Book 7 July 1 1986 to March 1 1987
** These Journals depict explicit sexual fantasies - and soon realities.
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860 |
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8608.03 | 8608.05 | 8608.08 |
| Back | 8608.09 | 8608.22 |
Excuse me while I read what I've writen.
--- Not bad. ---
Perhaps you remember manuscript.
*The rest of this page can't be done on the computer. I
was playing around with a new code/alphabet style. I would translate the text,
but it wouldn't make any sense until you could see it.
Once I get a scanner, I'll put this page up in its entirety.*
Test tomorrow Thylakoid. Granum cover Stroma.
Are we ready? We await the light, Chloroplast! Why don't I feel ready?
So we have enough water? NADP? I don't want a cycle building
up, we need the oxygen.
Cell structure, "totally tubulin man."
Photoshynthesis - what the enquirer does to get the dirt.
Tommorrow.
*in that new code it reads*
<TOMMORROW MAY NEVER COME>
Wow I wrote 8607.
and looked at the calender to see the date Ready to write how the war is hell
and I'm losing when Angel came. She's in town 'till Monday. She'll talk to me
again tomorrow.
She hates homosexuals simply by ROMANS. She told me about
dissassociating with one friend simply because he was gay.
"Please don't be gay on me, Bret. I can't handel
it."
She seems to mention it every time she comes down. Maybe she
suspects but denies. Maybe she's just teasing.
Anyway the war is hell and I maybe losing. Yesterday at Shawn
McGee's we began to play some teasing games. If it weren't for some supreme
effort on my . part I would have gotten up
and carried it to far. With Shawn it would have gone all the way. I can't have
that yet, for two reasons. I'm not 21 yet. I want a relationship first. Though
basicaly we are building one, its not the one I need. I can tell from here it
wouldn't work out after a great amount of time.
I'm going to sleep now. See if I can't rid myself of the
"Charley" perfume smell Shawn O'Brien sprayed all over me.
*Wow, hit on just about everything in this entry. My first real mention of Shawn (M) and I already know it won't work but have been sucked in way to deep.*
"Super Powered Sex" I want to write
a story about a telekenetic raping a telepath. I see many possiblities. Set it
in a future world of holocaust and use harsh settings and words as a back drop
to a harsh act.
I have an idea for a story about a live vampire. A vampire
falls in love with life again and hates his existance. Checks some ancient tomes
and finds an answer to his death. In killing himself he transfers half of his
power to his friend. He experiments with his power and a wizard is drawn to him.
they start a detective agency. Along the way The living vampire is killed (in
the line of duty) also the wizard.
The wizard knew that if died he'd turn into a real vampire.
Got to go. may be back.
Also I want to write a story about a man that
chases after an object of lust on a motorcycle, from his car. Follows him, tires
to find out all about him, spies on him, thinks he falls in love with him.
Also I want one where two friends talk and are drawn into the
act. Then one pays the other.
*that one is coming - it scared me reading it now*
There aren't enough truely vulgar songs. I'm
going to write one. Heres the only part I have worked out so far.
and she said uht-uhn - uht-uhn (like
no)
and I said oh - oh - oh - oh
(inquizitive0
Okay Bitch, on your knees
I'm tired of the way you tease
Open up wide
There's nowhere to hide
It's as big as a truck
And we're gonna fuck
and I said uh - uh - uh - uh (like
fucking)
and she said oh - oh - oh - oh (estasy)
No big events, no major thoughts.
Test on tuseday, and one on friday then I'm done, done, done, Done!
In the poem of Judas. I think I may use lines
about the sun vs the son. Such as these .. ..
The early morning sun rose
Orange was the color of the sun
With the sun came the heat
With the son came the heat
Blood red hung the son
Blood red sat the sun
Bloody slaughtered sun
Rise Slaughtered son
Color demoteing the position of the sun. Orange early morning, yellow daytime, Red sun set, thus also time. Time ticks ten till ten at the tower of twelve tears.
Tommorrow I begin looking for a job. I have
to find one. I am over 18 and thus father doesn't have to pay for me. Mother
can't afford me. I must bring in some money. Perhaps work will take my mind off
my lack of love. My loses in battle. My lust.
I have desisions to make and less then eleven motnths to make
them.
I need sleep now.
We had just come back from running five
miles. I usally ran more but I was trying to ease Greg into running. He wanted
to be vin shape for the marines when he finally left. That was nearly
a joke considering Greg was firmly built like a wall. He was a power house. He
excersized for fun, he excerisized when he was board, he excersized at work
moving large boxes and crates. But he did have a problem with running, just not
enough endurance, until now.
We walked into his house, a small three bedroom one level
house (there was a basement but it was so full of trash no one went down there).
It was a hot day in the begining of August, and the air was stagnet in this
house I'd often called a heat trap.
"I still can't believe you were ever fat, Greg. I mean
look at you."
"But I was. I just got tired of looking at it so I
started to work out." Greg went over and turned on a fan which did little
or no good.
We colapsed onto approprate furnature and kicked off our
sneakers. I peeled off my T-shirt while Greg was already using his as a fan. Now
that we weren't moving the sweat began to flow like rivers. Greg chuckled.
"What?"
"I was just thinking about work yesterday. We were
getting so perverse."
"Do I want to here about this?"
"If you don't you can suck my dick."
"Some other time." jokes like that always hurt. No
one knew I was gay.
"Any way," Greg went on, "We were maken' jokes
about anything. Susan got the worst of it because she was separating chicken
parts on her hands and knees."
Greg continued to rattle on about all the stuff he had done
at work and I began to feel sorry for Susan. He told me how he went around with
two watermelons between his legs asking people to give to the foundation for
Elephantitise of the nuts. After a short period of time we where both laughing
hyster-ically.
Greg got up and walked into the kitchen still laughing. He
turned on the faucet and I could hear the cold water running.
"Bring me a glass of water, too, please."
"Suck my dick." Greg walked back into the room
drinking a glass of ice water.
"You Bastard, where's mine?"
"I didn't get you one."
"Give me some of that then."
"No."
"Bastard."
"Suck my dick."
"Okay."
"That's Gross."
"You tell me to suck your dick
. and I'm gross."
"Damn right, only faggots blow other guys."
"Only fags ask other men to suck their dick."
"Fuck you."
"Any day."
"Your Gross."
"Why? I know you never will."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"What if I pulled my dick out and waved it infront of
your face?"
"Guess I'd have to suck it if I made that joke."
"What?"
"I don't make a joke unless I think I'm prepared to
carry it out."
"You faggot."
"Why? Your the one that would put your dick in my mouth.
That would make you the fag."
"Suck my dick!"
"Okay!"
I was completely unprepared. Greg got up and pulled his
shorts off and walked over to my chair. He then stood on the chair and placed
his dick right in my face. It was a short stubby thing that bounced like a piece
of rubber.
I opened my mouth and it flopped in. I closed my lips around
it and quickly worked the head of his penis with my tounge. I heard a gasp and
Gregs hips began to pull back, but the . vhead
didn't leave my mouth until it had reached its full length of about six or seven
inches. My lips closed as Gregs dick pulled out of my mouth. I looked at the
thick fleshy head bobbing infront of my face, surrounded by brown pubic hair and
reflecting the light off its now glossy surface.
"Open your mouth again." Greg said softly, almost
tenderly. I did and the warm, now moist and hard member returned to my mouth. I
puckered my lips around the diameter and prested my tounge up against the warm
pulsing flesh. Greg slowly began to move his hips back and forth, pushing and
pulling his penis in a rythmic motion.
How could this be happening. Greg isn't gay, or at least he
never let on in the slightest that he was. Hell, in a month he was going to be a
Marine. It couldn't be a fantasy, it was to vivid. I could feel the heat from
his body, tast the salt on his dick and smell the sweat in his pubic hair which
came closer and closer to my face.
The rythm began to speed up and vI felt his strong
hands on the back of my head. I watched vhis stomache muscles
constricted and relaxed and tried not to gag as his dick hit the back of my
throat.
His knees began to quiver, I could feel them shaking through
the chair.
Finally he stepped up closer leaning them against the back of
the chair and under my arms. My head lay against the back of the chair now as
Greg gripped the back of the chair and began to thrust his whole moist and
sticky body against mine.
There was a deep gasp marking a new taste in my mouth, it was
seet and tart and seemed to burn my tounge a bitt. He pulled out the fleshy rod,
there was still a bit of the white cum clinging to it. He stepped down off the
chair and sat down on the couch. He let out a heavy sigh and looked at me.
"Did you enjoy it?" I asked.
Greg looked at the clock and stood up, his erection still
rigid and waving in the air.
"I have two hours before somebody comes home, so I want
to fuck you."
He gave me his hand and pulled me out of my chair. he then
took off my shorts and lowered me onto the couch. Lifting my legs by the ankles
he lowered his sweaty body over mine and pressed his bone rigid erection into my
ass.
The pace became quicker and quicker and I could feel his
scrotum swinging against my ass. His grip about my ankel would tighten and losen
with his grunts and heavy . breathing. I
watched as a bead of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled down his nose. As
his rigid stomach moved against my scrotum I opened my mouth and tasted the
salts which fell from the tip of his nose. I was in heaven. A man I cared for
and lusted over thinking I could never have was in me and enjoying it. He loved
me, too.
Greg looked up from his dick for moment and caught my
eye. He released my ankles and pulled out long enought to roll me over. He
continued to fuck me in long quick thrust, pressing his chest against my back
and breathing hard into my ear. Seat formed between us and made our skins slide
smoothly against each other.
Finally I felt a hot spurting wave inside of me and va
moan with a rush of air went by my ear. He rolled off my back and laid on the
floor awhile. Niether of us spoke, I was content to watch his massive chest
heave and his dick go limp.
Greg finally got up and walked out of the room. I watched his
firm ass jiggle at every step. I heard some banging around from the direction of
his room.
"Greg, what are vyou doing?" He walked
back into the room carring his wallet and thumbing through the
. bills. Then he took a few of them out and handed them to me.
"Here."
"What's this?"
"Sixty dollars for what you did ... and here's another
twenty to keep your mouth shut." he said handing me another bill.
Tears began to well up in my eyes, I felt incredibly angry.
it wasn't at all what I thought it was for him. I had eighty dollars in my hand
I felt cheap. I had been fucked by a friend and I hadn't felt naked until now. i
couldn't seem to get dressed quick enough.
"Where are you going?" Greg asked.
"I should be going home. I've spent more time here then
I should have."
I fought to keep from crying.
"Okay, Guess I'll see you tommorrow."
"I don't think so." I said as I got up to leave.
"What do you mean?" Greg asked as I rushed past his
naked body.
"Fuck off Greg."
"What? You mean by myself?" he said with a chuckle.
Clutching the money tightly in my hand I said,
"It's all you'll ever have."
*It's terrible when even a fantasy ends
poorly. I know the house, body and situation described - I changed the name to
Greg. I still find it funny that I should choose such a name, and have it turn
out to be someone so careless for my feelings. It kind of matches the future.*
"You have Seven days to figure this
out." Shawn O'Brien looked at me perplexed. I handed him a piece of graph
paper with Red markings on it.
Tonight he came to me with what he had. Much of it was
figured out, the key words were missing. Bovine, left, All, were Bomne, Eat,
Ali. There were many gaps.
I gave him another. Black, Red and green marks. Same message
with a p.s.
*key symbol*
OBOY
THE WAR IS HELL AND IM LOSING
FASTER THEN I THOUGHT AND I
STILL HAVEN'T DECIEDED THE OUTCOME.
ID ASK FOR HELP BUT I CAN'T IT
MEANS ID LOSE, BLACK IS ALL COLOR
LEATHER IS FROM A COW LEFT ISN'T
RIGHT AND THE BOVINE GOD SHOULD
STOP LAUGHING UPON MY SOUL.
BRET McDOUGAL TURNER
DAMON DARTAGNON KILLGRAVE
J. B.J. SCARRIOT
PS. DO YOU KNOW THE ANSWERS?
THE QUEEN IS
DEAD THE SMITHS
"you have just under eleven months to figure this one
out."
Perfume Punishment Shawn. I've driving you just slightly
crazy.
He sat there like some ugly gargoyle with his hair astray, bags under his
eyes, a cigarette sticking out form a rackish grin and his balls hanging out
from his shorts. I mowed grandmas lawn and finished just before the down fall of
water.
Then I took the camera to Shawn McGee. he feed me hamburgers and we went for
a walk barefoot in the rain. As I was leaving his house/apartment I relaxed I
wasn't wearing my glove. I didn't care. we got soaked to the bone. We came back
and dried off. He tried to tickle me, I got a hard on and thus fought back. I
tickled him, he got a hard on. He showed it to me. I left the bedroom.
He threw
the towel over my head and pretended to strangle me. My hand brushed his dick,
still erect. I threw the towel over his head, he "tried" to tickle me.
He played with my nipples, I let him.
I told him to stop tickling me. I had to
go. I think he suspects. *Duh!*
I came so close to giving in then. I came very close. But I couldn't, I
wasn't ready. I wonder if he knew how close he came to getting "fucked till
he bled." Not yet. eleven more months. A fish in a closet being a tease.
Well now one person knows. Its nothing like my dreams or thoughts but it is
nice to be able to talk to someone. I'm not sure what will become of this.
Shawn
McGee. I had another day like the one I described last. I told him no without
telling him no. He was confused and hurt. I couldn't let him go on like this I
also can't have him continuing to hang on me making passes.
I told him I was fish (gay slang for in the closet, no one knows)*I'm
still mad about this. This is of course the wrong term. This was
"experienced" gays feeding the wrong terms to the "straight
boy" to protect there ways or to have fun with the guy coming out of the
closet.* I told him I was waiting for twenty-one and until then he'd best
keep his hands off. I was shocked to discover he had suspected from the first
day we met.
"Some people I just tell, some I can't, some I'm shocked to find out
about. You I knew from the minute I saw you." he said. I don't know, maybe
it was just wishful thinking on his part.
Thing is, I like Shawn. He's great to
talk to. But he seems to want to break me in, early if possible. I like Shawn, I
don't love him. Sex might be okay but it couldn't lead anywhere. I still don't
want to hurt Shawn. I've made it obvious nothing will happen for at least eleven
months. But it seems he's waiting for me. I don't want that. I may not be there
for him.
Rising Sun
Shineing Sun
Radiant Sun
Smuthering Sun
Setting Sun
Slaughtered Sun
Time ticks ten till ten at the Tower
of Twelve tears
Shawn M. is in LA. I miss him. I can't place why. I can't find Marc. I can't
decide if I want to talk to him. I have in my head *talked
to him* but would it be the same answer? Why do I need his real answer
when I think I've made up my mind? Why ask him If I can't tell him without
lying.
I do but I don't. I can't but I want to. Would it be only physical? Damn it
Shawn. Your the only one I could talk to about this but your gone and your the
problem.
Good 'Night.
Bad or what ever.
© 2002 November (Date implied by entry date, Date of copyright covers web publication)
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