She howled, she bucked, she twitched, and her ass clasped me like an arm wrestler’s Alpha handshake. I dug my fingers into her hips, drawing her clo...er to me and poured my every heartbeat into her orifice, streams of baby juice washing her colon clean.The sun had moved, eventually, and shining into my eyes was an effective way to awaken me. Blearily, I tried to move my arm so I could see the time on my wristwatch, only to realize that My Darling Wife was sleeping next to me, that arm wrapped. And he didn’t have a fade or a flattop. Instead he had shoulder length dark wispy hair, parted down the middle, mutton chop sideburns and wore solid black shirts and jeans and heavy, murky eye liner.That’s why he fit in with us. That’s why he was a fag. Because we were the same. We freaks, posers, nerds, romantics and misfits. We formed a union, were a conglomeration of fags.Aside from Lenard, none of us were physical specimens. We were short, chunky, uncoordinated, skinny, zit-faced. And. More

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