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Originally published in PlayGuy magazine August, 1999

 

When I turned 19, I decided that it was high time I got fucked. After a quick survey of my colleagues and cohorts, it became abundantly clear that my cherry would have to go to a stranger. Preferably someone rough and nasty.
 

So, I ambled over to the wrong side of town and plopped into a really sleazy bar. It didn't take too long for me to scope out the most likely candidate. A burping, stinking, growling, fetid, drunken scumbag who tugged on his bulge every time our eyes met. What a piece of work this guy was! A horny (possibly mentally disturbed) older dude who looked like he truly knew how to stuff cock into a virgin pucker.

 
 

I made all the usual moves and they must have worked because he lumbered over to me, groped my butt with his meaty paw and told me I was going home with him.  I followed him a few blocks into an unsavory hotel. The wattage was low, the stairs were creaky and the smell was definitely high-octain stale urine. My cock twitched and my sphincter clenched in wild anticipation.

 
 

This was it! The moment I'd been waiting for. I scrambled nervously out of my clothes while he peeled off his rancidwear. Before I'd even taken off my t-shirt, the hairy hulk had jumped onto the bed and waved his skanky bunghole at me while rasping, "Come on, Man! Pork me with that fat juicy prick of yours! Plow my wet cunt with your monster cock! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!!!" Well, so much for my anal initiation into fairy heaven. What really annoyed me the most was that the pig was howling out all the filthy things I had planned to scream! But who's complaining?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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