All I had for privacy was my flannel shirt. Well, it was a long walk home unless someone else came by on this back road. So far all they’d brought her was Daryl, and he had preferred to spend the weekend with his cock somewhere else. Gossip around the town pondered if she’d ever make enough in tips at the Diner to pay for those slabs of silicone. No doubt he was on his way to his gal Cindy-Lou, with her preposterously sized fake tits. I thought he just wanted “one for the road” but the prick pushed me out of his truck and left me here in the middle of nowhere. Daryl was giving me a lift back to town when he demanded that I get my pants off. Of course they weren’t ‘gay’, they were good old Christian boys! It’s just that they liked to put a queer like me in his place by fucking his arse once in a while.
I’d kept promising myself that one day I’d find myself a man who’d love me for me, but who am I kidding! I also love being mauled by rough hicks and fucked by their fat cocks. I had gone with Daryl and his buddies “fishing” and they had spent a boozy weekend drinking and having me suck them off, or they’d take turns fucking my arse. But never had those words been as hurtful as shouted by that hypocrite Daryl Moss as he sped away in his Pickup, waving my shorts out the window. I’d been called them all as part of growing up gay in a small southern town.
