My Dark Fantasy
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I’ve written before of my pleasure in the male butt. Round, ovoid, symmetrically trapezoidal. I have an internal catalog of the best boy buttocks I’ve seen extending back to the days after I first came out. Oddly I didn’t seem to notice them even indirectly until my discovery that boys were beautiful.
I’ll never forget the flawless one of the boy who wouldn’t sleep with me because he only liked men with money. (At nineteen I was emulating the lilies of the field.)
Nor the bottom of the subject of this note.
He was blonde (naturally) and slim. Had pale with pink cheeks, small chin, shapely lips and the second best but I’d ever seen. He was - I think - very young.
The lad was a customer and came into out shop at about once a week. His appearances had the interior documentary team working overtime. I.e., I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
That he was heterosexual didn’t matter. I wanted to abduct him. Exactly how - without a car or the necessary viciousness - I’d kidnap him didn’t bother my imagination at all. Sexual fantasies are like that.
I told myself longish stories of wearing him down and conditioning him to docility. Inducing a sort of erotic Stockholm Syndrome.
Like most gay tops I like being forceful. But I wanted complete and total control over this fellow.
Eventually he moved away.