of Julia Aal, Ronnie Broches’ sister, is so striking because there’s something modern about it, especially with the cigarette dangling from her mouth. Her father’s cigarette company offered their family some measure of protection for a while and helped them stay off the deportation lists. Eventually though the Aal/Broches family were arrested and sent to Theresienstadt, a place that was supposedly a privileged ghetto. In reality it was a transit camp where many people were sent onward to their doom. While these people were imprisoned in this so-called privileged ghetto Auschwitz was bombed by the Allies with the help of the Tuskeegee Airmen. Unfortunately, the target of the bombing was an oil refinery not the death machinery. The rail lines carrying people to their doom were not targeted either. In response to this bombing the nazis deported tens of thousands of people from the propaganda ghetto to the death camp in a familiar pattern of vicious reprisals. Julia Aal, her mother, her father and her daughter Barbara were sent onward from Theresienstadt to Auschwitz on the next to last transport where they were murdered shortly before the gas chambers were shut down because of the advancing Red Army.

The Power of Art

One particularly shocking thing I came across related to the Broches/Aal family concerns the work of Holocaust survivor David Olère. But first, to bolster the point I’m about to make, I want to show a photo of Barbara Aal from a series of photoshoots her parents commissioned during the summer of 1943. Notice how she’s sitting on the bench with her legs swinging (she’s the dark haired girl second from the left).

On the memorial website an article with very compelling info about this family notes that the photographer took more photos of Barbara that summer than of any other subject. She was certainly photogenic and reminds one of the sort of kids you see in commercials. Around the same time I discovered little Barbara Aal I came across a sketch by David Olère that he created in 1946 shortly after surviving the war. Look at the photos I’ve posted here and compare them to the little girl in this sketch sitting on the bench next to the red dot.

David Olère is a very underrated artist who survived in large part because his artistic talents were considered useful to his nazi captors. He was held prisoner and forced to work in the darkest heart of Auschwitz disposing of the bodies of the murdered. After the war he devoted his artistic practice to sharing what he witnessed. What he shows us are things that the nazis never meant for anyone to see, like this scene that I believe depicts one of the last transports from Theresienstadt. By the end of October 1944 these people would have been under no illusions about their fate and Olère captures this so incredibly well. The resignation, the fear, the anger — this is clear from the body language and facial expressions. Then there’s the gesticulating SS man threatening the women and children, presumably telling them to hurry up and get undressed. With most of the room empty and with all the clothes left behind, what we’re likely looking at in this sketch are the stragglers who were trying to buy time. But their time had run out. I believe Olère was struck by Barbara Aal’s aura as others had been and she was part of what burned this scene into his memory. Next to Barbara on the bench are her mother Julia and her grandmother Chaja. What needs to be appreciated about this scene that Olère captured is that this tragedy was taking place less than six months before the end of the war. The nazis were mass murdering Jews in Auschwitz literally right up until the moment they were forced to stop by the approaching Red Army.

I’ve been thinking more about the fact that Kitty Broches was an artist who seemed to care deeply about people. An example of this is how she designed toys for blind children. I can’t help but wonder exactly why she was targeted. While we will probably never know the answer to this, the sense I get is that the tragic history of her husband’s family that I’ve outlined somehow played some role in the situation she found herself in. The social milieu she was living in was full of Holocaust survivors and their close family members, some of whom had been hardened and made cold and calculating as a result of the nazi genocide and its impact on their lives. This was the bitter soil in which Kosher Nostra took root, and this mafia and its ethos has endured in the structures of organizations and institutions like the Mossad. As someone who has been on the receiving end of unpleasantness with this community and its institutions I’ve been interested in understanding what’s at the root of all of this and I believe the Broches/Aal family tragedy has given me some clarity. The terrible genocide committed against Jews by the nazis continues to reverberate in various ways. As Kitty Broches reminds us, some of the main victims of this reverberation and failure to adequately address the past are people living inside of this community.

A little story that will hopefully be an example of history illuminating the present situation for those who care to know. When I think of this incident I can’t help but wonder what kind of person I would have turned out to be if I had been nurtured by forces interested in weaponizing and developing my dark and demented side. At its core this story is about a clash between the haves and the have nots and the frustrations that erupt when the have nots have had enough. This is very old news going back over thirty years but I get the feeling that this anecdote is worth dredging up, especially now when liars, fraudsters, manipulators and those hell bent on rewriting history are working hard to spread false narratives about me.

When I was in the fourth grade I transferred to the Overbrook Educational Center which was located at the time on the campus of the Overbrook School for the Blind. The campus itself was absolutely beautiful, very “Secret Garden” with a large beige wall surrounding the lush green grounds full of well tended flowers and tall trees looming overhead. It was a very stark contrast to where I lived in the run down ghetto near 40th and Girard not far from the Philadelphia Zoo. The school was founded by a German immigrant; the very distinctive campus the school relocated to in the late 1800’s had architecture inspired by the Spanish Renaissance period organized in what was known as a monastery plan.

Looking back I believe that getting into this school was the result of my grandmother pulling some strings and leveraging either her connections, my ancestry, or both. I say this because the school was very hard to get into with rare open spots usually only being filled by lottery.

I went to school at OEC from the fourth grade through part of the sixth grade, and my time there was when I first began to understand how poor I was in relation to other kids and how dysfunctional my family was in comparison as well. Family vacations at the beach? Playing Mortal Kombat on Sega Genesis with your father? Holiday gatherings? Flying on an airplane? Hearing the other kids talk about their families and adventures and so forth was like hearing people talking about being from another planet. What I did not understand at the time is that my unusual upbringing and our isolation from “normal society” were intentional strategies to protect me from the forces that had targeted my family. There was a mulatto looking boy in my class nicknamed Squirrel, though I believe his real name was Earl, and he was one of the main ambassadors of this mysterious world of “normal life”. He was one of the more popular kids in school, always with a fresh haircut, always wearing the latest Jordan sneakers and fashionable clothes, always quick with a joke or a sharp tongued quip. Occasionally he would even sass the teachers which would get him into trouble. He was a handsome kid and seemed to love attention and was always surrounded by a group of buddies and admirers. Myself on the other hand, well, I was usually somewhere with my nose in a book escaping from reality. I would play with the other kids at recess sometimes, but because of my home situation I was the only one from my class to get the free lunch offered by the hosting campus which meant eating in a different building with the blind kids and arriving late to play time with my classmates..

While always neat, well groomed and well put together, my tragically unfashionable clothing (thrifted of course) soon made me a target of Squirrel’s sharp tongue. Unfortunately for me I was kinda dressed like an old man on a budget around all those middle class and upper middle class kids with their nice threads. Being quiet and reserved and not adept at defending myself didn’t help either. Squirrel’s teasing was not an every day thing and it did not become a serious problem for me until the sixth grade. This was also when my home life began to be catastrophic with the lack of resources reaching a crisis point and my grandmother being on my case 24/7 making me an anxious wreck. I remember getting in trouble for waking up in the middle of the night to eat some peanut butter without asking. But let me backtrack for a moment. In the fifth grade Squirrel joined me and a few other kids from our class in the MG (mentally gifted) program which meant that I got to see him once or twice a week in a different context. Those of us in this program would be bussed to another school for the last few periods where we got some extra lessons, extra computer time and, apparently, the extra stimulation we needed outside of the basic curriculum. In this context Squirrel was like a different person; he was friendly, not teasing me and pretty cool overall. I got the impression that he enjoyed my company. But when we were back in our normal class he would occasionally unleash on me in the usual way, poking fun of this or that, and this made me feel sad. I could see he was doing this to keep up appearances and remain cool with his clique. I understand now that if I had been more “normal” we probably would have been friends, but I was not living in a normal situation, far from it.

The holiday season began to be something I dreaded because all the hoopla and talk of presents and family gatherings and traveling highlighted all the things that I did not have and could not participate in. December of 1993, the time when this incident I’m about to describe occurred, was especially bad with the lack of money at home. Somehow, though, when I told my grandmother about an upcoming holiday potluck at school and my desire to bring a pink cake she made it happen. The pound cake with bright pink icing actually looked delicious at first, and I know that on our tight budget this meant foregoing something else. I brought the carefully wrapped cake with me to school on the day of the potluck hoping that people would like it. Unfortunately, the little party didn’t happen until later in the day and somehow the cake had gotten a bit smushed. When I went to unwrap it some of the icing stuck to the wrapping and what I’d brought sat there looking misshapen and wretched next to the other more aesthetically pleasing offerings. Squirrel of course jumped on this commenting loudly on how poor and fucked up my cake looked. He then said something along the lines of “a roach might crawl out” which elicited peals of laughter from the kids and a sympathetic look from the teacher who told Squirrel to knock it off. Of course I was absolutely crushed. A huge, glaring spotlight had been thrown on my poverty and my difference from the other kids. Everything I was lacking, everything that was wrong with my situation all seemed concentrated in this tragic looking, lonely, uneaten cake. Seeing that no one was eating it, one of the teachers took a pity slice and raved about how good it was, but I could see what she was trying to do. I think what hurt the most was trying to participate, trying to be normal, and failing spectacularly.

After my cake was raked over the coals by Squirrel’s sharp tongue I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible but still had to wait for the bus. After throwing my unfortunate looking cake in the trash I had a burning desire to strike back at him somehow, but how? That’s when I saw an envelope stuffed full of money collected for some charity sitting on the teachers desk. I quickly grabbed it, made a bee line for the locker room area and slipped the envelope with the money through one of the slits in Squirrel’s locker. In my minds eye I see him protesting after everyone’s locker was searched after the money was discovered missing, but I didn’t actually stick around to see that part. After putting the money in his locker I grabbed my coat and went out to wait for the bus. That was my last day at this particular school, though I didn’t realize it at that moment.

The Fake I.D.

Fast forwarding a bit. Back in 2019 I was going through a housing crisis. That year I was forced to leave my nice apartment on 38th and Spring Garden and into a small, roach infested, ghetto ass place on the edge of the city on 63rd and Chestnut. I won’t get into it here, but this housing crisis was not separate from the problems I’ve faced dealing with certain fucked up, manipulative individuals I’m related to via my mysterious (and most certainly problematic) Jewish grandfather. Being a bit of a slut and using sex as a distraction was how I coped with this shitty situation. One day I chatted with this mulatto looking guy who was younger than what I normally go for, but he had a really nice big dick, just what I was needing at the time. This was not long after I began intentionally embracing bottoming after becoming bored with being a top all the time. Parenthetically, as an older gay guy with daddy tendencies I can say for sure that these young guys will not leave me alone — a lot of them are in desperate need of some daddy cheeks to unleash on. While I have normally preferred older guys, with everything going on at the time this young guy caught me at the right moment. When he showed up at my place I thought to myself, “hmm, he looks a little young,” so I asked to see his ID. He pulled out his ID and it looked legit. Whatever nagging doubts I had were swooshed away when he put away his ID and whipped out his already hard dick. He really gave me a good, rough pounding, just was I was needing, and we saw each other a few times a year over the next few years. In late 2022, during one of the last times we linked up before I left for Germany, I looked at him while we were smoking a blunt he rolled and thought to myself, “whoa, he has a strong resemblance to that guy Squirrel I used to know…”

I want to contrast my interaction with this guy who was likely underaged and using a fake ID when I first met him with what happened with Josh Kruger, a journalist who was shot and killed by a young man he started grooming at the age of 15. While I’ve mostly been interested in guys around my age or older, the few times I have linked up with younger guys I’ve always gone out of my way to make sure I’m not inflicting anything on them. Unlike Josh Kruger I’ve never targeted teenagers, introduced them to hard drugs, or recorded them and then used the recordings to blackmail them into continuing a sexual relationship. Kruger attempting to blackmail someone is a major reason why he was shot and killed. He was an abuser who eventually abused the wrong one. Myself on the other hand, well, maybe I can be faulted for being too horny at times, but it’s always been about mutual pleasure regardless of who I’m with and I’m not about some bullshit. I’ve never been known to go around inflicting problems on people. I’ve never had people accusing me of harming them because I’ve gone out of my to not do that. Also worth mentioning how it’s well known that Josh Kruger was an HIV positive individual who engaged in activism around that, building his “brand” around it. With the advent of U=U and the impossibility of folks on treatment to pass it on, there’s a moral gray area around whether or not undetectable HIV positive people should disclose to every casual partner.

In 2014, Thai researchers joined peers in Australia and Brazil for the Opposites Attract Study. That research tracked couples in which one person was HIV-negative and the other was living with HIV but had achieved an undetectable viral load through successful treatment. It confirmed that after two years of unprotected sex, there were no cases of HIV transmission between more than 300 couples.

I haven’t heard anything about Kruger’s status being an issue for these kids he was abusing, thank goodness, but I need to mention this because the issue of disease highlights how I approached this interaction with this young guy who reminded me of Squirrel. After seeing him on and off for a few years we never had any problems until the time I caught syphilis from a guy who was part of this gang stalker/Zionist troll network organized in part by a Mossad(?) agent who was hanging around my gym. After I learned I had been exposed to syphilis I contacted this young guy right away, worried because we’d linked up recently. Thankfully he got tested and told me he was fine (and I’ve got the text convo to prove this); then we linked up one more time before I left for Germany. Ironically, the only time we ever came close to having a problem was in the midst of other people screwing with me.

The Last Punishment

Back to the past. With everything going on at home I pretty much forgot about putting the envelope with the money in Squirrel’s locker after the holiday party. But in early 1994 on the day I was to return to school after the holiday break the phone rang. Somehow I knew right away it had something to do with what I’d done to Squirrel. It was indeed one of my teachers on the phone. I remember my grandmother looking and sounding very concerned while talking with her. I found out later that Squirrel had been kicked out of the school and had implicated me. What happened next is a moment that’s been burned into my memory precisely because it was so unusual. I’d gone back upstairs to get something and was summoned to the bottom of the steps where my grandmother was waiting. She looked at me for a moment without saying anything before wacking me across the face with the yardstick she used for sewing. I remember my head turning to the side and a drop of blood from my struck nose splattering on the wall. After helping me with my bleeding nose my grandmother sent me off to school, but I never made it there. I called the Voyage House from a phone booth and officially ran away that day after a few aborted attempts I’d already made previously. I’d had enough. During the first nine or ten years growing up with my grandmother I was only very rarely physically punished. It was not until I was ten years old and our poverty became extreme (after she took in my cousin Paul as a newborn baby) that the physical punishments became a more regular thing (mostly lashes across my back with a belt). I’m sure that what happened on my last day with her is that the teacher told her about the situation with Squirrel. She did not ask me about it because she knew instinctively that I had set him up. And she knew this because she knew who my grandfather was (my actual grandfather, not the Lester Jones cover story) and the sort of things he’d been involved in, the things she had desperately wanted to shield me from. I believe on that last day she looked at me and saw him, and this scared her. She had put forth so much effort trying to make sure I did not become like him and yet there I was doing some secret agent fuck shit at school, precisely the sort of thing she had been hoping to avoid. And yet, as Klemperer once wrote in his diary after fighting with his housemate in the Jews’ house — “the terrible situation is to blame”. If not for our poverty and total lack of everything so many things would never have happened…

This memory of what I did at the holiday party has always been a source of deep shame. Even though he was an asshole towards me no one deserves to be set up like that. While it’s true he was tormenting me with his teasing I should have just beat his ass or something like that, but I wasn’t that kind of person. I ran into Squirrel a few times over the next years, once in the suburb of Wyncote where I ended up a year after running away from home and again on Temple University’s campus. When I saw him on Temple’s campus we were friendly and I remember expressing regret over what happened in the past. He told me that while it had affected his life he didn’t have any hard feelings. I was enrolled at Temple at the time while he was not in school and was only there visiting friends. However, I was planning on ditching school to go have some adventures in Germany and the last time I saw him was a few short months before I went to Frankfurt am Main in 2005.

On the other hand, while the memory of what happened with Squirrel is not something I’m proud of it’s an example of me being bothered while minding my own damn business, being bullied, and then responding to bullshit that was brought to my doorstep. I feel that I’m in a similar moment today after people possibly related to Squirrel decided to cause problems for me, not the other way around. Whatever happens moving forward folks should remember this point. If I’m “doing something” to someone it’s never me going out of my way to cause problems, it’s always in self defense or in response to asshole behavior inflicted on me. Something to keep in mind for those who know about what’s going on with this corrupt federal agent with Mossad ties who’s been bothering me for years, someone who I believe might be related to Squirrel. I get the feeling that some of the info I’ve shared here might be useful for those interested in knowing the truth. Too many lies are being spread by the people who know good and well about the crimes their family committed against mine. This apparently includes some kind of fraud that contributed to my poverty growing up. Something was stolen from me and my family, and instead of the folks involved caring about resolving issues from the past they’ve doubled down on demonizing me, smearing me and using people I’m related to as weapons against me. This is what happened at the gym I was going to. In addition to the behind the scenes smear campaign I could see that things were being intentionally arranged to trigger and irritate my core wounds, especially around poverty and feeling excluded. Only a few people would know about certain things regarding this, one of them being the corrupt federal agent who has targeted me and who has worked very hard to avoid accountability for what she knows happened in the past.

This story was inspired by the fact that sometimes things are only possible in the world of fantasy. I came to understand much more clearly over the past few years how family obligations, socio-economic status, race, religion and politics often serve as insurmountable barriers to people linking up and having a good time, even if there’s mutual attraction. My situation is a bit more extreme because of how all of this fits into a crisis I’ve been experiencing because of my activism and my ancestry. The world of fantasy became something that was not only about fun, it was about fulfilling a real need. These fantasy stories have become a way of reclaiming things that people have been actively trying to take away from me. This, in my opinion, is one of the main benefits of the world of fantasy. When the real world becomes too much, too difficult, too painful, too unfair, too complicated — we can turn to the world of fantasy to meet our needs. Think of all the lonely, unfucked housewives seeking a thrill in their lives who have escaped into the trashy sex novels they used to sell at the supermarket. For me, these stories I’ve been writing fulfill a similar function. They are my way of experiencing something I need that nevertheless remains elusive and out of reach. These stories are also my way of proclaiming that while it’s OK for some people to be conservative if they choose to be, there’s nothing wrong with being sexual or enjoying sex. It’s a human need. And, as I’ve mentioned in these intros previously, we need more spaces where queer sex is celebrated. Enjoy!

Although Emmanuel had the right of way on a green light, looking back he could see that he was distracted by his phone and this was why he did not see the SUV making an illegal turn. Considering the way things ultimately played out he would say it was worth a few bruises, but at the time he was understandably pissed at having his day disrupted by some careless drivers’ foolishness. He did not notice the huge silver vehicle until it was almost hitting him. A woman behind him screamed, “Look out!” startling him into looking up from checking his phone and probably saving him from much worse. The SUV was barreling around the corner in a rush, much too fast, and he barely managed to hop back just in time to avoid the worst. The front bumper still clipped him hard enough to knock him backwards into a light pole where he hit his head, seeing stars as he slumped, dazed, to the ground. “Someone call an ambulance!” was the last thing he heard before he passed out. When he came to his senses he was already on his back on a stretcher in the ambulance headed to the hospital. They told him he had suffered a slight concussion and was being taken in for observation. He could feel a dull throbbing sensation where he had smacked his head into the light pole, but otherwise he felt fine and was annoyed because now he was going to miss his brunch date reservation at a place where it was not easy to get a spot. After protesting a bit he realized it was too late as they were almost at the hospital.

“Better safe than sorry,” the medic said with a shrug.

After getting a CAT scan he was laying on the hospital bed waiting for the results, enjoying the breeze blowing in from the open windows, appreciating the fact that at least his room had a nice view of the river and the park down below. He had been asked to undress and don one of those embarrassingly flimsy hospital gowns (this one being a bit too small for him) in preparation for the scan, and now he was laying on the bed feeling somewhat exposed with the breeze blowing on his bare feet — a very pleasant sensation. When the nurse arrived he knew right away that his lack of underwear might become a problem. With his dirty blond crew cut and broad chest and shoulders he reminded Emmanuel right away of one of his favorite erotic artists, Tom of Finland. When he was a teenager he had attempted to mimic the style of these drawings in a notebook he kept hidden under his bed, coming close but not quite to capturing the exaggerated, hyper-masculine horniness. The guy standing in front of him in his well fitting scrubs perusing his clipboard looked like he could have stepped right off of the page of a sexy nurse themed Tom of Finland art book. His dark brown, almost black eyes were an interesting contrast to his overall very light features, and when their eyes locked something in the intensity of his gaze made Emmanuel’s dick jump. Adding to the situation was the fact that it had been well over a month since he’d last had some cheeks, and so he was feeling much hornier than usual.

“Hey there, you’re Emmanuel, right? I’m Kai, the nurse on duty here to give you your CAT scan results,” he said, extending his hand.

As they shook hands Emmanuel admired his nice strong grip; but wait, what was this? Did this guy just look him over? While on the clock? Seeming to catch himself, Kai gave a quick glance out of the window then back down to the chart, avoiding looking at him directly. The barest trace of a flush passed across his handsome, square jawed face.

“Oops, let’s make sure we have some privacy,” he said, turning and walking back to shut the door to the room.

When he turned to close the door Emmanuel got an eyeful of exactly what it was he needed. The nurse’s cheeks were somewhat muscular but still had some jiggle and softness to them — a somewhat rare combination because usually folks were either or. From the way his scrubs were fitting he could see the outline of his very nice thighs and thick calves, but the most important thing he noticed was the subtle but unmistakable pink, blue and white bracelet on the wrist of his hand holding the clipboard. Holy shit, he thought to himself, not believing his good luck. The intimation of the bracelet plus the overall impression of this guy had him him struggling to keep his thoughts in check. He was suddenly very conscious of not having any underwear on and was afraid that if he became aroused there would be no way to hide it. And it seemed likely that with this guy he was going to become very aroused.

“Alright, so, looking over everything it seems that you got lucky. Car accident?” Kai asked, his eyes darting once again ever so quickly over Emmanuel’s body as he lay on the bed with much of his chest, legs and feet exposed.

“Sort of,” he replied. “I had the right of way on a green light when this suburban mini tank came zooming around the corner and sideswiped me. I hit my head on a pole when I got knocked back.” He reached up and felt the sore lump on the back of his head that was thankfully already starting to subside.

“That sucks, but the good news is according to the scan there’s no internal damage so let me just look you over and then hopefully we can get you out of here and on your way soon,” the nurse explained with a friendly expression.

And yet beneath the attempt to be as professional as possible Emmanuel could see something familiar, a mixture of curiosity and hunger that was unmistakable. He had seen this look before and knew what it meant. Calm down, he thought to himself. There was no wedding ring, but he was sure this guy was mostly straight because he had that kind of vibe. And yet, the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. He was beginning to wrack his brain thinking of a way to keep the association going beyond this hospital visit when Kai patted the side of the bed and asked him to sit on the edge so he could examine him. At first he did a good job of keeping himself under control. When the nurse was standing in front of him close enough for him to smell the faint hint of his pleasant cologne with their legs slightly touching Emmanuel kept thinking to himself I’m in a hospital, this is not a date; I’m in a hospital, this is not a date to ward off his horniness. It worked at first as he felt the coolness of the stethoscope on his chest and back while his breathing and heartrate were checked.

After his eyes were checked Kai exclaimed cheerfully, “OK, everything looks good!”

“That’s a big relief,” Emmanuel replied, feeling lucky to have not broken any bones or gotten any serious injuries.

“Just one more thing — I need to take a look at that bump on your head, the nurse said, putting on a pair of disposable gloves.

He positioned himself closer than he’d been so far with their their bodies slightly touching while he gently examined the sore bump on the back of his head. Oh no, Emmanuel thought, wishing that he had jerked off earlier that morning as he originally intended to. His higher than usual level of horniness combined with the closeness of this sexy nurse was about to turn into a problem. He had a feeling that the examination of his sore head was dragging on a little longer than it needed to and inevitably he began to feel his dick start to jump.

“I would put some ice on it when you get home and take an aspirin or two if you need to, but otherwise it doesn’t look too bad,” Kai said, peeling off his gloves. When he went to pick up his clipboard one of the unsecured papers fell out and slid across the room landing against the wall near the door. “Oops!” he declared, walking over to retrieve it.

What Emmanuel saw next almost made his eyes pop out of head like one of those horny old school cartoon characters. When Kai squatted down to retrieve the paper he gave a crystal clear view of his very round, very juicy looking booty that was stretching his scrubs to the breaking point. He held that position for several moments, perusing the page that had fallen; the overall impression he gave was that he wanted Emmanuel to get an eyeful. Of course this was totally incompatible with his efforts to keep himself from getting hard, and by the time the nurse was standing back beside him he was squeezing his legs closed to keep his hard dick from popping out.

“OK, I think that’s it for now, just make sure to get plenty of rest and if your head starts giving you any trouble don’t hesitate to get it checked out either here or with your primary physician.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Emmanuel said, reaching out to shake the sexy nurse’s outstretched hand.

That’s when it happened. Somehow, the slight shift of his body while he was shaking hands freed his rock hard dick from its constraints and it came popping up like a Jack in the Box creating a dramatic tent effect. There was no way to hide it or make any excuses for it, and for a moment he was frozen, mortified. The nurse went wide eyed, blushed, and stared hungrily for a split second before glancing away as Emmanuel hurried to contain himself.

“Oh man, my bad,” he stammered, totally flustered as he struggled to contain himself, now sitting with his legs pressed tightly together, his dick throbbing underneath him. “All it takes is a light breeze sometimes. I’m not some kind of creep, I swear.”

“Just easily aroused, I see,” Kai said with a wink as he turned towards the door, his face flushing bright red. “Don’t worry about it, I see all types of stuff here you can’t even imagine.”

Seeing that the sexy nurse was about to make his exit Emmanuel decided to shoot his shot. At this point, why not? The guy had not seemed repulsed by his little faux pax, far from it.

“Hey, before you dip out, listen…I know you’re at work and maybe people are hitting on you all the time. But first of all I noticed your little wrist charm,” he said, giving a lingering look at the subtle pink, blue and white bracelet. “I’m not making any assumptions, but I can’t not say anything just in case. So, um…you look like a guy who likes to work out. If there’s a chance you wanna connect, come check out the Worldwide Fitness gym across from the park downtown. I’m usually there late afternoons. You know which one I’m talking about?”

“I normally go to another one closer to my place but I know exactly which one you mean,” he replied with a little smile playing around the corner of his mouth. “Gotta get to my next patient — see ya later,” he said, giving Emmanuel a brief but unmistakable lookover with that piggy look in his eyes before he waved and made his exit.

He spent the next few days wondering if or when he would ever see the sexy nurse again. He did not have to wait long. Three days later on a Saturday afternoon he was grabbing a drink from the water fountain when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. When he turned around he got quite a nice surprise.

“Oh shit, Kai! What’s up?” He could barely contain his excitement, catching himself after a moment and trying to play it cool. But the butterflies of anticipation were already fluttering of his stomach.

“Hi again! Can’t complain too much, had to cover a few hours from a co-worker earlier and decided to take your advice and check this place out before heading home.”

“I’m very glad you did,” Emmanuel said as they walked together towards the free weights section.

After working at the hospital earlier Kai was not in the mood to do heavy weights so they hit the treadmill for a bit and then tried something Emmanuel was not used to, the kettlebells.

“This is one of my fave low intensity butt workouts,” Kai said with a wink as he got started.

After a few moments Emmanuel knew he would have to avert his eyes if he wanted to avoid getting hard in the middle of the gym. He had already gotten an eyeful of his guy in his well fitting scrubs but today he was wearing a pair of white shorts that not only accentuated his beautiful ass amazingly well, he also did not appear to have any underwear on. Only someone looking closely would be able to tell, though, and he was of course looking closely.

Later on in the locker room as they were getting changed he looked around to make sure no one was hanging around before he said, “You wore those shorts on purpose today, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about,” he replied with a devilish little grin as he pulled up his jeans. “But they do happen to be one of my favorite pair, for obvious reasons.”

Emmanuel loved how this guy was sexy and knew it because these types were always a lot of fun. Usually they knew exactly what they wanted and needed as well. In an attempt to find out more about what it was that Kai wanted and needed he suggested they go get some coffee or a drink, a suggestion that was enthusiastically received. Oh, he’s ready, he thought to himself, mentally rubbing his hands together gleefully as they both left the locker room and made their way to the elevator.

There was a little café a few blocks away that Kai often went to that proved to be the perfect spot for an intimate chat. On a late Saturday afternoon not long before closing it was pretty empty. The big, comfy leather couches were the perfect place to lounge and enjoy a smoothie while some lively acid jazz played in the background, loud enough to muffle their conversation but not too loud.

“My pride has me wanting to say I had to think long and hard about coming to your gym, but that would be a lie. I was actually there yesterday but didn’t see you,” Kai admitted with a little chagrined laugh.

“I was hoping I would see you and was most definitely keeping an eye out. Sometimes when you feel a vibe you just know it’s gonna be good, know what I mean? Plus, when I saw your bracelet I knew I had to find out what’s going on.”

“Oh, for sure, I know the feeling. I’m glad you noticed my bracelet but didn’t jump to any conclusions. I mean, I could just be a supporter. I’m not in the closet, though. Normally I’m not catching a vibe with random people at work but you seem like a chill, laid back guy and that’s why I’ve been thinking about you and that big dick of yours non stop.”

“Oh, word? You need it, huh? How long has it been since you had a good session?”

“Too long, honestly. And I think we just met each other at the right time. I don’t usually top, just to let you know. It’s a little annoying how people usually automatically assume I’m a top because of how I look, but yeah. Over the past few years I’ve mostly been dating women, all of them trans women, but honestly I’ve been needing an unproblematic cis guy recently. Been craving that masculine energy. My last relationship ended over five months ago, by the way. Just been taking care of business on my own. Like I said, you caught me at the right time.”

“Whoa, five months is a long time for me, sheesh,” Emmanuel interjected.

“It’s been rough, but I know by now that for me personally it’s better to wait for something that’s worth it rather than run out and fuck just anybody,” Kai said before taking a few big gulps to finish off his smoothie.

“So, lemme get something straight. You’re into cis guys but not that often, or…”

“Well, let’s just say I’ve had some complicated experiences in the past and that’s why I started gravitating more towards trans women. I don’t wanna get into the whole story right now, but yeah, I’ve been a little cautious since then.”

“Say no more, I know cis guys can be fucked up. It sucks though because the assholes mess things up for guys like me. I’m not an asshole, I promise. I know everyone says that, but still.”

“I got the feeling you’re not an asshole, that’s why we’re talking now. I’ve been going with my gut recently and it’s been working out pretty well so far. But you are very horny, though. I like that. The reason I’m so cautious is because of what I’m into, just so you know. I like to get into some kinky things that require some trust.”

“Hmm, that sounds interesting. I’m all ears!” Emmanuel declared, inching a little closer across the couch towards him and leaning forward a bit.

Kai then went into detail about his role playing hobby and how pretending to be someone else or in some fantasy situation during sex was a big turn on for him. He talked about how he was part of a local role playing community and that this was where he had met his past few partners.

“Have you ever done a sexy nurse role play? Emmanuel asked.

“Oh, of course! I was actually hoping…well, I wanted to see if you’re into it. Because I was so damn turned on the other day at the hospital, honestly.”

“You wanna get me back in that gown, huh?”

“Oh my god, please, we have to!” he exclaimed, his face blushing a bit. “I was almost ready to risk it all that day, but I had to keep it professional of course. What I realized was how much I’ve been needing some masculine energy to open me up. That’s the other thing, the reason why I’m cautious. I don’t fuck just anybody but when I do I like to really get into it. Sometimes I get in the mood to alternate between anal and front hole penetration, but I need to know the top is not gonna be an asshole.

“Whoa, really? You’re like a unicorn, you know that?” Looking around and noticing that the place was empty except for the distracted workers preparing to close up, Emmanuel popped a mint into his mouth and eased closer to Kai, putting his hand on his leg. “Come here for a second,” he said, giving his thick thigh a squeeze.

He meant for the kiss to be quick but as it turned out Kai was even more in the mood for a little make out session, pulling him in every time he started to lean back. Before they separated themselves Emmanuel felt a hand squeeze his rock hard dick and heard a little gasp.

“Oh, man, that’s what I need so bad,” Kai said, gazing at him with his dark brown eyes full of lust. It was such an interesting contrast, those eyes of his, with the rest of him that was very blond and pale.

They made a plan to meet up the following afternoon at Emmanuel’s place. His housemate was away for the weekend so they would have the whole house to themselves. He was thinking he might need the extra space for the role playing, something he had never gotten into before, but now he was very much looking forward to it.

“I’ll make sure to grab one of those gowns from the hospital on my way home,” Kai said as they were getting up to leave and go their separate ways for the evening.

“How about when you show up at my place you have your scrubs on already? That way we can pretend you’re making a house call,” Emmanuel suggested.

Kai very enthusiastically agreed, his face flushing one more time before they parted ways. While on the trolley back to his place Emmanuel’s dick was hard the entire time thinking about all the fun he was going to be having soon. He really could not believe his good luck to find a guy who was into getting both of his holes serviced. And while he had never done role playing before he was excited at the idea of trying it out; the thought of it was not far from his mind the entire night.

As the time for their rendezvous approached the following day he felt butterflies in his stomach as his horniness and excitement reached a boiling point. That morning he was up early to do a little cleaning and found himself almost bursting with impatient excitement. Of course time always seem to drag on during these moments of anticipation, but soon enough it was almost time. I’m on my way, said the eagerly anticipated text. They had arranged to meet around noon; with his housemate out of town and his neighbors away at church they could make as much noise as they wanted. When he heard the engine of an unfamiliar car parking out front he peeked through the curtains. There he was, the broad shouldered sexy nurse emerging from his Honda wearing his well fitting light blue scrubs and carrying a medical bag slung across his broad shoulders. Damn, he is so fuckin sexy, Emmanuel thought to himself, preparing to jump right into the unfamiliar but tantalizing world of roleplay. They had agreed to pretend that for the sake of the role play the gym and bar hang out never happened, and they were seeing each other for the first time since his hospital visit. When the doorbell rang he took a deep breath. “Here we go,” he said to himself under his breath.

“Good morning!” Kai said with a bright, sunny smile when he opened the door. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late, ran into some traffic.”

“No problem at all,” Emmanuel replied, welcoming him in.

“How have you been feeling since the last time we saw each other at the hospital? Better I hope.”

“Mostly better, but like I mentioned to you there’s something that’s come up that I really need your help with.”

“OK, well, before you tell me all about that let’s get you in this gown so I can do a proper examination. Is here a good spot?” he asked, motioning towards the large leather couch while opening his nurse’s bag.

“Yeah, this is fine. Let me go upstairs and get changed real quick then you can look me over.”

He returned a few minutes later in a hospital gown identical to the one he had been wearing on the day they first met. Kai directed him to lay down on the couch.

“Alright,” he said, kneeling down beside him, his pleasant cologne a bit stronger today. “Tell me what the problem is and let’s see if there’s anything I can do.”

“Well, it’s a little embarrassing, but I’ve got this really intense pressure in my private area. I’ve been trying everything but it won’t go away and I really need some way to get rid of it.”

“Ah, this sounds familiar. Let’s take a look,” he said.

By now Emmanuel was fully hard and unlike last time was not trying to hide it. Kai gently touched and squeezed his erect dick that was still covered by the gown.

“Hmm, this is one of the most extreme cases I’ve seen so far,” he said, furrowing his brow. “I might need to try one of my more unconventional treatments, if you don’t mind. We’ve gotta try and get the pressure on that released somehow so you don’t pop a blood vessel.”

“Whatever it takes, I’m OK with it.”

“OK, then. Let me check something first.”

He then took a blood pressure cuff out of his bag, the kind people usually have placed on their arms during doctor’s visits. He undid the velcro clasp, eased Emmanuel’s rock hard dick out through a gap in the gown, and secured the cuff on the base of his shaft. Then he pressed the button that began initiating the the pump until Emmanuel felt his dick being pleasantly squeezed.

“Not too tight I hope?” Kai asked.

“No, it’s not too tight; but you can see what the problem is, right? I gotta release this pressure soon somehow.”

“I see what you mean. We shouldn’t waste any more time. I have an idea,” he said as he undid the cuff and put it back in his bag. “But I need you to stand up, please.”

Once Emmanuel was on his feet with his dick poking out through the opening in the hospital gown Kai remained in his kneeling position.

“This might seem a bit unusual, but trust me it’s the best way to relieve this extreme pressure,” he said before grabbing hold of Emmanuel’s dick and easing the tip into his mouth, using his tongue to lick and tease the mushroom head.

“Oh, fuck, that feels better already,” he moaned, looking down and admiring the sight of this handsome guy in his scrubs servicing him while gazing up at him with those very interesting dark brown eyes.

“How about we get rid of this gown,” the sexy nurse suggested, motioning for him to sit down on the couch. Once Emmanuel was totally naked he positioned himself between his legs and broke character for the first time.

“Oh my gosh, this is a big dick,” he murmured.

“What I really want is for you to sit on it, if you don’t mind,” Emmanuel said. “I think you can take those scrubs off now.”

Kai obediently stripped down to his underwear and socks and soon those were also tossed aside and he was standing in front of Emmanuel totally naked while he sat on the couch stroking his dick, admiring this sexy nurse in all his glory. He had a really nice, very manly physique that reminded him of someone who might be in the military. His t-dick poking out from a tuft of light brown pubic hair was very delicious looking.

“Wait, before you sit on it let me suck you first,” Emmanuel said, sitting up on the edge of the couch and grabbing a cheek in each hand, pulling Kai close to him. He then took Kai’s dick into his mouth, working his tongue in that special way he had grown accustomed to. Soon he felt the familiar shuddering and quivering.

“No way, you’re about to make me cum already, holy shit,” Kai exclaimed, grabbing Emmanuel's head tightly with both hands as his body convulsed.

“Damn, you taste good. Lay down here for a minute,” he insisted, patting the couch which had plenty of space for Kai to lay back with his legs spread open. “Wow, look at that,” Emmanuel marveled with a whistle of admiration.

In front of him was one of the most beautiful and sexy sights he’d ever seen; sometimes he felt that each one of these guys he met was better than the last somehow, luckily for him. While laying there Kai put a few fingers inside of himself before using both hands to spread his magnificent pussy wide open, nodding with encouragement for Emmanuel to get his face in there. He was happy to oblige, but he had to take a few more moments to admire what looked like a sexy, masculine flower all wet and glistening. Soon his face was almost completely wet after giving Kai some very enthusiastic head, alternating between tongue fucking his hole and sucking him. After he sensed that Kai was about to cum again he hit the brakes, eliciting a frustrated groan, but he had an idea that required a change of position.

“I think it’s better is we migrate up to my bed so I can really get in there,” he suggested breathlessly, feeling the usual headrush he always got from diving into some top tier man pussy. “One question, though. What else do you have in here I’m wondering,” he asked, motioning towards the nurses’ bag he had brought with him.

“Just a few props,” Kai replied, opening it to give him a better look.

“How about you put the stethoscope on?” He obliged, and somehow seeing him totally naked except for the stethoscope was an extreme turn on. “Now this is how I was fantasizing about having you the other day, totally naked except for this,” Emmanuel said.

“I’m glad I can help you make that fantasy a reality,” he declared, giving him a hearty pat on the back as they made their way upstairs.

Once he had Kai on his bed he asked him to get on all fours so he could finally properly admire and worship that beautiful booty. When he was in position all spread open Emmanuel had to take a step back to admire those incredibly sexy cheeks with two inviting holes waiting to be opened up.

“Are you still in the mood to do anal today?” he asked, hoping that he had not changed his mind.

“I spent a good amount of time cleaning my ass earlier so I definitely want to, please, I’m needing it,” he replied, inhaling his breath sharply as Emmanuel began using his tongue to tease and lick with his tight, pink bootyhole. “Oh, man, wow. Getting my ass eaten really makes me want to get fucked, just so you know.”

“Good to know,” Emmanuel remarked with a grin, ready to feast.

He spent the next half an hour or so alternating between licking Kai’s gloriously tight bootyhole, sucking him, and getting his tongue as far as possible deep in his delicious pussy. After making him cum a few more times he could see that the sexy nurse who was still wearing his stethoscope was practically begging to get fucked, reaching back to spread and finger both of his holes. After giving his front hole a good, strong pounding for a while Emmanuel knew he was not going to be able to hold back; the way he was gripping him and getting wetter and wetter made it impossible to not cum.

“Aw, fuck, I’m about to nut!” he cried while balls deep in Kai’s tight pussy. It really did feel like heaven. With one hand he grabbed one of his cheeks and spread him open, admiring the sight of him all wet and dripping. “That’s one round done, but there’s more don’t worry,” he reassured him.

“Good, because my ass needs some attention next, please” Kai said, turning over to lay on his back and catch his breath, his face still flushed. “My gosh, you know what you’re doing for sure. I had a good feeling about you and I see I was right.”

“We’re just getting started, you’ll see,” Emmanuel said, patting his thigh.

After a little break and a little more head, Emmanuel was rock hard again and ready to get in his booty. Kai suggested that this time he should ride him to control how fast and how deep he went.

“We can go back to doggy style but let me get used to it first,” he said.

It was slow going at first because he was so incredibly tight. He got up on his toes and while bracing himself with one hand on Emmanuel’s chest, he slowly teased the head of his dick on his asshole that at first seemed as impenetrable as Fort Knox. It was slow going, but gradually he began sliding down on him millimeter by millimeter, driving him wild. When he had gotten it halfway in he began playing with his dick.

“You’re gonna make me cum again. Can’t remember the last time I was getting opened like this, oh my gosh,” he exclaimed, furiously jerking himself while still lowing himself down, his moans and groans filling the room.

Once he had finally gotten the whole thing inside and opened up a bit more he motioned for them to switch back to doggy style. In this position Emmanuel have his tight ass some nice, long strokes, all the way in and all the way out, relishing the frantic moans of pleasure this brought forth. Then he decided to switch things up, taking turns stroking Kai’s pussy before alternating, going back and forth from one hole to the other until the sexy nurse underneath him was quivering and shaking with one strong orgasm after another.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” he cried, repeating this over and over again like a prayer before Emmanuel felt himself about to cum again.

“I’m gonna nut in your ass this time,” he declared breathlessly, giving Kai’s round booty a nice, hard slap.

“Yes, please, fill up both of my holes,” Kai cried, pushing back, fully opened up now and taking Emmanuel’s dick with no problem at all.

After he came Emmanuel got up and opened one of the curtains to let some more light in. He had to get a good look at his handiwork. Kai’s beautiful pink holes were both fully opened up, wet, dripping and glistening. It was a glorious sight.

“You mind if I take a picture of this? Gotta document this masterpiece.”

“As long as my face isn’t visible, go ahead. I wanna see how opened up you made me.”

After taking a few pics he showed Kai who whistled in approval.

“You know what? I was just thinking that you would love to meet a buddy of mine. We both dated the same girl and we’re all in the role playing scene, that’s how we met. He likes guys too, especially guys like you. But he’s like me and doesn’t meet cis guys too often. When I show him this pic and tell him about this he’s gonna want to meet you for sure. Maybe we can have a nice little threesome if you’re into that.”

“Is he as sexy as you?” Emmanuel asked, intrigued.

“He’s a really nice looking guy from Spain originally. Not smooth like me but hairy. Kind of mysterious, not easy to meet unless you already have some connection with him. He’s very manly looking so I think he would be your type. Me and my ex played with him a few times — she was pretty well hung and gave him a good pounding so I know he can take it, and I know you would like him.”

“Well, if he’s into guys like me I would definitely be down. How about you message him and see if he’s into it and then we can set something up?”

After they both got cleaned up Kai and Emmanuel had a coffee in the garden and he promised to stay in touch about his Spanish friend. Later on he was still basking in the glow of that amazing session while thinking ahead about the possibility of even more mind blowing fun on the horizon. Life was pretty good!

To be continued…

This short story was partially inspired by a fuck buddy I began seeing back in 2018 around the time when I began more intentionally exploring my bottom/submissive side. I met him during a time when I was in great need of a distraction as my life was in upheaval dealing with the local gentrification crisis. Over the years he’s been a consistent source of fun. He got me saying “even a daddy needs a daddy”. Over the past year we’ve barely seen each other each other as the association has started to fade, but I can’t be mad about it. This little short story is a way of me honoring the memories.

While I’m not entirely sure, I believe the following might be somehow related to at least one fuck friend I’ve had over the years. Back in 2010 a shocking story came out of the UK. A reporter blew the whistle on undercover British police who had gotten into long term relationships with unsuspecting activists as a part of their surveillance operations. As someone who has been involved in activism and social justice activities for a long time I can’t say that I’m surprised, and I’m sure such things are happening regularly. There’s no reason to think that the police and the security state are against using sex and desire to manipulate, control and entrap; in fact, there’s a long history of this. The James Bond films are a good example of how the sexual escapades of feds have been glamorized. Because of certain situations in my life this is a topic I need to address, but because I want to keep things on the lighter side here I decided to have some fun with it. Enjoy!

Emmanuel liked to work out solo most of the time, but if he did have a regular “gym buddy” it was a very interesting older guy he’d met a few years ago. He went by the name Flexx, “with two X’s” he said emphatically the day they met. At first Emmanuel had a hard time figuring out how old he was, something he was usually able to do pretty accurately. As it turned out, Flexx was a living embodiment of the “Black don’t crack” stereotype.

“I’ll be fifty-nine this coming April, believe it or not,” he said one day while they were spotting each other on the smith machine.

It was honestly hard to believe. As a thirty year old he had a stereotype in his mind of how nearly sixty year old's would look and behave but Flexx did not fit those stereotypes at all. He somehow seemed both youthful and seasoned at the same time with his backwards turned baseball cap, gold chains and salt and pepper goatee. One day while they were getting changed in the locker room he caught a glimpse of this sexy daddy while he was almost totally stripped down. In that moment he had a flashback to a day he went out to the countryside on a date to go horseback riding. There was a magnificent black stallion on the farm they visited that was not rideable but was kept around as a showpiece and breeding stud. When he saw Flexx nearly nude in his boxers he was somehow reminded of the powerful, muscular body of that beautiful horse gleaming in the sun as he (rather self consciously) pranced around to be admired and photographed.

For the first year of their association things were strictly platonic. Flexx was divorced and occasionally dropped hints about being bisexual but he seemed mostly into women. Emmanuel made it clear from the get go that he was gay, and so they did not have much to talk about on the sex tip. But then, almost out of the blue last year not long before his birthday Flexx hit Emmanuel with a very unexpected proposal. As it turned out, his bisexual urges had been getting the better of him while they’d been working out together. They went out for a drink and Flexx admitted that he had been curious about getting in Emmanuel’s cheeks for a while, but he was not sure if it was possible.

“From what you were saying about being into trans guys and so forth I thought maybe you were only into fucking guys. But I really want you to bottom for me, though,” he’d said. “Give me a nice little birthday present.”

And so, not realizing exactly what he was in for, Emmanuel had agreed. A year later he still got hot and bothered thinking about it. What he had not been prepared for was the fact that Flexx was a real, honest to god mandingo with a dick straight out of a porno flick. After they spent the night together he could barely walk straight the next day. Afterwards, Flexx made it clear that while he had a good time it was not going to be some ongoing, regular thing. Emmanuel was a little crestfallen but he could accept it because in reality there was no way he could handle all that dick on the regular anyway. He remained under the impression that it was a one off thing that would never happen again until one day he got a pleasant surprise.

“Sup, man?” Flexx said, patting him on the back the way he usually did. They had arrived at the gym around the same time and were hanging out near the water fountain chatting before getting into it. “I should let you know my birthday is coming up again soon.”

“Oh, snap,” Emmanuel said, suddenly feeling a little flustered as the memories came flooding back. “What are you thinking about getting into?”

“The same as last year but with a twist. Hearing you talking about your own adventures made me realize I never actually been with a trans guy. I been thinking about it more and more, looking at some hot shit on twitter — oh, man, that one guy you showed me…jeez. I’m thinking that’s what I need,” he added with a grin.

“Got anyone in mind?”

“Sure do, somebody I met randomly here a while ago. I asked him to come through today so you can check him out. I’m hoping the three of us can hang out next weekend if all goes according to plan.”

“If he’s my type I would definitely be down. So you been busy planning your b-day fun for a while already, huh?”

“You know it,” he replied, rubbing his hands together in expectation. “I think this year my b-day is gonna be extra special.”

A little while later Flexx nudged Emmanuel and pointed out the guy he was plotting on sitting on a machine working his legs. At first glance he did not see what the big deal was and was not sure if this was his type. The guy looked very preppy and corporate with his clean shaven face, fashionable glasses and light brown hair in a close cropped buzz cut. He looked vaguely ethnic, like he was mixed with something, but it was not easy to tell exactly what the mixture was. When he stood up to wipe down his machine it was easier to see the appeal. His upper body was pretty average but he obviously put in more work with his lower body; his legs and thighs were exceptionally well proportioned. While not super thick his booty was still impressive, nicely toned without being overly muscular. Overall he looked like a very fuckable fun sized guy.

“Whoa, he’s the perfect size,” Emmanuel commented, thinking back on all the extra things that were possible with these type of guys.

“Definitely would be easy to lift up,” Flexx observed. “But yo, check it out. You can’t tell just from looking at him but this dude is an undercover pig.”

“Huh? Like a cop?”

“No, not that kind of pig,” Flexx said with a hearty laugh. “I mean the kind of pig that can’t get enough of dick. I peeped it, and he’s been on me ever since.”

“Oh, that kind of pig. But he does kinda look like a fed or something like that.”

“Oh yeah he does. I guess I’m evolving a lil’ bit because I been fantasizing more and more about turning out these preppy sort of guys.”

Thankfully it was a Saturday afternoon and the gym was fairly empty so they could talk freely in low voices without anyone overhearing their conversation. Apparently Flexx had been observing this guy for the past few months and they’d been in regular conversation for a while.

“Here, walk over with me so I can introduce you,” he suggested, tugging on Emmanuel’s tank top.

The “undercover pig” was standing over by the large window gazing down at the busy street below while sipping from his water bottle. He turned towards them when he noticed he was being approached.

“How’s it going, James?” Flexx asked him as they walked up.

“Oh, hey! How are you, Flexx? Nice to see you. Is this — ?”

“Yeah, this is they guy I wanted to introduce you to, my buddy Emmanuel.”

As they shook hands Emmanuel looked down at him and could see the horny glint in his almond shaped, hazel eyes. He was definitely some kind of ethnic person and not totally white, but he did not want to come out and ask about it right away despite his intense curiosity. There certainly was something interesting and slightly erotic about his exoticness.

“Very nice to meet you, finally,” James said cheerfully. “I don’t think we should talk about it in too much detail here, but someone’s birthday is coming up and I think we should meet up somewhere and figure things out. That is, if everything is good on your end…” He looked at Emmanuel with an expression that tried to be neutral but the fervent hope of a “yes” was barely disguised. It was obvious that he was in need.

“I’m into it for sure,” he said, noticing the relief that washed over James’ face.

“OK, good, you never know what people are into but I’m glad you’re into it because so am I.”

“Looks like we’re off to a good start,” Flexx added, coming up behind them and patting them both on the back at the same time. “Manny, what are you doing after this? Got time for a drink or two? Might be a good idea for the three of us to hang out and chat for a lil’ bit.”

They all agreed that this was a solid plan. Soon the three of them headed to the locker room where Flexx and Emmanuel waited for James to finish his after workout shower. When he came out of the shower room in his towel he positioned himself on the bench across from where they were sitting and checking their phones. Flexx glanced up from his phone and when he saw that the three of them were alone in the locker room he leaned over, patted James on his knee and said:

“Show Manny what you showed me a few weeks ago.”

“I thought about it while I was showering and changed my mind but I’m glad you said that because now of course I have to,” he replied as he undid his towel. He then sat there across from them totally naked “manspreading” with his arms crossed, a sexy little smirk on his face.

Emmanuel could not believe his eyes. Right across from him was one of the most beautiful and delicious looking t-dicks he had ever seen with a gold ring piercing. For a trans guy James was quite hung.

“Oh my god, my mouth is watering,” Emmanuel exclaimed after giving a little whistle of approval. He was tempted to drop to his knees and start sucking right then and there.

“But wait, there’s more,” he teased, lifting one foot up on the bench and spreading his very inviting and very tight pink hole wide open. “The piecing makes me super sensitive, by the way,” he added as he flicked the gold ring with his middle finger.

“Yessir, look at that! See, I told you,” Flexx said, nudging Emmanuel excitedly. There was a very hungry look all over his face. “We’re gonna have that pretty pussy wide open and leaking.”

“I hope so,” James quipped, giving them a wink as he stood up and put on his boxer briefs just as two guys came into the locker room chatting loudly, totally oblivious to the freaky scene that had just transpired. As he watched him get dressed Emmanuel could not help but notice that there was something very sexy about how the outline of his pierced bulge was visible through his boxers.

Not far from the gym was a sky bar and lounge that was off limits to the general public but James had access because he worked in the building. As they stepped off the elevator on the top floor of the skyscraper he led the way to his favorite spot, a booth near one of the windows with a nice panoramic view of the greenery of Fairmount Park sprawling in the distance, something Emmanuel had never seen from this angle.

“Wo, this is a cool spot, great idea!” he exclaimed as he drank in the view, feeling a little bit of vertigo when a hawk floated past on a gust of wind. “There’s something I need to ask you right away though because it’s been bothering me,” he said, turning to James.

“I already think I know what you’re gonna ask me,” he replied preemptively. “You want to know about my ancestry, right?”

“OK, so I guess I’m not the only one who can’t figure it out!”

“I get that a lot. No one can ever guess that my father is from Spain and my mother is from Indonesia.”

“That’s definitely an unusual combination,” Emmanuel said, though upon closer inspection he could more clearly see something of his Asian ancestry around his eyes.

“You were born here?” Flexx asked.

“Yeah, born here. Before he switched careers my dad was working in finance and was transferred from Barcelona here to Philly where he met my mom who was studying medicine at UPENN.”

“We were saying earlier that you look like an undercover pig, but I guess it’s just that you got that privileged, preppy look,” Emmanuel teased.

“Well, I certainly can’t deny that I’m privileged compared to a lot of people, but actually, part of that is because of my grandfather on my dad’s side who, among other things, was into something government agency related, let’s just put it that way.”

“What? For real?” Flexx exclaimed, wide eyed.

“Believe me, I’m not exactly proud of it. I’m glad they abolished all of that after the Revolution because they were essentially targeting a lot of innocent people for political reasons and destroying their lives.”

“There are lots of stories about that,” Emmanuel said. “I remember reading in school about something called COINTELPRO where the FBI would spy on people, set them up, intentionally drive them crazy, all sorts of weird shit.”

“It gives me the creeps to think about,” James said, shaking his head. “I think my grandfather was born into that sort of life, from what I remember hearing. Like how some families are full of police because it’s like a tradition. He also came from money apparently and left a bunch to my dad when he died. Of course my dad took the money but according to him his father he was not a very good guy. He was on the wrong side of the Revolution, unfortunately.”

Emmanuel had heard of such things before. The Revolution that had taken place long before they were born had torn many families apart. Flexx said that he only vaguely remembered hearing about it as a kid because his family stayed out of politics as much as possible. They spent the next hour or so chatting about more cheerful topics, aka the good stuff: what they planned to get into for Flexx’s birthday. He had some very fun sounding and freaky ideas and Emmanuel felt himself getting excited already. It had been a while since he’d had a good threesome, and James was the perfect bottom for it. He made it known that he was more than fully prepared to handle two hung tops, something Flexx wanted to make sure about.

“I don’t wanna get into it and we’re in an “eyes were bigger than your stomach” situation,” he admonished.

“You’ll see,” James reassured him. “I need it, and I can take it.”

“OK, just checking. I’m looking forward to seeing how much you need it,” Flexx replied, leaning over and giving his leg a squeeze.

James had his own place but he lived in a quiet building full of retirees so he decided to get a hotel room so he could really let loose.

“I already know I’m going to be making a shit ton of noise,” he admitted as he finished making the reservation on his phone.

Emmanuel and Flexx glanced at each other with raised eyebrows.

The following Saturday they met up in the piano bar of the Four Seasons, a swankier joint than Emmanuel was normally used to, but it was a nice change of pace.

“I gotta admit I have butterflies,” James said while they were finishing up their drinks and enjoying the sultry jazz singer crooning next to the piano.

“I hope you’re ready,” Flexx replied as he finished his ginger ale. “Let’s head on up to the room soon and get this party started.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. But wait, how old are you today, if you don’t mind me asking,” James asked.

“You’re not gonna believe it,” Emmanuel said with a chuckle. “Look at this guy and tell me if you believe he just turned sixty.”

“No way,” James declared. “What’s the saying? I don’t know if I should say it…”

“You can say it: ‘Black don’t crack’,” he answered with his beautiful Colgate smile, not interested in being humble on his birthday. He was looking particularly youthful that day with his backwards turned baseball cap, thick gold chain and colorful t-shirt. “Come on, let’s head up so this old dog can show you young guys some new tricks.”

Their spacious room was on one of the upper floors with a nice view of the surrounding downtown. Not one for wasting time, as soon as they got in there Flexx began stripping down out of his clothes, sitting on the edge of the king sized bed to pull of his socks. While James headed to the bathroom for some last minute freshening up Emmanuel followed Flexx’s lead and stripped down as well. They both then lay on the bed propped up by the oversized, soft pillows looking on their phones while waiting for the star of the show. He emerged from the bathroom in his towel and flung it off when he reached the foot of the bed where he stood surveying them for a moment. Flexx put his phone on the bedside table and beckoned him.

“Look at that, and it’s still pretty much soft,” James said with amazement while on his knees playing with Flexx’s heavy dick that was gradually getting harder.

“Get down there next to him,” he said to Emmanuel who was already hard and stroking. He did not need to be told twice. Soon he and James were on their knees side by side taking turns licking and sucking and worshiping Flexx who by now was fully hard. “Yup, just like that, take turns sucking on the head, that’s right,” he moaned, thoroughly enjoying watching these two younger guys getting his daddy dick all wet.

“Please can I sit on it,” James asked breathlessly, his face red after trying unsuccessfully to deepthroat that massive meat.

“Not yet, we gotta open you up first. Here, let’s switch and you lay here where I am.”

When James was in position Flexx put a folded up pillow underneath his butt to prop him up. Now he was on his back with his knees up to his chest and his legs spread wide in the perfect position for Emmanuel and Flexx to get in there.

“Your dick is so pretty and I fucking love this piercing,” Emmanuel commented with admiration. It really was one of the most delicious t-dicks he’d ever seen with a gorgeous well formed head emerging from the shaft, and as he wrapped his mouth around it he used his tongue to play with the piercing.

“Fuck yes, that feels good,” James sighed.

“Let’s try something we talked about last week,” Flexx said. “Manny, let’s get on either side of him and use our tongues on his dick at the same time. I bet that’s gonna drive him crazy,” he added with a chuckle.

Once they were in position with their faces side by side in front of their meal they used their tongues to lick and stimulate him, occasionally accidentally French kissing each other. After a few minutes James started gasping and moaning and thrashing around involuntarily as a powerful orgasm shook him.

“Whoa, that was fast. You really are sensitive!” Emmanuel said with excitement. These sort of guys who could cum over and over again were his favorite.

His moans grew louder and louder and this only encouraged them as they took turns licking and sucking and burying their tongues deep in his hole. After James came a few more times Flexx said, “OK, I think you’re ready for some dick.”

This is what Emmanuel had been waiting to see. He watched in amazement as James got on top and slowly began easing himself down. The way his pussy was being stretched open by that big dick was so incredibly sexy, and at this point he was only halfway down. At first it did not look like the whole thing would fit, but it did, and once he had somehow taken that whole entire massive meat inside of himself he paused for a moment, gripping Flexx’s muscular chest.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this filled up,” he exclaimed breathlessly. “It’s like being split open but in a good way, goddamn.”

“Take your time and get used to it,” Flexx suggested.

“I gotta get up on my toes to ride it properly, I think,” he said, doing just that.

“That’s right, all the way down then all the way up to the top,” Flexx directed him.

From his position behind them Emmanuel could not help but notice what a pretty booty hole James had, nice and tight and puckered. He was hoping to get in there soon. For now it seemed that James had more than enough to handle while still getting used to Flexx’s much larger than average size. After a few minutes of riding him it seemed that he was ready to take things up a notch.

“Ow!” Flexx cried as James gave one of nipples a hard twist. “Why’d you do that?”

“I don’t know, just felt like it I guess,” he replied with a rakish grin that made it clear he was intentionally being provocative.

“Oh, your bold!” he said, reaching up and giving his ass a hard smack. “I see what you want, boy. You wanna get roughed up, huh?”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” James said, giving the other nipple a twist.

“Alright, that’s it, c’mon,” Flexx said, scooting over to the edge of the bed while keeping him firmly planted on his dick. Once at the edge he began to stand up, directing him to hold on while gripping his waist. While being held up this way there was nowhere for fun sized James to go except up and down on that big dick; he was totally at Flexx’s mercy. It was sort of like being in a sling with his legs held up that way. Emmanuel had seen this in a few porn films but never in person, and it was a glorious sight watching Flexx skillfully handle this not very easy position. He was making James (whose face was now wide eyed and beet red) feel every inch as he began stroking him with increasing speed and roughness. Soon James’ stretched open pussy was absolutely squirting with juices flying everywhere; Flexx’s steady, methodical stroke was making him cum again and again as he held on for dear life, his frantic cries growing louder and louder.

“Flexx, what are you doing to me? Oh my god, oh my god,” he kept repeating in a kind of breathless whimper between orgasms, still holding on tight to Flexx who was not giving him any breaks.

Maneuvering him back to the bed Flexx said, “Alright, smartass. Now it’s time for you to get filled up. Manny, you ready to get in this tight bootyhole?”

“Definitely ready,” he replied. He had noticed that Flexx was loving James’ pussy so much he did not want to share, so it was nice to have another option.

On the bed and still keeping him on his dick Flexx pulled James close and said, “I think you’re ready for two big dicks inside you at the same time. Ain’t that right, boy?”

“Yes sir, please sir, I need it,” he replied. Their faces were inches apart as if they were about to kiss while Flexx gripped the back of his head and looked deeply into his eyes.

“Tell me what you are, little piggy.”

“I’m a slut pig who needs my holes filled with big dicks, sir,” James exclaimed hungrily, making it known he was more than ready.

After rimming his hole and admiring his nice round booty for a few minutes Emmanuel began slowly easing his dick inside, marveling at how tight he was and how sexy it was seeing him taking two guys at the same time. He especially loved pulling out occasionally and seeing the beautiful sight of James’ ass all gaped open while his pussy was still filled with Flexx’s meat.

“Damn, this is so hot I might nut,” he declared after a little while, deploying his usual trick of trying to think of something unsexy to keep himself from coming. He was already so riled up from watching James get split open that he was on the verge of popping.

“Nope, nope, don’t nut yet,” Flexx said, stepping in as the manager of their little party. He used his foot to gently push Emmanuel back. “I wanna see you nut while I’m fucking you on your back like last year, that was sexy. Just ease off for a moment and let me keep fucking him. I’m about to nut soon anyway.”

He rolled over putting James into the missionary position. “You making me wanna nut in this pussy looking so handsome and sexy while I’m fucking you, boy.”

In this position the not so subtle intimacy that had been slowly growing between them was undeniable. It was this intimacy that was making James about to cum again.

“Flexx, I need you in my life somehow. This can’t be a one time thing,” he admitted, his voice quivering as he felt yet another orgasm on the horizon.

“You’re gonna be my boy,” Flexx replied. “There’s no way I’m giving this up, a handsome boy with a tight, wet pussy. Look at you about to make me nut sooner than I usually do.”

Emmanuel lay there stroking while watching Flexx gradually speed up until he was absolutely pumping James full of dick. Soon the bed was shaking and the room was full of cries that could not be held back. After a little while Flexx was almost literally roaring as a powerful orgasm had him absolutely vibrating while he emptied his balls deep into James’s pussy.

“Damn!” he blurted out, rolling over and wiping the sweat he’d worked up from his brow. “Now that was fuckin’ incredible, absolutely perfect.”

“Here, lemme see that,” Emmanuel said as he spread James’ legs wide to see how opened up he was. As he commented on the little rivulet of nut spilling out James looked pleased with himself knowing he had earned every drop. He was swollen and super sensitive after so much dick and so many forced orgasms, but overall he was extremely satisfied.

After the three of them showered and dressed they went back down to the piano bar for a bite to eat. Meaning James and Flexx got something to eat while Emmanuel had a martini. He knew it was better to keep an empty stomach for the upcoming part two. It seemed that Flexx was thinking the same thing.

“Manny, you know we got some business to attend to, right?” he asked, popping another piece of calamari into his mouth.

“You know I was thinking about it while watching you get all up in James just now.”

“Good, because I been thinking about it too. But first,” he turned towards James. “We gotta make this a regular thing, of course.”

“Please, I need us to,” he gushed, looking at Flexx with an imploring expression.

“How about this,” Flexx suggested. “Go find something to do for a few hours while I handle some business with Manny and then we can hang out. I brought a few Viagra just in case I need it so I can fuck you all night if you want,” he added with his usual little handsome grin.

After James took off Flexx turned to Emmanuel. “You ready?” he asked, getting up from his seat.

Emmanuel could not deny that he was nervous but he was more than ready to give Flexx his second birthday present.

This essay will explain how my socially engaged art project intersects with some occult aspects of the history of Spanish syncretism & colonialism. Because of the crisis situation for activists like myself who oppose genocide and apartheid, I’ve needed to find creative ways to overcome intentional silencing, marginalization and isolation. Connecting directly with social change and resistance-oriented people more intentionally is a strategy I am turning to. Several years ago I began to understand that there is a community of Spanish people here in my city, some of whom are descendants of “conversos”. For various reasons I have been unable to connect with these people so far. I decided that because this Spanish connection to my project is important I needed to map out the relevant points and have something to share with folks so they’ll understand what I’m working on. The painting entitled ‘Damas Patricias’ partially inspired this essay, and the inference should be clear:

It depicts a pivotal yet often overlooked moment in the nation’s history: a secret meeting of 14 wealthy women from the Viceroyalty of the Río de la Plata, held on the night of May 30, 1812. At this gathering, the women pledged part of their fortunes — donating gold ounces, pesos, reales, and jewelry — to finance the revolution by purchasing rifles for the Liberation Army, which was then fighting against the Spanish royalist forces. Though not known for its artistic quality, Damas Patricias is the only visual representation of this crucial moment in the history of Argentina’s independence.

The 1492 era has come under renewed scrutiny recently, in part because of revelations about Christopher Columbus’ origins. In 2024 a Spanish forensic expert named José Antonio Loren released data indicating that Columbus and his son Hernando were of Sephardic Jewish origin. Columbus’ legacy has been effectively challenged recently by people considered to be “woke,” with some cities and states replacing the Columbus day holiday with Indigenous People’s Day. This is why Trump just announced that he will be putting a golden statue of Christopher Columbus near the White House.

Regardless of Columbus’ true heritage, what is not up for debate is that the era of European colonialism on Turtle Island was initiated by the Spanish monarchy and merchant class who financed Columbus and others. A priceless Mayan text that lives in Dresden, Germany, one of only four remaining in the world, is proof of this Spanish influence. The Dresden codex was brought to Europe by a Spanish person in the company of the conquistador Hernán Cortés. Ironically, this theft saved the codex and a few others from being burned by a zealous priest several decades later when all the other remaining Mayan texts were destroyed. From my reading of the situation I believe that the person responsible for bringing these Mayan texts to Europe and inadvertently saving them was likely a converso, a Jewish person living in secret during the time of the Spanish Inquisition. This somewhat obscure history offers us the possibility of reimagining the narrative around the “Columbian exchange,” including hidden histories of resistance to the worst aspects of settler colonialism from within Spanish society itself. This history also offers us something very necessary during these times of Zionist shenanigans — a compelling, alternative, “outside of the box” way of viewing Jewish history and culture.

Colonialism & the Occult

Because my artistic practice concerns the world of the occult it’s best to orient ourselves with a piece of stranger than fiction history from the early colonial period that helps explain my overall perspective. It concerns an under-explored aspect of the Columbian exchange: the Indigenous spiritual and cultural objects stolen and appropriated by colonial powers. One of the most fascinating of these objects is an Aztec obsidian mirror that now lives in the British Museum.

These mirrors were thought to be portals into the realm of Aztec ancestors and their gods and became highly valued objects, particularly for Aztec elites, for the purpose of divination. They seemed to be equally prized by the Spanish conquistadors, who absconded with them and brought a few back to Europe. One of them fell into the hands of John Dee.

In the late 1500’s, Queen Elizabeth I’s main advisor began making use of an Aztec obsidian mirror for the purposes of divination. His name was John Dee and he was a very interesting Renaissance figure who blended the use of mysticism and the occult with mathematics and science. There are rumors that John Dee made use of the Aztec mirror to advise Queen Elizabeth on the successful defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588.

Dee often signed his confidential correspondence with “007,” something that was picked up by the author of the original James Bond novels. The ancient Mayan codex that currently lives in Dresden (and which has become a central part of my art project) is in the same realm as Dee’s Aztec mirror, and is another underexplored aspect of the Columbian exchange with a strong occult aura.

When the Spanish priest Diego De Landa initiated his infamous auto de fe of 1562 at Maní, the Dresden codex and several others were already safely far away in Europe having been stolen several decades earlier. De Landa burned all the Mayan texts and sacred objects he could find because he was threatened by the “superstition of the devil” he claimed they contained. As someone who has taken on the persona of a heretic I’m very interested in these sort of “superstitions” that offer a challenge to Christianity. What I’ve come to understand through my Indigenous solidarity work is that European colonizers put in a lot of effort to erase and vilify Indigenous spirituality on this continent and others. The situation with the Mayan texts being burned and the knowledge that was lost is an example of why the concept of epistemicide needs more attention.

Epistemicide is a term coined by Portuguese sociologist Boaventura de Sousa Santos in his book, “Epistemologies of the South: Justice against epistemicide”. It refers to the phenomenon of the destruction of existing knowledge systems and the erasure of traditional and indigenous sources of knowledge to impose a Western intellectual discourse and wipe out any epistemology beyond the Eurocentric terrain of modernity.

What I have come to understand is that we cannot speak about decolonization without challenging epistemicide. The “existing knowledge systems” of many Indigenous cultures that were wiped out included the kind of sexual and gender freedoms we can only dream of. A good example of this can be found by taking a look at the “Moche sex pots” from ancient Peru.

While European ideologies and systems and technologies have of course been useful, there’s something that’s been lost, something that for me revolves around the concept of ancestors. The Moche society used their erotic art and sexual practices as a way of connecting with their ancestors and natural forces. What’s interesting is that along this journey with decolonization and digging deeper into Indigenous matters I’ve drawn closer to my deceased grandmother who raised me—some mysterious things that have happened are why I have become interested in the concept of epistemicide. Not having the language within this culture to describe what I know has been going on is why I’ve become interested in epistemicide and in the occult.

“A Red Indian Fate”

As we learn that Western elites have been participating in “sex magic” and sacrificing children in the pursuit of power and wealth, it’s time for us to seek out our own alternative sources of personal power. I believe that decolonization and resurrecting intentionally hidden and buried cultural practices will help us as we struggle to survive in this collapsing Western system. I’ll briefly sketch out here my own interaction with esoteric matters and how I arrived at the conclusion that our resistance activities need to also include some spiritual/occult dimension.

In 2023 I left the United States and moved to Germany intending to stay there with my partner, someone I had a nearly twenty year association with. Unfortunately the relationship imploded. Instead of returning to the States I decided to head to Berlin to work on my art project and try and do some networking. While there I was encountering a mental block and a feeling of panic about my life and what to do moving forward. That’s when I began thinking about and meditating on my Indigenous solidarity work and the time I’d spent on a reservation out West. What triggered these memories was a passage from Victor Klemperer’s WWII diaries

November 2nd, 1933

Walter Jelski has gone to Palestine. Perhaps he will prosper there. After all, it is like something from a novel. I cannot help myself, I sympathize with the Arabs who are in revolt there, whose land is being “bought”. A Red Indian fate, says Eva.

This “Red Indian fate” line from Victor Klemperer’s wife is the only direct mention of Native Americans in these diaries. Meditating on this while thinking about my time on the Navajo reservation led me to an epiphany. I decided to investigate whether or not there was some connection between Dresden and Native America. It seemed improbable considering how disconnected Dresden seems from anything happening here. Yet what I discovered shocked me although it was not exactly brand new information. I’d simply never connected the dots. Some of you reading this will remember the hysteria in 2012 that revolved around a Mayan prophecy about the end of the world. This prophecy was based on a mistranslation of the Dresden Mayan codex, one of the texts stolen from Chichén Itzá. This codex now lives in a vault on a university campus in Dresden, the same campus where Victor Klemperer once worked as a professor.

Contemplating the connections between these two fascinating texts brought me to an understanding of a concept that was once very influential — the Jewish Indian Theory. This theory was popular from the 16th century through the end of the 17th century and claimed that Indigenous Americans were one of the lost tribes of Israel:

The theory was discussed by Spanish writers in the sixteenth century, including Diego de Landa in his Relación de las cosas de Yucatán (The Relation of the Things of the Yucatan), written around 1566, and Diego Durán’s History of the Indies of New Spain (1581). The first work to address the theory systematically came in 1607: The Origin of the Indians of the New World by Dominican Gregorio García. García argued based on supposed similarities in appearance, custom (including idolatry) and language (including the frequency of glottals) that the lost tribes of Israel travelled to the Americas alongside other migrations…

The fact that Europeans once considered Native Americans to be Jews might help explain why people here were treated so terribly… While thinking about how it was the work of a Jewish WWII diarist that led me to this codex I could not help but be amazed while considering the history of the Jewish Indian Theory. There really are some interesting and tragic similarities between how Jews were treated in Europe and how Indigenous people were treated here. There are cultural similarities as well. Also, when speaking of a “Red Indian fate” we cannot forget that Hitler and the nazis patterned their attack on Eastern Europe after the American subjugation of its Western territories.

The Return

There is much more to be said, but in the interest of time I’ll start to bring this to a close. I should say that while visiting the Dresden codex and contemplating its meaning there was a very tangible sense of power in the room. It was very undeniable.

One goal of mine is to use my social practice art project and my personal history with Germany to work towards getting this Mayan text returned to Chichén Itzá where it belongs. Because what I’m doing here is more compatible with the sort of Zoom presentations I like to do I will save most of the details about this for the next time I give one of these presentations, but there are a few things worth mentioning related to the occult and the mystery surrounding this codex. When we think about book burnings we usually think about the nazis burning books in Berlin on a university campus. However, the first book burning in nazi Germany took place in Dresden shortly after Hitler came to power. The 1562 burning of the Mayan texts is another book burning we should be more familiar with. The Mayan text in Dresden that was spared from being burned came from Chichén Itzá, known as the home of “water wizards”. How was the Mayan text in Dresden spared from the infamous firebombing of the city near the end of WWII? The room the codex was in somehow became flooded with water. The codex received some moderate water damage but survived.

When I think about how it was Eva Klemperer’s “Red Indian fate” line from her husband’s diaries that unveiled certain things for me I can’t help but to mention one more interesting coincidence. The infamous burning of the Mayan texts took place on July 12, 1562. July 12th is also Eva Klemperer’s birthday.

The very last thing I’ll mention here concerns the last page of the Dresden Mayan codex that depicts a flood catastrophe.

This black figure, “a god of the underworld on the day of creation,” somehow forced me to re-examine my own Blackness and what it means in today’s world. Could the rumors be true that the Mayans and other Indigenous people had contact with Africans? The voluptuousness of this figure’s body makes me wonder. Looking at this figure you can also see that this caked up god is somewhat androgynous. Above hovers the goddess Ix Chel in her destructive grandmotherly aspect with a jaguar face, hands and feet. The connection between all this and my cat I was traveling with while in Germany a few years ago is something I’ll have to talk about another time.

[you can find more of my work and feel free to contact me on Instagram: _victorycat]

One problem I’m attempting to address with these short stories is the fact that most gay men have come of age in a sausage fest ghetto without realizing there are other options and different types of men out there. I’m also interested in challenging stigmas around queer sex, especially bottom stigma. It’s false to assume that being penetrated automatically makes one weak or subservient. The people engaging in bottom shaming don’t seem to understand that they are simply reinforcing the toxic masculinity and patriarchy that tells us men are only valid and manly when we are topping/inserting. There’s actually something very erotic about a traditionally masculine man who subverts the usual expectations by enthusiastically and assertively giving up his cheeks.

For a few different reasons I had to hit pause on my own IRL sexy times, so these stories are at the moment a way of both channeling some sexual tension and modeling what a different kind of society could look like. In Emmanuel’s world, the barriers to cis men and trans men connecting and exploring are much lower than in the dysfunctional, frustrating shit show many of us are currently living in. These stories are inspired in part by the erotic science fiction cable TV show Emmanuelle in Space. As a horny kid going through puberty this show left a big impression on me. The Emmanuel character in my short stories is patterned somewhat after the vibe of Emmanuelle from the TV show; in this series she’s a bisexual hedonist who stumbles upon a group of humanoid aliens, taking it upon herself to teach them the ways of human sexuality. This show was fairly progressive for the time period and has been a great inspiration for modeling creative sex positivity.

One morning Emmanuel woke up to a cryptic text from someone he had not spoken with in quite some time. Somebody you might find interesting will be crossing your path soon— keep an eye out. The text was from an old fuck buddy of his who had moved to Cali but they were still in contact, mostly on social media. When he wrote him back asking for some clarification the only response was a link to the profile of a content creator they were both following. Huh? he thought to himself. It was very random but not totally unwelcome because this sexy, thick trans guy creator was one of his ultimate fantasies and he never got tired of looking at his content. He was intentionally incognito and always wore a green skullcap so he only had a vague idea what his face looked like. From his tan skin tone and from his accent he seemed to be Latino. He did not post that often, but when he did — Jesus Christ, that beautiful furry bubble ass; those thighs; those nice feet; that juicy pussy that was somehow both pretty and masculine at the same time — sheesh! He went by the name Oakland-FTM, mostly posted solo stuff and had a ton of followers. Then something clicked in Emmanuel’s mind when he looked at the name and location of this content creator. He was in the same city as his buddy who just texted him! Now wait a minute…did they know each other?

This little mystery consumed his thoughts for a few days but he did not have to wait long to find out what was going on. While at the gym one afternoon he was doing some stretches when he noticed someone he had not seen there before staring at him very intensely. He blinked, feeling a bit flustered at the piercing, smoldering heat coming from the gaze of this stocky, beefy, Latino looking guy wearing a black tank top and grey shorts that showed off his nice legs. Emmanuel knew the type. These sort of guys were super sexy with all their thickness despite not having the typical gym body. He had a pleasant, clean shaven face with a cute little cleft chin. Beneath his baseball cap was a head of thick, jet black hair; he looked to be around his mid-late twenties and carried himself with the typical Latino machismo confidence. While he was lifting his dumbbells he continued glancing over at Emmanuel from across the room periodically, making it very clear he was trying to catch his attention. Something about the look in his eyes seemed familiar somehow. No way, Emmanuel suddenly thought to himself, remembering the text from a few days ago about “keeping an eye out”. He went to the Twitter profile his buddy had sent him. Despite his face being covered in his photos he recognized the eyes right away. Holy fuck! There was no way… It was too good to be true! He decided to get closer for a better look and to confirm his suspicion, positioning himself at a machine directly behind the guy who wasn’t shy about staring. His shorts were somewhat baggy but what was going on underneath was undeniable. Then there were the thick thighs and calves he recognized. Yessir, this was him! This was the content creator whose profile his buddy had sent to him a few days before. But what was he doing in Philadelphia?

He did not have to wait long for answers to his questions. While getting changed in the locker room he felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned around there he was gazing at him with that same intense, hungry expression.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He extended his hand. “I’m guessing you’re Emmanuel?

“Yeah, that’s me. Who are you?” he asked, admiring the firm handshake of this mystery man.

“OK, cool, I’m Gio,” he replied with a sigh of relief. “Didn’t mean to be creepy staring earlier but I wanted to make sure you were the right guy. I went to the wrong gym yesterday by accident, the one down on Chestnut street, so I wanted to be extra sure this time. I know this is kinda different but we have a mutual friend in Oakland who told me it would be a good idea to connect with you while I’m in town.”

“Wait, so you know Chris?”

“Yeah, we know each other from the gun club out there. I’m in Philly visiting family for the next week and decided to take his advice and hit you up.”

At this point Gio was sitting on the changing bench looking over at him as he got changed the way a starving man might look at a plate of delicious soul food.

“Oh, snap, well I must say I’m flattered,” Emmanuel said, his mind racing as he zipped up his jeans. What was going on? He was not used to someone coming on so strongly like this. Most of the time he was the one who had to make the first move or spark something off. Being pursued in this way was a strange feeling but he had to admit it was also a breath of fresh air to be the hunted instead of the hunter for once.

“I like to get right to the point because I don’t like to waste time, sorry,” Gio said with a little laugh, almost as if he had read Emmanuel’s thoughts. “Life’s too short, you know?”

“I feel that most definitely. But wait, can I ask you something? No, wait, hold up, not here,” he added as a few other men entered the locker room chatting loudly.

“Take my number,” said Gio. After Emmanuel handed him his phone he plugged in his number, stood up and gave him a hearty pat on his shoulder. “Got some family stuff to do later this afternoon but if you’re free in the evening let’s get a drink or something and then you can ask me whatever you want, handsome.”

With a wink he turned and went back to finish his workout leaving Emmanuel standing there feeling bewildered but over the moon. What kind of good luck was he having to have this incredible opportunity just drop into his lap? He had an intuition that very soon he would be feasting as he had never feasted before, he was sure of it. He was hard thinking about it almost the whole trolley ride home; as soon as he got inside he stripped off his clothes, stretched out on his bed and pulled up the profile his buddy in Oakland had sent him — it was definitely the guy he had just met at the gym, no doubt about it. While jerking his dick he scrolled through his twitter page imagining what it might be like to have those cheeks on his face; it was not long before he busted a phat nut at the thought of being smothered and drenched by all that goodness.

“Aw, man,” he exclaimed out loud letting out a big sigh as he reached for the paper towels next to his bed.

Needing to check one more thing he scrolled through Gio’s page a bit longer trying to see if there was any pattern to the type of guys he made content with. Because most of his content was solo it took a while, but after scrolling back pretty far he could see that he apparently only gave up his cheeks to melanated men like himself. Well, that explained why he came on so strong. The man knew exactly what he wanted — and he was going to get it.

The place where they planned to meet up that evening was a cozy little piano bar on a cute little side street in the gayborhood with plenty of semi-private nooks where they could hole up and have a nice chat. Emmanuel arrived first and found a good spot across from the main entrance so he would be easy to spot. After ten minutes of waiting he began to feel a bit nervous, but before he could start fretting Gio walked through the door, took a look around, waved at him, and headed over.

“My bad, got held up messing around with my nieces at my brother’s place.”

“No worries at all, Gio. I just got here not too long ago. What are you drinking?”

After grabbing a few Long Island’s they sat facing each other, sizing each other up. The mutual attraction was undeniable. Emmanuel thought that if everything went well he would have to send his buddy Chris a gift basket or something for hooking him up like this. Gio was absolutely what he needed at the moment. While standing at the bar getting drinks he kept stealing glances; with his tight jeans and ostentatious jewelry it was obvious the guy had dressed for attention. But then again, this was how Dominican guys (the flag was in his bio on his Twitter page) often dressed regardless of their orientation. One thing for sure, he had a beautiful peach and he was not shy about showing it off, either online or in real life. Emmanuel felt very pleased with himself when he caught a few other guys staring. With his gold chains and backward hat he looked like a sexy little thug sitting on his stool with one hand on his knee, the other holding his drink, observing Emmanuel with great interest.

“So, here we are,” he said with a grin, putting down his drink.

“Here we are,” Emmanuel replied, leaning on the table with his hand on his chin admiring the view across from him. “Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you about this gun club where you met Chris. I didn’t know he was into that sort of stuff.”

“He’s one of the best sharpshooters out there, actually.”

“What? How did you all even get into that? I thought those clubs got phased out years ago.”

“There are still some clubs here and there, especially on the Westcoast because of the Panthers and all that. My dad got me into shooting when I was a kid. I think he was scared for my safety even though, let’s be real, it’s not like how it was before the Revolution.”

“Yeah, but still…shit can happen.”

“Exactly, and so while my dad never had a problem with me being trans and so forth he was overprotective. So he started taking me to the range pretty young. I think his dad was involved in some of the stuff that was happening back in the day with the Revolution, but he won’t talk much about it for some reason. Overall I think he wanted to make sure I was tough enough to handle anything that came my way. Growing up he was always saying shit like, “You can be whoever you wanna be just don’t be a bitch.”

“Kinda problematic but I get where he was coming from and why he wanted you to be tough,” Emmanuel replied.

“My dad is a trip, for real. He lives in the Dominican Republic and grew up on a farm and all that. He’s not politically correct whatsoever but his heart’s in the right place, so I let some shit slide. And, you know, I can’t complain because I think growing up the way I did guaranteed that I would be more macho and I like being this way. But for me being macho didn’t mean wanting to be a top.”

“And believe me I’m happy about that,” Emmanuel replied. It seemed to be the right time to ease into some other subjects. “Now I’m just curious what my buddy Chris was saying about me to get you so interested.”

“Only good things, I promise,” Gio said. “I asked him what your head game was like and he said it was top tier and that’s all I needed to hear. A good eater is not so easy to find these days.”

“With you? I don’t believe that!”

“Man, trust me. Just because I got the goods doesn’t mean everybody knows how to handle them.”

“Well, you came to the right place for sure. But wait, so you’re only looking to get head?”

“Hell no, I wanna get fucked too, obviously,” he replied, biting his lower lip. “But I should let you know I’m a real power bottom. I need my shit properly beat. Some people think they’re a power bottom when they’re just a regular bottom, but I’m not exaggerating. I’m dominant with my tops. I like my tops to take orders and do what I tell them to do, if you don’t mind that.

“Oh, definitely not,” Emmanuel replied. A guy with a booty like his who would let him go H.A.M.? He was once again feeling very lucky to have had this gift drop in his lap.

“I wasn’t sure if I was gonna mention this, but why not. Been thinking I should tell you how me and Chris met. It was before the gun club, actually. He’s been one of my fave and most reliable tops out in Oakland for a minute now.”

“No way, he tops? I only knew him as a bottom. I’m fuckin’ shocked, honestly!”

“Oh, for sure, he’s a great top. I usually only play with other trans guys, by the way.”

“Now you got me feeling like I won the lottery.”

“Stop it,” he said with a laugh. “If I get a good recommendation I’ll take a chance, but usually it’s not worth the trouble because most cis guys nut too fast with me and they don’t know how to give head the way I like it. Also, my rule is before I let you hit you gotta make me cum at least three times, that’s cool?”

“I don’t think that will be any problem at all,” Emmanuel said, feeling his dick getting hard at Gio’s assertiveness. It was thrilling! The idea of the bottom being in charge instead of him was very intriguing; the thought of not being expected to be in control was honestly very refreshing.

The conversation turned to Gio’s online exhibitionism hobby and he was more than happy to talk about it. Emmanuel was not sure about bringing it up at first, but after easing into in a roundabout way he learned that Gio started his page after a bad break up a few years back.

“I was feeling like dirt, totally depressed. He cheated on me with people I knew, really stomped on my heart. Worst was how he would put me down and tell me I needed to hit the gym.”

“No way, what the hell?”

“Yup, and this was a trans guy who knew all about how things can be for some of us with self image issues and all that. At the end of it I felt pretty destroyed. So, after we split I started posting online to feel better about myself. Just ass pics here and there at first and then it kinda snowballed to where I can enjoy some nice passive income.”

“Well, your origin story was rough but I would say it was worth it because your page is hot as fuck.”

A little bit further into the conversation and a few shots of tequila later Emmanuel felt like it was time to make something happen. The way Gio’s cheeks were spilling over the side of the stool he was sitting on — goddamn! He had to get a taste soon and so he proposed a little idea.

“I been thinking about what you said earlier, about somebody needing to make you nut three times before you let them get in there,” he remarked casually. “You should know that’s not gonna be a problem for me.”

“Oh, word?”

“I can show you better than I can tell you, just gimme five minutes.”

Emmanuel proposed that they take a little trip to the upstairs restroom which was perfect for a little session because it was meant for single occupancy and private. The bar was not too crowded so they would not have to worry about people banging on the door.

“You’re speaking my language right now,” Gio quipped, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He quickly finished off the last of his Long Island. “Lemme go first and then you follow me.”

While watching Gio hop off the stool and head up to the bathroom Emmanuel never took his eyes off his magnificent big booty that was stretching his jeans to the breaking point. He licked his lips, relishing the fact that in a few moments he would be getting his face between those cheeks. While a tipsy group of friends sang along to the piano player in loud, comically off tune voices he discretely followed him, not that he had to be too worried. It was a gay bar after all so that bathroom had obviously seen plenty of action already, but he did not want to make it too obvious either. Thankfully the bathroom with its kitschy décor was lit by a soft yellowish glow and not the harsh fluorescent lights that were always a real mood killer. To start, Gio pulled him close and gave him a quick kiss before fumbling with his belt buckle.

“Let me see this dick,” he murmured seductively. Soon Emmanuel’s pants were down around his ankles and Gio was teasing the mushroom head with his tongue before slowly easing his mouth down the shaft until he was deepthroating him.

“Just like that,” Emmanuel whispered breathlessly, marveling at how expertly he was working his tongue on his shaft while sucking him.

After a few minutes of giving him some top tier head Gio stood up and motioned for Emmanuel to take his place sitting on top of the closed toilet lid. “I want you to suck me from the back,” he said. Once his pants were down he bent over and put one hand on the wall to brace himself, his huge, slightly furry ass glowing like the moon under the soft overhead light. “Get your face in there,” he demanded looking over his shoulder.

Emmanuel did not need to be told twice. Poking out from a tuft of dark hair was a delicious looking, super sensitive t-dick that he greedily took into his mouth, sucking him while working his tongue. He buried his face deep between those magnificent cheeks until he could hardly breathe, sucking and licking like a starving man in the desert who had just stumbled onto a lavish buffet. With both hands he grabbed a handful of Gio’s thick cheeks and spread them wide, whistling with approval.

“Goddamn, look at that. You are so fuckin’ sexy,” he said, in awe of how delicious everything looked while opened wide in this position. “Let me meet that quota you were talking about real fast.”

Soon Gio was gasping and covering his mouth to hold back the sound of his orgasm. He quivered and vibrated as he came not once but twice as Emmanuel expertly sucked him from behind.

“Papi, you were not joking — how’d you make me nut so quick like that?” he asked with astonishment, looking back with his handsome face flushed.

“One more,” Emmanuel teased, getting back in there. Soon he had met the quota and they were back at their table sipping another drink.

“Whoa, now that was a nice appetizer,” Gio gushed. “I thought maybe Chris was exaggerating, but nope, you’ve got some serious skills my guy.”

“Well, I’ve got good material to work with so that helps,” he replied with a grin.

In the Lyft on the way to Emmanuel’s place he sat with his hand on Gio’s thigh, squeezing it every so often while they chatted. “Can I ask you something?” he inquired as their driver maneuvered onto the highway.

“Of course,” he replied.

“How did you get to be so damn sexy?”

“C’mon, bruh, I thought you had a serious question,” Gio said with a smile, elbowing Emmanuel playfully.

“I’m thinking it might be good you’re only in town for a little while because I know after I get in there I might try and lock you down,” he teased.

“Emmanuel, after the way you had me in that bar I’m thinking the same thing. For the rest of the time I’m here I don’t plan on linking with anybody else, so you’ll have me locked down til I go to the airport on Sunday.”

“OK, bet,” Emmanuel said, feeling pleased at the thought of fucking Gio as much as possible over the next days.

Once they got to his place he was relieved to see that his housemate was out so they could make as much noise as they wanted. After smoking a joint out back in the garden they headed up to his room. Gio did not waste any time letting him know what he wanted.

“First things first lemme sit on your face, ever since the bar I been thinking about properly riding that tongue,” he said as he took off his boxers and stripped off his socks.

After Emmanuel stripped down he got in position on his bed and said, “I’m ready for you to smother me.”

Soon Emmanuel was looking up wide eyed at the glorious sight of Gio’s massive cheeks coming down closer and closer until his big ass totally eclipsed his vision. While he was vigorously rubbing and grinding all that soft, juicy wetness on his face Emmanuel felt like he was in heaven. Never before had struggling to breathe been so pleasurable. His tongue had never been so busy and soon that busyness was paying off dividends; soon he felt the familiar quivering as Gio got ready to bust a nut while riding his face.

“Eat it just like that, yeah that’s right — get that tongue in there,” he cried. He was turning Emmanuel’s face into his own personal slip and slide. “I’m about to cum on your face,” he moaned.

With his mouth full Emmanuel couldn’t fully respond only grunt and moan, but he kept on what he was doing until Gio’s passionate cries filled the room.

“I’m ready to ride on that big dick now,” he said breathlessly, turning around and looking down at Emmanuel with admiration as he began slowly easing down on him.

“Sheesh, you are tight as hell,” he exclaimed, worried that it was feeling too good and he might nut prematurely.

“I’m always tight at first but you’re gonna have me stretched open pretty soon,” said Gio. His hands were gripping Emmanuel’s chest as he eased down all the way on his dick. He gasped sharply as he felt him reaching his deepest spots. Once he got used to it he started really riding him, using his muscles to grip and massage.

“Yo, chill, I’m gonna nut if you keep doing that,” Emmanuel pleaded, shocked at Gio’s riding skills. He almost never got so close so soon. Needing to take control of the situation he took a firm hold of Gio’s waist and began piston fucking him, holding him in place while he thrust into him with almost manic speed.

“You got me going crazy,” Emmanuel said aggressively. “I’m about to tear this pussy up, boy!”

He knew from experience that the people who say “squirt is pee” never really had their shit hit properly. Because Gio’s pussy was definitely squirting and it definitely wasn’t pee. His creamy juices were splashing everywhere as Emmanuel kept up his energetic pace.

“Holy shit, you’re about to make me start sounding like one of those white chicks in the pornos,” Gio exclaimed, his voice shaking as he took those strokes. Soon he was going totally wild. “Fuck me, Manny…oh my god, I’m about to bust again, fuck!”

Feeling Gio’s muscles contracting while he came was what finally put Emmanuel over the edge. “I’m gonna cum,” he moaned.

“Gimme that nut, please,” Gio begged. “Nut all in this pussy, gimme that…ah, damn, I can feel you filling me up.”

The headrush of release was incredible, but Emmanuel knew that was just the appetizer. Gio turned over on his back and spread himself wide open, clearly ready for more dick. A little rivulet of milky white cum spilled out.

“Damn, look at that. Gonna have you like one of those cream filled donuts soon,” Emmanuel teased. Even though he just came the incredibly sexy sight in front of him kept him hard and ready to keep going.

While Gio was laying on his back he used both his feet to massage Emmanuel’s dick. He then took one of his feet, the one with the gold ring on his middle toe, and put it on his chest.

“You got such pretty feet,” he said, moving Gio’s foot from his chest up to his lips where he slowly kissed and playfully nibbled each well formed toe. His dick was extra hard and throbbing from the foot play and soon he was easing the head into Gio’s well fucked, leaking hole.

“Hold up, lemme get on my knees; I gotta show you how it’s about to go down,” he said as he turned over and got into the doggystyle position.

“Oh my god, boy. Look at you, just look at you,” Emmanuel said with a little whistle, completely awestruck by how gorgeous Gio’s cheeks were in this position with his booty poked out; he couldn’t believe how incredibly sexy this guy was. He grabbed the baby oil and gave his big ass & thighs a thorough, extended rub down in between jiggling and slapping his soft cheeks, relishing every moment and feasting his eyes. He kissed and gently bit each cheek before Gio reached back and spread himself wide, inviting him to get his face in there. He did not need to be told twice.

“Manny, what the fuck? This is like the tenth time tonight!” Gio cried as Emmanuel’s expert head skills sent him over the edge once again.

Somehow making these guys nut quick just came naturally to them and it was always a nice little ego boost. But wow he was ready to lock in and give some proper strokes. From the way Gio started throwing it back after he slid in there he could see it was about to be a Clash of the Titans. Who would tap out first?

“That’s right, gimme that dick, don’t hold back,” Gio crooned, bracing himself with both of his knuckles pressed into the mattress as Emmanuel pounded him hard, relishing the chance to go full throttle.

The sound of Gio’s cheeks being clapped echoed through the room like the first bursts of a strong thunderstorm on continuous loop. Having cum once already Emmanuel was in the zone and spent the next twenty minutes giving Gio some good back shots. As he felt himself getting close he experienced an awareness that had dawned on him before in these moments, that there was kind of power here that was undeniable; the power of mutual attraction and of two compatible lovers pushing each other to their limit. He could see that Gio was reaching his limit as well. He was grabbing the sheets and kicking the bed with his feet in that way bottoms sometimes did when they were getting close to not being able to take it any more. His frantic moans and cries were getting louder and louder and this was what finally pushed Emmanuel over the edge.

“I’m about to nut deep in this pussy again,” he declared, grabbing both of Gio’s thick cheeks and pulling him closer with each stroke.

“Yes, yes, please gimme that nut and fill me up again. You know I’ve earned it,” Gio whimpered.

Emmanuel agreed that he had definitely earned it and soon he was having one of the most intense orgasms of his life, throwing his head back and almost howling like a wolf as he grabbed hold of Gio’s big ass and filled him up. When he was done he had to step back and admire his handiwork for a moment. Gio’s hole had been nice and tight earlier but now he was wide open and dripping, his cheeks quivering.

“Fuck yeah, look at that,” Emmanuel said, jiggling his cheeks one more time before falling over on the bed exhausted.

They lay there beside each other catching their breath for a few minutes without saying anything just soaking in the awesomeness of the past hour or so. After a little while Gio turned to Emmanuel and said, “I think I’m almost ready for another round.”

“My god, you’re a bully! Tryna wear me out,” he said with a little chuckle of admiration. Most guys would have been ready for a nap after all that but it seemed like Gio was just getting started.

“Hey, what can I say, I wasn’t exaggerating about being a power bottom. You’ll see what I mean. And then I think tomorrow I’m gonna need to see you again. And the next day, and each day until I fly back. If that’s cool with you, that is.”

As he felt himself starting to get hard again as Gio played with his dick Emmanuel knew that the next days were going to be some of the best of his life so far.

[My grandmother who raised me for most of my childhood passed away in May of 2010 and there remains much that is unresolved. This open letter is my way of beginning to heal the wounds of the past. A few months after she passed a strange moment of synchronicity led to a discovery that has been invaluable to me over the past years. But I did not recognize the value of it at the time. The same is true of my grandmother. I did not value her the way I should have while she was alive, but the journey I’ve been on over the past years has opened my eyes. I’ve especially been awakened to the necessity of intentionally connecting with our ancestors, a process and practice that has been disrupted for most of us by colonialism. For me, rediscovering the importance of our ancestors and their role in our lives has been a crucial aspect of resistance. I hope others can gain some inspiration from this. For those who know they won’t finish reading to the bottom please make sure to see this fundraiser for my grandmother’s headstone — thank you.]

Dear Paula,

I’ve almost found my way back to you. We’re almost there. When I think about what’s going on in my life these days I think about this strange dream I had, or maybe it was a kind of waking vision. The sun was shining brightly and in the distance were the calm, shimmering waters of a wide lake. I was walking on a green meadow dotted with little yellow wildflowers when I saw two women sitting at a table. They were dressed in white; the gauzy, gently fluttering tablecloth was white and on the table there was fancy looking tea party china sparkling in the sunshine. The two women were sitting with their back to me looking out over the lake. They were sitting in calm silence, the way old friends often feel comfortable doing. As I approached them I could see one of the women was Black and the other looked European. When the Black woman turned to look in my direction that’s when I woke up.

Paula, I’ve been thinking more and more about the fact that you’re the one who taught me how to read. Fitting because I recently realized that what I’m working on now needs to translate into a book of some kind. I knew I had to reach out to you because the situation I’m in demanded it. The situation is fairly accurately reflected in one of my favorite fairy tales, Rumpelstiltskin. In Rumpelstiltskin the miller’s daughter finds herself thrust into an impossible situation where she’s forced to alchemize something common into something valuable or face certain death. I feel that I’ve reached that point in my own life. What I’ve realized is that for this alchemy to work I can no longer avoid the things I’ve been avoiding. I knew I needed to find a way to reconnect with you.

It’s been clear to me for a while that the way forward is through the lens of the personal, through feelings, through the mysteries of intimacy. I believe the dream/vision I mentioned above is related to the very subtle but life altering incident that happened a few months after you passed away nearly sixteen years ago. It’s directly related to the art project I’ve been working on for several years, but let me not get too ahead of myself. Let me just say for now it concerns hidden things that need to come to light. I believe I started down this journey inadvertently decades ago. Back then, when I was twenty two years old, you sent me a letter chastising me for working at an adult bookstore. “I didn’t raise you that way,” you wrote at the time. And that was certainly true. Growing up, I remember you were almost asexual. You dressed in a sort of frumpy way that obscured the curves of your body. Sex was never a topic of discussion in our home except fleetingly in relation to something seen on TV. You never brought a man over the house while I was there; in fact, I don’t recall you ever having any relationships with men that I knew about. My childhood was, for the most part, as pure as it could have been under the circumstances. But you were carrying a heavy burden.

It was only last year when I fully realized the weight of what you were carrying after being cursed out by your other grandson. While going through a personal crisis he lashed out at me after I refused to send him more money to feed the monkey on his back. Knowing that he was only talking to me to get money was a shitty feeling, but I realized the interaction was worth having because of the information he passed on while raging at me.

I had to sit with this for a long while. Apparently your other grandson knew more about the family situation than I did from his father, my uncle, someone I was not very close with. While I was shocked and dismayed to see my cousin saying these things about you I somehow came to realize that this was information I needed. This is what had been kept from me. Still, it’s beyond messed up to know my own cousin and your own flesh and blood thinks such things. My god, how disconnected we’ve become. Once I pushed past the ugliness of that interaction I began to understand something — I never experienced that kind of abuse because you protected me from all that. You didn’t want my developing sexuality to be tainted by all that.

Until I was around ten years old you managed to shield from me the extent of our poverty. But most importantly, you shielded me from the despicable child molestation that is so rampant in our society. Towards the beginning of an interview (Trauma, Virtue and Liberal Elites) the author Catherine Liu highlights how rampant the hysteria around child sexual abuse was throughout the 1980’s. I believe this was the rationale behind your overprotectiveness and keeping me away from men. As a child my days were filled with books and music and day trips and playing in our little garden that you so carefully tended. I was in a cozy little bubble with you and Aunt Cynthia who regularly visited us, and it was just us until Paul arrived as a newborn baby. That’s when things changed dramatically because you officially were in over your head trying to raise two grandchildren with no support and facing a government cutting social welfare.

I know now that this terrible, intentionally inflicted poverty was at the root of what came between us. And while it’s true that you did not raise me to align with the world of vice the reality is that I somehow needed to reckon with our families’ exploitation in that world. The poverty that was inflicted on you in your younger years led you to engage with that world, I’m sure of it. I just don’t know the details and maybe it’s better that way — but I know something fucked up happened to you.

I can see looking back how fragile you were with your dentures and your wig and your pill bottles (I never knew exactly what you were taking). I wonder how much of this fragility was related to whatever abuse you were forced to endure. One of the most shocking things I realized recently is the extent to which my own grandfather, your former partner, inflicted this abuse on you. When I visited Madeline [my mom] recently she filled in some gaps for me. I never knew that you and my grandfather Lester were never married. According to Madeline he was already married with a child when you two met. How did you meet? I wish I could find out. I believe what happened is that he saw you and was mesmerized; he coveted you and then he somehow enthralled you. He somehow kept you hanging on for years and years. My mother brushed the situation off saying, “It was the 60's,” but there was more to it than that. While my grandfather had this other family he was supporting he left you and the four children he fathered with you to fend for yourselves. When he needed sex or a punching bag he came to you, otherwise he could not be bothered. And I know that you were treated in such an incredibly shitty way because you were a darker skinned Black woman from a low income background.

If not for this crisis in my own life with a local Zionist-aligned arts non-profit exposing me to ADL/FBI surveillance I don’t think I would have fully come to understand the situation you faced. In a strange way the situation became more clear to me after looking at my own body and noticing other people’s reactions to it. When I was denied reparations and essentially told to fuck off by the usual suspects around here I thought I would get more support as a long time activist from this local community, but this support never materialized. Joining a subscription service and doing online content creation to fund my project and avoid covid is not something I regret because ironically this struggle helped me understand what you went through. Even though I’m not a woman I think I understand now what it means to be a “fallen woman”. I understand the gossip, the stuck up refusal to engage, the hypocrisy, the assumptions, the whispers about one’s mental health, and the picture people paint that somehow it’s all our own fault. Even funnier, I see very clearly now how people will see you drowning and somehow make it all about themselves.

And yet despite everything you had an unshakeable sense of pride. In addition to the beautiful garden you cultivated I remember how you got the house painted and a white wrought iron gate put out front. Our house really stood out from the others on the block for a long time. When I think about you these days I think about the concept of matriarchy and how this relates to the divine feminine. In matriarchal societies there’s no such thing as a bastard, a fact that has been bringing me some comfort while grappling with this ridiculous conspiracy of silence around my ancestry. I’ve come to understand that your original name was Pauline White but you changed it as a part of your rebrand after my grandfather passed away. According to the mainstream logic your children with him were bastards but I don’t think you saw things that way. You had a sense of pride. But why did you never tell me any of this, and why did you lead me to believe that “Whyte” was my grandfather’s name?

I believe the way I was raised and all the secrecy was your attempt to leave your past behind. When my mother was unable to take care of me you divorced your husband (who did not want to raise more children), bought the house on Wyalusing avenue and gave me all the nurturing and care you could. You never told me anything about the family complications because you wanted me to have a fresh start, unburdened. But the problem is that raising children takes resources and money, things that were actively either denied to you or out of your grasp. When our poverty became extreme after you took in my cousin I believe this reopened your old wounds and triggers. The fact of the matter is that as I was growing older I was beginning to look more and more like my grandfather, the man who abused you so terribly. I never understood until recently how triggering it must have been for you to navigate all that while also struggling to feed us and enduring being a Black woman in this shitty, racist society.

I’ve never wanted to say much about those terrible two years because I’ve never wanted to shame you by talking about a time when you were at your worst. But I know now that the whippings and the neurotic behavior and the mind games were not a reflection of who you were, they were a reflection of your trauma and the fact that you weren’t getting the help that you needed. And it’s unfortunately a common problem in the Black community; some call it “post-traumatic slave syndrome,” meaning abuse rooted in historical trauma. Reading Dostoevsky revealed to me that Russian peasants were living in similar circumstances of social dysfunction related to their poverty and exploitation. When we look at the political and economic situation here in the United States it’s easy to see that the dysfunction in ghettoized communities has been carefully cultivated the same way it was cultivated for landless peasants in other countries. People here are intentionally put in screwed up situations and then their response to the situation is used as an excuse to either not take them seriously or continue denying their legitimate grievances. This is what was at the root of the “welfare queen” and “super predator” propaganda of the early 90’s that led to Bill Clinton working with the Republicans to slash welfare. In fact, during Clinton’s presidency social welfare was cut by 60% in an effort to force people back into low wage jobs. Our personal tragedy was a byproduct of these political decisions.

The author and commentator Catherine Liu brought up another interesting piece of history during the above mentioned interview that gave me pause because it exactly describes what happened in our situation. She brought up how in the 19th century it was common for impoverished families to push boys out of the home around the age of twelve because it simply became to expensive to feed them. And now when I think back I know that leaving home was the best option at that time in order for me to grow big and strong the way I needed to. Our poverty was so extreme that my growth likely would have been stunted if I had stayed. I have a memory of getting up in the middle of the night to eat some peanut butter and you being upset in the morning because you had planned to use it for something. I remember you sending me over to our neighbor for meals occasionally. Such things should not have been happening in the richest country in the world, and yet…

On the other hand, despite the economic strangulation we endured you were always trying to make the most out of the little you had, like the time you somehow got me into the summer camp at the Philadelphia Zoo. We lived literally a few blocks from the zoo but never went there because of money. So for me getting to attend this camp and see behind the scenes was a real treat. I believe this camp experience was also your way of saying “sorry” for taking out your frustrations on me during those difficult times. I remember being shocked at how lavish my lunches were during those two weeks. You did not want me to feel ashamed of my lunch compared to the other (mostly white) kids there. Then there were swimming lessons at the YMCA, piano lessons at Settlement Music School, being a part of the Philadelphia Boys Choir, and most importantly, getting involved with WHAT radio. I do believe that you encouraging me to call in and share my thoughts with the audience is part of why I gravitated towards alternative media as an adult.

After the crushing poverty we were experiencing triggered your mental health crisis I was forced to leave home. And yet you were somehow still involved, like when I was moved from Chester to Wyncote where there were much better schools. I know that you were somehow involved in that. Over the next six years while I was in foster care I received what I needed, the things I had been wishing for before I ran away. I made it to the suburbs/Northeast where I had a fridge full of food, a safe neighborhood without gunshots ringing out all the time, a bicycle to ride, kids in the neighborhood to play with, a Sega game system to play. These things and more are all things people take for granted growing up, but for me they were luxuries. But then when I was seventeen (ironically the same age my mother was when she had me) my latchkey kid situation caught up with me. Being a horny teenager in a city like Philadelphia without the proper guidance is a recipe for disaster. Then, a few years later I had to contend with aging out of DHS and losing access to my apartment and food stipend. The good years of abundance quickly flew by and then I found myself in the same situation I believe you found yourself in as a young woman. When I was essentially being tossed to the wolves you tried to help me, but all you had to give me was $500.

Before I left for Germany you tried to intervene. But the one thing I needed the most at the time— money — was the one thing you did not have. And then when I got to Germany one of my housemates who lived in the room next to me was a Polish genderqueer person named Pawel who also went by Paola, which to my ear sounded like Paula. It was very strange.

Four years after I returned from surviving my time in Germany you passed away. While you were dying in one of these shitty substandard nursing homes around here you were begging to see me. I remember the tearful messages Aunt Cynthia left on my answer machine back then. “Ronnie, please…” But for months I kept avoiding it. I avoided going to you because I was going through my own struggles at the time, still had not let go of the past, and because I thought I had more time. I didn’t understand that my grievances, while legitimate, were dwarfed by whatever you had to go through. And it was someone who looked like me, my own grandfather, who did those terrible things to you. Yes, you caused harm to me because you were unhealed. But you also sacrificed so much for me. I should have come to you when you were dying and the fact that I did not is a regret I’ll have to live with. I am so, so sorry!

And yet you passing away was not the end of the story. Something happened a few months after your death that I’m still grappling with. Reconnecting with your memory is what allowed me to finally see it. This whole thing is why I’ve become interested in the concept of epistemicide — because the language I need to talk about what’s going on has been mostly lost or stripped away. Talking about it in our current context would, for someone like me, lead to the risk of being institutionalized. And yet when I read about how the Mayans and others would bury their deceased loved ones under their homes and in public places to remain close to them, I know that there’s more going on than what we’ve been told. If there’s personal and social power to be gained through connecting with our ancestors, well, it’s no surprise that the usual suspects have declared it to be superstition or mental illness because that’s the game they’ve been playing for a long time.

One reason why I turned to art as a way of exploring and digging into our family history is because it’s the only medium that can contain the messiness. There’s an installation here in Philadelphia that I believe speaks directly to what you and many other women have experienced. Étant donnés, Marcel Duchamp’s last work of art that he worked on in secret for twenty years, explores the phenomenon of women and fems who have been gaslighted, abused and discarded.

According to my interpretation of Étant donnés one person being clearly referenced is Duchamp’s protégé, the Baroness Elsa von Freytag Loringhoven. She was a counterculture German woman artist who greatly influenced Duchamp’s artistic direction while not receiving the credit she deserved. She was a nudist, a proto-anarchist, a gender bender and someone whose art greatly influenced the Dada era. She died penniless of gas inhalation in her Paris apartment after the nude modeling school project she attempted fell through. Before that, she had been living in Berlin experiencing a mental health crisis because of her poverty after finding out she had been disinherited. Seeing how poverty affected the Baroness gave me a different perspective on those terrible two years of grinding poverty we experienced and how this affected you. For me, this is part of the worth of turning to the world of art for clarity and catharsis.

Like the nude, faceless figure in Étant donnés you, Paula, have gone unrecognized, have been relegated to a back corner and have been hidden away for far too long. There are elements of your story that will be familiar to others. I hope that telling your story will help others find clarity. It’s a small first step, but I want to make things right by finally getting you your headstone. There’s still so much mystery surrounding you, and there’s still a ways to go, but I’m getting closer to finding my way back to you. We’re almost there.

Please click here to support my “Tombstone for Paula” fundraiser.

These short stories originally began as a way of exploring my own fantasies and desires, however, there’s a political angle that can’t be ignored. Seeing people as complete and full human beings also includes demystifying and challenging the stigma around queer sex. In our world trans people are either a total mystery, fetishized, scapegoated, or totally disregarded by most people. The fetishization and casual transphobia among both straight and gay folks has created a situation where it’s difficult for people to make genuine, quality connections. In Emmanuel’s world where the free love upheaval of the 1960’s led to a society transforming Revolution, things are a bit different. The external and internal barriers we have to making new connections and taking risks on meeting new people are not as high in this alternate world where there is more interpersonal safety and less systemic oppression. Another way this alternate world is safer than ours is by the virtual elimination of STI’s and STD’s. In this post-Revolution world everyone has health insurance, sex education in schools is mandatory, cures have been funded and discovered, treatments are free, and prophylactics are easily available. In a world where resources are devoted to improving society rather than waging war or on tax breaks for the rich, many of the problems we take for granted are fairly easily solvable. This is one benefit of intentionally manifesting a different world that needs more advertisement — the possibility of a society where people could have more quality connections, have much more fun and thoroughly enjoy themselves…instead of whatever it is we have going on today.

One of Emmanuel’s favorite things to do when visiting the Reading Terminal Market was window shop through the sweets and confection section; this place with its seemingly endless options was like a little slice of heaven for those like himself with a sweet tooth. Always wonderfully hectic, the huge indoor market was doubly so on this particular day with the holidays approaching. With with all the delicious smells lingering in the busy air and with so many tasty looking options to choose from he always felt a little overwhelmed and had a hard time deciding. Usually he went for anything with the fluffy white Holland cream filling, like donuts or crepes. Biting into some softness and feeling his mouth fill up with that delicious cream was honestly the next best thing to sex.

He was enjoying a chocolate covered cream filled donut when he caught sight of a familiar figure across the busy aisle. He had seen this guy before at the gym. With his almost shockingly bright red hair and above average height he was pretty unmistakable and certainly stood out from the crowd. He was with a similar looking older woman who had his same color hair but with gray streaks, most likely his mother. He only caught sight of him for a moment as they were turning to go towards the exit, but that was enough to see what he needed to see. He had an eye for such things and sped up his walk to get a better glimpse before they disappeared in the crowd. One of Emmanuel’s super powers was the ability to spot some quality cake from across a distance the same way an eagle can spot a rabbit from miles away. He could see that, as they often did, this guy was trying to cover up his big, shapely ass with a long cut shirt but to no avail because there was no hiding all that. Good lord, he thought to himself, snatching one last look. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for this guy at the gym because it seemed like it might be worth investigating further.

His chance to find out more about the eye catching red head came sooner than he expected. Later that week while concentrating on doing arm curls he caught sight of a familiar flash of red hair in the mirror passing by behind him. A little later while they were working out near each other he had a chance to get a closer look. He was tall, a few inches taller than him, so he must have been around 6'2 or so. Except for a barely perceptible mustache and goatee he was fresh faced and looked to be around late twenties with that sort of rough around the edges, working class machismo thing going on. He had a somewhat average build but was very nicely toned and carried it well; his bright red hair was covered by a backwards turned baseball cap. There was also a very subtle, barely noticeable nose ring. Queer? Emmanuel decided to keep his fingers crossed. The only problem was that this guy looked serious as hell and not very approachable which made Emmanuel second guess his plan to strike up a conversation. He thought about letting it pass by until he caught a glimpse of what he’d noticed a few days before at the market. He could see that this guy was not trying to show off, but still, it was undeniable. Yup, it was definitely worth pursuing and seeing what the possibilities were because, goddamn, the ass on this guy was something special and he had to get in there if possible. He might look mean but some people’s faces simply looked like that all the time. He could not let this possibility slide by because just the thought of the recoil alone made him start to get hard.

About a week passed before he saw him again. This time he was ready. After nonchalantly approaching him to ask how many more sets he had on the smith machine he decided to take a chance on introducing himself.

“Thanks, you know these machines are always busy. I’m Emmanuel, by the way,” he said, offering his hand.

“Jason, nice to meet you.” He gave Emmanuel a curious yet guarded look with his intense, steel grey eyes. “You look a little familiar,” he said. “Have I seen you outside of here somewhere before?” he asked while wiping down the bench.

“Maybe, I’m always out and about somewhere,” Emmanuel responded, not wanting to say more out of fear of sounding weird. Probably best to not come across like a stalker by mentioning seeing him at the market. “Can I ask you where you’re from? I noticed you have a little accent.”

As it turned out, Jason was from Texas originally. During their on and off conversations over the next few weeks some other interesting facts emerged, like his university research work into curing a rare type of cancer and how he was currently in a polyamorous relationship with a somewhat internet famous trans woman influencer from Italy.

“But it’s winding down I think,” he said as they were getting dressed in the locker room. “We were hot and heavy at first but you know how it goes sometimes.”

“Well, at least you have the other people in your little poly gang,” he replied, not really knowing much about that sort of lifestyle though it sounded interesting.

“Not really,” Jason said with a big sigh. “It’s kind of disintegrating at the moment. I’m not getting what I need right now but I think I’ll land on my feet somehow,” he said with a wink.

Emmanuel had to resist the urge to ask him So what it is that you need? Instead he made a mental note of the fact that things were possibly ready to move in the right direction. He had begun to be resigned to admiring this guy without ever doing anything, but now it appeared that the door had been cracked opened. Better to not seem too desperate and just see how things played out.

The next time they saw each other they got to chatting about Instagram and shared their handles, something that seemed pretty innocuous on the surface but in reality it represented a leap forward. Jason’s Instagram was private; while on the trolley headed home Emmanuel got the notification that he’d been added. Curious, he took a look right away. Most of the photos were pretty vanilla and nothing to write home about. There were photos of him with family and friends, pictures of Philly life from a transplant’s perspective, pictures of his dog, pictures from camping trips and road trips — the usual. Sadly, there were no thirst traps, but Emmanuel noticed something. The only picture that could be interpreted as showing off was one of three pinned posts at the top of his grid. It looked to be a few years old because he was bigger now and showed him shirtless and slightly sunburned in the mirror, flexing. Next to him was a smiling and proud looking woman with her hand on his shoulder; he recognized her from that day at the Reading Terminal. As he started reading the post his jaw dropped when he saw the following text:

And of course I can’t forget to thank my Mom! She has always supported me 100% If it wasn’t for her going to bat for me I wouldn’t have found a way out of the cult and I wouldn’t have gotten my puberty blockers when I needed them. Love you, Mom!

As it turned out, Jason was born in a conservative Christian, separatist, cult-like community in the Texas panhandle that never fully embraced the results of the Revolution. Emmanuel had heard of such places before but had never met anyone from that world. These far flung, rural communities were mostly left alone by the government as long as they didn’t cause trouble. Jason had spent some time as a kind of activist speaking out on podcasts about the conditions for queer people in these communities. It was always good to see someone with a social conscience, something Emmanuel appreciated because of his own somewhat radical upbringing (his family had been very involved in the Revolution back in the day). He pressed like on the pinned post with that interesting personal info to let Jason know he had seen it and decided to not bring it up unless he decided to broach the topic.

Over the next few weeks they found their gym schedules aligning but their conversations stayed pretty brief and general. Just when Emmanuel was thinking that maybe the association was going to be a strictly platonic gym thing Jason surprised him one day.

“I’ve been really liking the art stuff you’re posting, by the way,” he said out of the blue while they were taking turns doing squats on the smith machine. “I’m not on there too much these days myself, but tomorrow I’m going on live with a buddy of mine from Texas who had the same kind of upbringing I had. I see you liked my pinned post so you saw that for me growing up was a bit complicated.”

“A long time ago I heard a little something about it but I didn’t know all that was going on,” Emmanuel admitted, trying his best to concentrate on the conversation and not on the very form fitting white shorts Jason was wearing on this particular day. This was the first time he would say that this guy was actually showing off his nice peach. He was afraid that if he looked to closely he would get hard; it had been over a month since the last time he hooked up with anyone and he was extremely horny and backed up.

“Something I didn’t say in the post is that my mom had to flash her gun to get us past one of the check points on the day we left for good. I’m pretty sure there are a bunch of people who want to leave but just can’t.”

“Whoa, what? Do you still have family living there?”

“An older brother, but he’s a total lost cause. Brainwashed as fuck!”

After complaining about his bible banging brother a bit more Jason declared that it was best to change the subject. He was sitting on the workout bench leaning down to re-tie one of his sneakers that had come undone when it happened. For Emmanuel this moment was like a beam of light from heaven shining down while a chorus of heavenly angels erupted in song. Not only were this guys gym shorts perfectly accentuating and gripping every curve leaving nothing to the imagination, his cheeks looked so massive in that particular angle that he almost literally started drooling. Just as he was about to look away Jason glanced up at him out of the corner of his eye and caught him staring.

“Holy shit, I knew it,” he said with a smirk.

“Um, what?” replied Emmanuel, hiding his face in his hands with exaggerated embarrassment. There was just no way to play it off.

“I think I know what you are,” Jason teased, standing up and facing Emmanuel with a rakish grin. “You’re a hungry boy. I’ve seen it before, but I had to make sure, ergo the shorts. Listen, Emmanuel, what are you doing after this? I got a little story to tell you that should clear things up.”

Intrigued, Emmanuel replied that he was free and so they made a plan to head over to a nearby smoothie place. There was a little back corner booth where they holed up after ordering, and it was here that Emmanuel had his mind blown. He would never have expected the following from such a mild mannered guy who had barely spoken about sex before, but it was a wonderful surprise.

“We’ve been chatting for a while and I can’t deny I’ve been thinking about the best way to bring up this topic,” he began. “Hear me out and then if what I’m saying sounds good maybe we can make a plan.”

Jason proceeded to tell a story about his time as an exchange student in Istanbul. It was his first time out of the country and a total culture shock of course, but he had been thrilled to finally see something of life outside of the United States. Up until that point New York City was the furthest he’d ever been from home. Turkey was a majority Muslim country but with liberal leaning reformists in power for over a decade the old social restrictions had been gradually removed. Istanbul and a few coastal resort cities in particular had became queer meccas of sorts which was why Jason chose that country to study in. The food, the culture, the well cared for stray cats everywhere, the colorful, labyrinthian side streets where it was easy to get lost — everything was so new and magical to him at the time. But despite enjoying the country and feeling comfortable there he had been too shy to go out to the clubs or to the bars to meet people. Besides a few university friends he did not do much socializing, and after being there for several months he started feeling unbelievably horny. He admitted that this played a role in what happened next. He lived at the time in a central Istanbul apartment building with a wonderfully spacious enclosed courtyard with tall trees, a beautiful garden and a picturesque little fountain with koi fish swimming around. It was like a little oasis in the midst of the hectic city. People who lived in the building would regularly sit in the courtyard to socialize or smoke, and that’s where Jason would occasionally see a mysterious looking guy who looked like a stereotypical Turkish wrestler. He must have been in his late thirties or early forties and was always wearing a tight, white undershirt that showed off his thick arms and deep, hairy chest. This handsome DILF was usually out in the courtyard smoking a cigarette while engrossed in his phone without talking to anyone, but one day Jason caught him staring.

“I was just pacing back and forth smoking when I saw he was staring at me the same way I caught you looking earlier,” Jason said, throwing his handsome head back and draining the remnants of his chocolate avocado smoothie. “His name was Murat and I’ll definitely never forget him.”

They had run into each other a few times at the elevator but had never exchanged words. But on that particular day in the courtyard the Turkish guy sauntered over to Jason and introduced himself.

“I could feel my face getting hot while he was talking to me; I hate that I blush so easily but I couldn’t help it. Back then I hadn’t had much experience with guys at all up until that point, but I could tell he wanted me because he made it pretty obvious. I’m pretty sure he had clocked me somehow. Looking back I think my ass probably gave me away,” Jason said.

“No way,” Emmanuel retorted immediately. “I for sure thought you were a cis guy until I saw your Instagram post. If you’ve seen any kind of sports you know it’s not uncommon for guys to have hella cake. Yours is something special, though,” he felt it necessary to add.

Jason’s face flushed bright pink for a moment and when he saw that Emmanuel immediately got hard because he had an intuition about what was going to be happening soon.

“So, basically what happened is that Murat invited himself over to my place for morning coffee,” he continued. “I was nervous and normally wouldn’t have agreed to something so random with somebody I didn’t know, but he was such a charmer and he made me feel at ease. Somehow, I don’t know, it was like my body responded to him instead of my mind. It’s like my body could sense that this guy had something I needed. In Turkey coffee is a pretty big deal and there’s a ritual around it that I tried to mimic so I got up extra early, butterflies all in my stomach the whole time. It was about 8am when he rang my doorbell. He gulped down the coffee, turned the coffee cup upside down on the saucer the way they do over there, and then leaned over and said he wanted to go with me to the bedroom. I asked him what he wanted to do and he said he wanted to “taste me”. Holy shit, when I tell you I have never had somebody give me head the way he did. He was like some kind of wizard with his tongue and that mouth of his. I must have cum about five times back to back that first day we linked up. The funny thing is that I didn’t feel the need to have to explain anything before we got started, I just went with the flow and I’m glad I did. We saw each other once or twice a week for the rest of the time I was living there. But the strange thing is that except for taking off his shirt he never undressed, never took out his dick and never asked to fuck me even though near the end I practically begged him to.”

“Maybe he was married or something; a lot of guys over there are DL or so I’ve heard,” Emmanuel remarked.

“I never knew for sure,” Jason said wistfully. “He never told me any personal info or anything so I think you might be right. And then when I was leaving there was no talk of us keeping in touch. I need to tell you the nickname I had for him, though.”

“What?”

“I used to call him my “hungry boy,” he replied, blushing once again. “Even though he was a grown ass man, don’t ask me why.”

“OK, I see,” Emmanuel exclaimed with a wide grin, leaning back and folding his arms. “All that to tell me that you’re looking for a real eater.”

“A very roundabout way, but yeah, pretty much,” Jason said with a little chagrined laugh. “I already told you a while ago that I’m not getting what I need at the moment…”

“Don’t worry, man. I got you. And maybe, just maybe I might make you forget about that Turkish guy once you see my skills.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Jason declared, gazing across at him with intensity while stroking his goatee. “Maybe you can come over for morning coffee one day soon.”

Emmanuel thought that sounded like a plan. He was not much of a morning person but for this he would be up at the crack of dawn with bells on if necessary. As it turned out, Jason lived somewhere in South Philly which was pretty far from where he lived in West, so he would have no choice but to rise with the early birds. But as he was to discover, it would be more than worth it.

After hearing all of that Emmanuel decided not to waste any more time and asked what tomorrow morning was looking like.

“It’s looking like I might be getting some special morning coffee,” Jason replied, texting him his address.

The next morning Emmanuel was standing in front of one of those quintessentially South Philly row homes that Jason was renting with a housemate who was out of town. He was positively buzzing with anticipation as he rang the doorbell.

“You’re here right on time. Good morning!” Jason said gregariously as he opened the door wearing only his bathrobe, his red hair wet and slicked back. They actually did start off with coffee in the brightly painted, spacious kitchen, the real reason for their meeting hanging unspoken in the air while they made small talk. Soon, when the tension was at a breaking point Jason motioned for Emmanuel to follow him up upstairs to his bedroom where he dropped his robe and flopped down naked stomach first on his king sized water bed.

“OK, first of all, I know you’re sleeping good as fuck on this bed,” Emmanuel said as he hurriedly stripped off his clothes.

“It was worth every penny,” he said, looking over his shoulder and grinning as Emmanuel took off his underwear. “I know that’s going to feel good,” Jason said with admiration.

But fucking was not was what Emmanuel was thinking about at the moment. He was absolutely transfixed by the beautiful sight in front of him. Never before had he been with a trans guy this big and tall with so much cake. Seeing him lying there on his black rayon sheets with those big buttermilk thighs, ass, calves and feet made such an amazingly erotic impression. What was before him was an absolute feast and he was ready to be a glutton. But first he had to massage him and feel every inch of that sexy body. After warming up with some body contact he was ready for the main event.

“Should I turn over?” Jason asked

“Not yet, I wanna get in there from the back first. Get up on your knees, though.”

Thinking that it must be true that everything is bigger in Texas he marveled at the massive cheeks in front of him and at the fact that down below Jason had a bigger t-dick than he’d ever seen before sticking out from a tuft of red pubes. Emmanuel thoroughly enjoyed jerking him and playing with him and sucking him and hearing his moans before he moved on to burying his tongue in that wet hole. Because this guy was bigger than normal and because there was more ground to cover he was quite busy licking and kissing and sucking, taking some time every so often to sit back and admire the view, his face covered with Jason’s wetness. Grabbing both of his cheeks with both hands he buried his face into his hole and made an effort to get one on the scoreboard. Soon enough he felt the familiar quivering and knew this guy was about to cum and cum hard. Of course this only encouraged him and he started really working his magic, alternating between sucking his dick and licking his hole.

“Oh my god, that feels so good! Please don’t stop, yeah, just like that, oh shit!” He came twice in quick succession gasping and shuddering as Emmanuel really went to town. “Man, how you so good at that?” he asked breathlessly.

“I just do what I do. Turn over so I can really get in there,” Emmanuel demanded, his dick rock hard with anticipation of getting into what he saw spread open before him. And what he saw was so incredibly inviting, just gorgeous. He was of the opinion that trans men were simply more aesthetic down there than cis guys and Jason was proof. This manly, masculine man with this manly, masculine pussy was proof of what he believed, that these sort of guys were really top tier. That he as a gay man could enjoy this was something he would never take for granted. After propping him up with a few pillows Emmanuel got in there like Cookie Monster tearing up a plate of freshly baked cookies. When he was close to coming again Jason grabbed the back of Emmanuel's head with both hands and pulled him in closer.

“Jesus, no way. Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck yeah, man, eat that,” he moaned, becoming increasingly incoherent as the waves of pleasure overtook him. After making him cum a few more times Emmanuel was ready to get in there.

“Let me ride you first so I can get used to it,” Jason suggested.

“Hell yeah, big boy,” Emmanuel said, lying on his back and putting his hands behind his head. Seeing a big guy on his knees sucking him and worshiping the dick that would soon be fucking him was always so damn sexy.

For some reason, probably because of his size, Emmanuel was surprised at how tight Jason was once he started easing down on his dick. It took a few minutes, and so he could see this guy was not exaggerating about needing to be opened up first. It was so incredibly sexy seeing him reaching back to hold one of his big, heavy cheeks while slowly sliding down inch by inch, his tight pussy not at all used to so much girth.

“Ah, damn, not even halfway in,” he moaned, his brow furrowed with concentration, his eyes filled with greedy desire to take the whole thing no matter how long it took. As he was getting filled up he leaned down and gave Emmanuel a passionate kiss. Once he got used to it he started really riding him, gradually increasing his speed until he reached an absolutely frenetic pace.

“No way, I’m about to cum again,” he moaned as the bed squeaked and shook with the weight of him slamming himself down on Emmanuel’s big dick.

“Yeah, cum on this dick,” Emmanuel exclaimed, feeling that he was getting close himself. A few moments later they were both climaxing at the same time, the bedroom echoing with their sounds of unbridled passion.

They lay there in the afterglow for a little bit just catching their breath and listening to the sound of birds chirping outside. Soon, Emmanuel broke the silence.

“So, tell me, how do I compare to your Turkish friend?”

Looking over at him with eyes still full of lust and desire Jason said, “Hmm, I think I need a few more morning coffee sessions to be able to say for sure. But so far, so good. You’re definitely a real hungry boy who knows how to eat.”

“I’ll take that,” Emmanuel replied, his ego sufficiently stroked. “I think I’ll be needing some more morning coffee too from now on.”

“You free again tomorrow?” Jason asked.

Emmanuel smiled because of course he would be back again bright and early.

This short story series takes place in an alternate reality that is much like our own yet different in some very important ways. Occasionally, some of the characters will reference something called “the Revolution”. Unlike in our world, in this world the social upheaval of the 1960’s wasn’t contained and didn’t fizzle out; instead, the free love era led to the violent overthrow of the dominant social and economic system in the United States. The revolutionaries who seized power were able to abolish many of the oppressive systems and social ills that we take for granted today. This short story series shows off a major byproduct of this revolution — the development of a society where queer and trans people are much more able to be themselves openly without fear. The marginalization and oppression of queer and trans people that we are familiar with is almost nonexistent in this world. Emmanuel, the main character of this series, is a young gay man with a great appreciation for trans men that transcends the concept of fetishization. This character is a response to the anti-trans attitudes that are all too common in the mainstream gay community in our society. Emmanuel’s sexy adventures are a glimpse into a world that is much more free than ours. It’s a world that’s free of many of the restrictions that hold men back and prevent us from exploring our desires and trying new things. It’s a world where people have a much easier time relating to each other and connecting. It’s a world we could have if we want it and if we’re willing to fight for it.

On a lighter note, one other thing that should be mentioned as part of this introduction is the meme that partially inspired this short story. One aspect of our society I wanted to address with this first story is the reality that I’ve come across trans men who are way more manly and masculine than I am, which shouldn’t be surprising. As this meme alludes to, women are enjoying getting dicked down by these sort of guys while gays are turning their nose up at the idea of someone topping them using a strap on. Of course this meme applies to lesbians etc too, but that’s not my focus here. While I’ve only been a top with trans guys so far, the thought of trying something new is actually very appealing and so writing this story was a way of me exploring my own fantasies and desires. What I’ve been realizing is that being narrow minded is causing us gays to be missing out on serious fun, as I hope this story helps illustrate.

Emmanuel was never exactly “on the prowl” at the gym because he had plenty going on outside of that space, but it’s true that there was sometimes a certain kind of very alluring homoeroticism that manifested there once in a while, and so he was always alert to some new possibility. While his main focus was on his workouts, if someone interesting caught his eye, why not? It had happened a few times before. Not often, but enough for him to keep an eye out. He was not in the habit of objectifying every guy he met, however, he had learned over time to fully embrace the fact that he was somewhat hornier than the average person. This meant there were certain things he simply could not help but notice and fantasize about. He liked to describe his horniness as a fountain that was constantly gurgling and gushing, like an eternal wellspring of pleasure. And as long as he was not wrecking havoc in people’s lives and was being up front about his intentions he felt he had no reason to be ashamed of his higher than average libido.

Normally he did not take his gym flirtations too seriously, but there was one time that was different. He knew that there was something very special about the guy because it wasn’t only a physical thing, there was something about his aura that was simply irresistible. But the physical part was on point as well. There was something in particular about this chocolate zaddy with his smooth, calm and mysterious demeanor that had sparked off a part of himself he rarely thought about — his submissive side. It was a surprising feeling because normally Emmanuel was very focused on being a top. Part of it was being a bigger guy and having people expecting him to take on the dominant role because of how he looked and presented himself. He was a former fat kid who metamorphosed into a gym rat like his own kind of Pokémon evolution. Tall, broad shouldered and fairly muscular, he realized he could be somewhat intimidating. Very few people would look at him and automatically associate him with being submissive or taking on the bottom role. He’d bottomed before and enjoyed it, but it was something he believed he’d grown out of. However, when he was working out one day and stumbled backwards over someone’s water bottle, Mr. X had been there to catch him, grabbing a handful of his cheeks in the process. It was only for an instant, but feeling those strong, capable hands gripping him in such a way brought up all sorts of long buried thoughts to the front of his mind.

He started calling him “Mr. X” privately because 1) he looked a bit like Malcolm X only darker skinned and 2) the guy had that special kind of irresistible, manly aura, the aura of a real alpha-sir. It felt right to call him “mister”. Normally Emmanuel denied having a “type”; what mattered most to him was that special kind of manly energy he craved. That mattered a lot more than someone’s ethnicity or whether they were tall, short, thin or thick. But when he thought about being submissive for another guy he couldn’t deny he leaned more towards certain types than others, and Mr. X was definitely it. He was on the shorter side but no one would mistake him for a pushover. He was built like a tank; muscular arms and back, muscular thighs, thick calves, nice bubble booty, wide shoulders — just a perfect specimen of masculine power that he carried very humbly and not like some self absorbed, macho asshole. The icing on the cake was that he had a good head on his shoulders as well. With his big bushy beard (the kind that really drove Emmanuel a bit wild) and his glasses he gave off the impression of being a sort of intellectual jock. He was always wearing some gold jewelry, either a necklace or a bracelet, that perfectly accentuated his beautiful complexion.

But Mr. X had suddenly stopped coming to the gym. Emmanuel could not deny that he was a bit crestfallen for a while. There was never anything as serious as a crush, but he had been possibly moving in that direction. This is why, months later, when he came out of the locker room and unexpectedly saw Mr. X after all that time sitting there doing arm curls looking even more fine than he remembered he had to literally take a deep breath to calm himself down. His chocolate skin was gleaming with perspiration under the bright gym lights contrasting nicely with his skin tight, white undershirt. OMG, he’s back! Just look at this sexy motherfucker Emmanuel thought to himself, fighting back the urge to go trotting up to him like a little puppy dog. Honestly he had given up on seeing the guy at the gym again because he thought maybe he had scared him off. “I’m straight as an arrow, bruh,” is what Mr. X told him when he had decided to cut to the chase during one of their last conversations and came right out and asked what his orientation was. He felt it was necessary at the time because he was intimately familiar with how some guys would play games for attention at the gym and he wanted to bypass all that right away. Maybe it was a little weird to be so forward with someone he barely knew, but anyone who saw this guy wouldn’t blame him for wanting to find out what the possibilities were, if any. After a few sort of homoerotic moments that had left him scratching his head he knew he had to find out sooner than later what the deal was, or if it was going to be a strictly platonic association. So, after Mr. X told him he was straight and disappeared from the gym he thought that was it, just a random sexy guy he’d come across, nothing more, nothing less. But he had not quite been able to shake the memory of him, and here he was again.

“Whoa, now this is a nice little surprise!” he said, grinning from ear to ear in spite of himself. “Long time no see,” Emmanuel said, strolling up as casually as possible to the bench where Mr. X was working out and trying his best to be nonchalant.

“Yo, Manny, what’s good? How you been?” he said warmly, looking up at him from under his Eagles hat as he put down one of his dumbbells and offered his hand. His grip was so nice and warm and strong. “Wanna hit a few of these arm curls with me, give me some extra motivation? I’m slipping a bit today.”

“Good thing it’s arm day for me too, let’s get it,” Emmanuel replied enthusiastically, grabbing a dumbbell off the rack. And with that they were once again reacquainted.

A few more weeks passed and with the passage of time somehow the feeling of something being on the horizon began to grow slowly but surely. Though their chats were usually brief because they were focusing on working out, they were consistent. Their conversations usually revolved around sports and current events and surface level things like that, but Emmanuel began getting the sense that something was going on. It was hard to put his finger on, but he recognized the feeling. It was a bit confusing yet also a bit thrilling. Emmanuel could understand a bit better now why some gays chased after straight men — the chase itself could be exhilarating. And yet the “straight as an arrow” conversation continued to hold his horny thoughts in check because he knew that sometimes we can see what we want to see and hear what we want to hear. With that in mind he decided to do a little fishing to find out what Mr. Z’s situation was.

“What you getting up to this weekend?” Emmanuel asked as casually as possible one day as they were getting changed in the locker room. Mr. X had never mentioned anything about having a partner but he needed to find out the lay of the land. He was hoping to come across as making nonchalant small talk and not like he was intensely interested in the answer to his next question. “Any big plans with your girl, or…?”

“Not too much going on this weekend,” Mr. X replied, pausing for a moment while he stepped on the scale to check his weight. “I think I’m just gonna get some errands done. Me and my girl are on a little break actually.”

“Oh, word? Are ya’ll cool, or…what’s the deal?”

“Naw, nothing like that. The break thing is our usual routine. We been together for about almost ten years now and we’re open at this point. I’m the one who wasn’t too thrilled about it at first but having more space and freedom really helped us work through some issues. She’s bi and has a little girlfriend up in NYC she visits once in a while; that’s where she will be this weekend while I’m holding down the fort.”

Emanuel felt his heart skip a beat. Calm down, he thought to himself. It’s not an opening, it’s just some interesting information; it doesn’t mean anything. Remember he said he’s straight…

Normally they were not all up in each other’s space while at the gym, but occasionally they found themselves getting in a good workout together. On this particular day they were sharing one of the smith machines and doing legs. While they chatted in between sets Emmanuel brought up something inspired by their last conversation.

“It’s funny how life goes sometimes,” he said while he was putting one of the weight plates back on the rack. “I don’t hang around straight guys usually, you’re the first one in a long while. For most of my life it seemed like there wasn’t much for me to talk about with hetero guys, especially when it comes to the topic of sex. But you know what? I was thinking that even though we’re into different things we probably have more in common than you might realize.”

“Well,” said Mr. X with his usual mysterious grin, “I’m glad to hear you’re not discriminating against me because of my orientation.” They both laughed. “I’m wondering, though, about what you think we have in common.”

Emmanuel folded his arms, furred his brow and leaned against the side of the smith machine thinking for a moment before continuing. “It’s got something to do with my personal life so it’s a little TMI,” he said, “but we’re cool, right? I think at this point I can talk a little more openly about some stuff.”

“Listen, we’re both grown. And I’m an open minded guy so say what’s on your mind.”

“OK,” Emmanuel replied, feeling reassured. “So, it’s like this. I would say until about five years ago I never completely understood why straight guys get so worked up about certain things. I thought ya’ll were being dramatic but I understand now, even though I’m not into women. The guys I’m into the most these days have a special something that most men don’t have. It’s something that usually gets associated with women, but that’s not always the case, lemme just put it that way.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you’re into trans men?”

“Well, yeah,” he replied sheepishly. “I usually wake up bricked and thinking about eating some good food, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, yessir, I definitely know what you mean because that’s one of my favorite activities. Always good to meet a fellow eater,” Mr. X added with a smile, nudging Emmanuel with his elbow.

Things progressed slowly but surely until the day that changed everything. Not long after their last chat Emmanuel noticed Mr. X was wearing a new bracelet nestled amongst his usual gold ones, a very subtle one with blue, pink and white beads. He had seen something like this before, when one of the special guys he was into wanted to send him a subtle signal. Holy shit, he thought to himself. No way. Could it be? Because he had already linked up with a few very nice trans guys from the gym the possibility had crossed his mind once or twice, but in this case it seemed so improbable that he had dismissed the thought and had not allowed himself to dwell on it. But seeing him wearing this bracelet, whoa — this was an in, he could tell. Mr. X was sending him a very discrete but clear message.

Recently while on the trolley he was skimming through a queer themed magazine when he came across a fascinating but also somewhat disturbing article about the horrors of how difficult it used to be for trans men to be “out” and live openly as trans men back in the day. Some of the stories from people who were alive back then were absolutely insane. It sounded like they were living day by day in an absolute shit show. Those times long before he was born sounded like a terrible mess of violence and the fear of potential violence, missed opportunities, misunderstandings and just all around negativity. Thankfully, a few generations after the Revolution trans people being out was not nearly as big as a problem as it used to be, but still, he noticed that guys like Mr. X who totally and completely passed were more likely to keep that info close to their chest and not broadcast it. But here he was subtly broadcasting it. As they were getting off the elevator and heading outside Emmanuel decided to use the opportunity to share something that Mr. Z might find interesting.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” Emmanuel said, glancing meaningfully down at Mr. Z’s bracelet without directly mentioning it, “something that happened a little while ago. Something that…well, it made me think about my own gender a little differently.”

“I’m all ears, man.” Mr. X replied with his sensual baritone voice. “This is a topic I could talk about all day.” Once they were through the revolving doors and outside he pointed towards one of the stone benches facing a gurgling fountain. Once they sat down Emmanuel could not help but notice that Mr. X had positioned himself next to him on the bench just a tad bit closer than strictly platonic bros normally do.

“OK, lemme not hold you too long,” Emmanuel said, feeling a little flicker of nervousness. “In a nutshell it has something to do with what you told me a while back about being “straight as an arrow”. I’m only bringing this up again because I couldn’t help but notice certain things over the past few months.” He gave another purposeful glance at Mr. X’s bracelet. “Now, listen,” he continued, “I’m not one of those gay guys who makes a fool of himself chasing after straight guys.” He paused for a moment before going on because this was the moment. He would find out from Mr. X’s reaction to what he said next if anything was truly on the horizon or whether it would stay a strictly platonic association. “What I’ve been thinking about is how everybody gets put into a category but it’s not always so cut and dry. A buddy of mine said gay men can have a kind of “feminine aspect” that straight men are sometimes attracted to. The way he explained it is that for some of us this feminine aspect is more visible and for others it’s more hidden. Never thought of it that way but I think he might be right because years ago when I was more versatile I had straight guys hitting me up me up wanting…well, you know.

“Nope, don’t punk out, tell me what you think these straight guys were hitting you up for. If we’re gonna talk let’s put it out there,” he said.

There was a note of command in his voice. He wasn’t asking, he was demanding, like a real alpha. Emmanuel felt his dick getting hard at the thought of Mr. X telling him what to do. “OK, OK, I’ll spit it out,” he replied, feeling the blood rushing to his face. Good thing he wasn’t light skinned enough for anyone to see him blushing. “Basically, every time a straight guy has hit me up it’s because they wanted some ass.”

“I guess you made them curious,” Mr. X said, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“Maybe, yeah. I don’t think it’s about these guys not really being straight or whatever. It’s about them recognizing this feminine energy in another man; but in my case it’s not really the stereotype of feminine energy. It’s like something can be feminine without being soft or girly. Does that make sense?”

“I’m right with you, bruh,” Mr. X said. With the way the light was glinting off of his glasses Emmanuel couldn’t see his eyes but he could feel the intensity of his gaze.

“Good, I’m glad.” He was a little shocked at this point because the conversation was going way better than he expected. “I’m sure you have noticed how some guys have a sort of feminine shape to their ass and thighs. That’s a good example of this “feminine aspect” I’m talking about.”

“Oh, yessir. I get what you mean most definitely,” Mr. X said in his usual smooth and calm manner before getting unexpectedly deep the way he liked to do sometimes. “What you’re saying makes more sense when you think about how our ancestors can show up, even in our physical bodies. That might be part of this feminine aspect you’re talking about. Never heard it called that before, but I think it’s a good description of what’s going on.” He put his hand on Emmanuel’s knee and gave it a brief squeeze. “Listen, man. I don’t want you to think I was playing games when I said I was straight. But the reality is life can be complicated. I can’t pretend I haven’t been noticing certain things and wondering about certain things over the past few months...”

Emmanuel felt like literally jumping up off of the bench and doing a cartwheel. He could not believe it! But was Mr. X really saying what he thought he was saying? “Wait, can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can,” he replied.

“So, when you say there are things you want to try, you mean things you never tried before, or…?”

“Lemme just put it to you this way. I love women. Anybody who knows me will tell you that. Of course I’ve admired people’s bodies but I never been with a guy and never really felt like I wanted to…until recently.” After dropping that bombshell Mr. X abruptly stood up with a little grunt of effort, stretched a little and then offered Emmanuel his strong, veined hand. “Listen, Manny, I gotta jet, but how about the next time we see each other let’s go get a drink after the gym. Maybe we can get deeper into this subject in a more relaxed setting. That’s cool?”

Trying to keep his composure in that moment was not easy but somehow he managed to tell Mr. X that this sounded like a plan. As they shook hands they looked deeply into each others eyes and for the first time there was no ambiguity whatsoever.

The next time they saw each other Mr. X took him little hole in the wall dive bar not far from the gym that turned out to be a great venue for the kind of talk they needed to have. He suggested this spot because there was an upstairs section that was always pretty empty before happy hour where they could talk without worrying about being overheard. After grabbing drinks at the downstairs bar Emmanuel followed Mr. X up the narrow staircase to the dimly lit upper level. Besides themselves there were only a few others there, two nurses still in their scrubs chatting animatedly and enjoying a beer after their shift.

“Let’s grab that spot over by the window,” Mr. X said, leading the way.

“You’re the boss,” Emmanuel said.

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” he declared, patting him on the back as they settled down on comfortable padded bar stools at a window side counter overlooking the busy street below.

The noise of the traffic outside somewhat masked their conversation which was helpful but probably not necessary because the other people were thoroughly engrossed in their own conversation. Still, it was good to know they had some privacy because soon the things they were talking about would have made a street walker blush. It was like all the pent up, held back thoughts they had both been keeping to themselves finally spilled out, and it was wonderful. During the course of their talk Emmanuel learned that Mr. X was indeed a trans guy who at this point was straight-curious. He was only interested in topping and had been thinking about it more and more. At one point he hinted that he was curious to get a sneak peak of Emmanuel’s booty.

“You know what I’m gonna show you? A picture I took months ago when I first thought about giving you some ass,” he said, looking through his phone. When he found what he was looking for he showed his phone screen with pride because he knew it was a good pic.

“Goddamn, man,” Mr. X said, taking the phone from him and looking with relish at the very explicit picture of Emmanuel oiled up doggy style in some good lighting. “Now that shit is phat. I see now what you mean about that “feminine aspect” you were talking about too. I need that.”

“It’s yours if you want it.”

“You know I want it,” he said, handing the phone back while biting his lip. “Just to let you know, I don’t do nude photos but there’s something I should tell you about how things work down there for me. You ever hear of phallo?”

“Of course, but I never came across a guy with that before.”

“Since you mess with trans guys you probably already know about this part, but yeah, even though testosterone will make you develop a dick I wanted to make mine a little bigger so I had some sculpting work done. I bet you haven’t come across a trans guy with any bottom surgery before, have you?

After thinking for a moment Emmanuel replied that he had not.

“Yeah, it’s not as common as it used to be before the Revolution, but some people still need a little extra something so I got phallo. Just wanted you to know because a trans guy with a dick like mine might be something a little different for you. You should know I actually have two dicks, one that you’re gonna be sucking on and another one that I’m gonna use to give you a good pounding. I actually got hard looking at that pic you just showed me, by the way.”

“That really got you going, didn’t it?” Emmanuel asked, giving Mr. X a playful little punch on his thigh. “I think you’re ready to get in these cheeks.”

“Best believe I am. There’s something about you being a big guy who’s into being dominated that makes me want to try some things I never tried before. I just hope you’re OK with it being a little more on the rough side because that’s how I roll.”

“Like you said, I’m a big guy. I’m not made out of fine china and I’m not gonna break.”

“OK, talking tough I see,” Mr. X said with a smile, flashing his gold tooth. “Since you got this “feminine aspect” I’m gonna see if you can take it as good as a woman can. Usually I have them tapping out, though.”

As Emmanuel was soon to learn, Mr. X was not exaggerating. After building the expectation to a boiling point with a few more horny chat sessions at the bar they finally made a plan. They got a hotel room and decided to spend the night together exploring all the things they’d been discussing. A mini speaker he had brought was soon pumping out some instrumental hip hop beats setting a nice mood. While they were chilling on the balcony smoking a joint that Mr. X had expertly rolled Emmanuel felt nervous butterflies in his stomach. It had been so long since he bottomed, would he be able to back up all of his trash talking? He was going to do his best to not disappoint. Mr. X was sitting across from him shirtless and wearing nothing but his tight fitting white boxer briefs. Emmanuel kept finding his gaze drawn to his very noticeable bulge. He was so curious about what was going on under there and felt exhilarated at the thought of soon finding out. Mr X was laid back with his foot propped up on the little round table between them; even though Emmanuel was not normally into feet like that he could not deny that this guy was well formed from head to toe. Maybe it was the effect of the particularly strong weed taking away his inhibitions, but he suddenly had the urge to get down on his knees and kiss and lick Mr. X’s beautiful, manly, foot. And that’s exactly what he did.

“Damn, you’re just about ready I see,” Mr. X crooned, playing with his nipple and taking another puff of the blunt while watching Emmanuel on his knees worshiping his feet, both of which were now up on the table getting serviced.

After a little more body worship on the balcony Emmanuel found himself being led to the bed where Mr. X propped up some pillows and laid back making himself comfortable before pulling off his boxers and tossing them across the room. There, nestled among his bushy dark pubes was the most gorgeous t-dick he’d ever seen. Underneath the thick pink mushroom head was the glistening wetness of his second hole — an entire feast. He was honestly awestruck.

“I know it’s pretty, but don’t just stare at it. Get down there and suck this dick, boy,” Mr. X commanded.

He did not need to be told twice. As he alternated between sucking and burying his tongue deep in Mr. X’s second hole he experienced once more what he’d seen time and time again. As these special guys felt more comfortable and as he really started getting them going they would open up even more and Mr. X was no exception. Soon he laid back, his legs spread wide, gripping the back of Emmanuel’s head while he sucked him off.

“You’re so damn good at this,” Mr. X said, his usually strong and steady voice quivering in such a way that made it clear he was about to put one on the scoreboard. Of course this motivated Emmanuel even more. Using all of his considerable skills he soon heard the manly moans that were music to his ears as Mr. X reached his climax. Because there was not reason to stop Emmanuel continued sucking him and made him cum again pretty quickly leaving him sensitive, wet and throbbing.

“You got me ready to fuck you now,” Mr. X said while catching his breath. He got up off the bed and went into the bathroom. A few moments later he returned strapped up with a dick that somehow accommodated the junk he already had; it precisely matched his dark brown skin tone and was long and thick and made of a material that felt soft and realistic to the touch.

“I’m a little nervous,” Emmanuel admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed stroking Mr. X’s big dick while looking up at him with anticipation.

“I’m gonna open you up slow, don’t worry,” Mr. X reassured him, giving him a little pat on the head. “But after I open you up I’m gonna give that ass a good pounding just like I been promising you. First, though, get up on the bed doggy style so I can take a good look at that big booty.”

Emmanuel did as he was told and soon felt a hard, rough slap on one of his cheeks that made him gasp out loud. Next, he felt the soft, smoothness of baby oil with its familiar pleasant smell. As Mr. X rubbed the oil on his cheeks he murmured with approval.

“Look at all this good pussy,” he said, spending a good amount of time alternating between jiggling and slapping his cheeks and spreading them open.

“Please give me that dick, man,” Emmanuel begged after a while, looking back imploringly. All of this teasing was driving him wild. He was ready for it. He needed it. He had waited patiently for so long and now it was finally time.

By now they were both up on the bed with the tip of Mr. X’s thick dick right at the entrance of Emmanuel’s tight hole. The truth is that his pussy hadn’t seen any action in over five years. He knew the poppers he brought would come in handy. While there was some painful pressure at first as his hole was expanded, soon he could tell he was with an expert who knew what he was doing. Mr. X had already reassured him his experiences with women also included anal so he knew to go nice and slow at first. But still, he was so, so tight. It took a little while for Mr. X to get the first few inches in.

“Get your head out that pillow and let me hear you,” Mr. X said, reaching over and snatching away the pillow Emmanuel had been using to muffle his cries that now filled the hotel room.

“Are you all the way in yet?” he asked breathlessly after a few moments of sounding like one of those white chicks getting pounded in a BBC smut film. He was feeling absolutely impaled on that big dick, more filled up than he’d ever felt in his life.

“Not all the way in there yet but almost. You’re doing good so far; just relax and open up and give me that pussy,” he demanded. Even thought he was not exactly a boy Emmanuel loved it when he called him that. He was enjoying his submissive side way more than he thought he would and could not believe he had been sleeping on trans guys as tops and missing out on so much fun this whole time. Once he was all the way inside Mr. X started giving him some long, slow strokes that felt incredible. He occasionally pulled out and spread Emmanuel’s cheeks open with a whistle of admiration before getting back in there. Soon he began to pick up the pace. With each thrust he pushed in deeper and deeper; Emmanuel felt his body shaking with each strong, cheek clapping thrust until he became almost delirious. Mr. X was gradually picking up his speed until he was practically jackhammering his ass. He was getting seriously fucked the way he usually liked to fuck and it was wonderful to feel what it was like to be on the receiving end of some good dick. And now, hold up…what was this? He was hitting his spot!

His whole body felt like like live wire buzzing and vibrating with all the energy being pumped into him. “Oh fuck, oh my god, I think I’m about to nut!” Emmanuel gasped, gripping the bedsheets for dear life.

“Not yet,” growled Mr. X, suddenly pulling out and giving Emmanuel’s ass another rough slap. “I don’t want you to cum until I’m fucking you on your back so I can see it.”

“I can’t believe you were just about to make me nut hands free; I never felt that before,” he exclaimed, awestruck.

After turning him over and pulling him down to the edge of the bed Mr. X put a pillow under his butt. Propped up in this missionary position he could really get in there and continued stroking Emmanuel’s hole while also jerking his big dick.

“I love how you been hard this entire time,” Mr. X said with admiration while rubbing baby oil on his dick. “I wanna see this big dick spit.”

“You’re really about to make me nut doing that,” Emmanuel moaned. He was glad they had switched to this position because while on his back he could see Mr. X in all his glory. He was glistening with sweat, thoroughly enjoying himself and looking like an absolute sex god with his muscles flexing and his gold chains swaying with each stroke. Seeing the intensity of pleasure and lust in his eyes as he looked down at him is what pushed Emmanuel over the edge. He could feel it welling up in him like a volcano about to erupt.

“Oh my god, I’m cumming!” he shouted as Mr. X sped up his strokes to a fever pitch, really fucking him hard while simultaneously jacking his dick even faster.

“Hell yeah, man, lemme see you bust,” Mr. X said with his sexy grin, holding one of Emmanuel’s ankles with one hand while still stroking him with the other.

Normally he was not much of a shooter but this time it was like the nut was literally fucked out of him. A few splashed of cum ended all the way up on the side of his face, something that had never happened before.

“Holy shit,” he said as he lay there feeling thoroughly used in the best way possible, his body still trembling. “No way…that was unbelievable.”

After grabbing him a washcloth from the bathroom Mr. X flopped down next to him on the bed and gave his thigh a little squeeze. “Alright, Manny, that’s round one over and done,” he said. “You’re a good bottom, doing good so far. I can see I’m gonna enjoy fucking you all night. Let’s get this little break in before I get back in there.”

While Mr. X got up to roll another joint Emmanuel laid there on the bed in the after glow of what had already happened while anticipating much more fun to be had.

“I’m glad I decided to approach you at the gym even though I was nervous as hell the first time I saw you,” he said. Teasing him a bit he added, “Mr. Straight as an Arrow.”

“Well, straight-ish after today I guess,” Mr. X quipped. “I think I’m gonna have to make an exception for you.”

“Thank you for taking a chance, really,” Emmanuel said. “I definitely needed this. Today, I officially lost my second virginity,” he added with a chuckle.

Mr. X looked up from rolling the blunt. “Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet because I been holding back actually. We’re just getting started,” he promised. He winked at him and smiled, his gold tooth glinting in the soft light of the hotel room.