================================================================= BASTARDS WHO FUCKED OVER ME ================================================================= 6 George and his fat sausage, aromatic of the citrus he ate non-stop. ================================================================= There was another fat prick in the neighborhood. His name was George. He was half Filipino and half Mexican. His parents sure produced a gorgeous combination. He was slightly stocky without losing his taper and had the animation of one of the Hawaiian hunks you see on the tourist posters. George and Gilbert were macho best friends. Shortly after Gilbert and I were using my den and his detached bedroom for monkey business, Gilbert confided in George what was going on. This was back in an era when you didn't have to lock your doors unless you were going on vacation or something. Sometimes I would go hang in Gilbert's bedroom while he was out doing his paper route. I'd just go over there and be the snatch-in- waiting. Doing this usually paid off. It reminds me of the farmer who had the breeding sow. He'd take her over to the next farm in the wheel barrow to visit the boar. After enough trips, the sow knew what she wanted and would just climb into the wheel barrow and wait. One evening George came over to Gilbert's house looking for him and found me instead. George made his pitch. He wanted a blowjob. George didn't have the length Frederick did, but he had one that was plenty thick. Getting it into my gullet far enough to do him the good he expected was a real chore. I envied snakes with a demountable jaw. George had the least body hair of anyone I have ever seen. He was just beautiful and bronze. His was the first sphincter I ever tasted. There wasn't a hair on it and it looked sooooo inviting. George ate more citrus fruits than any ten people. He had a mixed orange and grapefruit aroma about him. To this day I can't smell oranges without thinking of George. One Sunday afternoon I found him at home alone with no one expected back for hours. George wanted to do some more serious play. You sure don't suck cock very good, he said. I felt insulted -- I don't know why -- and retorted, Well if your dick wasn't as big as telephone pole-- He hauled it out and started jacking it and said he wanted to try my asshole. He put some hair pomade on his meat and started trying to shove it up my bung. We weren't making much progress. He was grunting and I was hurting. I was used to Gilbert who had just the most wonderful-feeling chorizo. George's prick wouldn't get really stiff anyway. It wanted to bend and slip away from the orifice he was battering. We persisted until he finally got himself into my spoopit. Then he started fucking me in earnest. Of all the people I've been with, George took the longest to cum of any of them. I never bothered trying to get mine while he was flailing away because if I came and he hadn't, the continued action was not only boring but downright uncomfortable. I had added George to my milk route but as a last resort. If I couldn't find Gilbert and simply needed to be reamed, I tried to find George. One time I was so bored with his selfish detachment that I opened Reader's Digest and caught up with that month's issue. I also went home with a sore hole.