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Originally published in PlayGuy magazine November, 2001

 

 

This is me and Zack. We're best friends and having been hanging out forever. We go to the mall or the park sometimes but mostly we just lounge around my room watching TV or playing video games or listening to music. I guess we're "slackers", we don't really want to do much of anything and our crowning achievement so far has been that we're the only two people in the whole high school yearbook with absolutely nothing listed after our names. No clubs, teams or activities. What's the point? It's all a bunch of shit. I like the "slacker" title. As a matter of fact, there's a whole bunch of 'S-L' words we've been referred to: slobs, slugs, slovenly, and one of my favorites, sleepwalkers (thank you, Mrs. Denton, and thanks for the C- in Chemistry!). 

     

 

 

This is my dad. He's one of those "do something" types. He's always running around trying to get ahead at his company and inventing stupid projects that believes have to be done immediately. He plays golf and tennis (so he can play against the executives at the Country Club although he hasn't been invited yet) and fixes things in the house and belongs to some bogus civic organizations.

 

He's forever ragging at me and Zack about our "crappy attitude" and telling us about all the opportunities we squander. He's been extra pissed lately because I forgot to apply to a college. I love watching the vein in his forehead pulse when he begins frothing at the mouth when he screams at me. That's one of the pleasures of being 18. Right?

 

One day when we were too lazy to shut the door he stops and stares at us doing our specialty act, nothing. The vein pulses and he starts up, "Look at this room. Look at the two of you! You make me sick! Lazy good-for-nothing asswipes. A couple of useless sloths (Bingo! Dad gets a point for the 'S-L' label. Ding! Ding! Ding!) just wasting your lives. Don't you know how to have fun? Can't you meet people, maybe even girls and get a real life? I guess I should be grateful that at least you two bums aren't queer!" and then he left on another important errand.  

 

 

 

"Hey, I liked the 'sloth' part." Zack said as he kicked the door shut.

"Yeah. Very cool." I added.

"We should do it and really drive him crazy." Zack mused.

"Do what?"

"Queer stuff. It would kill him." Zack chuckled.

"Really?" I pondered, "Can't we just pretend?"

"It'd be more effective if it were real, I think."

"Whadda we do?" I queried (Queried, get it? Queer-eed).

"Well, I guess suck each other's dicks and fuck each other up the ass. That seems to be it." Zack offered.

"Sounds pretty disgusting and painful." says I.

"Maybe. But it's for a good cause. That vein on your father's head would explode." Zack contended.

I could see he had a valid point so I locked the door and began stripping. Zack followed suit.   

 

Well, we did it for a week or so so it wouldn't seem like a fluke. Early on I realized that it wasn't my cup of tea but Zack took to it like a fish to water. He didn't seem to mind that I'd stopped sucking him off or offering him my ass. He became quite proficient at cocksucking and would gladly drop to his knees several times a day if I pulled my dick out for him.

 

 

 

He usually slept over at my house three or four times a week anyway so it didn't make much difference now that I was boning him throughout the night. I'd sink my greasy prick up into his tight ass and fuck him over and over again until we'd pass out from exhaustion. For some reason we never got around to shocking Dad with the news. It was a fun secret. Anyway, if any of you guys can think of an 'S-L' word that properly describes what me and Zack are doing, feel free to send it in. Okay? Cool.

 

 

 

 

 

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They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
used on another website or blog; posted to any internet or computer newsgroup, forum or media sharing site;
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