ISHMAEL HOUSTON-JONES

Writer, curator, performer, choreographer, arts consultant.

Specimens 1, 2, and 3

3 Specimens was published in Aroused, A Collection of Erotic Writing, (Thunder's Mouth 2001).

SPECIMEN 1


FACE
The nose is crooked.   Discoloration at the tip.  Lips curve up.  He closes his eyes.
Single earring, loop? hoop? whatever.   Perfectly formed ears.  What do you call that grouping of stray hairs under the center of the lower lip?
Pock marked temple.  Fingers touch.  Eyebrows almost taper at the ends. They scrunch together in the center of his forehead.
***
Beginnings of some kind of  mustache.  His feet are moving in dirty, wet socks.
***
Stud earring in the other ear.  
Hair. Mostly dark brown. Looks greasy.
Crinkles brow as he looks around the room.
***
Face red.  There's a smirk.  Weak chin.  The feminine inside of him intrigues me.
Bored. He looks bored
His eyes are tearing.  No nose hair.  Lips part.  
Swallow.
 Keep writing, Dude.  
 Crumpled face.  Really ugly folds under the eyelids when he closes them tightly.  Slight smile. Remembering?  What?  Egg shaped brow. Nervous flutter of eyelid. White teeth- surprising since  he smokes so much.
Mouthing the words of the Pet Shop Boys song on the CD player.
"Love comes quickly, whatever you do/ you can't stop falling, ooh-ooh, ooh"
***
SHIRT OFF
Redder from the neck up than the chest.
Nipples: oval- like oval quarters- that's not quite it.  "Dusty Rose," darker than the chest skin- Not pink
Blue/green veins under the skin in the pits. About 20 hairs under each arm.  Protrusion of ribs.
***
Back to the nose.  I can't quite get it.
Nervous swallow.

***
Breathing in the belly.  Weirdly small belly button.  Faint hairs start in the valley of the ribs.
Mole, off to the right, mid-chest.
Moles around belly-button. Random hairs. The navel itself looks like it wasn't created by a knot. It's almost non-existent.  A mere indentation. Slightly brown and then a slit. Some dark hairs- a few long ones growing from the center. Looks like an ass hole.
His pits are almost scentless. No deodorant. No soap. No sweat. Strange.
***
BACK:
 Dent marks from clothes or sheets. Upper back looks almost tanned.
Scattering of moles.
***
THIGHS:
 Heavier than I imagined. Few scars on legs. A tiny birthmark on back of left thigh.
***
FEET:
Long.  Long bony toes. Clean under the nails. Hairs on top of arch. Well formed.
Nice legs.
God is that the best you can do? Jesus.  
His legs are tanned  up to the mid-thigh. He looks really bored.
Feet are cold and without smell.
Boo-boo on ankle.
[He's fiddling with his hair.]
[Where does he want to be?]
[Thinking of the $?]
***
IN MY BATHROOM:
He's pee-shy. He holds it underhanded-  thumb over top.
He pees.  
Yippee!
He's peeing a lot.
***
HE'S NAKED.
Drops of piss on his thigh. Penis is small and unthreatening.  There's a drop of pee hanging off the head. Pubic hair is dark brown and straight.  Ball sac is loose and red underneath. He has a rash that he thought he had to explain. He's circumcised. A brown circle rings him mid-dick. White spots on the scrotum.
Even his pubes smell clean.- There's almost something medicinal about the odor.
***
He's smelling his hair.
***
ON HIS BELLY.
Tiny, White-boy butt.  Red blotch at the top of the crack.  .
Unmuscular back.
Shiny scrotum.
Right leg straight; left bent.
Birthmark mid-back on the left.
I can't get the soles of the feet.
***
OK, THE ASSHOLE-
The buns are hairless but in the crack straight brown hairs radiate outward.  The slit is near perfect.  No "roids."  Pink and wrinkled. No sign of brown.
Holding it open- There's a blue/purple vein encircling the pucker. Remarkably- or maybe not- there's no smell.
***
Gray stretch marks over the buns.
***
Cold feet. Skin peeling off the soles.
***
Goose flesh on the buns.
***
"I want to fuck him really hard."
***
WATCHING VIDEO TAPE. "Le Desir en Ballade" by JD Cadinot
Fold under the eyes.  Droopy eyes, murky-brown. Muddy. Stray hair over forehead. Stretch marks in front of the arm pits. Is he blushing, or just naturally red ?
***
Shallow breathing through large nose.
Hands the same size as mine but look much bonier, longer.
Open pores on forehead.
Blue/green veins down the length of arms
***

Slight smile. Somewhat immobile. Flinch.
Eyes brighten. Then darken at the sight of an enormous black cock in the video.
His penis stays the same.  As does his scrotum. No movement.
Soles of feet clasp each other in prayer.
Right arm crooked behind him around the pillow. Thumbnail worries against pad of middle finger.
Left hand holds edge of mattress.
Breathing in belly. Slanted eyes. Moons in the fingernails. Almost a sneer.
Penis is growing.
[Men are fucking on-screen]
Scrotum tightening.
Eyes are slitting.
Almost no movement.
***
[I have to pee.]
***
His balls glisten.
He touches his right nipple.
He looks like a handsome young girl.
He brushes his nipple with his fingernail.
He strums his flanks.
When he stands he's nearly buttless.
[I have to find a new way of saying "buttless."]
***
LISTENING TO "Male Multiple Orgasm, Step by Step" AUDIO TAPE.
He's wearing my wool socks. He asked. His feet were cold.
He's smirking; so am I.
Swallow.
Highway of veins mapped across his torso.  What's the exact size of his nipples?  
Hands behind his head.
That nose: A bump in the middle, big pores, small hook.

***
Keep writing. Keep writing.
What's he thinking.
Where did he come from?
How was he spawned?
In what position did his parents fuck?
He's biting his lower lip. Holding his left hand over his head. His feet were cold.
I want to hit him.
Why doesn't he smell?  Is he- what?
A vampire?  Otherworldly?
Oh, this is mind-numbing.
Frown. Vertical lines at the bridge of his nose.
***
Keep writing-
Why is he here?
I mean, why am I paying to have him here?
Is this the only way I can have him here?
I want him; but I don't know what I mean by that.
***
He's following the instructions on the audio tape.
Roar, tiger, roar!
***
Keep writing.
I'm attached to his coldness. I'm always surprised by his warmth.
I can't believe he's doing this.
I can't believe I'm here.
He's got the beginnings of pecs.
Sitting:  Back deeply furrowed  at the spine.
Prominent Adam's' apple.
Clavicles look breakable.
***
His fingers are strolling down the path from his anus to the base of his scrotum.
***
I can't get the nipple shape and color right.
***
Gym biceps. He likes roaring. He's using his left hand. This is sooooooo....... goofy.
Yay!
I'm distracted by the tape.
I've never really looked at his body before. I think of him as skinny. Actually he has a very hot body. This is cool. He's going for it.
***
His collarbones jut out. My socks are hot on his feet. He has bony knees.
He's touching himself. He's doing this. He's "feeling for his pleasure." He's hard. His hole is  perfect.  He wears the ring he bought in Thailand on the third finger of his right hand. His asshole is sucking. He's becoming splotchy red all over. The area between his anus and scrotum is becoming swollen. The hole in his erect penis is on the underside.  His eyes are closed. He holds his dick with all his fingers. The head is purpling. He's rubbing his "clit."
***
Swallow
One hand clutches his balls.
St. Paul's class of '88?
He's fisting himself tighter. He's smiling wistfully.
Swallow.
The cock head is pearlized gray.
I don't care if he comes.
I think he's closer.
I see his upper teeth.
Big Adam's apple.
Lips parted.
***
"I could strangle him"
***
That smacking sound of his greased dick being pumped.
Knees up and parted.
Is he becoming "multi-orgasmic?"  He's chest breathing. His little buns are thrusting. His hair is lank. Abs are wash boarding. Head turned to side away from me. Eyes have been closed for a long while.
Hard swallow.
Left hand pumps. Right gropes scrotum.
I'm becoming bored. I want to turn on the TV.
***
"I want him to sit on my face."
***
I want to taste his cum.
Dot of nipple standing out, erect.
Swallow and change of breathing.
***
So to do this and not do this/ to fall/ to wallow/ pig wallow/ shit/ pig shit/ English Peter walked barefoot through the pig shit in pen #8.
***
Left hand stroking.
Shudder.  
Purple/gray head.
He has grown.  He growls.  
I want him but I'll never have him.  $100 to watch him get off by himself. Hmmmmmm?  That's cool- (in all senses of the word.)
Is he still doing that "valley breathing?"
I want him to cum and leave so I can masturbate alone.
I want.
I want.
I don't know what I want.  Rape? I don't really think so; besides I couldn't get away with it. I still carry guilt from that thing with the girl next door when I was 11 or 12.
***
I wish I could  masturbate in the traditional way.- using hands instead of mattress humping.  I'd whip out my cock and jerk off with him.
***
The tape is too much.
Too new age feely for this situation.
Turn it off.
***
This watching is cool- in all senses.  He's working soooooo hard. Is my presence turning him  off?
I wonder what my neighbors are doing?  Or the guy across the street who walks around naked?
It never.......
Shit.
Don't start complaining.
Donna Summer- "She works hard for her money."
Is he doing this for me?  It's after mid-night. All god's children should be in bed- ALONE.
Am I not a child of God/dess?  <---- That's so Northern California.
I hope he's forgotten me.
***
 
Hooray! 
He came.
Finally.
Substantial amount of fluid.  Didn't shoot far.
***
Penis pulses by itself. A thread of semen connects it to his thigh.
Gleam of sperm on forearm.
Red eyes.  Dreamy.  Distant.  Looking toward the ceiling.
***
Mopping up really well.
Red dick soft pointing up and to the left.
Eyes and mouth closed.
Clutch towel to chest.
Finger clavicle.
He's puny and non-ominous again.
Swallow.
It's so quiet. Rain outside. Occasional traffic. Not even breathing.
I want to smell his hands.
***
Patrician face.  Or White trash.  The desire to mess it up is redundant.
He's coming back.  He's breathing.  Eyes opening.  Toes moving inside my socks.  A gesture of hand then back to the collarbone.
***
I have a chubby.  (Later, Dude.)
***
His dick is becoming its former self.
On some level I want to embrace him.
On most levels I'm too far away.
I wish this were his place so I could put the money on the table and leave.
Bony knees jut out in front of calves.  Twisted legs.
I assume he wants to go now and is negotiating a graceful and profitable exit.
I can't tell if he'll ever be a good whore.  There are control issues.
I do want to fuck him someday-  at least on a political theoretical level.
Shit.  He's going to smoke in my apartment.
He's so cold blooded.
$.
 

SPECIMEN 2

"What should I do, do you want me to strip right away?'
"No, wait, just sit down and relax on the couch."

"So, tell me about being fisted, Rickie."
"I've only done it a few times."
"How did you decide to do it?"
"Well, my ass has always been a turn on for me.  It feels good having something up there."
"How many times have you tried it?"
"Twice."
"Where did you do it?"
"I saw an ad for a guy up on 125th Street who gives colonics."
"What did it feel like?"
"Nice."
"Did you trust the guy?"
"Now that's an important part of it.  This guy, I didn't really trust him, and he tried to go further than I was prepared to go."
"Further?"
"Yeah. He wanted to keep going further up there, and I wanted him to stop."

He wears glasses.
He has vertical creases down his nose.
His glasses are wireless.
He has heavy, heavy eyebrows.
He wears a blue and green striped shirt. And a watch.

Speckled gray beard.

He swallows.

He has deep furrows around the mouth, a blunt nose, Semitic. The Beard is neat
Pouffy hair.
Jeans, light brown Bass shoes.

"Could you please take your glasses off."
"Sure, I need to lay them down somewhere where I can find them."
"Are you blind without them?"
"No not blind, just very near sighted I need them to drive."

He has bushy arched eyebrows.
Crows feet.
Laugh lines.
No holes in ears.
"No, I could never take that kind of pain."
Mole in the palace of anxiety.
Expensive looking cheap watch.

Eyes- brown, kinda murky. Uneven.
His facial hair gives him that "evil Hebe" look like in the Nazi anti-Jewish propaganda cartoons.
He has a softer look.
He looks nervous and apprehensive.
He looks around my room then back to me.
He's, maybe, 50 years old.

His hair is styled into a fluffy almost Pompadour.
If he were an animal, what would he be?
Some kind of big sad dog. But wiry.
Dark red lips from under heavy 'stache.

"Go ahead and take your shirt off."

Tan skin, but sallow at the same time.
"Do you shave your chest?"
"My friend does it for me. He gets a kick out of doing it."
Stubble. Saggy breasts. Soft gut distended.  Folds of belly.
No piercings anywhere. He couldn't stand the pain.
Flesh hangs over waistline.
For a minute I get chilled because I think he has no navel.
"Do you not have a navel?"
He shows it to me. It was hidden in a narrow crease of belly skin.
"You chew your nails."
Down to the nubs.
He wrings his hands; intertwines fingers.
He could be a killer.
Hands the same size as mine but thicker. Wrinkled fingers covered in fur; veiny and blunt with ragged nails.
Cut on the middle finger of the right hand.
No rings. No moons.

"You can undress now."

He does so quickly.
White, white feet.
Hard-on.
Thick thighs; shaved thighs.
Thick dick; shaved pubes, but not entirely. Halo of brown fuzz arcs around base of penis.
Mole on dick.
"Usually I get hard as a rock right away, I must be nervous."
You must be.
Thighs- blue veins and stretch marks.
Circumcised. Fat balls. Stubble.
"My friend shaves me, I don't know, he just seems to be into that."
"Do you ever shave him?"
"No. Well once I did, but I had to do it on the sly, so his wife wouldn't notice."
"You're friend is married then."
"Yeah, for many years.  I think she must know. I mean she has to. He says he only stays with her for the kids. You can't break up a marriage. But he never has sex with her. He can only have sex with men."

Feet turned out.  Nubby toe nails. Does he chew them too?

Lying on his stomach. Is he going to fall asleep?
Thin but mostly formless.
No back hair.
Some black moles dot his back. Three large and some smaller ones.

The crack-
light brown edges; faint butt pimples probably from shaving

He looks like a sleepy corpse

Heavy calves, white.
No buns. Face reddening. I want him out of here. Twitches. Is he gonna fall asleep?
He rolls over.
I don't want to smell him.
The stubble on his stomach is disconcerting.
Nipples medium sized, like nickels, rosy pink.
Stubble on the underside of his dick.
Loose fat balls; mouth dumbly open; index finger moving  against thigh.
"Uh, how old are you, Rickie." I kinda startle him awake.
"Forty-four." God! we're the same age.
"You don't have very many scars."
"Should I have more?"- Slight chuckle.

Well formed feet. Dick moves on its own. No nose hair. Eyes are not aligned perfectly.

Sort of classic study of "The Male Nude" from turn of the century art books.  And I the blackamoor sit clothed beside him writing, like in some strange kind of all-male "Olympia" .
He's the anemic Odalisque rendered by Rodin.

A million Black men marched in D.C. yesterday and here I am today serving O.J. to a naked Jewish clinic administrator in the East Village.
A million Black men and my Queer self not among them.

He doesn't want to look at me. He looks bored and alert at the same time. He looks around. He's sitting. He holds his ankle.
"Do you live alone?"
Bumpy mottled knees. Clean on the underside of feet. No corns or bunions.
Rolls empty glass between hands. Looks sad- wistful. I think he wants to have sex with me.
I get this goony grin whenever he catches me looking at him. He darts his eyes away. I wish I could make him into a serial killer. Or sadist.
Caved in chest.
I wish...
He startled me with a quick move to put the glass down.
He's lying down; feeling his cock; eyes closed; kneading his balls; Gently stroking the underside of the shaft.  It grows. Lotions up. Prefers aloe hand lotion to K.Y.
Sliding hand-over-hand.
Tension in turned out legs.
Hand-over-hand.
Fat cock of medium length reddens. Ball sac tightens. Eyes close.
"Do you care if I do this?"
"No, it's good, keep going."
Do I care?
Tension in his thighs. I can see his belly button now.
Eyes scrunched together.
Short tight strokes, right handed. Jerk of head. Twitch of full body. Fast, it's over. Cum had yellowish tinge. No sound hardly at all.
"Do you have something I can wipe off with?"
I'm an ill-prepared host and have to scurry into the bedroom to find a cleanish towel.
He rests. More relaxed.
"What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't thinking of anything except maybe how good it felt."
Oh.
Looks like he's gonna fall asleep again.
Brown skin around scrotum. Deep navel. Still touching his cock as it shrinks.
Lonely, he looks lonely.
"I get away on weekends. I have a house in Western Massachusetts."
"No I was born in the Bronx"
His little blue bikinis are on my other chair. Blue jeans. White socks.
He fingers his balls. He fingers his cock. He rings that ledge around the head.
I can see him in his office being defensively unpleasant to co-workers.
Is he going to have another go?. I think he's getting off on the scrutiny. He's "fiddling" with himself.
As he gets dressed:
"Is that it? I thought you'd ask more questions."
"Really? So what haven't I asked that you want to answer?"
Longish pause.
"Well... what turns me on?"
"Well, Rickie, what turns you on?"
"Oh, I don't know, being naked with my friend"
"Hmmm."
"Yeah. We're almost a perfect fit. It's almost too perfect. We've been seeing each other twice a week for almost six months. We're from different ethnic backgrounds. He likes to shave me, and to tie me up. He doesn't do anything once he ties me up, but he gets  off on just doing it. But you know, he doesn't like any of that stuff done back to him. He doesn't like to be touched. We met over the internet too but we got together in person for the first time at the Mariotte. You know, I didn't really think he would show up. But he did and like I said it was perfect. Except for the wife. And the kids. We made an agreement not to know anything about each other but we broke that one almost right away. He called me from work one day and told me to call him that night at his home on Long Island. He invited me out there. His wife was very nice while I was there but he told me she threw a fit once I left. She must know, right? He takes me out to dinner. I've taken him to my place in Western Mass because there aren't any nosy neighbors near-by; but I'd never let him come up to White Plains. He calls me sometimes three times a day from work, and you know it's weird that he finds the time to do it because he's a high school principal."
His teeth are crooked and unevenly spaced.
"Let's see, that was an hour and half. Here you are. Good-bye, Rickie."
$

Specimen 3

He's shorter than me.
He sits facing me.
He's wearing gray shorts,
    his white tee-shirt has a square of pink with a green triangle     inside over his left breast.

Sips water.
    It's a humid gray day.
Looks down at the floor.

Hiking boots.
Clean/white socks.

He's stocky and solid.

Strong jaw.

Glass down.

Leans forward on elbows, hands gently hold themselves.

Fresh haircut.

Looks at art work.

Sparse hair on legs.

Driving music on CD player.

Looks around.

Quiet- We're being quiet.

He focuses like an animal.

Leans back on hands.

Looks out of side of eyes.

Checks out books on shelf.

Actively scopes out the place.

I'll sit next to him to get the face.

Does not look at me.

He's never been to this part of town.

Scratches his back.

Inspects a box of porn videos on the floor.

Tries to look behind me.

Largish thighs.

Ankles crossed.

Head tilted to one side.

Palms spread at either side of him, supporting him on the bed.

It's so quiet between us.
Easy quiet,
Gentle quiet,
Too quiet.

He could beat me up if he wanted to.

Smoothes his hair and gets some loose ones in his hand- he has to brush them away.

Picks up, examines and puts down blindfold.

I don't know what he just thought.

I think he's trying to see what I write.

He does not look bored.

Real active looking around but also takes time to study things, like my CDs, my books.

Is he casing the joint or just curious.

I want to sit next to him to zoom in closer on his face, but I feel shy and I have a need to maintain distance.

He tries to see into my bedroom through the French doors.

I should move in closer.

Vibrator under bed. He picks it up.

I tell him it's a present from my mother.

He flicks it on/off/on. Changes speeds.

He looks bemused.

He looks like an anthropologist.

Feels the vibrations.

Tries to interpret the situation.

Tries the vibrator on his muscular calves.  His back.  His upper back.

He asks if it's OK to use it.

I say it's fine.

It's fine.

"Do you work out every day?"

"I used to until 2-3 weeks ago- after mid-semester things got hectic; I don't get to go as much as I want."

He asks if I work out.

"Are you tense a lot?" he asks me

"Is that why your mother gave you this?"

What was that face?

He's enjoying the back massage.  Now back to the calves

I'm assuming he has a short fat cock.

Now on the thigh.

I'm assuming virtually hairless except the usual spots.

Turns off the vibrator.

Am I still in the room?

Seems to be really listening to the Glenn Branca CD.

Sit close.

No holes in ears.  Light stubble.  Sort of like a goatee in the making.

Looks at me writing.  Looks away.

I need to calm down.

Good ears.

I should stop mentioning moles. It seems everyone has them.  One in the fold of his upper left eyelid.

Light acne scarring at the temple.

Pouty lower lip.

Take your time.

Heavy fold over eyes.  Dark brown eyes.  Clear.

Square jaw.  Set.  Looks determined.

Straight nose at too severe of a downward angle.

The fresh haircut shows skin at the side.

Description, description.

Loosen up dude.

He's so calm and I'm all over the place.

Maybe it's the drive of the music.

The newly cut black hair is tousled.  Fringe covers his forehead.

What do I want to know from him?

He studies Architecture.

Anyway.

Smile.  Talk about Houston. Blah, blah, blah.

Shirt off.

It was almost as though he'd never done it before.  He was so awkward.  First tugging at the tail.  Then crossing his hands at the collar and pulling.

He'd told me of his birthmark in an email.

Mauve nipples.  Perfect circles.  Chest is large but not "cut," as they say.

The birthmark is under his right tit and is large and messy.

He flexes and looks at his reflection in the blank TV screen.

Is he sucking in his tummy?

He leans back on his hands.

No hair on arms or chest.

Thick neck.

Breasts, while not saggy, not tight to the chest when he leans forward.  Pointy.  No gut, but not washboard either.

Not pale.  Not brown.  Is this what is meant by yellow?

A couple of chest zits.

A few stray hairs just below the deep navel peek above the waist band.

Drawstring shorts with "PENN" in red and blue letters on one leg.

Raises arm for me.  The way he's doing it he looks like an amputee.  The black hairs are wiry and a little thicker than I had imagined.

Starts untying boots.  Careful about where he puts things.  Undoes drawstring.  Shorts and jockey's off in one jerk.  Socks last.  Puts each in it's boot.

Dick has a shiny raspberry head.  Uncut with foreskin rolled back.  A splay of black pubic hair fans up toward his navel.  Sits with his short legs spread.  Shaft of dick is a lot darker than the rest of him.  Massages his left foot.

"BLUR" on CD.  "Boys and Girls."

Just relax.

Squarish, blocky feet.  Almost no sole prints.

Lies down- hand behind head.

Dark shiny scrotum.

The birthmark is a brown mottle over the right rib cage.

Crosses ankles.  Cock leans to his left.  One testicle keeps contracting and relaxing.

Dick is stiffening.  Pointing upward.  He holds it.  Examines the pee-hole.  Gropes balls.  Fingers its shiny head.  He's gentle with it.  Thumbs the head in a  circular motion over the ledge.  Looks down at it. It's pointing directly up at him.  I'm getting a little turned on.  It's longer and not as thick as I thought it would be.  He's rubbing his ankles together.  I want to get out of the present tense.

He bends his dick to the side and presses it to his left thigh.  Now he's fingering it like a recorder.  No hair on the scrotum itself.  Begins worrying with a strand of pre-cum.  Rubs it between his thumb and forefinger.

Spreads legs.  Squeezes balls.  Tension in thighs.

He looks at his dick like he's never seen it before.  Pats it as if it were a pet hamster.

I tell him to roll onto his stomach.

Cute butt.  Hairless.  Zitless.  Some black hairs in the crack.

Some stretch marks at the bikini line.  Buns lighter than back and legs.

Real barrel upper body.

Don't know if I can touch him.  I want to see inside the crack.  I don't need to.  I can imagine.

The inside of the crack is darker brown...

He wiggles his ass.  Flex.  

Again it's too quiet.

Dents of socks around the ankles.

One dark spot at the top of the crack.

Satiny, hairless back.

He goes to the bathroom.

******

He's back.

He sits cross ankled on the bed

"Tell me about masturbating with the American flag."

[He'd emailed me he'd done that as the response to my question - "What's the most deviant sexual act you'll admit to?"]

"Oh my God.  I guess it was like third or fourth grade. I, um, (giggle).  It was definitely a turning point in my history of masturbation.
I first discovered the good feeling in the playground trying to climb the pole of the jungle gym.  After several attempts I noticed that it felt really good.
After that I'd pretend to climb that pole every recess."

"Then by complete accident I was left all alone in a classroom and I wanted to take stuff.  There were two flags - one California, one U.S.  So at that young age I stole state property.  I had to hide it at home."

"I noticed the feel of the fabric.  I happened to be naked and started to rub myself with it.  I was just at the age when I began to be able to shoot fluid."

"I hid it under my mattress.  After eight or nine months it started to get stained.  There was a hard crust.  It was like it wasn't the same material.  It felt more like plastic.  It had lost its original silkiness.  It was like crystal paper.  It even changed colors.  I threw it out."

"The thing is, my mom's an immigrant and she always told me to revere the American flag; that if you ever let it touch the ground you should then burn it.  I remember that I had no concept that what I  was doing was wrong.  What was funny, I never let that flag touch the carpet in my room."

Chat, chat, chat.

He tells me he's had bondage fantasies since he was a little kid.  Ever since he saw Charlton Heston in Planet of the Apes, he wanted to be Charlton Heston being chased by the Apemen.  I try to imagine Mr. Heston as a short little Chinese kid with a cum stained American flag under his bed.

Chat, chat, chat.

His balls still periodically contract.

"I acted out these fantasies once.  I got tied up with a fuck buddy.  I went with some guy and got some rope but then he says 'Lick my boots.'  And I said "No way, I'm not going to do that.'"

Chat, chat some more.

"Is it OK that I didn't jerk off?"

"It's fine."

It's fine.

$