Book Review

A handsome bum, street scum scrubbed off in a claw foot tub, the head of his huge erection submarining above the suds.  We share a glass of wine while he soaks.  I have a terrycloth robe rolling around in the dryer readying itself for him.  I shave the bum in between his talking.  He went to college.  He loves his mom.  He is funny in a Steve Martin meets Mel Brooks way.  He hates dogs, loves cats, etc.  When I talk he really listens, stroking himself in an absentminded fashion. I like watching him as he does it.

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Later, after the bath, after he kisses his thanks for the robe all over my cheeks, we sit on the couch and I get a fire going.  He tells me of the three men he’s murdered.  I’m scared, but only because of what happened with the second man, but I’m only scared a little, more fascinated.  I hold his hands. Really look at them.  He asks me to tell him about all the dark things I’ve done but then says, “Wait…let me eat your pussy first.”  It’s the best head I’ve ever gotten.  It’s not hard to confess after that. 


When the house catches on fire, we don't even leave.

This sort of sums up how I feel about reading New YorkTyrant Volume 3, Number 3. 

If you haven’t gotten it yet you are missing the fuck out.