“Chupame la verga, puta!” he said in a hoarse, crude Mexican baritone voice (Suck my cock, whore!).I felt him softly fucking his cock into my mout.... I felt the hood pop back as his bulbous cock head flared on the flat of my tongue. He pressed the palms of his hands against the sides of my head. He covered my ears with his hands and the sound of my sucking on his cock was muffled.The inner sounds passing through my mouth to my ear channel took on a new dimension. I thought this might be what it. For two years we’d talk until sunrise, and there never was a bald spot in our conversations. Yet, surely as that sun would rise, he would again vanish. This time for days, until days became weeks. During his various departures I found myself growing depressed, and physically ill. My friends, blessed be their souls, did everything they could to comfort me. But I was becoming bitter towards them and their relentless intrusions. In truth, I wanted to ignore everything I was feeling. I am not one. More

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