I think he thrived on that most of all. It got so that I was jumping at shadows, seeing his face in them,watching him watching me from down the street... always with his hands inhis pocket, holding that knife. When I saw him in the mirror one morning, I struck out. It was naturaland impulsive and I remembered the blood falling down over the sink frommy bleeding knuckles. I remembered my father's voice saying my name onthe other side of the bathroom door. I remembered the smeared shard as Ilifted. .. gay men doing those twisted things to each other ... doing each other in the ass for gosh sake. And you say it turns you on? You, sitting right there up front, gawking at the action and getting spattered with all those nasty body fluids?" Yes! It's the sheer intensity of it. The pungent stench of anal sex and those grunts of pure, bestial lust. The heat radiating from iron-hard cocks and fire-rimmed buttholes. The smoke generated by the friction of hard flesh pounding into a violated. More

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