Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category


 

MAKING THINGS HAPPEN

 

I stabbed someone in the face

when I was 15 over a bad drug

deal: a few years in youth

custody then into the big-boys

prison and I don’t won’t to

go back to that hell, no sir,

I’m trying to make things

happen in a good way for me’

he said never making eye-

contact: he shifted nervously

on his feet and looked in

every direction:

‘Listen, I’ve got to go and

meet someone but it was

good to see you’ he said

and moved off into the

bust streets: I watched him

weave through the people,

hoping the man would be

there but he’d have a back-

up plan to score, he was an

old-hand and had his 19th

birthday last week.

 

 

Advertisements

Tom Hatch

Posted: November 10, 2017 in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: ,

I gave up on women

 

free-shipping-street-art-banksy-decor-banksy-sexy-girl-with-teddy-bear-wall-stickerMarried a couch she
Changed her name to Sofia
I read to her I know she listened
Very still I jacked off she did not say hardly a
Word but only “oh my” holding me in her cocoon
We watched TV any show was mine
To watch then she
Told me she was a sofa bed
Then the fun really began
We walked the avenues
With the help of a moving van
We ate at outdoor cafes lounging
Together at everyone’s envied sight
She became very expensive too
To walk down the street in the moving van
and all I have to tell you I love
Her in my study ever now
And then being the best as a bed

Joe Russo

Posted: November 9, 2017 in Fiction, Flash, Stuff, Uncategorized
Tags: ,

Anacondas and Bubble Butts 

     With the right underwear, a guy can conquer the world. Marilyn said something along those lines, I think with shoes, but she’s never seen me in my baby blue boxer briefs. I believe boxers are like shoes, with many different kinds and sizes and finding that right pair makes you unstoppable.

I wore my baby blue boxers today because they hugged my ass and wrapped around the bulge in front. It was like a walking weapon, don’t stand too close. Or do. The briefs matched perfectly with my blue eyes, blonde hair and tanned skin.

The world I came to conquer was the gay bar downtown, called Anaconda’s. A fitting name, being that customers were only allowed to wear underwear. I’ve been there many times and made quite the selection of friends.

s-bc16aae00bcb0c0a123f52a8ea0554a82d796485Standing outside was the bouncer, a big hulk-like man named Biscuit. He saw me and smiled.

            “Johnny, looking damn fine,” he said, opening the door for me.

            “Biscuit, just wait,” I told him as I lowered my pants down to the top of the briefs. I knew blue was his favorite color; he’s told me many time since.

I walked inside and stopped at the coat- well, clothes- checker. I removed my shirt slowly because I knew people were watching inside. I rubbed my hands down my chest and fumbled with my jean button. I took them off, and inside I heard moaning.

            “Is that Johnny Cooper?”

            “That’s Johnny fucking Cooper!”

The clothes checker handed me a slip of paper, 69 written at the top. Clever. On the backside, his phone number.

Anaconda’s was the place made for dreams. At every corner, a bubble butt stood. A muscled top sat at the bar. Underpants every shape, size and color were waiting for a simple touch, pat or slap. The bathroom was a joke reserved for those who couldn’t quite wait to go home.

I took my seat at the end of the bar, near the bathroom. The bartender, noting the quick glances from other customers, placed a drink in front of me.

            “Free of charge, Mr. Cooper.”

            I smiled at him. I really should ask for his name but before I could speak he shouts at a group of guys who, towards the dancefloor already crowded with sweaty half naked men, were in the midst of pissing on some poor twink dressed as a unicorn.   

As I took a sip, glancing around the bar I noticed one guy looking right at me. He stood at a table, not moving, blinking or drinking. He wore a black pair of boxer briefs, tight and form fitting. His cock not yet erect but getting there.

I nodded over to him, shocked he hasn’t moved to the seat next to me. His olive skin tone, shined in the light. His black hair was pushed back and greased.

He moved over to me. I pushed the chair out and he sat down.

“Hi. I’m Johnny.”

            “Yo sé quién eres. That’s all these people talk about,” he said, in a think accent. I couldn’t place where he was from though; the music over-powered his small whispering.

“Where are you from?”

            He didn’t answer me. Either he didn’t want to or he couldn’t hear me. I looked back down to his briefs. He was a bottom; his ass looked too good in those briefs.

            “My name is Oliver.”

            I looked over at him. He looked like an Oliver.

            “I’m new to this scene. I just moved here from Texas.”

            “Texas! I’ve never been, would love to go sometime,” I said, taking another sip from my drink.

            “I’ve never been with a man,” Oliver said.

            My eyes smiled.

            “I could show you some things,” I told him, standing up.

He looked around. I bet he was nervous, I was my first time. I grabbed his hands, leading him away from Anaconda’s. Away from the other bubble butts and power tops. Away from the men, groaning, yelling “Dammit. Maybe next time.”

We walk back to my place our clothes back on. Anaconda was only a short fifteen-minute walk and on the way, I learned as much as I could about Oliver. He moved away from Texas because his parents didn’t accept him and said that marriage was between a man and a woman. Final. He wanted to be a writer, which was also unheard of in his family.

Inside I put on some music. Oliver hasn’t listened to Whitney or Barry.

Instead, I pull him into me, kiss his lips. I run my hands down his back, touch his butt. His shirt is so soft.

He runs a hand through my hair, pulling back so he can kiss my neck. In my bedroom, I push him down onto the bed. He kicks his shoes off. I take my jeans off.

            “What do I do?” he asks, still kissing my lips, neck and chest.

            “Ssh, I got this. You just sit back and relax.”

            I take off my underwear and just before I throw them onto the floor I caress his cheeks with them wiping my scent all over him like a puppy marking his spot. I turn him around, give him a little slap. His ass round and his hole ready. Pulsing. I stick my tongue in it, swirl it around form letters like some perverted spelling test. I spell out cock, suck, fuck, raw and slut. He moans and I tell him to be quiet.

“Turn around. Let me see those pretty green eyes.”

His eyes find mine and I look into them. Long. Hard. I wrap my hands around his face and bring him closer to me. Our lips lock and I can tell he’s shy.

“Open your mouth.”

He opens his eyes. “Sí, señor.”

“Your accent is so fucking hot.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Say it in spanish.”

“Quiero que me jodas.”

I tell him I make the rules tonight. “Get on your knees. Face down.” Ready. Set. Go.

As I lay on top of him, each thrust making him squeal in pain or pleasure, I know I’ve conquered Texas and I couldn’t help but wonder where I should go next.


 

WILD MAN

I had worked there

a couple of months

when I was invited to a gig –

Peter & the Test Tube Babies

were playing in a local pub

and everyone was going.

I went along and had one

pint too many

let my hair down and

got a bit too lairy.

The shy and quiet persona

I had assumed in the office

was gone

and the mad punk drunkard

was loose.

I don’t recall the incident

but the story goes

that as we danced to the band

I punched a colleague

square in the tit

and was last seen

in the early hours

howling at the moon

like a wild man.

I missed work the next day

with a brutal hangover

and never lived the night down

for as long as I worked there.

She got her revenge weeks later

when she threw a pen

directly at my face

as I talked on the phone

to a customer –

I let out a yelping “Fuck!”

lost the sale

and had to terminate the call.

 

 

BoySlut is temporarily on vacation

Posted: September 13, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Will be accepting submissions soon!

 

 

 


 

Well BoySluters and Alike
today BoySlut turns the big “6“
and who would have thought
I`d last this long!

Though BoySlut has not pub`d anything
in the last couple of months
doesn`t mean that it has quit.
BoySlut will resume [at any given moment]
or as soon as I can get my shit together!

Until then …


 

burdened

 

she floated, when found,

sea leveled in a bathtub

bound in toxins and gins

made of marble and

gash, wrists semi-thrashed

suicide blond,

gone, filthy girl, gone;

six brass plated slugs

tattooed against her breasts

but the one inked in her heart

was especially enslaved for him

when pressed, will bleed, sowing seeds

 

for she knew

how he fucking loved her

and how

he would carry her body

the way sinners

carried their sins ~

 

unconscious and

burdened